#but when someone i keep fairly consistent contact with just blocks me on EVERYTHING out of the blue

[frikinnerd]

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[twjournals]

So Wrong It's Right

Sequel: What's Wrong is Right

Warning: dark!Peter Parker x reader, DUB-CON, manipulation, age gap, drinking

PLEASE READ MY WARNING BEFORE CONTINUING. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Any and all negativity will be blocked.

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You're an old troubled friend of May's. Your life consists of being a workaholic, a party animal, and bringing home the shittest of guys for a one-hit-wonder. Just when you get your life in order, you're knocked right back into your old habits. Peter has watched you suffer long enough. He can make it all better.

Your life was far from where you thought you would be. It was sad to say, but you were anything but a role model. Yet May still tolerated you, regardless of Peter. Maybe she used you as an example to show Peter what not to be or maybe she was just too good of a friend to leave you on your own. To say the least, your life was a mess but you could not be more grateful to have a friend like May.

"Peter, go get me a wet rag, please," May spoke quietly. Peter left your side once he helped May get you over to the couch. You were beyond the limits that someone should be drunk.

You were in a fit of hiccups, giggling to yourself as May bent down to take off your heels. You had far too many drinks, that much was clear.

"Maaay, you.." you hiccupped, "are suuuch a good.." you hiccupped again, "friend."

May shook her head with a sigh, taking in the drunken sight of you. She was not sure how you managed to let yourself get this far gone, but every time you would drink, this is how you ended up. Either you had zero limits or you loved to push the limits you did have.

"Pet-" May started to call over her shoulder, but Peter was already hurrying in the room with his hands full.

"I'm here, Aunt May." Peter reminded and she watched as Peter sat the trash can nearby the couch. He then placed the bottle of water on the table with some medicine for the headache he knew would come with your awake in the morning. He kneeled down beside you on the couch, pressing the rag to your forehead.

May only smiled to herself as she pulled the blanket from its spot on the back of the couch and pulled it over your figure. She didn't say anymore. Peter had seen his Aunt May take care of you many nights when you were so shit-faced it was a wonder you could still see faces.

Your head was propped up against a pillow on the couch as Peter wiped your forehead with the cool rag. Your skin was burning up. Peter could not help but wonder how you let yourself get like this. You were quite a few years younger than May, but it amazed him how different the two of you were to be the best of friends.

You were fast asleep in no time, making Peter smile as his eyes gazed over your face. He had always thought you were so beautiful. Too precious to be taken advantage of by the guys you went after. He witnessed many nights when you had told Aunt May about a new guy you had hooked up with. Everyone knew it was nothing more than a one-night stand, but Peter could not help but hate any guys that touched you only for only their benefit.

It was not until you had eventually settled down with a guy you had met from one of your nightstands that you finally stopped ending up on May's couch. You had moved on with your life, still keeping in contact with May every now and then. You were happy. Not just the sex but he was truly seemed like a guy you could see yourself spending forever with.

You had stopped drinking. You had stopped going out to parties. After the first year, you had moved into the city and got an apartment together. Another year later, you guys were engaged and everything seemed to fall into place. After 3 years, the wedding was right around the corner.

Your world moved at a quicker pace now considering all the things you needed to get done before the wedding. In between work and house chores, you were planning for your big day.

As time went by, you were so wrapped up in your own little world you did not notice the slow-burning flame in your partner slowly being put out. While your plans had been coming together, your relationship was falling apart. You had for the most part ignored all the signs and assumed he was having a bad day. It amazed you how many he was having. When you would try to talk to him, it seemed useless since you could never get him to talk about it. In reality, it all brewed into something bigger. It all hit you like a ton of bricks.

You had been working later hours than usual for extra money. It wasn't cheap, but you had told yourself it was okay to want the things you wanted. After all, this was going to be your first and hopefully wedding. You wanted everything to be perfect. You even tried to get opinions from your fiance to include his vision of it, but he insisted you were better at this sort of thing. You couldn't argue with that.

You wrapped up your work at the office fairly early so you decided to call it a night and surprise your fiance. You felt like everything was on track. One night worry-free was much needed. You had earned it.

You pushed open the front door to your apartment before walking through the living room into the kitchen. You sit your keys on the counter, placing your bag on the stool by the counter. You peered around the apartment for a moment. All the lights were off and it was quiet. Had he already gone to bed? You checked the time.

7:13pm

You were surprised you did not hear his game or at least him yelling at it. You started down the hallway to the bedroom you shared, staring at the closed door. Why was it closed when it was just him? You shook the thought a little too soon. Maybe if you had just thought a little longer, you would have prepared yourself for what was on the other side.

You pushed the door open just a little to see inside when you heard a faint moan from the other side. Your heart stopped. You stood in shock taking in the sight of the man you were in love with hovered over another girl in your bed under your covers. Your face was hot in embarrassment, anger. You were feeling so many things right now you could not think straight. You were hurt.

"Are you serious??" You blurted out, causing them both to jump to try and cover themselves.

"You're sick, Chris." She shoved his chest, pushing him off of her as she quickly got out of the bed. "He told me you guys were no longer together."

She scowled as she hurried to gather her clothes off the floor and pulling them on. If it were even possible, your eyes could have burned holes through the girl. You were in disbelief. Your jaw would have already been on the floor if it wasn't connected to your face.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled, embarrassed as she hurried past you out of your apartment.

You were left to deal with Chris. You starred at him with tears kissing your eyes.

"I-"

You took a deep breath, shaking your head. "Don't."

"I can explain." He started to get out of the bed to dress.

"There's nothing to explain, Chris." You stared at him, trying to restrain yourself from coming across the room and punching him in the face for acting like an explanation could even justify his actions.

"She meant nothing to me." He started to walk over to you.

“You told her we weren’t together. How is that nothing?”

“It felt like we weren’t. You were so busy.” He tried to touch your arm but you shoved his hand away.

"Don't you dare think about touching me when you were just touching another woman." You looked at him with dark eyes, struggling to fight back the cry. He wasn't worth your tears. "I want you to get out."

"Get out?! Where am I gonna go?"

"I don't know." You shrugged your shoulders. "Maybe you could have thought that through."

He frowned, running his fingers through his hair frustrated. "It doesn't have to be like this. Can't we just talk this out?"

"No!" You shouted at him, making his eyes grow wide. You could tell he wasn't telling this as seriously as you. "I don't want to look at you right now." You turn to leave the room, but he grabs your arms to turn you to face him.

"Please. Look, I can- I can stay on the couch tonight. I'll give you your space and when you're ready we can talk about it. I was wrong for that. I fucked up and I'm sorry." You yanked yourself from his hold.

"You can give me space by leaving. Pack yourself a bag and go."

"I love you, Y/n. I never meant to hurt you."

You shook your head as your eyes wandered over the bed to where they once were before meeting his eyes. "You mean you never meant to get caught."

He sighed before hanging his head in defeat and walking by you to gather up some of his things. You didn't move from your spot. Only stared at the mess of a bed. The place you made love to him while he made love to another. You listened to the front door close behind him on his way out before you finally covered your face, letting the tears fall.

For days, weeks, all you could seem to do was feel sorry for yourself. You couldn't find the strength to get out of bed. No matter how many calls you received, you let them ring through to voicemail. Everything you had felt for him was in ruins. You changed for him. You let yourself grow for him and even that wasn't enough. After all the time you spent picking up after him, cooking, cleaning, planning, staying loyal for crying out loud. You didn't know what else he could of you.

You had called off the wedding in the time you stayed closed up in your apartment. Even took some time off of work to handle it all. You took that time to gather every piece of him scattered around the apartment and packed it up. You wanted to end this as painless as possible aside from the pain you were already feeling. You had thrown away the sheets and replaced them, even get a new comforter and it still didn't feel the same anymore to lay in your bed. You stared at your phone beside you as it lit up for what felt like the hundredth time. You finally sighed, lifting the phone. You knew without even looking at the name it was from him.

You canceled the wedding? It doesn't have to be like this. I still love you, Y/n. You were so busy with work and all the planning. You abandon me. Whenever I wanted your attention, you were always too tired to pay any attention to me.

It's like the girl I fell in love with was gone. Some time ago, you couldn’t keep your hands off of me now it’s like I have to beg you to touch me.

You're being selfish.

You can't be THAT mad, Y/n. I’m a man. I have needs. You were busy and she was willing to help. We can fix this. Don’t give up 3 years. Don’t give up on me.

There were loads more, but you could not care to bother reading the rest. You tossed your phone back down on the bed, rubbing your hands over your face. You didn't owe him anything, not even a response. The girl he was talking about was not gone. She was only on hold to plan a wedding by herself and it was more stressful than he knew. You wanted to forget everything that had happened. You wanted to forget you wasted 3 years of your life planning on growing old with this man.

--

You weren't sure how you had got this far and with that being said, May wasn't either. You had talked May into joining you to a night out at a club. She needed a night to herself and you needed a break from everything. Along with that, if you had stayed inside that house a moment longer, you might have gone insane.

"You're going to be hammered if you keep on like that." May reminded with a laugh, both of you clinging onto the bar and each other for the extra support. You thanked the bartender as he pushed your last round of shot glasses in front of the two of you.

You smiled, passing a glass to May before keeping one for yourself.

"We can only hope." You winked at the bartender who only chuckled before clinking your shot glass with hers and downing your shot.

Your throat was already numb from all the alcohol you had already numbed it with. May wasn't far behind you. You took your final shot, grinning and pulling May along with you to the dancefloor to get lost in the sea of people. You threw your arms around May's, moving your hips as you both danced to the music.

This was the therapy you needed. Sometimes you had longed for nights like this. You had freedom. You had no worries, aside from worrying who you might wake up beside. But you had fallen in love and even though you had grown up, you had not nearly grown out of this lifestyle. It was all too familiar.

"Hey! I'm going to the bathroom! I'll be back!" May moved closer to you, raising her voice to be heard over the loud music. You nodded, watching her pushing her way through the crowd of people to get to the ladies' bathroom before easing yourself back into your dancing.

You swayed, grinding your hips with the rest of the crowd. You weren't the slightest bit bothered to be dancing by yourself. You used to lose yourself on the dancefloor for hours days after days years ago.

"I've missed this." You heard a familiar voice speak from behind you, startling you when their hands landed on your hips with your sway. They pulled you back against them, catching you off guard. "I've missed you." He mumbled in your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You peaked over your shoulder to make sure your mind was not playing tricks on you. It wasn't. You prayed it was an old one-night stand, but of course, it was the one person you were trying to get away from.

"It doesn't work like that, Chris." You dropped your hands down to his on your hips, trying to push them off your hips but they only hold you tighter. "Get- get off of me." You gritted through your teeth as your eyes glared at him. "Get off!" You raised your voice.

"Now, now, let's not cause a scene. You've had quite a bit to drink haven't you?" He wrapped your arms around your figure, making your blood run cold as his body pressed to yours.

"That's none of your business."

"I'm your fiance. You are my business."

"Ex." You corrected him. His nose flared slightly.

"You really want to go there? You're nothing without me. You're shit-faced in the middle of the club and you can't even accept my help?" He growled and you pushed on his arms.

"I don't need your help."

"You're drunk. You don't know what you need." He spat.

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted your argument. "I think I've got it from here." You looked up to put a face to the voice, your eyes widening slightly.

"And you are?" Chris didn't budge while staring down Peter as if challenging him.

Peter was reaching his hand out for yours. "Her boyfriend." You stared up at Peter in shock at how much he had changed over the years and he smiled reassuringly.

Chris stiffed slightly and you could feel his eyes burning a hole into you. "Is that true?"

You didn't take your eyes off of Peter, taking a hold of his hand and letting him pull you out of Chris's arms. "Yes." Your voice was hushed.

Chris scowled. "Wow. I wish you luck there, man. She's a real catch." He laughed, making you look down. You couldn't believe he was really trying to ruin your night when he had already ruined everything else.

Peter only snaked his arm around your waist, letting his hand settle on your hip while his eyes never left Chris's. "She certainly is." He agreed. He gave your body a warm squeeze, grabbing you closer into his embrace. "Now, if you'll excuse us."

With that, he guided you through the crowd off of the dance floor.

"You okay?" He finally broke the silence once he got you back to the bar, sitting you down on one of the stools.

You nodded, letting your eyes wander up to him as he motioned the bartender over. "I'm just curious as to why you're here right now. Aren't you supposed to be in college?"

He smiled as he pulled out his wallet to pay your tab and you grabbed his hand, shaking your head. "No, no. I can pay for my own."

"What if I insist?"

"You don't have to, honestly. I have money."

You started to reach into your purse for some cash but Peter covered your hand, giving you another reassuring smile.

"You'll have plenty of other times to pay. I'll get it this time." He reminded you and you sighed in defeat, giving him a playful scowl. He only grinned, proceeding to pull some cash from his wallet to give to the bartender.

"You didn't answer my question." You continued as he turned back to you.

"I'm still college. I just sometimes stay with Aunt May on the weekends."

"And you just so happened to be here?"

Peter chuckled, pointing in May's direction as she stumbled over her feet returning back to the two of us. "Aunt May called."

You raised your eyebrow, looking over at May as she stood beside you now. "You called Peter?"

"Someone has to get you back home." She reminded you and you hit her arm slightly, tilting your head.

"May, I could have got a taxi or an uber. You didn't have to call him for me." You scowled at her and she shook her head in a tsking manner.

"No, no, no. I called Peter so I can rest assured you got home safely and not by some random stranger."

You rolled your eyes slightly and Peter butted in with an awkward chuckle. "I really don't mind. I don't consider this anything out of the way. I'd rather it be me than some stranger or someone." He noticed him giving the floor a swift scan around the three of you.

"Fine." You pouted your bottom lip slightly before rising from your seat at the bar. "You guys make me feel irresponsible or something." You grabbed a hold of May's arm and pulling her with you to the exit of the club while Peter followed behind the two of you.

"Are you coming?" You muttered over to May and she shook her head.

"Happy is here." Just as the words left her mouth when you started out the door, you spotted Happy parked in front of the building to pick up May. "Peter isn't too bad of a driver." You stopped in front of Happy's car.

"Oh goody, rest secured." You muttered and she laughed. Your arms looped around May's neck, hugging her tight. "I'm so glad to have you back. Message me when you get home." You told her and Happy a quick goodnight before letting her go.

Peter led you over to his car, unlocking the car and opening the passenger side for you. You settled comfortably in the front seat, leaning your head back against the headrest. You didn't like how it felt as if you couldn't take care of yourself, but you were in no position to complain when Peter Parker had yet again saved the day.

--

Peter glanced over at you in the passenger seat from time to time as he drove the distance to your apartment. He tried to keep the glances quick to keep you from noticing. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. It had been years since he had actually seen you, but you seemed like the Y/n he still remembered. Not that it was anything bad. He adored you then, and now a bit more.

He had always had the hots for you for as long as you remembered. Of course, you never minded when you ended up staying with him and Aunt May. You were always kind to Peter and he did his best to nurse you back to health to take on the hangover that awaited you the next morning.

He had never forgotten what you said to him one day while you were sick from the night before. You had been clinging onto the toilet and he had taken the opportunity to hold your hair back out of your face to keep from getting anything in it.

You sighed as he rubbed your back in soothing circles. You leaned against the toilet miserably. That was the day you learned to stay away from tequila.

"I hope I meet a guy at least half as amazing as you someday, Peter."

No doubt did the compliment find its way to his cheeks. He blushed a deep shade of red. He tried to restrain himself from making a big deal but it was a big deal to him. Though he knew he didn't stand a chance right now with his age, it meant if he had been of age, he had a chance. He thought about it even when you had stopped coming around so much. He knew this was all a coping method for you. You were hurting then and he could tell by the way you seemed toward the guy back there that there was more to that counter.

He noticed your shiver as you stared out the window. You mentally cursed yourself for wearing something this revealing. You rubbed your arms to try to warm yourself a little. Peter reached behind him in the back seat to retrieve a hoodie of his he always forgot in the car and handing it to you.

"Here." He offered before fumbling with the heat in the car. He smiled at your quiet thank you, putting your arms in the hoodie and pulling it close for warmth with putting it all the way on. He tried to control the big grin threatening to break across his face.

"I'm sorry you had to keep seeing me like this." You looked over at Peter as he kept his eyes on the road. He didn't realize how thankful you were for him in times like this. It was embarrassing how many times this had happened but you were still thankful Peter didn't think any less of you.

"You really don’t have to apologize.” He smiled at her before turning his attention back to the road.

“I really do though. I feel like you’ve taken care of me enough. I’m grown, you know? It should be the other way around.” You giggled and Peter glanced over at you.

“I’m 21.” He reminded you.

“And I’m pushing 30.”

“You’re 28. You’re still young.” He chuckled.

“Almost 29!” You huffed as he pulled into the parking lot to your apartment. “My point is- you know what my point is.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your frustration. Your age didn’t matter to him. He could always settle for his MJ, his best friend, but seeing you tonight relit the flame to his crush for you. There was just something about you.

He parked the car in the parking lot, walking around to your side to open the door for you. You slid your arms out of his hoodie and leaving it in the seat as he helped you out of the car. You could feel the shots hitting you all at once when you stood. You stumbled out in your heels, grabbing onto Peter’s arms for support.

“Easy now.” He held onto your waist as he guided you to your apartment, asking for your keys. He took your keys when you dug them out of your pocket, letting you in your apartment.

You couldn’t help but notice all the little things he did for you. You kicked off your heels at the door, stumbling over your own two feet again as you wandered down the hallway to your bedroom. You could hear Peter in the kitchen getting you a bottle of water from the fridge along with some medicine from the medicine cabinet.

You sat on the bed when you hear his footsteps coming down the hallway toward the bedroom. You looked up at him, pouting your bottom lip out slightly when you saw him with a bottle of water and medicine for the headache to come.

He set them down on your nightstand, noticing your pout. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Peter, you’re seriously too good to me.” You sighed.

“How’s that?” He looked down at you as he towered over you.

You motioned over to the stuff he had placed on your nightstand and frowning. “All of this. You- you really didn’t have to do this for me.”

“You’re right I don’t. But I want to. I would want it done for me if I were ever in your shoes.”

You laughed slightly at the thought of Peter drunk and you smiled to yourself. “I would definitely be there anytime you needed me.”

You thought back to all the time you had ever been drunk, remembering all the time you woke up to water and medicine from him. Only from him. Even a trash can in case you were to ever get sick, but you never got that with Chris. You always took care of him, but no one ever took care of you. You shook your head with a frown. You had tried so hard to hold it together, but it felt like you were slowly falling apart. He wasn't worth your tears, yet he was always the cause of them.

He kneeled down in front of you, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Talk to me. Everything okay?”

You couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “Why am I never enough?”

His eyes widened at your words. “You are more than enough and anyone who doesn’t see that, who doesn’t appreciate you and the things you do for them doesn’t deserve you.” He corrected you, his thumb stroked over your jaw as he held your face to keep your attention.

You didn't know what to say. All you could do was stare. Your eyes scanned over his face before stopping at his lips. Don't. Don't you do it. You mentally told yourself. You couldn't control the effect the alcohol had on your mind and your actions. You tried to fight back the urge but the alcohol only pushed down the buriers you had built.

Your lips smashed against his firmly, catching him by surprise. He was frozen about your lips for a first, in shock, this was actually happening but he surely gave in the kiss. Your hands grabbed at the back of his neck and pulling him onto the bed with you without breaking the hungry desperate kiss. His body hovered over yours as your fingers curled against his shirt, gripping on it. You knew it was wrong. It was so wrong, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

Your smaller hands slid underneath his shirt, brushing your hands over his defined abs. He was sculpted by a God. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't find it in him to stop. He didn't want to miss his chance to prove himself to you. He wanted to take care of you.

Your lips parted for air even though you left like you could hardly catch your breath when his lips started to kiss down your neck. Your hands tugged on his shirt until you started to pull it up and over your head.

His hands pushed your tight dress up the curves of your body, tossing it beside the bed once he peeled it from your body. Your lips still tingled from the loss of his and you whined quietly, your hand grasped the curls at the nape of his neck to bring his lips back to yours.

He kissed your lips passionately and letting your lips mold together. He could taste the alcohol on your tongue but it didn't bother him any. He had dreamed of this moment since he was a teen. Your fingers worked desperately to undo his jeans, feeling his bulge already through his pants before your hands pushed his pants off of his hips along with your boxers.

You were so desperate. You couldn't stop the whine that escaped against his lips. "Peter, please..." His cock twitched at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

He dragged your panties down your legs swiftly, placing himself back between them when he spread them open again. He peppered light kisses to your lips as he dragged the tip of precum-coated tip through your folds, not wasting any time to give you what you wanted.

You cried out as you clung to Peter's bareback, feeling his cock stretching you in all the ways you craved. You moaned out, letting him swallow them in a kiss as his hips rolled into yours again and again. He sighed in pleasure against your lips as your walls invited him in. You were even better than he could have imagined.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. His lips covered your body in his kisses, admiring every part of your body as it sang for him. This was nothing like what you used to. He pressed small kisses against your bottom lip, nibbling on it as your core ached with a building climax. Your legs wrapped around his hips, causing you to gasp at the deeper strokes.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a loud moan drawing from your parted lips. Your fingers held onto Peter's hair as he hit that spot over and over, making your eyes roll slightly. You needed so badly for him to stop, but you couldn't bring the words to the surface.

"Oh my god..." Your core tightened with every deep thrust. His cock touched parts of you no guy had ever. You had never felt a climax so fast or so strong. "Please don't stop..." You couldn't fight the words from coming out. Your grip tightened on his dark hair, feeling yourself falling apart with an orgasm with every thrust.

"You're so pretty when you cum." He couldn't stop even if he wanted to. He was not far behind you by the way your walls sucked him in, milking him for all he was worth.

"Do it again. I want to make you cum again." He groaned against your chest as his tongue dragged over your hardened nipple, flicking his tongue against it teasingly before letting out a groan against your warm skin. He didn't want it to stop. He didn't want it to end. "You feel so good, Y/n..."

His hand reached between the two of you, rolling his fingers over your clit in circles. You gripped onto his wrist at the overpowering feeling. You were soaked to the core. This man made you crumble.

"I-I'm gonna cum.." His voice cracked slightly as your walls clenched around him tight In your second orgasm, pushing him over the edge into his first. His cum filled you full, marking you as he pressed delicate kisses across your neck while praising you in the process. "So beautiful, so perfect."

Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, smiling to yourself when Peter laid down on the bed behind you. He wrapped an arm around your body, pulling you back against his chest.

It only took a matter of seconds for sleep to claim you as Peter pulled a blanket over the both of you tiredly. It was only a matter of time before the morning came to rain on your parade. Bringing along the guilt and regret that followed.

[super-hero-girls-netflix]

Jess and Pam fluff/angst? Btw love ur blog bro. This show deserves more love and seeing ur post makes me happy. 👁👄👁💖💖👌

Note: I'm glad my posts makes you happy.

The Art of Avoidance and the Cost, Confrontation.

Prompt: Jess/Pam fluff/angst. Jess just wanted Pam to wish her a happy birthday. Pam just wanted Jess to leave her alone. Of course, it's not that simple.

*Jess*

"Happy Birthday!"

Jess knew that she didn't have the most... consistent relationship with Pamela Isley. There were times when she was sure that Pam felt something not negative towards her. Especially after a successful protest when Pam would scrunch her lips in an effort to tamper her smile. Or when Jess said something particularly amusing and Pam would quirk her lips as she passed by.

"Maybe she didn't hear us? ...Happy Birthday!'

But of course those times paled to all the other times Pamela clearly stated that she hated Jessica Cruz's butt. Forgo all the times Pamela would ignore her texts or greetings- there were times when Pamela would state at her with complete and utter hatred usually when she was doing mundane stuff like eating her lunch (a salad, of course) or talking to one of her friends.

"Err, Babs- Jess looks a little...mad? Sad? Smad?"

"Smad isn't a word, Hal."

"No one asked you, Karen!"

"Ugh, I hate when you say my name like that-"

So truly, Jess shouldn't have expected Pam to acknowledge her birthday. She really shouldn't have. It was a hope that would surely lead to dissapointment. But it still hit harder than expected when the morning passed without Pam even casting her a side eye.

All of her friends were loud..! Obviously if Pam didn't know it was her birthday from the beginning she should by now-

"Jessica! Are you alright?"

Jess snapped to attention, finding Diana and her friends looking at her curiously from where they sat at the lunch table. Barry, Garth and Hal (the only boys who stuck around after congratulating her) where standing, also staring at her.

They all shifted their concerned gazes from her to her salad- which she speared so fiercely it tore clean through.

Pushing her lunch away, she said, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you alright?" Diana repeated deliberately.

Bobbing her head eagerly, she said, "Yes! I'm great!"

"You just stabbed your salad," noted Kara dryly. "Did it make you angry?"

Zee elbowed her but didn't say anything- also curious to hear Jess explain herself.

"I was... thinking."

Silence stretched across the table, not that Jess paid it much mind. She was back to furtively scanning the cafeteria for the petite jerk who refused to acknowledge-

Ah, there she was.

Pam Isley.

When someone walked into a room there is always someone who looks up to see who. A handful of someone's. But as that handful checked and quickly dismissed Pam from their ignorant minds...Jess kept staring.

Because... how could you not?

She was absolutely breathtaking. Her full pouted lips, soft seemingly pink hair, long full eyelashes covering the most amazing green orbs.

But more than that- Pam made the room complete.

And almost as if Jess' stare was a physical tangible thing- Pam's eyes immediately met hers.

.

.

.

*Pam*

Jess wasn't very subtle.

Pam knew that Jess had been eyeing her all day. Pam knew that Jess was expecting something of her today.

But honestly Jess was always expectant of Pam so really it was easy to deflect. Not. Never could anyone deny Jessica Cruz.

So, Pam decided, that she would greet Jess and get it over with-

"Jess, let's go to Sweet Justice after school to celebrate!"

Pam narrowed her gaze as Jess broke their eye contact to answer Barbara. Hareleen's...friend? Hareleen's important something.

Celebrate what?

"O-oh, sure. I'd like that."

Pam took a step closer. What were they going to celebrate?

"God, you're so old now." The dumb jock (Harry, was it?) teased, tugging at her hair.

Something stuttered in Pam's chest.

A realization.

God, you're so old now.

It was Jess birth-

"You only turn 18 once!"

So...Jess beaming at her in the hallway, staring right at Pam... waiting for Pam. It was because she wanted Pam go wish her a happy birthday?

They weren't even friends! We're they friends? They were something. Pam couldn't deny that there was something intoxicating about Jess' company. That when Jess ranted passionately it was engaging and cute. That when Jess looked down at her, her hair twirled around her finger-

What was she thinking about again?

Pam brought Phil closer to her face, asking the plant an important question. "Phil, do I...like Jess?"

If Phil had eyes he'd be rolling them if his exasperated 'No shit, Sherlock' was any indicator.

No....shit.

.

.

.

*Jess*

It had gotten worse. Pam was no longer not noticing Jess- she was avoiding her. Ever since her birthday, Pam avoided Jess like the plague.

It was taking a toll on Jess. She couldn't sleep, her anxiety was sky rocketing and she had been craving something... greasy.

At first, when Pam first dodged her, Jess was willing to wait her out. The petite girl might not be in the mood. But eventually one encounter missed became two. And then three and four and five. And Jess was no longer patient.

She was pissed. Really, very pissed.

So pissed that the books were liable to catch on fire because of her stormy temper. She quietly fumed, hiding behind a library shelf waiting for when she could finally secure and corner Pam.

(Pam had taken to walking through the library to avoid Jess instead of the populated hallways.)

What was up with Pam? Usually the girl would at least humor Jess for a bit if only to get her off her back. Was she sick? She did look awfully flushed everytime Jess nearly cornered her! God, this was infuriating.

She...just needed to know if Pam was OK.

T-then if Pam was still set on keeping Jes from her life... she'll back off. She can take a hint...she can. And...- If Pam hated her so much she shouldn't make her uncomfortable anymore.

Only if. Only if there wasn't a good reason for her avoidance.

There probably was!

But still...

Her body did it before her mind could commit itself to the act. Her arms reached out, pulled the girl into the aisle, turning them both, and effectively caging Pam. Pam had her back against the wall and was blocked a quick escape by both of Jess arm's.

A triumphant smile breaks across her face.

She did it!

.

.

.

*Pam*

For a second all she could focus on was the beatific smile Jess wore. Then she saw Jess' smile soften and her eyes focus.

Then she felt Jess' breath all over her forehead and- oh my ivy. She was too close.

Her face went hot.

"What the hell," she hissed, turning her head so Jess couldn't see how quickly she was going pink.

"I wouldn't have done this if you had just- are you ok? Your ears are red, and" Jess spread her fingers on Pam's cheek, "your face is hot."

Was breathing always this hard? Holy-

"I-I'm fine. Just move, you're way too close."

As if just realizing it Jess startled and moved back, but kept her arms braced on both sides of Pam's head. (How was it that Jess didn't notice when that was all that Pam could think about?)

(Feeling this way and knowing that Jess didn't even think of the possibility that Pam felt the way she did pissed her off.)

"What do you want?"

Jess blinked, hurt flashing in those hazel eyes before her gaze narrowed, "I want to talk to you. You've been avoiding me."

"No, I haven't."

Jess stared at her for a second, stunned by her blatant lie. "...yes. Yes, you have Pam. And I want to know why."

She was still too close.

"I've just been," madly in love with you, "...busy."

"That's BS and you know it!" Jess takes her arms back and hugs herself. "Just tell me if I did something wrong. Are you mad at me? What did I do? I don't like it when you're avoiding me like this. You're a very good friend to me-."

Friend, huh.

Friend.

Friend.

Yeah, well...do friends do this-

And without further thought, without permission, without even knowing what she was doing...Pam Isley, a girl who has never as much as held someone's hand in a romantic way, kissed Jessica Cruz.

.

.

.

*Jess*

There is a blissful stage of confusion. Before everything makes sense, no- before that. Before anything exists besides that one emotion.

That emotion, for Jess, was peace.

Before she realized what she was doing and who she was doing it with. Before she can tear back and ask Pam what she was doing even though it was fairly obvious but at least why- Pam pulled back first.

"W-what?"

"I'm not mad," there was an angry insane look in Pam's eyes. "I just don't think I can be friends with you anymore."

Jess, cheeks still hot, was indignant. "And why not?!"

Pam ducked away from Jess and began backing away, "I think it would make me very unhappy."

And Jess finally realized why.

Pam liked her.

Pam liked liked her.

Pam who loved the Earth.

Pam with those green eyes.

Pam. Pam.

Pamela.

Pam turned to face her, eyebrow quirked.

Did she say that out loud.

"What now?" Her.... Pam's lips were trembling in an effort to remain still.

Jess wanted to still those lips with her teeth.

Heat burned the inside of her face.

Oh wow.

Pam started to turn to walk away but Jess latched onto her wrist. She had such a thin wrist. She really needed to eat better-

"Say what you need to say so I can leave."

"You like me then?"

"Anything but that."

"What kind of person leaves after dropping a bomb like that on someone?!" Indignation made her chest swell and she stepped closer to Pam, using her grip Pam's wrist to pull them closer. "You should at least give them a second so they can think of how to react to that-"

Pam looked at her, stunned. Then, annoyed she rolled her gorgeous eyes and said, "Can you just shut up-"

"Make. Me."

Jess was panting with emotion and Pam's eyes were wide and her gaze flickered from Jess' eyes to her grip on the wrist and to Jess' lips.

Jess bit her lip.

Pam stared at her mouth.

They just stood there. Jess swallowed. "B-back to the topic.." What were they talking about again? "Uhm, right..! Well, it's unfair of you-"

"You already said that," a resigned smirk colored Pam's face.

"R-right. Well..."

"I'm not asking you to return my feelings-."

"You're not giving me much of a choice!"

A hand thumped on the bookshelf and they startled guiltily apart and whirled around to see who it was interrupting them.

"Shhh!" The librarian hissed, eyes narrowed before stalking off to lecture some poor kid.

Pam was hugging herself, hands twisting the material of her sweater. "What do you mean I'm not giving you a choice?"

.

.

.

*Pam*

"Well, you are so insistent that I won't return your feelings..." Jess looked at her, unimpressed. "It kind of feels like I'm not allowed to."

"You are."

It's embarrassing how desperate she sounds. But Jess must dig desperation since she grinned, pulled Pam closer. Hands cupping her cheeks, one pausing to brush her pink hair behind Pam's red ear.

Oh... Jess was teasing her.

That wouldn't do.

So then with just as much purpose as before, Pam pulled Jess down and their lips met again.

This was such a mess. But with Jess so close and soft and pliant under her hands. It's okay. Messy was ok. Right now. In that moment, Messy was perfect.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Atlantis 6

Previously on Atlantis

The moment she woke, Clarke kept her eyes closed and just listened, realizing that things were not what she’d expected. She felt the familiar weight of her blankets, and she smelled the smell of her parent’s house, the smell as old as time, that she often never noticed, but after being removed for so long, inhaled greedily as she dug her face in her pillow. 

There were noises downstairs that finally registered before she opened her eyes, held her breath, and hid in the pillows. She heard some clamor of her parents making breakfast, coffee steam sifting up through the vents. She heard the squeak and chatter of some birds in the trees outside her window. For a moment, Clarke pretended that she was miles underwater, and there might be a beautiful girl awkwardly standing outside her door. 

But there wasn’t, and there wouldn’t be. Clarke rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling before digging the heel of her hands into her eyes and sighing. A day ago, she was in a beautiful palace, and now she was back at her parent’s house, without a job, without a career, without a mentor, without any idea of what was to come forward. 

Her body was completely healed, a feat that was mind-blowing considering her wounds and condition after the explosion and being stranded at sea. But now, when it was quiet, and she was safe in the familiar, Clarke realized the massive grief heaped upon her, that surviving came at a cost. 

When it got to be too much, when she cried silent tears that covered her face and left her chest fluttering and aching, Clarke wiped her face and took a few deep breaths, hoping to find some sort of center amidst the flood of absolute pain that washed over her entire body. She wanted to take another sleeping pill and pass out until her heart didn’t hurt anymore, but that seemed unwise. 

As soon as she made it down the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, Clarke realized she’d made a horrible mistake and should have stayed in bed. 

“Clarke! Oh my God!”

“We were--”

“I’m so glad you’re--”

“You look!”

The chorus of voices erupted and she took a step back, confused and overwhelmed by the outpouring of her closest friends as they began to circle and reach out and smother. 

“Okay, okay, back up everyone,” Abby jumped in carefully, keeping the horde from her terror-stricken daughter. “Give her a moment to breathe. I’m sure she’s not used to being around people, they had her in isolation due to exposure during the explosion.”

“But luckily, she didn’t come in contact with any of the pathogens she was studying,” Jake smiled graciously behind the island as he added more pancakes to the pile forming on the large breakfast display. “Better safe than sorry though.” 

“You should have seen your mom. I think she nearly got arrested for trying to break into a government installation,” Raven offered with a smile as Abby hit her shoulder. 

“Come sit,” Octavia hurried, clearing more of a path. “You must be hungry.” 

“Not really,” Clarke smiled softly and took the seat anyway. 

The friends shared a look as Clarke sat there and looked at the display of everyone trying to be normal. Abby hovered, rubbing her daughter’s back, soothing away the worries that remained. No one knew about the ten minutes ago, where she broke down and clawed at her chest in her bed. No one. 

“Your appetite will come back,” her mother promised. “Let me make you a little plate. Everyone can dig in. Your friends have been anxiously waiting to see you.” 

The general hubbub of people moving about the kitchen really only settled well after Clarke had a plate set in front of her. She ate a blueberry and nodded, smiling at her mother to tell her not to worry. It felt like before, like how it always was, since middle school, the whole gang fighting over this and that, piling over each other to eat. Even when college and life took them different ways, they were never far off. There was something grounding in it, just like her sheets, just like the noises of the morning. 

“So what happened, Clarke? We only heard bits and pieces on the news,” Raven explained between mouthfuls of Jake’s famous pancakes. “They kept repeating the same things, over and over again.” 

“What did they say?” 

Clarke already knew the story. She’d been held in a government facility for six hours and briefed on how to behave and what to say. She had a business card with FBI on it and Agent Barne’s number hidden in her sock drawer. 

“Just that a bad storm led to the ship sinking. I can’t imagine how bad it must have been,” Octavia shook her head. “At first they said no survivors. We all thought you were dead for seventeen hours.” 

“I’m… I’m…” Clarke furrowed and shook her head, looking guiltily at her food, afraid to meet their eyes. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But you’re not,” Bellamy interrupted. “And you don’t have to talk about what happened.” 

A pointed look was exchanged between him and the rest, warning them to behave and not push. 

“There isn’t much to tell,” she shrugged, perking up a bit and deciding to pick up her fork. “The storm was bad, and then I woke up in a government hospital. I wish there was a better story. I was checking weather reports in the navigation center, and I think we hit a wave or gust and I must have hit my head and blacked out.” 

“It’s not every day that a concussion is a blessing,” Jake offered, finally taking his seat with the rest. “But it must have saved you.” 

“A blessing,” Clarke repeated, contemplating the word for a moment before taking a big bite of breakfast. “Like these pancakes. I feel better already.” 

The group chuckled and refused to talk about the accident again, while Clarke ate and smiled until she couldn’t any longer. She explained that she was still a little drowsy, and wanted to lay down. Every person promised to be back and see her again, demanding that she call if she needed anything at all. With grateful and long and tight hugs, her lifelong friends filed out as Clarke slipped upstairs. 

It truly was exhausting, to finally think about it, to remember the storm and her colleagues and all of the people who died. The numbness-- that was the true blessing of Atlantis. There wasn’t time to grieve when her body was overloaded with stimuli, unlike now, where everything was mundane and allowed her to think. 

Clarke slipped into her childhood bed again, and she pulled the blanket over her head, rolling into herself tightly before drifting off to an uneasy sleep. 

XXXXXXXXXX

For about a full week, Clarke existed in a fairly mundane routine of recover that all at once suited her and drove her nuts. Simultaneously, she felt prepared to do something-- anything-- and yet, could not imagine doing anything other than nothing. Her body and mind and soul needed time to come back, and she knew it. It didn’t make it any easier for her to stomach, but she begrudgingly listened. 

Every morning she got up and had a special breakfast her father made, even though her appetite was minimal and favored banalities. And then she would take a walk, sometimes with a friend, sometimes alone before coming home to shower and read or watch tv before a nap. Usually someone came by in the afternoon before dinner to occupy her, keep her busy, keep her doing something. Then came a family dinner, every night, her mother arriving right on time to join them. Dinner led to a movie, which then led to sleep. 

It was a safe and easy schedule in which she didn’t talk about anything with anyone. 

Until the arrival of the invitations for the funerals for the people finally confirmed dead after the concluded investigation into the crash and retrieval of bodies from the water, an initiative led by the Atlanteans as a gesture of good faith. 

Two weeks after her return, Clarke found her schedule consisting of funerals, nearly every day, each more difficult than the last, but as the final crewmember standing, as the only representative of her research team, she sat there at each and remembered with everyone else, commiserating in their grief. It helped and hurt, as any cathartic thing is meant to do. 

The third week she returned somewhat to her normal schedule with an intermittent funeral, the last residual ones ending quickly. 

A month after her return, Clarke felt marginally normal, except that she had no idea what the future held. 

It took five weeks for her to schedule an appointment with the university, despite her mother and father telling her she could take more time. 

Only after six weeks, did Clarke allow herself to really think about her time in Atlantis. Most of the time, she found herself daydreaming about Lexa in some form because it was one of the few thoughts that made her feel unburdened and less heavy in her chest. But, she actively kept herself from thinking too much, often shaking away the thoughts when her mind began to drift. 

After the nightly movie, and after she excused herself to sleep, Clarke sat at her desk and look at her laptop, knowing full well what was about to happen. She moved to lift the lid and then stopped, closing it and drumming her fingers along the top before looking over her shoulder at her closed door, straining her ears to hear anything. 

Though it was quiet, she hurried to place an old sweatshirt near the bottom of her door to block out any light, listening again, closer to the hall, at the familiar noises of her parents getting ready to go to sleep. 

Satisfied that no one would see her, Clarke ripped open her laptop, and quietly as she could type, logged in and began to type her query. 

L-E-X

Backspace.

A-L-E-X-A-N

Backspace.

P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S O-F A-T-L-A-N-T-I-S

Enter.

In the dark room, the glow of the screen colored her face, but she didn’t care. She bit her lip and looked at the photos first, and upon not finding many, looked through the first few search results. Little was known about Atlantis, let alone the heir to the throne, and any pictures that existed were not good. 

Mildly disappointed, Clarke slumped back in her chair and toyed with the scroll, debating what to do with no information and how deep, exactly, she was willing to dive into conspiracy theories and doctored photos. 

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L

Enter. 

Clarke paused only to look back at her door and close her laptop slightly, though not all the way, when she heard a sound in the hall. She held her breath and waited for her parents to go to bed before opening it fully again. 

There were more search results for that name, and Clarke mildly regretted it, because the images of Lexa, in a skin-tight suit, with a weapon, was a little disorienting. And then she stood beside her father, who was, even though it was an understatement, an actual mountain of a human. Lexa had his eyes, his chin, his grin, and goodness, did she have a similar fitness regime. 

Slowly making her way through the gallery, Clarke smiled to herself when she thought about Lexa, shy and with red-tipped ears, kind and gentle and soft to her for no reason at all. And then she looked at Lexa’s biceps. 

“Fuck,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. 

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L -B-I-C-E-P-S

Clarke hesitated before smiling to herself. 

Enter.

XXXXXXXXXX

The meeting at the university didn’t turn up much good news, as the semester was just ending and the summer was approaching. With an epic catastrophe to handle and fix, the powers behind all decisions, didn’t have any answers other than to enroll Clarke the following semester to finish her degree requirements. 

It was fair and just and gave Clarke time to recover and get back into thinking about existing again. Of course, Clarke found anything reasonable to be exhausting, in and of itself, and so she hated having to wait, hated losing her research, hated everything about everything that left her stuck. 

Three days later, however, she found herself back at the Spindrift, unsure of why she was there, and marvelling at how it operated when it was opened. People were buzzing about, familiar with their duties, as if it hadn’t opened merely two months prior. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent Barnes,” Clarke smiled, shaking the agents hand as she approached the waiting area. 

“Thanks for coming down.” 

“I don’t think I had a choice.” 

Clarke looked over her shoulder at the two men that picked her up for her ‘appointment.’ When she looked back, the agent was not amused. 

“You are being formally offered a position here, at the Spindrift.” 

“I might formally ask why?” she furrowed and looked at the blue folder that was handed to her, complete with the seal of Atlantis on it. “I’m still in my degree program for the Masters, and haven’t decided to complete the doctorate…. Is this salary serious?” 

“Government salaries are never a laughing matter.” 

“I could make three times this in the private sector.” 

“Yes,” the agent nodded. “And you would never work with any Atlantean healers or products ever again.” 

“Why me?” 

The agent opened another folder she was carrying. 

“You searched Atlantis comma Princess Lexa six times,” Barnes read from the folder, dragging her finger along the words there. “And Biceps comma Aquagirl, approximately a dozen.” 

The manilla folder shut quickly. 

“Per the queen herself, in conjunction with your university and the United States government, you are being offered a position at the Spindrift for research in intercontinental knowledge sharing.” 

Clarke furrowed and shook her head, not sure of what she was following entirely. There was certainly some mortification in there, she knew that, felt it eating her alive in front of the agent with an inability to change her inflection at all. 

“I find this idea the best case scenario, and you to be a complete risk to yourself and the sanctity of Atlantis,” the agent muttered, tossing the folder on the table. “Accept it so that I can watch you behave yourself and stop doing searches online of a reclusive and dangerous foreign entity that only you have visited.”

“You… you-- you hacked my computer?” 

“You are an intern and only living non-Atlantean who has been to Atlantis, of course your government is watching you.” 

“But why? I don’t know anything.” 

“You know enough.” 

“Who else has seen this?” Clarke blushed, though she attempted to hide it as best she could. There surely was no surviving this level of mortification. 

“No one.” 

“Was my offer made because of-- because I know--” she paused and took a breath. “Who did this?” 

“This offer was asked for by the Queen herself on behalf of one of her greatest medical researcher. Apparently you are the only person this researcher could tolerate.”

That feisty old broad, Clarke thought to herself as she shook her head. 

“How is… um, how-- How is the-- uh-- How is Aquaman? I heard about a battle before--”

“You have seventy-two hours to think about this. I will only ever communicate with you regarding official matters in this office, and anything relating to activities done by Atlantean royal family are unofficial until commented upon by official state representatives.” 

“You sound like a blast at parties.”

The agent didn’t move at all at the comment. 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke apologized. “That was rude. You are just so-- intense.” 

“I’ve worked fifteen years with the King to make this a reality. If I wasn’t intense, it would be for nothing.”

“Can I ask about, um, the Prin-- about Lexa?” 

“Officially, no.” 

“Unofficially?” 

“Unofficially, no.” 

“But you just set it up like you would say something unofficial.”

“I cannot control any inferences made.” 

With growing frustration, both at the agent and herself, Clarke pursed her lips and looked down at the seal on the folder. It was something, and some sort of direction in a time when she very badly needed it. 

“Unofficially,” the agent finally started, lowering her voice. “Just save the pictures. Why would you keep searching the same thing?” 

“After a brief, embarrassed pause, Clarke nodded and looked back at the agent. 

“I’ll look this over and get back to you. Unofficially or officially or whatever, thank the Queen, if you see her.” 

The agent nodded instead of arguing, nudging her head slightly so the agents would continue to escort the scientist back toward the entrance. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Three months after her shipwreck and rescue to an untouched land, hidden in the depths of the sea by a beautiful princess with a mythical bloodline and inheritance in the shape of a trident, Clarke sat at her desk in a very small cubicle, in a very small office, with six other research associates. 

It was a very tedious job for the first few weeks, and just on the horizon was the actual research that Clarke hoped would lead to figuring out what the healer did to heal her so quickly, and if she could figure out how to help other people. 

There was an element of escapism to worke each day, enough that Clarke found herself staying late to avoid her worried family’s glances and the mothering that all of her friends did. It was appreciated but also extremely stifling for someone who was stubborn and willingly admitted it. 

“You heading out soon?” Wells asked as he shouldered his bag and looked over the cubicle wall to see Clarke’s small desk, covered with pictures of Atlantean books. 

“Yeah, in a bit,” Clarke nodded, not looking up from the notebook she was writing something down quickly. 

“I could wait around and we could go grab dinner. There’s this great place in town. Only like fifteen minutes from the main gate.” 

“I’m not sure how long a bit is going to be. I want to finish looking at this property sheet before we get samples next week.” 

Kind and bright, Wells was a soft-spoken doctoral student with a knack for keeping an eye on Clarke without being overbearing. Always firmly pressed in his khakis and tucked primly with his button downs, he hid behind thick-rimmed glasses, but ran marathons. He wasn’t overwhelming in the eye he kept on his co-worked. Sometimes, Clarke thought he might even fancy her a little bit.

When Wells didn’t say anything, Clarke looked up and offered a smile as he debated the next step for the evening. 

“Get out of here,” Clarke told him. “I won’t be too much longer, and some quiet will help me.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“Have a good weekend.” 

Clarke watched him nod and returned to her work, doing her best to transcribe an ancient language with limited training and the most basic knowledge of what some of the ancient plants used. She felt like an archaeologist, investigating something she would never truly understand, and yet she’d been there. She’d heard the words spoken. 

The ‘little bit’ she mentioned gradually turned into a while, and the evening settled outside on the water, calming it until the waves were nearly non-existent. There was still a fading light outside when Clarke closed her notebook and shut her laptop for the evening, and it only truly disappeared after she shouldered her bag and shoved in a few folders to work on over the weekend. 

With a final look around the office, Clarke nodded and made her way to the door, preparing for two long days of her parents making sure she was alright. She needed her own place, and enough space to stop thinking about--

“Lexa?” 

The same smile, the same caught look in her eyes, the same stance, the same eyes-- the entire package looked back at Clarke expectantly. Gone were the formal Atlantean clothes, and in their place was simple jeans and an old sailor’s sweater, a shoulder lovingly patched by expert hands. Gone were the intricate braids and armor, and instead a wild mane perched itself atop Lexa’s head, blown about by the wind and her hands in equal measure. 

“You’re here late.” 

“You’re here.” 

“You said you’d be close.” 

Without meaning to, Clarke took a step forward before catching herself. Lexa tucked her arms behind her back, ever vigilant to remain proper and royal. 

“Have you eaten?” Clarke finally broke the quiet. 

“You were my first stop after my grandfather’s. I don’t know my way around land that well.” 

“I’m honored.” 

“Care to show me around?” 

The question came with a grin, and Lexa extended her elbow willingly, waiting for Clarke to take it again as she hadn in the Hanging Gardens. That was all she needed, to remember that it hadn’t been a dream, that three days, three months ago happened. 

There really wasn’t a question to it at all. 

Clarke nodded, smiled, and took the arm offered to her, and whatever else would come attached.

NEXT

[adenei]

Auror 99 - Chapter 10

You can find the whole story on AO3 or FFN

Curveball

Hermione’s plan had come to fruition quite easily with Amy helping. Harry and Ron had spent the past couple of days in the records office trying to gather information and possible evidence. They’d contacted Kingsley to get clearance without having to sign in and risk blowing both their real and fake covers. 

Meanwhile, Jake and Charles had been placed on stakeout duty outside the Woolworth building. This time, though, they weren’t looking for a specific person, but some other type of consistency. Perhaps someone entering or exiting the building at the same time every day, or whether there were similarities in people’s gaits with their walk. Hermione and Amy had researched possible ways to imitate a person, and, with the trio’s past use of Polyjuice, they had more ideas of what to look for. Rosa was still stationed on surveillance duty, so she was monitoring the surrounding blocks for any sudden appearances. Sometimes she, Charles and Jake would switch around their duties to not get caught up in the monotony.

What Ron and Harry had found the next day was a similarity in times on the main sign in sheet for the Wand Records Office, but it was always a different name. The names were always male, so if it was Gerteso posing as other people, it narrowed the search for who the 99 was looking for. Once in the Wand Records Office, the second sign-in indicated that Gerteso was searching wand records between 1993 and 1998, but the rows varied. It looked as if Gerteso had been tackling about five rows a day, and was a week in. 

He typically only spent about forty five minutes searching each day to not arouse suspicion, and he didn’t go in order when searching the rows. Gerteso clearly planned everything out to minimize suspicions. The first day Harry and Ron were investigating, they split up the rows between them. 

It was a small records office, the rows weren’t very long, and the shelves were only four rows high. The years were labeled at the ends of the rows and indicated the record holder’s school age entrance year.  Records were kept in manilla folders that had stickers on the end with letters. The first two appeared to be the first and last initial, and most folders only had two stickers, but some had three or four. So Harry and Ron decided to decipher the labeling system first to see if they could save time.

“How in the world does he get through five rows each day? There must be at least a hundred records to sift through on each shelf!” Harry said as he was looking down the row.

“Maybe there’s a classification system with the letters that makes it easier for him to look.” Ron suggested. He scanned the row he was currently scanning. “Americans certainly go through a lot of wands, don’t they? This one person has had at least five, and their Ilvermorny start was in ‘93!” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Guess they’re more careless than we are, or more interested in power and status. Who knows.” Harry was silent for a bit before he said, “Hey Ron, I think the third letter is the married name for those witches.”

“I think you’re right, Harry,” Ron said as he handled a folder himself. “Black and white lettering for first and last name, blue and white lettering for married name, yeah?”

“Yeah, now let’s look for-” Harry cut himself off as they heard a door open.

Ron checked his watch and knew it was close to that time. He pointed at his watch, and then the end of the row. Harry grabbed the invisibility cloak from inside his pocket and put it on while Ron made his way to an area in the shelves where the newcomer wouldn’t find him. He double checked that his phone was on silent, and opened it to send a text message to Jake and Charles. He’s here.

Jake responded fairly quickly. Harry texted Charles. He’s going to give us a description to work off of so when he comes back out we can trail him to see where he goes.

Brilliant, Ron sent back before switching his contacts to Hermione. 

Her response was a bit less stealth. Omg. He’s there? Are you going to apprehend him? 

Not yet.

Well, why not? Isn’t that the whole reason you’re there???

Ron rolled his eyes. He was once again reminded why Hermione wasn’t an Auror. Hermione, we don’t know for certain that it’s him. Plus, we need to be sure we know what he’s after to have enough evidence. It’d look pretty bad if we arrested the wrong guy and then spooked Gerteso.

Ugh, fine. 

While we’re waiting, have you found any more on The Cryptic yet?

OH! Yes, actually. Amy is going to send you a couple files now. It may actually help us narrow it down.

As Ron was reading Hermione’s text, he saw the drop down notification from Amy and clicked on it. There were three links to articles. He clicked on the first one. Apparently one of the street names The Cryptic goes by is Francesco Martini. At least that was his good samaritan name. 

He was the youngest philanthropist New York has seen in decades, only 28. It was an article about how he donates thousands of dollars to help orphaned children, both magical and non-magical. He even takes some of the kids into his home, almost like that Daddy Warbucks in that muggle movie Hermione had made him watch once.

Hmm, I wonder if that’s a cover to better assess kids for the squib trafficking. Ron texted Amy.

I was thinking the same thing. Everything we’ve found on Francesco Martini is pretty solid and checks out, though. He’s careful with his aliases. Plus, he’s only ever seen in pictures by this name, so whoever his true identity is, he keeps that locked up tight.

Merlin, how does she text so fast? Ron thought. He moved onto the other articles she sent to pass the time. The first thing he’d do once Gerteso left would be to double check the name Martini, happy to have a solid plan for once.

The last article was still open on his phone when he noticed something about Martini’s picture. Why didn’t it look the same as the other article. Ron quickly toggled back and forth. Bloody hell, he thought as he opened the text thread for Hermione. 

Check those images on the articles of Martini, and tell me if you notice anything. He sent the text and waited a few moments. Sure, the years were two apart, but he was vastly different. Almost as if a beauty charm was used on the more recent article. In the older one he looked like-. His thought was cut off as Hermione’s text came through.

It doesn’t look like the same person, even though he’s labeled as Francesco Martini. That’s odd. I’m having Amy cross reference to see if we get any more image hits.

Notice anything else? Ron sent back.

The older image looks like someone I’ve seen before.

Like Gerteso.

Oh, my... YES, RON THAT’S RIGHT! Ron nodded as he read Hermione’s message. 

There are some differences, though. 

You don’t think they could be brothers, do you? That could fit the whole taking what’s rightfully his.

Maybe even closer than that.

TWINS? But how…

I don’t know. I’ll search both names, Ron sent the last text to her as he heard a door shut. Harry texted. 

He’s leaving, but don’t come out yet. I want to be sure. I’m texting Jake and Charles to make sure he doesn’t see them following him, and not to engage. They’ll meet us back at headquarters.

They waited a good five minutes before they received word from Charles that Gerteso had left the Woolworth building. When Harry told him it was safe, Ron quickly showed him what Hermione and Amy had found and where he wanted to look.

“But that wouldn’t make sense, I trailed him the entire time he was here. He didn’t search the rows he wrote down in the log book, either, Ron. He stayed in the G section of 1998.” 

“I think they’re brothers Harry, and if Martini is an alias, then of course Gerteso would be looking in G. Let’s just check the M1998 section.” Harry nodded reluctantly as they quickly found it.

“There’s no Martini here, Ron,” Harry said impatiently, but Ron didn’t move.

He stood there, thinking hard. “What did Kingsley say about the Sanguinity connection with The Cryptic?”

“Just that the Sanguinity named him head of the New York Division,” Harry said, scratching his head.

“He’s 28, Harry. Very young. There’s got to be something special about him.”

“Or maybe they couldn’t find a suitable leader in New York and sent him here,” Harry said half jokingly.

Ron looked up at him. “That’s it! Harry, you’re brilliant!” He immediately began moving to the end of the aisle. 

“What? I was only-”

“But what if he was sent here? From Italy? Do they have immigrant records?”

“Er, yeah on the other side of the floor.”

“What are we waiting for?” Ron hurried to the immigration record area and searched for Martini. It didn’t take long to find one singular match in 1998. “Bloody hell,” Ron muttered as they grabbed the file.

He opened it as Harry looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, there was a picture of a boy who closely resembled a younger version of the man who Ron had seen in the article. It turned out Martini was indeed an alias.

“So The Cryptic’s real name is Lorenzo Guarnieri?” Harry asked quietly. 

“Looks like it. Let’s take pictures of all this so we can take it back to the team.” Ron handed Harry the folder as he reached for his phone. 

As Ron was taking the pictures, Harry continued studying the document. When it came across familial relations, Harry drew a sharp breath in. “Whoa.”

“What?” asked Ron.

“I think you might be right about the brother hunch, mate.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ron asked curiously.

“Because it says so right here. A twin brother, who was older, but presumed dead. Leonardo Guarnieri.”

Ron looked up at Harry and both men had the same thought at the same time. “Gerteso.”

[hellowkatey]

The Come Up (Bucky x Reader)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18701557/chapters/44353861

Friends to lovers trope cause I’m a sucker for a slow burn. All further chapters will be posted to AO3 (link at bottom), but the first chapter is posted in its entirety below the break.

Summary: Newly accepted as an official Avenger, you move into the infamous compound, anxious to be a part of a team for the first time. You quickly find acceptance among the group, but your loner habits are taking a bit longer to acclimate. Your first mission comes around, and you finally meet the infamous Bucky Barnes, immediately clicking and falling into a natural friendship. When ~feelings~ arise, you must figure out how to figure out if these new emotions need to be suppressed or let out in the open.

Warnings: none

Tags: friend to lover, pre IW/EG, reader x bucky

Rating: PG13 for language and suggestive content

When you look in the mirror, you don’t see “hero”.

It doesn’t matter that the suit Tony designed for you makes you look the part. No amount of lightweight bulletproof super fabric and Avengers emblems will change that you are still you underneath— hardened, scarred, and internally broken.

“It looks great.” You whirl around to see Natasha leaning against the door frame of your bedroom. She looks ready for bed with her hair tucked into a loose bun, a pair of flannel pajama pants and a gray tank top.

“Thanks,” you say shyly, glancing back at yourself in the mirror. For as wrong as it feels, it fits like a damn glove. He asked if you had a preference on design. You just said to keep it simple, and he really nailed it.

It looks like normal clothing. The pants are black, high waisted and fitted down your legs like skinny jeans but soft and stretchy and thicker than they seem. He explained it’s because they are meant to block bullets. A new material they got from Wakanda. The top is a dark gray v-neck and a similar material. It’s long sleeve and has the Avengers emblem on the breast and on the back of the neck in black.

Your favorite part is the jacket. It looks like black denim, feels like denim, and moves like denim. According to Tony it’s better. Adjusts to the weather to be cooling or heating. Tough and durable against sharp objects and bullets. Above all, it is practically the same outfit you have worn when you have gone out to do some ass kicking. Tony even let you keep your favorite combat boots.

“I want you to feel like you can be yourself here.” He said when he gave you a box containing this suit. The way he looked at you meant he read your file. They all have the same look when they learn the truth.

“Did you ever feel guilty being here?” You ask, turning to look at Natasha as you slide the jacket off and pull out your own bedtime clothes. She smiles softly, longing in her eyes.

“I still do sometimes. It’s hard moving past the things I’ve done. There will always be red in my ledger no matter how many times I kick bad guys in the face.”

You chuckle at the thought of Nat literally smashing some perp in the jaw. You’re sure she isn’t exaggerating either. “What helped?”

“The people. I let them in, and now they’re my family. I just keep reminding myself that they know about my past and still love me.”

“Easy as that?”

“Easy at that. Have a good night, [y/n].”

You say goodnight and close your bedroom door with her departure. Now alone you change out of the fancy suit and into an oversized t-shirt that hits halfway down your thighs and shorts just in case you run into someone in the hallway at 2am or there’s an attack in the middle of the night. Precautions you never had to deal with working alone.

You set an alarm for 7am for your morning workout and fall asleep almost immediately, the weight of another exhausting day pulling you into darkness.

The chains of the punching bag clatter and twist as you land multiple hard hits on the side. Sweat is dripping off your body as you land a final fatal blow and the punching bag strap gives away, falling to the ground with a loud thud that echos through the training room. You shake out your hands and kick it to the side with two others you have demolished this morning.

“Looks like the punching bag destroyer isn’t me for once.” Steve Rogers laughs, walking into the room with two other men that you recognize as San Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Sam smiles widely at you and then looks at your small pile of fatalities with wide eyes.

“Super soldier?”

“Sam—“

“Oh are we not allowed to ask?” He rolls his eyes at Steve but then looks at you a little concerned he crossed a line. You give him a reassuring smile.

“Not exactly a super solider by design, but I have some similarities. Strength, agility, enhanced senses, and faster healing would be the overlap.” Steve nods at your list, confirming your assumption.

“Anything else? Laser vision maybe? Man, I have been so disappointed in the lack of laser vision in this--”

“Sam,” Steve groans, and you let out a genuine laugh. You’re internally giddy at how well this conversation is going, even if it’s just a little banter between the naturally outgoing Falcon and Steve Rogers. You glance at Bucky who is standing by quietly, per usual. You know he’s paying attention because his eyes are going back and forth between you and Sam, but his expression is neutral. The resting stoicism of Bucky Barnes.

“Oh come on,” Sam whines. Steve gives him another look and this time he seems like he will cease.

“We’re not here to barrade [y/n]. We are here to deliver a mission.”

He holds out a file folder. It’s thick, and stamped with the SHIELD logo. Must be a few years old.

“How’s your Portuguese?”

“Fairly decent.” You reply in Portuguese, opening the folder to find a stack of case files with a black and white photograph paper clipped to the first page.

“Perfect. While we hate to just throw you into the field so quick, you’re the only other fluent Portuguese in house at the moment.”

“Other?”

“You will be joining Bucky in Brazil on this mission.”

You look up from the case to look at Bucky. Your eyes meet and the corner of his mouth turns up the smallest amount. A friendly smile. You guess it’s better than nothing.

Excitement courses through you. Your first mission! You didn’t expect to be so excited for something you’ve been doing for years, yet you can’t help but feel a little more confident after your talk with Natasha. You’re working towards a better future.

“When do we leave?”

“Saturday.” Steve says, indicating you have about two days to prepare. “Better start reading.” 

The three men then turn and leave you with a stack of classified files and three broken punching bags. 

November 18, 2004

Agent Log Transcript

“Shield agent Riley Gonzalez reporting in. It is November 18 in São Paulo, Brazil. Investigation of the numerous mystery attacks in the area has come up with no concrete evidence... locals have little insight, or do not seem affected by the disturbances. I have seen nothing down here that would indicate possible extraterrestrial activity. Next check in is November 24th unless new information is uncovered.” 

Transcript End. 

November 20th, 2004

Agent Log Transcript

“Shield Agent Riley Gonzalez, reporting in. Uhhh, so, I don’t know what to say. I, uh, I found something weird, don’t know if it connects, but--”

[yelling in background, incoherent voices]

“Shit!” 

Transcript End. 

You’re sitting in one of the large armchairs in the study, curled up in a blanket and sifting through the case files. You leave in the morning, and you just want to go over them once more to make sure you didn’t miss anything. 

When SHIELD was active, seven agents went missing in different parts of South America at different times. After SHIELD was disassembled, no more agents were sent down, but intelligence on so-called “extra-terrestrial attacks” continued to be gathered. After the attacks of 2012, the weird occurances suddenly didn’t seem so outlandish. Fury restarted the investigation and with the help of Tony’s advanced software, managed to find a pattern in the documented attacks. That is why Bucky and you are going to Brazil-- to try and witness and predict the next attack so they can figure out what they are and how to stop them. 

The overhead light flickers on in the study. You blink a few times, your eyes adjusting to the flood of brightness. You hadn’t noticed how dark it had become in there. 

Through your squinting you see Bucky stride into the room, his quiet confidence radiating off of him. “Reading in the dark?” he asks, a small smile appearing on his lips. You’re a little caught off guard to see him engaging you in conversation. The most you’ve ever spoken to him before this moment is when you were introduced, and that entire moment consisted of him him walking past the kitchen while Steve, Nat, Bruce, Sam, Tony, Wanda, Vision, and Rhodey were making their own acquaintances and Steve pointed to his fleeting figure saying “That’s Bucky.” and Tony adding “He doesn’t say much.” 

“It wasn’t dark when I started reading.” You push together the papers into a neat pile and tuck them back into the folder. Bucky sits down on the couch across from you, his eyebrows knit together despite his general friendly demeanor. “Something wrong?” 

“Nothing wrong, just thinking about this mission.” 

“Are you nervous?”

He scoffs, and you roll your eyes. 

“Are you one of those guys that chalks everything up to having seen worse?” 

He cocks his head, pressing his lips together into a curious expression. 

“I have lived through the second world war, being frozen, and an alien invasion or two. I’d say that’s seeing some shitty things and missions like these don’t really make me that nervous.” 

“You never know. Seven other agents were probably thinking the same thing, and they were never seen again.”

He picks at a thread on the sleeve of his green henley, glancing up at you to make eye contact every so often. 

“What, do you want me to be nervous?” 

“It would be comforting to not be the only one.” 

He chuckles softly. “[y/n], it’s gonna be fine. First mission jitters go away pretty quick.” 

"When do we take off?" you shift the subject, feeling a little embarrassed at your comment about him "seeing worse". The man was a brainwashed assassin, who do you think you are to make statements like that? Even your shitty past can't compare to the baggage he must carry around with him.

"7am. You a morning person?"

"Usually yes."

"Then you're in charge of waking me up if I oversleep. Steve is gettin' real tired of mothering me."

"He would never tire of that." Bucky grins at that, nostalgia a glint in his eye.

"True." he mutters, standing and giving you a polite nod. "I'll see you in the morning."

You tell him goodnight and starts to head to the door before stopping and turning around halfway. He reaches over and flicks on a lamp that is sitting on a side table near you and then heads to the door, flipping off the much too bright overhead light. The lamp is the perfect amount of dim light for you to see, but not hurting your eyes. You shoot an appreciative smile at his back as he shuts the door to the study behind him.

Your head is whirling. Casual conversation with Bucky beyond the little squad of him, Steve, and Sam, is not something that you have seen often. He's nice, you observe, and quite laid back. Maybe this mission won't be as awkward as you fear it to be.

The sun is not yet up when you rise. The sound of birds chirping outside eases you into consciousness before your alarm can go off. Flipping over you press the screen of your tablet to see you have another half an hour before you planned to be awake. You're wide awake now, though, so you sit up and pull your legs into a crossed position and begin your morning meditation a little early.

You've been meditating for years. It's the only way you have found that truly helps you stay relaxed and control your powers, which is a difficult feat on its own. Being here has taken a toll on you lately, so you've practically tucked away your powers completely. When you were on your own, you used them constantly, figuring to make the best of a bad situation. Now, living with so many others, it feels wrong, like you're constantly being watched.

There's a knock at the door, and your eyes snap open. You get up and open the door to find Steve Rogers standing there.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, I was up."

"Good. Can we talk?" He looks past you, indicating he must want you to invite him in. You step back, unblocking the doorway from him. He comes in and sits at an armchair you have in the corner of your room. You sit back on your bed cross-legged and watch as he twiddles his thumbs a little before finally looking at you.

"No one knows what you can do," he says, his voice careful. "I'm sure that was obvious after Sam's outburst the other day."

Did they inject Captain America with mind reading powers too?

"Why not?"

"[y/n], you're powerful. You may be one of the most powerful people we have ever had under this roof. I know and Tony knows, but since we did not know the true nature of your powers, we did not want to make assumptions and try to explain something we don't understand."

"So you're saying if I want people to know who I am, it's up to me to talk about that."

A part of you is relieved. The stories of you usually cause people to fear you, and that is not something you like. Another part of you is filled with anxiety that the bullet is still sitting in the chamber and you will be the one to bite it.

"Basically yes. I just wanted to talk to you about this since you are going on a mission and that might be a good topic to bring up... ya know, for partner trust."

"Understood, Cap."

"Uh, yeah. Good."

There's a moment of silence.

"I see what Bucky says about you being a mother now." you chuckle.

"He said what?" Steve raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile on his lips. The strange tension in the room breaks and you are relieved.

"Just that you have to wake him up for school."

"It was his words not mine, then." Steve laughs and stands up. "Good luck, [y/n]. Watch out for my pal too."

"Definitely."

Steve leaves. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, a testament to the new conversation that has been added to your list of things to do on this mission. At least you have something to talk about on the plane now, you suppose.

Sometimes you wish you could fly. Or were just strong and skilled like Natasha. Or had something, anything other than the mess of powers that you have. It would be easier that way. Fewer people would leave out of fear or misunderstanding. Maybe you would have real friends.

Maybe that's why you accepted the Avenger's offer. You have been racking your brain endlessly for the past few weeks trying to figure out why you wanted to be here so bad. Being solo was so much simpler, so much fewer rules. Yet, when Tony Stark showed up at your crummy apartment door, you decided on the spot that you were in. For someone that tends to overthink everything, you sure made that decision fast.

There is a community of other people here that have rough backstories, misunderstood abilities, the weight of the world on their shoulders. A part of you just needed some sort of connection.

You place the last of your packed clothes into your duffel bag and zip it up. Wheels up in an hour and a half. You slip on a pair of black leggings and a green short sleeve roll sleeve top. Topping the outfit off with your usual combat boots and tying your hair up in a bun, you look in the mirror, satisfied, and throw the bag over your shoulder.

Bucky's room is nearly on the other side of the complex. He's next to Steve's room, unsurprisingly. You walk over and stand outside his door, your hand hovering in the air as you debate whether to knock or not.

Was he joking yesterday about needing to be woken up?

Fuck, you really should have confirmed that.

You drop your hand and press your ear to the door, listening for any sort of movement. Silence.

"Screw it," you mutter to yourself, and you knock.

It's quiet at first, but a few moments later you hear rustling and the sound of someone groaning.

The door opens suddenly and you jump back in surprise. There stands Bucky, hair disheveled and matted on the side, eyes droopy and sleep fresh on his breath. Shirtless... very shirtless and wearing only a pair of thin cotton pajama pants hanging low on his hips. Your eyes snap back up to his face, your face red that you totally just let your eyes wander down his entire body.

"'m up" he slurs, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Uh huh," you nod, noticing some parallel straight lines practically carved into his forehead... someone fell asleep with his metal arm on his head. You restrain yourself from making any jokes and step back again to put some distance between the two of you. "Wheels up in an hour."

further updates can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18701557/chapters/44353861

[megers67]

BNHA OC 2: Tanaka Rin

My second OC for BNHA. I came up with her second as a counterpart to Hibiki but I love her on her own as well.

Hibiki's Bio

Hero Profile

Once again, I'm so sorry there isn't a Read More. I'm on mobile and there's no damn way for me to do it.

APPEARANCE: Rin is pretty tall and of athletic build. She has bright blue hair (dyed from her natural darker blue) that, while the style changes fairly frequently, always stays short. It's never past her chin and is usually shorter than that. Because of her quirk, she is completely unaffected by the outside temperature. That means she can literally wear anything she wanted at any time, much to the annoyance of her friends. She has a decent fashion sense, but is literally blind and so can't see the colors for anything. Though even if she could, she has the confidence to wear crazy color combos. She likes people's reactions to her attire like a neon pink miniskirt in the dead of winter or a big fluffy coat in the summer heat or something. Rin does generally keep it seasonal for the most part though she still wears clashing colors. Doesn't help that Hibiki is usually the one to help Rin out in that department, and while SHE is sighted, she has absolutely no fashion sense herself. So Rin gets to enjoy walking around like a fucking disaster. For those who try to make negative comments, she cheerfully informs them that she's blind and that usually shuts them up. She also usually wears sunglasses because it's much easier to use her thermal vision when outside light is blocked out.

This doesn't really do it justice, but I'm limited to what Love Nikki is giving me. I could go more clashing, but most of that also involves clothes that don't line up (like shirts going outside the coat, etc) and I hate the look of that.

PERSONALITY: Rin is bright and cheerful and very outgoing. She is persistent in her desire to befriend most people she comes across, but knows when to tone things down or when someone needs space. Like Hibiki, she will also drop everything to help someone out, though it is far less draining on her than Hibiki. She's a fixer though so she's not great to go to if you just want to vent. If you do want to do something about something or help getting something done, then she is perfect for the job.

While Rin exudes positivity, she certainly has her own insecurities, mostly stemming from her fear that she isn't good enough to be a hero. She's not the strongest or the smartest, the fastest, most technically skilled, or have the best quirk. On top of that, she's blind. While her quirk goes a long way to make her independent, she still relies on others for a lot of things and suffers from imposter's syndrome. Being at UA has actually helped her a lot to combat these feelings, but they can still hit her pretty hard. Because she hides it behind a wall of positivity, it can be hard to spot when she's beating herself up over something. Hibiki seems to be one of, if not the, only one who can consistently read her and guide her through it. Rin isn't quick to anger unless it is on someone else's behalf in which case, she really lets it loose and will want to do something about it.

QUIRK: Her quirk is Heat. Specifically, she can make herself a heat sink or heat source and can use that to control the temperature of what she touches or the air immediately surrounding her. Her entire body is therefore unaffected by extreme temperatures (and she doesn't need to regulate a normal body temperature). This means that she doesn't get burned or frostbite so she can be standing in a raging inferno and only need to worry about getting enough air to breathe. She has yet to reach the temperature limits on her body so her intensity and range is largely limited by the amount of energy she has and any environmental constraints. Because her quirk uses her body's energy, she needs to eat a lot to keep up. Her range can increase with contact with a conductive material as it can help direct the flow of energy. Her quirk doesn't produce fire or ice and so can be difficult for an opponent to track if they're not aware of it. Rin also uses her quirk as a form of thermal imaging to navigate the world around her. This means that she has a lot of independence and doesn't need external aids for most situations. Additionally, she is completely at ease in the dark as there is little change to her.

There are, however, limitations. She can't sense through barriers such as walls, even those that sighted people can see through like glass. She can sense through barriers if a conductive material goes through it to the other side, but even then the clarity is greatly diminished. Though even that can be very useful. Another limitation is that she can't read anything printed or written on a page, screen, sign, etc. She just sees that there is a paper there. For school work, she is allowed a laptop that has a text-to-speech option so that she can hear back her notes after she types them. Rin will also have one of her classmates go over her notes to make sure she didn't miss anything, though usually her own notes tend to be better since it's faster to type than to physically write things down. For non-school work, ie. when she's out and about, she has Hibiki or someone else with her read something out to her. She would even ask strangers, but this usually only happens when she's out shopping and needs to know a price. The same goes for colors. Rin was previously sighted so she remembers colors and even processes her thermal vision via colors but she doesn't know something's real color. Hibiki has gotten pretty good at describing colors to her.

PAST: Not nearly as sordid (or detailed) as Hibiki's to be sure. She has a loving family and an older brother. Her childhood was fairly normal to be sure. Rin was always popular in school because everyone just liked her and she always made an effort for anyone to feel included. Especially the new girl, Hibiki, who keeps to herself in the corner. And she even succeeds in becoming her friend! Yay!

But her life changed forever when she turned 11. All she wanted was to figure out the limitations of her quirk. Naturally this meant trying to get her hand as hot as she could as fast as she could. Turns out that really hot things get really really bright and that prolonged exposure to bright light can permanently damage your eyes. After one too many times, her sight never returns. After that, Rin was a mess. Losing a sense was hard and it didn't help that everyone treated her like a fragile porcelain doll. Almost everyone. Hibiki didn't. In fact, she was the same calm voice of reason that she always was. In fact little had changed between them. Just the subject matter of their conversations. It was Hibiki who pointed out that maybe she could try using her quirk to sense things like the goggles police and heroes sometimes use. And like that, they went from friends to inseparable best friends.

They applied to UA together and while they both got in, Hibiki didn't make it to the hero course like she did. Initially Rin was nervous because Hibiki helped her out a lot over the last few years and now they could only be together during lunch or off hours (even though Hibiki was convinced that being in different classes mean they would drift apart, Rin insisted otherwise). She would have to face being blind alone for the first time. That anxiety didn't last very long because her class was pretty cool about it. Her teachers also made sure she had proper accommodations both in and out of class.

The sports festival was very exciting because she was able to see just how much she'd grown, but Hibiki as well. Rin made sure that they did their handshake in front of everyone to show both Hibiki and the world that whatever happened, they were still friends. And even as Rin finally knocked Hibiki out of the ring, both were smiling. Even though she didn't win, getting third was pretty damn cool.

Rin does her field training with Backdraft in the Musutafu fire department. She finds that she actually quite likes rescue work even though she still wants to fight villains. She continues to train, increasing her stamina to use her quirk more and in larger strength.

Even though she was sad that one of her classmates chose to drop the hero course, she was very happy that that meant that Hibiki was now joining the class. She was very active in getting Hibiki accepted into the group. Rin also worked hard to make sure that Hibiki was all caught up as far as the hero course was concerned. Rin got her provisional license and did her internship with a hero that was more villain-centric to get that kind of experience and was particularly useful for night missions because of her thermal vision, but it made her lose a lot of sleep. She started taking naps between classes and during lunch, relying on Hibiki to sneak her snacks during class to keep going.

OTHER SKILLS AND TIDBITS: Rin is the resident Hibiki whisperer. If you ever wanted Hibiki to do something, your best bet is to get Rin on it. Rin is down for pretty much anything and can talk Hibiki into pretty much anything even for a more passive role.

She has ADHD. She has it mostly under control, but when she doesn't, Hibiki knows how to pull her back together and get back to work.

Because Rin's body is resistant to extreme temperatures, when she thinks she is getting sick, she will "flash" to basically incinerate the pathogen. Unfortunately this also burns away any good bacteria she has in her gut as well as any non-digested food still in her system. The combo makes her nauseous anyway. She gets scolded for it every time but still insists she'll get it right some day.

She is the undisputed best cuddler because she can make her body temp juuuust the right level of warmth for whoever she's cuddling. This is especially popular during the winter.

By default, her body temperature is the normal and average level. But sometimes it will accidentally rise or lower itself without her noticing, usually due to emotions. She doesn't really notice until it's pointed out by someone that she accidentally burned or froze something.

Rin is really good to have in the kitchen because she can tell when things are cooked through to the exact temp it should be, make sure something is cooked evenly, or retrieve an ingredient that accidentally fell into boiling water too early, etc. Her favorite "party trick" is for when people are unfamiliar with her quirk, she will "accidentally" lean on a hot stove and freak them out.

She has a pretty mischievous streak in her. While she doesn't like initiating pranks, she loves being an accomplice in them. Rin is staunchly neutral during prank wars but is more than willing to lend her services to either side.

Rin likes "watching" movies even though she can't see the images on the screen. She enjoys making up her own as she hears the dialogue. The first question her friends usually have when the credits roll is "okay, what do you THINK just happened?" A lot of the time, the answer is a lot more fun than what actually happened because she has a really active imagination.

She can read Japanese braille, but it doesn't come up incredibly often. Rin is in the process of learning Japanese sign language because she wants to be good representation for disabilities and advocate for accessibility.

Rin doesn't like "turning off" her thermal vision very much, but it can get tiring after a while. She tends to do so during class since she doesn't really need it then. She'll only "turn off" outside of class if she's alone with Hibiki since she was around from the beginning. She's okay being vulnerable around her.

She doesn't like having long hair herself, but greatly enjoys playing with Hibiki's.

Rin is pansexual and has known since junior high. But she hasn't done a lot of dating since she only seems to have a consistent crush on a certain someone who just doesn't seem interested.

Rin doesn't like travelling very far by herself because she's afraid that she will suddenly get too tired to maintain her thermal vision, leaving her vulnerable, lost, and alone.

She really likes cats, but it's kind of a problem because Hibiki is allergic. Hibiki will still go with her to cat cafes to keep her company, but Rin usually feels really bad about it and so will usually ask other people to join her before resorting to asking Hibiki.

Just as Hibiki is the best hider in hide and seek, Rin is the best seeker because of her thermal vision. She is no longer allowed to be seeker.

[banshee-cheekbones]

If you’re taking prompts could you do Cordia & picking out a puppy at the pound

hi nonny! here’s some pre-relationship Cordia that’s canon-divergent after 3A, with human Lydia, emotional hurt/comfort, mild angst and general pack feelings.

3.2k. on ao3 here.

like a ship lost at sea.

Once senior year comes to an end, the pack goes their separate ways.

Cora doesn’t think that any of them actively set out to leave Beacon Hills for the sole reason of getting away from each other but, pack bonds or not, they all have their futures to consider, and those futures aren’t concentrated in the same spot. Stiles, Lydia and Kira (with Malia in tow) all move cross-country to Virginia, Massachusetts, and New York respectively. Scott remains in California, Allison and Isaac cross the ocean to France, and Derek pulls up stakes and joins Braeden on the road.

Cora stays behind.

She only remains in Beacon Hills for a few weeks after the others disperse. Sure, there are still people that she knows in town; Scott’s mom is constantly in contact with her, urging her to come by whenever she wants to, and Peter is always skulking around somewhere, but they aren’t enough. They aren’t pack; being around them doesn’t make the expansive walls of Derek’s loft feel any more like home, doesn’t do anything to quell the itch underneath her skin, an itch that becomes almost unbearable when the full moon comes around.

So once the moon is new again, she leaves.

She goes back to South America, meanders through Brazil and Peru, spends a few weeks with her old pack, hoping all the while that it’ll do something to fill what seems to be the increasingly large void in her chest. For a few days, she thinks that it might even work, that she’s back where she belongs.

But then the full moon returns to the sky, and the rest of the pack stares at it with joy and reverence, and all Cora can do is shudder in her misshapen skin and wonder if she’ll ever feel whole again.

When there’s no longer a hint of moon in the sky, she returns stateside and stays a few days in the echoing loft, works out until it feels like her heart might explode from her chest, runs through the woods until her feet are a mess of dirt and crushed leaves and dried blood.

Mainly, she tries to figure out where to go next.

She’s trying to narrow it down between New York and Philadelphia, where Derek says he’ll be for at least another week, when she gets a call from Lydia. It’s not entirely a surprise; they’ve been in fairly consistent contact since Lydia left for Massachusetts, text each other at least once a day.

The subject of the call is what throws Cora off-guard.

“My roommate is moving out at the end of the week,” Lydia says as soon as Cora picks up. “Do you still want to get out of Beacon Hills?”

If Cora were to take some time to think it over, she’s fairly certain that she could come up with a dozen reasons why saying yes is a horrible idea. But, when it comes down to it, it’s probably a better idea than crashing on Kira and Malia’s couch or tagging along as Derek and Braeden’s third wheel for a few weeks.

So she doesn’t give herself any time to talk herself out of it. She simply says yes and starts to pack as soon as the call ends.

It takes just a little under an hour. All her most valuable possessions, the things she holds most dear in all the world, fit into a single worn duffle bag.

Frankly, she’s surprised that she manages to fill it.

It’s raining when her flight lands.

Lydia is waiting for her just inside the entrance to the arrivals area, raincoat belted tightly around her waist, hair hanging in a tight braid over one shoulder, looking so effortlessly put together and beautiful, so at ease in her surroundings, that Cora has to swallow around a sour lump of jealousy.

“It’s nice to see you,” she says as Cora walks up. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where her shoulders go stiff, before she shakes her head minutely and pulls Cora into a tight hug. It’s been so long since Cora’s touched someone else that her first instinct is to shrink away, but then the smell of Lydia’s shampoo reaches her nostrils, and the unique rhythm of her heartbeat, so utterly familiar, fully settles in Cora’s ears. For the first time in months, she feels like she’s standing on solid ground again, and she melts into Lydia’s touch.

“Yeah,” she mutters, closing her eyes for just a moment, focusing on the steady thump of Lydia’s heart in order to block out the cacophony filling the rest of the vast space. “You too.”

Lydia’s apartment is smaller than she expected, but she’s actually relieved; after spending so much time alone in the cold, echoing loft, she’s had enough of expansive spaces. The windows let in copious amounts of sunlight, and there’s a balcony large enough for her to work out on when the weather is nice. Her own room is already mostly furnished; Lydia’s old roommate left behind their bed and desk, so all Cora has to order is a new dresser (which remains half-empty, even after she buys some new clothes). At night, it’s surprisingly quiet; the street isn’t heavily trafficked, and they’re far away from the bars, so she’s able to sleep with the window open, enjoy the breeze, without having to use earplugs.

Even though the official beginning of the semester is still some weeks off, Lydia has already managed to score a job as a research assistant for a professor in the mathematics department and, once Cora has unpacked her meager belongings and taken some time to get used to the neighborhood, she uses a connection that she’s somehow managed to cultivate in only a few months to land Cora a job as a barista at a coffee shop on campus.

Despite it being the summer, the shop is still busy enough that most of her day flies by in the blink of an eye, and she falls into the routine quickly, uses her enhanced senses to her advantage. It’s not glamorous, the uniform is absolutely hideous, and it’s definitely not something that she wants to make a career out of, but seeing as she isn’t sure what she does want to make a career out of, she’s fine with it being a stopover. At the very least, it gives her a reason to get out of bed in the morning, gives her something to focus on that isn’t the pull of the moon.

Any reservations she may have had about being Lydia’s roommate dissolve fairly quickly. Lydia spends a good portion of any given day on campus and when she is home, she’s quiet, is usually curled up on the couch with a book or watching something on her laptop. She doesn’t push Cora to talk, but she listens when Cora does want to talk. She’s freer with her physical affections than Cora remembers; she doesn’t hesitate to slide closer when Cora sits down beside her on the couch, doesn’t shy away from occasionally brushing Cora’s hair away from her face, but she’s never pushy about it, never lingers for too long.

One night, as Cora lays in bed, staring out the window at where the glow from the streetlights has turned the sky a deep shade of orange and listening to Lydia quietly hum to herself in her bedroom down the hall, she thinks to herself that maybe this is where she’s meant to be.

Maybe this is what she’s been searching for since senior year came to an end.

But then the moon starts to edge towards its peak again and her skin grows too tight and her chest aches for something she can’t put a name to but is too damnably familiar with.

She calls in sick on the day of the full moon and stays in her bedroom, buried under her blanket despite the heat, palms going through a continual cycle of tearing open and healing as her claws dig in.

She wants to call Derek. She wants to ask if he’s experiencing the same thing, if he feels like he’s going to implode every single time the moon reaches its peak, but the idea of moving to find her phone, of poking her head out into the sunlight, just makes her head ache, and she remains motionless.

By the time Lydia returns from campus, it’s nearly evening, and Cora still hasn’t moved. The sound of the front door closing behind her echoes through Cora’s head, as does each of her footsteps. When she pauses outside Cora’s door, Cora can hear the wood rasping when Lydia lays her palm on it.

Idly, she wonders how painful gouging out her own eardrums would be.

“Cora?” Thankfully, Lydia’s voice is softer than usual, barely louder than a whisper. “Are you okay?”

Cora could lie to her. Lydia wouldn’t be able to hear her heartbeat shift and tick, wouldn’t be able to smell her scent change ever so subtly. But frankly, Cora doesn’t know if she could keep her voice from shaking long enough to lie.

So, instead, voice raspy with thirst, she answers, “No.”

Lydia’s scent changes at that, sours a little with something that isn’t quite sadness but is in the pain spectrum nonetheless. After a moment where the only sounds from her are her heartbeat and breath, she slowly pushes the door open, and Cora shifts the blanket just enough so that she can look out with one eye.

“I have an idea,” Lydia says, glancing around the room, at the closed window and the blanket bunched over Cora’s body. “But we’d need to go for a short drive. Is that something you could manage?”

The honest answer is that Cora isn’t sure. But she wants to try, even if only to make the sour smell of Lydia’s pain dissipate.

“Can we come back?” she asks, sticking her whole head out from underneath the blanket and blinking at the overly bright room. “If it’s too much.” Lydia nods.

“Of course.”

That’s the assurance Cora needs to fully kick the blanket away from her body. Sitting up and tossing her legs over the edge of the mattress, she runs one hand through her hair and is only mildly alarmed when her fingers snag on a considerably large knot.

“Alright. Just let me brush my teeth first.”

The world seems to be painted in swathes of screaming florescent color, and the sound of everything is turned up too high, and the moon feels like it has its claws firmly hooked into her back, but Cora still manages to make it out of the apartment and into the passenger seat of Lydia’s car.

Once she’s seated, she sinks back into the leather and closes her eyes, grateful for the tinted windows. Even though it’s warm enough outside to have the windows down, Lydia leaves them up and turns the air conditioning on the lowest setting. After a moment of adjustment, the low whoosh of air actually becomes almost soothing. It gives Cora something else to focus on, along with the sound of Lydia’s heart, something to block out what feels like every sound in the universe. Lydia doesn’t tell her where they’re going, and Cora doesn’t ask.

She figures it out when they’re still nearly a block away.

The barking of at least a dozen dogs assaults her ears, and she digs her hands into her knees, claws tearing through her jeans and pressing into her skin. Lydia immediately slows down and glances over, fingers tight around the steering wheel.

“Is it too much? We can turn around.”

On some level, it is; there’s just so much noise, so many things clamoring for her attention that it makes Cora’s head throb. But she’s made it this far; she doesn’t want to give up yet, especially when they’re so close. She wants to know the full details of Lydia’s plan, at the very least.

“No,” she winces, forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Keep going.”

They pull into the parking lot of the animal shelter a minute later. They’re the only vehicle in the lot, and once Lydia slides out, she comes around to Cora’s side and holds out her hand.

Her slim fingers would never heal properly if Cora squeezed them too hard. They’d stay jagged and crooked for the rest of her life.

“What if I hurt you?” she asks, bumping the door closed with her hip. Lydia just stares at her.

“Homicidal lizard of an ex-boyfriend never hurt me,” she says, hand still extended. “And I don’t think you will either.” It’s such an absurd thing to say, so human, but she’s unwavering; there isn’t a single ounce of fear coming off of her.

“I like to think that I’m more trustworthy than Jackson ever was,” Cora replies, trying her best to crack a joke as she slots their fingers together and lets Lydia walk her towards the entrance.

“You are. And more honest,” Lydia says. Just for a moment, her scent spikes with pain again, and Cora feels the abrupt need to pull Lydia close and hug her until it goes away. But the scent disappears almost as soon as it arrives, and when they walk inside, Cora immediately returns to focusing on keeping herself under control. Barking and meowing reverberates off every wall, and the lights are too glaring, and the combined scents of animal waste and industrial strength cleaning supplies gets caught in her throat, forcing her to swallow around a retch.

She’s vaguely aware that Lydia is talking to the woman at the front desk, but she doesn’t catch most of the conversation, doesn’t really even know what’s going on until the woman unlocks the waist-height gate beside the counter and ushers them back.

Once they leave the front area, the lights thankfully dim a little, and Cora’s able to open her eyes to more than a squint. They walk down a long hallway dotted with doors and stop in front of the one at the very end. There’s a small window inset in the door, and Cora peers through the glass into a room with a concrete floor and walls. A large dog bed fills one corner and curled up on it staring at the window is a dog only slightly smaller than a coyote with black and white fur. When Cora leans in closer to the window, the dog’s ears perk up, and its short tail starts to thump against the bed.

“This is Star,” the woman says, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “She was surrendered a few weeks ago. She’s very sweet.”

“What kind of dog is she?” Lydia asks, but Cora doesn’t pay attention to the answer that Lydia receives. Instead, she steps into the room and carefully sinks down onto her haunches and slowly extends one hand, ready to pull back if need be; dogs tend to be more wary around alphas, but some of them are just as frightened of betas, and healing factor or no, she doesn’t really relish the thought of having fangs sunk deep into her wrist.

But that doesn’t happen. Star wriggles forward, black nose cautiously sniffing at the air in front of Cora’s fingertips. After only a few moments, she gets to her feet, trots across the space between them and starts excitedly licking at Cora’s palm. When Cora fully sits down on the cold ground, Star clambers up into her lap and nudges at her chin with her snout, smacks her tail against Cora’s knee.

“I think she’s picked you,” the woman laughs quietly. Cora nods and glances up at Lydia, who is smiling but looks unsure of herself, is too stiff to be fully relaxed.

“Good,” Cora responds, scratching underneath Star’s chin, and Lydia’s smile comes fully alive. “Because I’m picking her.”

For an extra fee, the shelter is able to provide them with everything they need: a cage, food, a leash and some starter toys. While Lydia is occupied with filling out the required paperwork, Cora pays for everything and then ignores Lydia’s protests that they should have at least split the cost halfway.

It takes a few moments to fit everything into the back of Lydia’s car, and there isn’t enough room to fully unfold the cage, so Star rides back in Cora’s lap. Her head whips around as she looks at all the passing scenery, but she doesn’t claw at the dashboard or the window, and she seems perfectly content to allow Cora to press her face between her shoulder blades and breathe in deeply.

The different rhythms of the heartbeats in the car, of her own and Lydia’s and Star’s, should be too discordant, should only make her head throb more, but instead, she feels safe. Feels like she’s back in Beacon Hills with the rest of the pack, feels like she knows her place again.

It takes them two trips to bring everything upstairs. Once the door is closed behind them, Cora unclips Star’s leash. She expects Star to run around and explore, but instead, she simply follows Cora around, watches her set up her bed in the living room, follows her to the bathroom and waits outside until Cora comes back out. She only wanders away once they’ve set up her food and water in a corner of the kitchen.

After they’ve put everything away, Lydia sits down on one end of the couch and turns the television on, mutes it and puts something on Netflix with subtitles, and Cora doesn’t even think about retreating back to her bedroom. Instead, after a moment of hesitation, she sits beside Lydia on the couch, not close enough to touch but close enough to feel Lydia’s body heat.

After only a moment, Lydia reaches out and gently sets one hand on Cora’s shoulder.

“You can come here,” she says by way of explanation, glancing from Cora’s face to her own lap and back again. “If you want to.” There’s a hitch in her heartbeat that Cora isn’t familiar with, but it’s one that she knows as nervousness from hearing it in other people.

“Okay,” she says quietly and, before she can talk herself out of it, she pulls her legs up onto the couch and lies down with her head in Lydia’s lap, shifts around until she’s comfortable. When Lydia drops one hand to her hair and starts carefully untangling the knots, Cora lets her eyes fall shut.

“I wish I could take your pain away,” Lydia murmurs, fingertips smoothing along Cora’s hairline, like she’s trying to do it anyway, like she’s imagining black veins of pain climbing up her hand. Before Cora can answer, the sound of nails clicking against the floor reaches her ears, and Star hops up onto the couch, presses herself back against Cora’s chest and stretches out.

Cora sighs, lets herself sink further into Lydia’s lap, and drops one hand to Star’s side, anchors it in her sleek fur.

“You don’t have to,” she says. “This is enough for now.”

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

Hello, I'm terribly sorry if this sounds disrespectful or blunt, and you don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but what exactly happens when you have a trigger? Do you start getting upset/crying, or do you get flashbacks, or something?

Kii says:

When I have panic attacks (whether brought on by a specific triggering thing or not) I mostly just mentally shut down. People who don’t know me very well have not realized what was happening and just assumed I was either really shy or was ignoring them. However, people that do know me well have described my panic attacks as me becoming mostly unresponsive to visual and auditory stimuli and incredibly reactive to tactile stimuli. (So, if someone was saying my name and waving in my face, I likely wouldn’t respond at all, but if someone touched me, I would likely recoil or push them away.) I don’t outwardly cry or hyperventilate anything, but it does feel very difficult to breathe and everything just feels very fuzzy and distant, so it’s hard to recollect thoughts on what specifically I’m thinking about, but for me, flashbacks are rarely involved. (However, I do not have PTSD and my panic attacks are a result of other mental health issues.) Depending on the severity of things, I am sometimes able to keep a fairly-coherent typed conversation even if I can’t verbally communicate. I have often noticed my hands being incredibly shaky, but people who have observed me have not noticed this at all. I also generally prefer to sit on a very stationary or stable surface- so if I’m at my desk chair (a swivel chair) I will generally move onto the floor, etc.

~~~

Lee says:

People can have different reactions to triggers, which can range from being upset and crying to having flashbacks. It depends on the person, and it depends on the particular trigger. There isn’t one universal reaction, and similarly, there isn’t one universal trigger. Different people are triggered by different things, and that’s valid and should be respected. There isn’t one mental illness that has a monopoly on triggers as someone can have triggers relating to any disorder, but it is one of the hallmarks of PTSD which is why flashbacks are a cited as common result of being triggered.

Here are a few example scenarios of triggers and potential reactions:

A person with entomophobia (a phobia of insects) sees a bug in their room. Seeing the bug is the trigger that causes their fear and anxiety, and they have to leave the room until the bug is removed so they don’t have an anxiety attack. They may continue to worry about the bugs, and cry if they’re feeling very overwhelmed by it.

A two people in recovery from alcohol addiction go to a street with a bar where they used to drink when they’re hanging out. The location is the trigger that makes them remember getting drunk. They want to relapse, but one of them decide to contact a good friend instead and see if they can watch a movie together so they don’t try to reach out to the people who they used to use with and try to get a drink. The other of them isn’t as far along in their recovery, and goes to the bar.

A person with a psychotic disorder sees a conspiracy theory joke online. The conspiracy triggers their paranoia, and they have to ask a trusted person if they think it’s really something to worry about even though they know it was posted as a joke. Even after the reassurance they may continue to feel anxious about it and try to research if it’s real or not.

A person who has lost someone important to them smells a scent that reminds them of the person who they lost. The scent is the trigger that makes them remember the loss and they feel very sad heartbroken because they miss the person. They decide to fill out a STOPP worksheet to help them calm down and decide what to do.

A person with depression sees another person’s post about wanting to self-harm. This triggers their urge to behave self-destructively, and they have to try to distract themselves from it by going on a walk and listening to music. They may continue to think about self-harm, which can spiral into them feeling even more depressed and suicidal than before.

A person who was abused as a child sees a TV show episode that depicts someone being abused. This triggers them into having flashbacks of their trauma, and they start to dissociate and and have to stop watching the show and practice their grounding skills. 

Sometimes something that seems innocent (like Disney World) could be associated with something traumatic (like an incident with the person’s father) and so hearing about Disney could make them remember the abuse. You can’t always anticipate what someone’s triggers may be, but if someone tells you that something is a trigger for them you should respect that, even if it’s something that seems unusual to you. It isn’t right to mock someone for having uncommon triggers, but it sadly happens more often than it should. If you hear someone mocking someone else for being “triggered” if you think you’d be safe stepping in that’s a good way to ally for people who have triggers.

You should look at the mental health page if you’re struggling with your mental health! I’ve collected some helpful resources there about getting help and coping with various things.

Information on triggers:

Not Sure What People Mean By ‘Triggering?’ This Article Is Your One-Stop 101

The Psychology of Triggers and How They Affect Mental Health

Triggers worksheet

What is a Trigger?

Getting over triggers

How to cope with triggers you can’t avoid

Triggers and coping skills

Trigger jokes

The triggered meme

Joking about triggers

One thing that you may think of when you hear about triggers is trigger warnings. Trigger warnings can be used in different contexts- you could include them as part of a class curriculum, before showing a movie in a school club, or here on Tumblr. We at TTSG tag potential triggers in the tags of our replies to asks so people can block the post if it mentions one of their triggers. People with triggers can use extensions like the new x-kit and Tumblr savior on the computer and the washboard website on mobile to block keywords of their trigger. 

If someone sent us an ask that mentioned a potential trigger (rape, assault, self harm, suicide, etc) their blocking software would see our tag of it and block the post. That way, the person has the choice to see the content and it isn’t a surprise. When you are prepared to see something triggering, it can sometimes help reduce your reaction to the thing vs when it happens unexpectedly. If you have a blog, tagging for things that you suspect could be triggering to a follower can help make things more acessible for someone who needs triggers tagged. 

Trigger warnings:

Here’s What Trigger Warnings Are – And What They’re Not

Why Trigger Warnings Matter – Your Objections Answered

Rephrasing the term trigger warnings to what it really means

What the Myth of ‘Oversensitive Students’ Gets Wrong About Trigger Warnings

How the Trigger Warning Debate Exposes Our F*cked Up Views on Mental Illness

What, Why, When, Where, and How?: 5 Common Questions About Trigger Warnings Answered

When You Oppose Trigger Warnings, You’re Really Saying These 8 Things

~~~

Ryn says:

For me, it depends on the trigger as well as the state of mind I was in when the trigger occurs. If i’m not in a good place mentally, then the trigger gets me much worse than if I was in an okay mental situation. Some of my triggers lead to panic attacks, which for me mostly consist of very high anxiety levels and then a lot of physical symptoms (elevated heart rate, dilated pupils, heavy breathing, nausea, dizziness, etc). Some of my triggers cause me to disassociate. It ends up feeling a bit like an out-of-body experience, but wholly unpleasant. In a reverse, some of the triggers can cause me to feel trapped inside my own body- aware of everything but unable to move, speak, or otherwise affect the outside world. Most of my triggers cause me to feel weak, exhausted. Other triggers can add onto these feelings of hopelessness, sadness, loneliness, or irritability. It’s really quite variable. I usually end up shivering or crying curled in a ball somewhere because that’s how I feel safest. I’m a very physically sensitive person and I have synesthesia, and so when I have panic attacks or get triggered, my senses ramp up and things can get very overwhelming. I prefer to sit in a dark, quiet place, or listen to some quiet music that will help block out loud or bright sounds and show me some soft colors. 

[moonlitstories]

Astro CEOs AU: Team

From enemies to friends- platonic relationships

Word count: 1,319

They were just getting along and now they're fighting! :’( Will they be able to work as a TEAM?

Jinwoo suddenly got up from his seat and started to haphazardly pack his bag. Everyone looked at him confused and just as he headed to get his jacket, Myungjun stopped him “Jinwoo? Where are you going?” “What does it look like Hyung? I’m leaving!”

Jinwoo pushed his friend away continued towards the door. “Why are you leaving, Jinwoo? Aren’t you going to defend me???” Myungjun ran and blocked Jinwoo’s path to the door. “Hyung, don’t you get it?” Myunjun looked at him with confusion but Jinwoo merely nudged his friend out of the way and placed his hand on the doorknob.

He stopped and looked back to everyone. Everyone silently stood still in place waiting for him to say something. “Look I may be slow... But I’m not stupid.” He took his hand off the handle and faced them entirely. “Don’t you get why he came here in the first place?”

Dongmin sat down and looked away, “To make sure we don’t get along.” Jinwoo stepped away from the door and began to slowly make his way back to them, “Yes! Thank you, Dongmin. Why would he want to make sure we don’t get along?”

Sanha faced his chair in Jinwoo’s direction and sat down, “To make sure we don’t work together.” Jinwoo nodded and gently guided his friend back to his seat, “And why do you think he doesn't want us to work together, Hyung?” 

Myungjun rolled his eyes but complied and sat down, “He thinks we’d be capable of stopping him...” Myunjun sighed but in that sigh was a sense of relief. Jinwoo walked back to his seat and patted Minhyuk’s back on the way, “So why was he really here, Minhyuk?”

Minhyuk sat down and sighed, “Under all that cockiness he was just scared. If it were me and I saw you guys getting along... I would want to try to make everyone angry enough to fight each other...” Jinwoo smiled as he could feel the tension in the air slowly lessen. He placed his bag back down and leaned on the table towards Bin who was avoiding eye contact with him. “Bin? Do you think he succeeded in making us fight?”

Bin bit his lower lip and sat back down in his seat as he nodded. “He did a pretty good job...” Jinwoo smiled and sat back down in his seat. Even though everyone wasn’t looking at each other, at least they had all calmed down and are all thinking clearly. “I guess I’m not the slowest in this group.” He laughed while the others merely shook their heads in slight amusement.

After taking a ten minute break, they all sat back down. This time, they fixed their clothes and hair as much as they could. The table of food and games was cleared and the room was back to being spotless. All that remained was the pitcher of water and glasses for each of them.

It was a little past eight o’clock and having been there since noon, one would expect them all to be tired, but instead they were all burning with a shared desire. The desire to bring down the enemy, Noh Taeyoon. 

Jinwoo cleared his throat catching everyone’s attention, “Now that everyone has calmed down and had time to reflect, can we all agree to have a civilized conversation.” He watched as everyone nodded their heads, “Good, then let’s get straight to the point. Dongmin?”

Dongmin nodded and continued Jinwoo’s point, “If Noh Taeyoon-ssi is afraid of us working together then it’s exactly what we need to do. Just as Jinwoo-hyung helped us to realize earlier, he thinks that he will not be able to beat us if we work together...” He paused to look at everyone’s reactions. So far no one was giving off negative atmosphere around them. He sighed, “We need to go back to the original plan before came...”

Bin faced him in his chair and asked, without anger or sorrow but purely curiosity in his voice, “To work together?” Dongmin nodded. Sanha turned to Minhyuk and grabbed his arm. “Look Minhyuk... I know that I often make bad decisions and that sometimes I can be very immature and... and... And maybe... Maybe everything Taeyoon-ssi and Bin-Hyung said about me was true. I-” 

Minhyuk pushed away Sanha’s hand and gipped onto his shoulders, “That’s not true Sanha! Don’t -” Sanha simply smiled and gently removed Minhyuk’s hands. “It’s ok, Minhyuk. Let me finish first, please?” Minhyuk couldn’t resist his friend’s request. Especially not when Sanha was smiling and surprisingly calm.

“Minhyuk... Let’s work together with everyone. I know I might not be of much help but... This is for the sake of both our companies too! So we should do our best to help as much as we can!... I’m also a CEO, Minhyuk. I know my image isn’t as good as yours is but I am in charge of MY own company and MY image. That’s why... Even if you don’t agree to working with them. I will.”

Minhyuk was shocked to see how confident and mature Sanha was being. At this moment, Sanha wasn't being his usual childish self but actually presenting himself as, not only an adult, but someone fit to run his own company. Everyone else was just as surprised and something sparked in each one of them. A feeling of hope and an indescribable feeling of warmth. Minhyuk smiled, “Ok. Let’s do it!”

Everyone was finally smiling and the warmth in Jinwoo’s heart grew at the sight of it all. He looked to his friend, but Myungjun was already looking at him with a smile on his face. “Jinwoo and I are in!”

“Then, let’s get right to it!”Jinwoo took out a small notepad from his bag. “I’ll be honest, all of my calls and emails earlier came up empty. I learned nothing about him and all of my partners were busy at the time. What about you hyung?” Myungjun shook his head, “They were all busy and my assistant said he would keep looking for more information on the company and Taeyoon-ssi tonight.”

Dongmin took out a small notepad of his own, “Bin and I were talking about it earlier and it’s the same for us. All we found out was that the company is fairly small compared to ours but their financials had exponential growth in the past few years since Noh Taeyoon-ssi took over.

Minhyuk picked up his glass of water, “That’s exactly the same thing Sanha and I found out...” Jinwoo sighed and leaned on his hand as he looked out the window deep in thought. Bin snapped him out of his thoughts, “Hyung? Maybe we should call it a night for now?”

Jinwoo nodded, “You’re right Bin. We’ve been here for too long. We should all go home and get some rest for now. Being tired and trying to work will do us no good what so ever.” Myungjun nodded, “Let’s all continue to do research and meet up again in... two days? Does that sound like a reasonable amount of time for everyone?” They all nodded.

Sanha was the first to get up, “I’ll tell the front desk that we’ll be reserving the room again in two days.” Bin suddenly got up and ran over to stop Sanha, “Sanha, I just want to say... Sorry... for blaming you consistently. I’m very hot headed and often don’t think about what I say. So... I’m sorry.” Sanha smiled at him brightly and hugged him “It’s ok, hyung! I forgive you! I’ll work hard to be a good CEO so we can all prove HIM wrong.”

Jinwoo gave an airy laugh, “Come on everyone! Let’s all get out of here and go home.” They all smiled and walked out of the conference room together. Hearts’ synced, burning with passion and with new found friendship.

Of course they get along! What will they discover? Will they discover anything at all? Will they succeed or fail to protect their companies?

[thewhimsicalfairy]

DAY 1 of NO CONTACT

Woke up crying today...i basically cried myself awake...

it first came as a few tears rolled off my face and then a consistent torrent like rain showers... the finality of it all...how i know that i was instrumental in this decision...still hurt like crazy (crying like crazy again, totally not gonna be looking my best at the wedding later...) the fact that i will no longer hear from you again...even if a text meant that it was just a bone for me to pick to ruminate...but no more...

cried in the shower last night...the silent kind cos i can't risk my mom knowing... everything in this was my choice my decision and i just have to bear with it...for now for however long it takes... but it just hurts so much now for some really odd reason...i really do have it bad for you...and now i single handedly denied my own personal drug and i'll just have to live without it and figure out how to move on... i know it will get better someday somehow but i just had to put this out here... consider this a physical documentation of this non-relationship...

x x x

i asked you out for dinner...wanting to put an end to this torment that you were putting me through...technically through no fault of yours but still...

you were WFH as you were still nursing that nasty throat (which developed into a scratchy cough no thanks to the haze - you are quite delicate eh?) so i trained down to your area to meet you you gave me pretty specific instructions on how to navigate the train station and picked me up at the bus stop. we had some convo of sorts while figuring out where to dine...pointing out to me your condo block etc...first choice Chinese place at Greenwich V was dead so we settled on Punggol White beehoon place...the only beehoon you eat (also a fairly pick eater) looking over the menu i vetoed most of the choices in view of easier options for your throat...cold drinks anything wasn't gonna do your throat any favours but you wanted barley cold...anyhow more convo over dinner...we touched on your side project and how i'm really am not the target audience (i am cheap like that...) i paid for this meal...consider this our last meal together... the drive back my home we discussed music...about Jay Chou's new track and me saying i dun get the hype and his previous track was better... played that track on your phone as it wouldn't connect to the car's audio system...(tried not to look cos i know i'd spy her name but i saw it anyway) played Maroon 5's new track, that 1 i really loved...and then it was back to radio and how the DJ was some love guru and how he basically only has one listener who calls in every night to dedicate songs that night was TLC's Waterfalls...and pagers and completely random stuff really...but i always enjoyed our convos cos they always took no particular shape and form but flowed naturally...

then A Great Big World's 'Say Something' came on...this track struck a chord in me...no less cos i have been listening to the Spotify 'Heartbreak' playlist on and off the past couple of weeks...

//Say something, I'm giving up on you I'll be the one, if you want me to Anywhere, I would've followed you Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I am feeling so small It was over my head I know nothing at all And I will stumble and fall I'm still learning to love Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you Anywhere, I would've followed you Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride You're the one that I love And I'm saying goodbye Say something, I'm giving up on you And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you And anywhere, I would have followed you Oh, oh, oh, oh say something, I'm giving up on you Say something, I'm giving up on you Say something//

it is very apparent why it resonated with me now no...

after getting off the wrong exit cos you chose not to GPS it...we made it back at my place anyhow... and we began our usual heart to heart convos in the car...this time for the last time...

you kinda expected a convo was coming (it has come to this hasn't it...everytime we want/need facetime/ask each other out for a meal, it's because we need to talk...) i struggled a bit at the beginning as always and then you said maybe you should go first but i said i will do it...then sharing that i did consider just going mia and maybe saying everything via a letter but that felt too dramatic and it'd be terribly long (like how this blog post will be) you suggested email (well i could've looked your email up which is true) but anyhow here goes...

what are we now really..? i am really nothing more than a texting buddy and it is clear that you can't give me what i want... and it has come to a point where every text you send feels like a bone to a dog and i am said dog who will ruminate over the bone till the next one gets thrown my way and i don't like the version of myself i've become... i was on this roller coaster of emotions (maybe a kiddy size one compared to the huge one that you are riding but still a roller coaster nonetheless) for the first 2 weeks but after last Thursday's lunch convo i saw it with so much clarity... that you are not helping yourself to move on from the pain and i can't keep riding this dark wave you are on pulling us both down... and as much as you have not admitted it i firmly believed that i was just a rebound... i want my happiness back and so i need to remove myself from this pain...and i'm gonna do it cold turkey even it means yanking out a piece of myself forcefully and even if it hurts...(and boy does it hurt man)

you kinda already saw my response/decision coming cos yeah it's gotten pretty obvious my responses have been lacklustre of late (i was trying to hold back something, or my walls were coming up again) but honestly what i've been reduced to is a texting buddy and that i don't want to put myself through the mental torture of wondering when this stream of bones was gonna dry up, when will the next text be and all...

you shared how your emotions worked after a sesh with your sister (sisters are truly the best really)...how growing up you never learnt about emotions from your parents (typical Asian parents) that there was no touch or hugs as a form of communication in your family (again typical Asian household as well but i had my sister who was there for me for that) and how you only learnt what you know of emotions through relationships the first one being at 15 and how you basically invested your entire emotional wealth on this one person who has now basically left this huge void in your life and heart and you'd need time to refill this emotional mana (haha gaming speak) (but yes i get it which is why i said i was the rebound) you clarified that liking someone wasn't based on how tall they were whether they smoked or drink...those were just filters...cos liking someone is just that right you can't quite define it it just happens (this i wholly agree thanks and no thanks to you) and you confirmed that we had some good times even if they were short (thank you for acknowledging that cos i have been going crazy around my head wondering if it was all bullshit and a fantasy but it just might mean nothing to you on retrospect #becosrebound) (i mean in the grand scheme of things i'm probably just an asteroid vs a meteor shower and i can't beat that and i'm also not faulting you for it...) and you've had friends tell you the same thing (clearly whatever i said about removing the source of pain wasn't just a solo voice) 19 Sept was the hearing and you've already gotten the lawyer's letter that the Interim Divorce has been filed...so between now till 20 Dec if nothing changes the divorce will be final and somehow i felt that you wavered then...that if you were given the chance or indication to undo all this you will...but you've also went to see 3 condo units last week (to buy now not to rent) and with the Interim Divorce you can actually move forward with putting up a request with HDB to put your house up for sale... i've seen the space (random googling brought me there) and it's gorgeous (and i kinda can understand why you wouldn't want to give that up) but do what you need to do...

whatever been's said and done you obviously need way more time (i’m thinking closer to a year) to get over this phase and you also acknowledged that i was the kind of girl that needs a commitment not the grey zone shit that we’ve playing at and you are in no state to give me that...and as much as i said before that i was willing to wait and be there for you and all...i realise i can't...not after knowing that you've done nothing to help yourself...and as much as i want you, i want what we shared (before everything went to shits), you probably will not want me the same way when you are whole again #becosrebound so i had to do this the hard way which is to walk away...from this heartache from you...

towards the end, we talked about my take on this whole experience (basically a post campaign report if you will) i shared that i'm glad for the experience never mind how it transpired...this great white blank piece of paper finally has some graffiti (my choice of words) / colour (yours) and i also came to understand what i want better and that was someone who will place me as priority and always choose me no matter what and making everything so easy that i never ever had to doubt his intention or meaning... and when i meet that someone i will know (hopefully haha)

and then i just said 'well have a good life', popped out of the car, collected my things at the rear seat and left with a 'bye'. 头也不回的走了...i'm glad that i ended this on my own terms and not be a wastrel and dodged the subject and have it drag on to infinity because i know i deserve better and i needed to tell it to you ftf and that you will want to hear it from me... i never gave you the option of remaining friends or anything...my time my terms...

right now i need to pick up the pieces even if it was just a short 2 month span cos just passing by IP will be like 'oh he works here', walking past Oasia Hotel will be like 'oh we first met here' and all the little things that go off like alarms... but i'll get there...where all these will eventually be like 过眼云烟...

x x x

the tears come and go in bouts...in waves...i've never cried so much over a person before, not even when my dad walked out on us... i guess it really is true that you don't really forget your first love... maybe the frequency will let up in time...hopefully...

somehow the airport has kinda became our place in my head...cos of all the flying we’ve done in between this short 2 months... guess no one’s gonna be sending me to the wedding later today... or sending me to the airport tomorrow...or picking me up from the airport when i return...just no more... right now i can't wait to spend time with friends in Sydney, somewhere which i've never gone before (((: change of environment to create new experiences and memories...

[poeticandors]

Come Back To Me Pt 2

Cassian Andor x Reader

Summary: Y/N and her team are sent to Scarif in the place of Cassian, her boyfriend, and his team to retrieve the Death Star plans. The plans are successfully transmitted, but things go awry in the end and Y/N ends up with a lost memory. Will she make it back to Cassian?  

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, panic attack, cursing

A/N: Sorry for posting so late, had two tests to study for and my soul decided to leave my body for these last few days. Enjoy!

I do not own anything!!!

Part 1

Your heart felt like it was going to jump right out of your chest and try to make a break for it back to Yavin 4. You tried to stay calm as you and Alec made your way through the hallways of the Citadel Tower in order to find the Death Star plans. Alec came up with the brilliant idea to steal an Imperial officer’s uniform as well as snag an Imperial Ground Crew suit for you. It took a little convincing for those certain individuals, as well as two Stormtroopers, to cooperate, but you, along with the other three, managed to pry those uniforms away from them. While you guys were going to get the plans, Tabian, Rayna, and Dragan were responsible for placing multiple explosives on different landing pads to distract the Empire from you all. You looked up at Alec, who was standing right next to you, and tried not to laugh out loud as he looked ridiculous in his uniform. As you made your way past a group of Stormtroopers, you and Alec snuck into an empty supply closet. While Alec was keeping watch, you clicked on your mic and got ahold of the watch crew, which consisted of Bodhi, K2, and Cassian.

“Bodhi, Bodhi do you copy?” You whispered into the mic.

“Yeah, yeah I’m here, Y/N,” you heard him say quickly and you smiled to yourself,

“Okay we need help locating the plans. We are currently in a supply closet on the 28th floor inside the tower and have no idea where to go.”

“Yeah, our wonderful navigator here got us lost,” Alec whispered into his mic and you glared at him.

“O-okay, hang on,” you waited for Bodhi but were surprised when you heard the voice of K2 in your headphone,

“Your optimal route to the data vault only places 89 Stormtroopers in your path. You will make it no more than 33% of the way before you are killed.”  You slowly looked at Alec who returned the same perplexed look that was on your face, “You are going to go to the 117th floor and take two lefts and then a right to get to the data vault.” You scoffed,

“Thanks Kay you’re the best,” you switched channels before K2 had the chance to sass you and you made contact with Tabian,

“Hey T, are you guys doing okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” you sighed in relief as you heard your friend’s voice, “had to take care of a couple of Troopers but we are all set to blow these nerf herders outta here.” You laughed and rolled your eyes,

“Alright, then light it up T.” You clicked your mic off and turned towards Alec and nodded towards the door and walked out of the supply closet. You made your way to the elevator and waited patiently as the elevator made its way up to the data vault. You felt a little nervous as your mind was on what K2 had told you, but you tried not to let it affect your mission. Alec leaned over to you and broke your train of thought and whispered,

“Dibs on taking out the first enemy we run into,” you smiled in return and simply shook your head. Other than Cassian, Alec was the only person who was able to tell when you were upset or nervous and would often try to make you feel better. The elevator slowed down and you prepared yourself as it stopped and you followed Alec out into the hallway. You both made your way until you finally walked into the room where the opening to the vault was but slowed when you noticed the Imperial Technician and sighed as you and Alec made your way up to the control computer. The poor technician didn’t even get one word out before Alec knocked him upside the head with his blaster. You watched as Alec hurried behind the control computer and you dragged the technician towards the handprint scanner to get into the vault.

“When you get in there Y/N, you will have to manually extract the data file, but I can help locate it once we figure out which one it is. All I have so far is that it will be in the second tower, got it?” You huffed as you were struggling to drag the technician to the door but finally succeeded in doing so and placed the technicians hand on the scanner and watched as the vault door opened in front of you. You gasped softly and stood straight up and made your way into the vault. In front of you was a control pad and a retrieving mechanism to reach for the files. You hurried towards the control pad and began to scan for the plans. While you were searching, you heard voices through your microphone and stopped searching for the file.

“Y/N! Y/N! It’s Dragan, do you copy?” Your heart clenched at the distressed sound that flowed through Dragan’s voice.

“Yes, Dragan, I’m here what’s happening out there?” You heard an explosion and the sound of heavy breathing and you figured that Dragan must have been running away from some Imperial Officers.

“We were able to set off the explosives, but one was faulty and of course it was the one pad that was closest to us.”

“Yeah,” Rayna began to say, “We are definitely going to have a word with the council about giving us these faulty-“ all you heard was static and the shouting voices of Tabian and Dragan. You felt a knot in the pit of your stomach and you tried to contact your friends again.

“Guys! Guys what happened?” You went to reach for your necklace but forgot that it was being blocked by the suit and all you could do was clench your fist,

“Y/N,” you heard the sadness in Tabian’s voice and you stayed quiet, “We lost Rayna, and there are Walkers out here. Dragan and I barely- Oh fuck yeah!” You furrowed your brows as you heard another signal come in through your mic,

“Hey guys,” you heard the voice of one of your other team members, Anton, who was going to accompany you along with the remaining members, Valeria, Khy, and Hadrian, in their X-Wings.

“Thought you guys could use some assistance since you seem to have everything under control here,” Valeria said.

“We also thought we would bring some more people to this beach party,” Hadrian said and you breathed a sigh of relief as you heard everyone cheering through your mic and realized that more members from the Rebel Fleet had decided to help you guys.

“Y/N,” you heard Alec yell from behind you, “we need to hurry up here, I’m afraid we don’t have much time until someone realizes there is something wrong.” You reached for the control pad and continued scrolling through the different file names while trying to listen to your team members as well. You were able to confirm that Anton, Valeria, and Khy were able to make it quickly through the shield with no problem, but sadly Hadrian was not able to get through fast enough and you were unfortunate enough to hear it. Luckily, four other ships were able to make it through as well so you had a little extra help.

“Wait,” you yelled back to Alec, “if the shield is up, then how are we supposed to get out of here with the plans?”

“Y/N, for as smart as you may look you do not use your brain as much. We are going to use that big satellite to transmit the signal. We just need to find a way to contact the Rebel Fleet and tell them to take out the shield because the size of this file is ridiculously big.”

“Do you hear that guys?” You asked Tabian and Dragan, “You need to find a way to communicate with the Rebel Fleet so they can know that our only way of transmitting the plans and getting out of here is to take that shield down.”

“Alright, Y/N we are on it!” You heard Dragan yell and you continued your job for searching for the plans. While you were sad that you had already lost two members of your team, you could not let that affect your mission. You continued searching for the file, but were becoming flustered when you could not figure out which one contained the Death Star plans,

“High Space Tracking, Navigational Systems, which one is it in Alec?”

“Try Structural Engineering.” You clicked on it and began scrolling through the names of each file,

“Statusphere, something, something, something, Black saber, how do I know which one-“ you stopped yourself as you glanced at the name of the one called Stardust. You immediately recalled how Jyn’s father called her Stardust when you stood behind her as you both watched him pass on Eadu. When you all got back to the stolen cargo ship, you asked her about it and she told you how it was a name he had given to her when she was a child. You realized it was a long shot but decided to take it.

“Alec, I need you to locate the one called Stardust.”

“Okay but are you completely-“

“Yes I am sure; just trust me on this, Alec.” You made your way to the extraction handles and grabbed hold of them and waited until you saw a flashing light that contained the Death Star plans. You gently moved the handles down and watched as the “claw” moved upwards fairly quickly and you had to rush to stop at the correct row. You could feel beads of sweat fall down your forehead and you very slowly moved it to the left and stopped right in front of the blinking light and continued to twist your hand and as you begun to push the claw forward, you heard Alec swear and heard his footsteps rushing towards you,

“Y/N, I gotta go help out Tabian and Dragan. They are having trouble trying to contact the Rebel Fleet and need my wonderful expertise. Are you going to be okay with going up to the top and transmitting the files by yourself?” You nodded your head,

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, A. You go help the other guys and I will do my job.” Alec nodded and reached forward to give you a tight hug, which you returned. While you were scared for both yours and Alec’s life right now, you knew what needed to be done. You released him from your embrace and Alec gave you a tight smile,

“I’ll come back for you, Y/N/N, don’t worry. I wouldn’t dare risk my own neck and return to Yavin 4 without you.” You nodded hastily and watched as Alec started to run back out of the vault and you quickly turned back and grabbed the handles again. You pushed forward with the right handle and waited for any type of confirmation that you had grabbed ahold of it. When the claw clicked and pulled the file out you laughed to yourself and began to extract the file back towards you. You grabbed the file and clicked it onto your belt loop, hoping that it was secure enough before you made your way back towards the elevator. Before you began to make your way back, you came up with a quick idea that you believed would buy you some time. You reached for your blaster and shot towards the glass window, the wind blowing harshly, and, after being completely satisfied, finally made your way towards the elevator and tried to be as discreet as possible. You walked past a group of a dozen Stormtroopers and hoped that they didn’t notice the big file hanging from your side. Luckily they didn’t and you clicked the button to the elevator and waited patiently for it to arrive.

Once the elevator landed on your level, you were about to walk inside until you saw who was inside and you froze. Standing before you was a tall, intimidating looking man who was wearing all white with an unnecessarily long cape that trailed behind him. You immediately recognized the man as Director Orson Krennic and tried not to show any signs of panic as he and the two Stormtroopers that were accompanying him stepped out of the elevator and walked right past you. You tried to hurry and press the button to close the doors quickly when a gloved hand shot out and stopped the doors. You quickly put your hands to your side and tried to remain as calm as possible when Director Krennic looked you up and down and asked,

“Aren’t you supposed to be joining the other Grounds Crew members?” You stared at him wide eyed and stilled your body from shaking as you were about to answer him, but were quickly interrupted when one of the Stormtroopers came up to the both of you,

“Sir, I think you should come see this. It seems that someone has extracted some plans and escaped through the window in the vault.” Krennic cursed to himself and didn’t bother continuing with you as he released the elevator doors and followed the Stormtrooper. You shuddered at how close of a call that was and tried to calm yourself down, but you knew something was wrong when you didn’t begin to do so. You began to feel your chest tighten and began to feel dizzy. You felt like you couldn’t catch your breath and you looked around as you began to feel like the walls of the elevator were closing in on you and you began to slide down the wall as you tried to catch your breath.

‘I’m going to die. I am going to die in this stupid elevator.’ you thought to yourself and you began to panic even more. The walls continued to close in on you and you tried to catch your breath but it was useless. You felt unsafe and the only person who ever made you feel safe was not there with you. Cassian was only one who ever witnessed you having a panic attack and was also the only one able to calm you down. You felt the tears begin to pool in your eyes and began to hyperventilate as you brought your knees up to your chest, rocking back and forth. You were alone and no one was there to help you.

You began to feel foolish. For someone who was meant to be a leader, you felt weak that you couldn’t control your emotions and complete the mission. You wondered if taking on this mission was a mistake. If Cassian or Jyn were in your position now, they wouldn’t be panicking in an elevator with the plans.  Maybe you really were foolish to think you were a strong person. Your mind became clouded with negative thoughts such as how Cassian was able to tolerate such a weak person such as yourself. You buried your head into your arms as you continued to rock back and forth.

“Y/N, sweetheart, it’s Cassian.” You lifted your head up as you heard that wonderful voice flow through your ear and tried to respond but you felt like you were going to throw up if you tried so you just stayed quiet.

“Hey, sweetheart, I know you are feeling a little scared and that is okay. It is completely fine that you are feeling this way, we both know how strong you truly are. You are almost through with this part okay? You just need to relax. Who is the one in control?” You had followed this routine with Cassian a couple of times before; usually he put your hand on his chest to try and match his breathing and would gently bring his hands to your face to get you to focus only on him. You were going to have to make do without him and you tried to slow your breathing so that you wouldn’t vomit and you slowly let out a whispered,

“I am in control.”

“Good, sweetheart, you are the only one in control. I know I am not there to help but you are strong enough to where you can do this yourself. I will be here to try and help you but it is all up to you okay sweetheart? Do you think you can manage that?” You nodded to yourself, forgetting that Cassian wasn’t able to see it, and slowly began to stand up. You thought that standing up would open up your lungs instead of sitting in a ball and allow for you to relax your breathing but you were still finding it hard to do so.

“Cass,” you gasped, “I c-can’t stop-“

“Shhh, yes you can, Y/N. Even though I am not with you, you have a piece of me with you remember? You can use it to help you, but you are going to have to trust me on this Y/N. You can get through this, my love.” You reached once again for your necklace but only felt the hard armor of your suit and you shakily reached your hands to take off your helmet as well as the rest of your armor. When you removed the last of the armor, you immediately reached for your necklace, brought it up to your lips, and closed your eyes. It felt as if the world around you had slowed and you began to slowly inhale and exhale. You continued to slow your breathing for the next 30 seconds and felt your body cease the excess shaking.  You slowly opened your eyes and the pain in your chest was gone and you also stopped crying.

“Y/N, are you there?” You almost forgot that Cassian was listening and you nodded to yourself,

“Yeah Cass,” you gave out a shaky laugh, “I did it. I’m fine.” You heard Cassian sigh contentedly and you smiled to yourself,

“You had me worried there, sweetheart. I was about to take a ship and make my way to you when I saw your vitals began to spike from your body cam.” You didn’t know that Alec and K2 had created that feature with your body cams and you wondered if the other members of your team were also able to be checked on.

“Cass, are- can you check if Alec, Tabian, and everyone else are okay?” It was quiet on Cassian’s end and a heavy feeling overcame your stomach as you feared for the worse.

“Y/N, Alec is fine and so is Tabian but,” you felt your stomach drop, “Dragan is gone and so are Khy and Anton. Valeria is the only member from your team still flying. I’m sorry Y/N.” You stayed quiet for a moment, trying to process that a few of your closest friends had just sacrificed their lives. You clenched your fists and finally cleared your throat,

“Thanks Cass,” the elevator finally opened and you were at the top of the tower. You exited and made your way straight for the satellite. You looked at the battle that was going on around you and heard the whirring of X-wings as well as Tie Fighters around you. You hoped that Valeria was still okay and continued towards the satellite. When you got there, you unhooked the plans from your belt loop and pushed it into the drive and watched as it disappeared into the satellite tower. You were trying to select the transmit button but it wouldn’t go through and you huffed in annoyance as you looked for the controls to reset the antenna. You saw a walkway with a mini control sector and made your way across the bridge. You grabbed the handle that was in front of you and you pushed it back and watched as the satellite straightened and smiled to yourself when you heard the computer say that it was ready to transmit. You made your way back across the bridge and towards the control pad and began to transmit the plans. You cheered loudly as you watched the plans successfully transmit to the Rebel Fleet but froze as soon as you felt the barrel of a blaster push against the back of your head.

“Who are you? Show your face!” You recognized the voice holding the blaster and slowly turned around to meet the face of an irate Krennic.

“Don’t make me ask you again, Rebel scum.” You stared at him, unfazed as you straightened up and tried to make yourself as tall as possible to show that you were not scared of him.

“My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N. I am a commander from the Rebel alliance and I was sent here to retrieve the Death Star plans and you’ve just lost.” You smirked and he just scoffed,

“Oh I have, have I?”  You nodded,

“You’re wonderful pal Galen Erso placed a flaw in the Death Star by putting a fuse in the middle of the machine and I have just told the entire galaxy.”

“The shield is up your signal will never reach the Rebel base. All your ships here will be destroyed and I lose nothing but time just as your parents and their little friends did.” You felt your posture stiffen as he brought up your parents and you felt your mouth open slightly. Krennic obviously noticed your discomfort and smirked at this,

“That’s right; I know your name and where you come from, Y/L/N. Your parents and their friends caused quite a bit of trouble back then. Good to see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Although you were scared that he was pointing the blaster to your head, you narrowed your eyes at him and were about to jump towards him, when suddenly a nearby Tie Fighter shot the bridge of the tower and caused you and Krennic to fall to the floor harshly and you hit the back of your head hard.

“Y/N! Y/N, it’s Alec. Are you okay?” You groaned and rolled over on your stomach,

“Yeah, I’m here Alec. Where are you?”

“I’m the one asking the questions now, Y/N. Listen, I need to ask, a very important question. Do you trust me?” You frowned as you stood up, trying to gather your balance from the hard hit to your head,

“Of course I do Alec, why are you even-“

“No more questions. I need you to do me a solid favor and jump over the edge of the tower by the left side of the bridge. Not your left, my left so your right.” Your eyes widened and you looked around the tower in search of Alec. You trusted Alec with your life and you knew that he would never tell you to do anything risky unless he knew that it would keep you safe.

“O-okay Alec,” you responded and, with a heavy sigh and a shake of your head, took a few steps back.

“Y/N!” Cassian’s voice rang through your ears and although you knew it was insane, you ignored his protests and took off for a sprint and pushed off the edge of the tower. In the midst of jumping, you felt a sharp pain to your left side but ignored it as you saw a Tie Fighter with netting put on the side. You landed hard on the Tie fighter and gripped onto the netting as tight as you possibly could, putting your feet through the net as well. When you felt secure enough, you looked and saw Alec cheering and waving at you from the inside of the Tie Fighter and you placed your forehead against the ship.

“Y/N!” Cassian yelled into his com and watched with wide eyes as you jumped right over the edge. Everyone that was in the control room watching the events unfold gasped loudly as they too saw you jumping off the tower but soon began to cheer when they saw you cling onto the Tie Fighter. Cassian rubbed his face with both of his hands and placed his hands on his hips as he began to pace the floor, staring at the screen. Jyn and Bodhi both walked up to him,

“Cassian,” Jyn said in an excited tone, “I can’t believe she did that that was ama-“

“It was reckless and dangerous is what it was,” Cassian snapped at Jyn and she felt the corners of her mouth tug down, “What if the netting wasn’t secure, huh? What if-“

“Hey,” Bodhi said calmly and slowly placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, which he tensed at, “she’s okay. That’s all that matters right now.” Cassian looked up at Bodhi, who gave him a soft smile, and Cassian nodded slightly and walked back towards the screen.

“Cass? Are you there?” Your voice echoed and Cassian brought the com up and sighed,

“Yeah, I’m here, sweetheart.” You laughed and although the sound was music to Cassian’s ears, he was still infuriated with you putting your life in danger like that. As if you were reading his mind, you said,

“I’m sorry that I scared you like that, Cass. But you know that I wouldn’t have jumped if I knew for sure that Alec wasn’t going to be there.” Cassian ran a hand through his hair and was about to speak until another signal came in and Cassian listened as Alec cleared his voice,

“Yeah hey C-man. I’m sorry it had to go like that. But it was the only other way that I could make sure that I could get to Y/N as discreetly as I could. I promised you I would get her back to you, bud, and I am going to do that,” Cassian sighed deeply,

“I know, Alec. I was just worried. When you guys get back, I am going to have to have a talk with the both of you for being so reckless.” Yours and Alec’s laugh came through and Cassian couldn’t help but smile slightly and shake his head.

“Hey, it’s just like when we were kids again, huh Y-“ Alec was interrupted as the ship was hit by a blaster which came from an unknown source and began to slowly fall down towards the beach. Cassian watched in horror as he watched the two people he cared about the most fall to their most likely deaths. He could hear you and Alec yelling through the com and he gazed at the screen and could only watch as the ground came closer and closer until he watched you jumped off of the ship and then it was static. The entire room was quiet as they stared at the screen in horror and Jyn, Bodhi, K2, Baze, and Chirrut all stood beside a horrified Cassian. Cassian face became a ghostly color and he was still gripping onto the com, his knuckles turning white, when Bodhi reached for the com and pried it away from Cassian’s tight grip. He knew that the others were talking to him, asking him if he was okay, but he could not respond. Your face continued to race through his mind and he finally broke down as he realized the one person who made him truly happy might have been gone.

Your eyes shot open as you realized you were not dead. You tried to get up but felt a stinging pain hit the side of you and you went to place your hand to your side and came in contact with something that was cold and hard. You lifted your head up and glanced down slowly to your side and saw a metal piece was sticking out and you began to cry out. You heard static through your mic and you heard the faint voice of Tabian coming through,

“Y/N! Are you okay? I tried to keep the other Tie Fighters away but one got loose.” You coughed and threw your head back,

“I’m alive, Tabian, but you need to get out of here. The shields are open and you need to get back to Yavin 4, do you understand me?”

“What? No that’s crazy Y/N. I am not leav-“

“Go Tabian! You need to get out of here right now. I will be fine.” You heard Tabian yell in frustration and you closer your eyes as you waited for him to speak. It was quiet for a moment until,

“May the force be with-” You felt the tears sting your eyes and you said the same thing as you stared into the sky. You closed your eyes and thought about Cassian. Your poor Cassian. You didn’t get to tell him one last time that you loved him. You were glad that he was safe but you knew that he would take it hard once Tabian made it back and had to announce that he was forced to leave you behind. You were pulled from your thoughts as you heard the sound of metal screeching and you quickly opened your eyes to see Alec, his face covered with soot and his black hair pointing in every direction, hovering over you.

“Hey Y/N/N, don’t worry,” he went to pick you up and you cried in pain when he barely lifted you off of the ground and gently laid you back down, “I’m gonna get you out of here okay?”

“Don’t be stupid, A, you need to leave right now. I’ll only slow you down,” you groaned and Alec only raised his hand to stop you from talking.

“Hey, I don’t want to hear any of that bullshit okay? You know that we go everywhere together and I promised Cassian that I would bring you back and if I have to drag you by your hair than I am willing to do so.” Before you could say anything else, he picked you up bridal style, and you cried out in pain. Alec ran as fast as he could back towards the tower and you gave him a befuddled look and weakly asked,

“W-why are we going back to the tower, Alec?” He continued to look forward and began to breathe hard,

“Well I saw some people leaving with some ships. I’m betting there are cargos ships that are there that are taking groups of people to planets.” You felt your vision fading but tried to fight it and you groggily said,

“W-what about t-the Imperial officers?”

“I don’t think they are in the mood to question anyone right now. I am positive we will be fine, Y/N.” You nodded and let your head rest against Alec’s chest.

“Okay, well I think I am going to take a nap.”

“Shit, Y/N. Don’t do this to me right now. You need to stay awake.” You tried to fight it and were able to do so for a couple of minutes. You watched as Alec made his way towards a cargos ship and saw a group of people come towards you both and help Alec carry you onboard. People began fussing over your injury and you felt an even sharper pain against your side. You watched as the unfamiliar faces began to look blurry and the last thing you heard was the sound of Alec yelling your name.

Tag List: @ly–canthrope

[jackson-phillips-blog]

Hands on Learner || Jackson and Mishka

Tagging: Jackson Phillips and Anton Mishka Morozov Setting: Jackson’s apartment, evening/night of April 7th Summary: Mishka skips out on work to spend time with Jackson. Pizza, Netflix, and making good on all their flirting. Warnings: NSFW

The look he got from Beckie would’ve been hilarious if he wasn’t so damn eager to get out of the shop as fast as he could. He was thorough when it came to locking up the bookstore for the night, but he was in a bit of a rush today. Thankfully, Beckie understood the reasoning for it. Well, it wasn’t that hard to understand since the two of them had been working alongside each other for the past two years. All it took was for them to make eye contact and she knew. He sent her a silent word of gratitude as he got all of his stuff, which only consisted of his wallet and jacket, before he was out of the door and next to Jackson again. There was a wide smile on his face, and he was almost sure that it’d stay there whenever he was around this man, as he draped his jacket over his shoulder. “So where to, Houdini?”

Jackson couldn’t deny that he was excited. Excited and maybe way more nervous than he could bother to show. There was also a pang of guilt mixed in there somewhere over the fact that he’d gotten Mishka to call out of work, but that was easy enough to ignore given everything else. When the time came close to closing, he’d paid for his books and done his best to avoid the questioning looks from the girl behind the counter. He’d spent his entire time there following Mishka around and he’d have been hard pressed to come up with a reason that didn’t sound as fake as it would be. Slipping outside, he’d been tempted to wander over to the coffee shop again, but didn’t want to chance missing when the other man finally came outside.

Jakson rolled his eyes a little at Miskha’s question, doing his best to steel himself for this. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, he did. He so fucking did. But the fact that he was leading some guy he’d just met back to his place for sex still weighed on him because that just wasn’t him. “This way,” he said as he turned on the sidewalk in the direction of his apartment building. “I’m only about six blocks from here, if you don’t mind walkin’? I walk everywhere I can.”

The roll of eyes just made him grin more, but he pipped down on his nicknames for the time being. Anton fell into step easily, but when he heard the distance they needed to cover he merely shrugged. “It’s fine, I usually drive but I took marta today so I would’ve had to walk anyways.” He wouldn’t have to walk that far, but six blocks wouldn’t kill him. Plus, the distances between each block weren’t incredibly lengthy either. “One of the good things about Atlanta is that you can do that without needing to pack for a damn hike.” It wasn’t like Saint Louis where he had to do that a few times before, but that was neither here nor there.

Jackson nodded a bit in relief when Mishka agreed to the walk. The mention of a hike grabbed his attention though because he’d definitely enjoyed doing that when the locale allowed for it. “I take it you aren’t a fan of hiking?” he asked, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. He reached for it and slid the screen to check the message. Confirmation for the pizza he’d ordered as he’d waited. The other guy had mentioned it earlier so he’d ran with it. Tucking the phone back into his pocket, he looked over at Mishka. “You know, you never told me where you’re even from,” Jackson said when the realization hit him out of nowhere. Blurting random thoughts out. Way to go, buddy.

“What? Nah, I like hiking enough. It’s a good way to get a change of scenery when you get sick of the cityscape. I’m more of a swimmer than a hiker or runner though.” And he has the build to show it too. Anton looked over in mild surprise, and if it seemed like he got a little uncomfortable he chose to ignore it. “I was born in Russia, but I moved here and lived in Saint Louis until two years ago. Now I’m here in ATL groveling my days away. What about you?” He kept his answer as short as he could, and he hoped he wouldn’t get asked about the reasons why he had moved from one place to another. Even if Jackson did ask he couldn't blame the guy for it, and he should honestly be used to it by now. Yet he wasn’t. Not completely at least.

Jackson couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted down over Mishka’s body at the mention of being a swimmer. Those always had a certain build and while it wasn’t big and visibly muscular as himself, there was power there. And that was definitely a draw for him, almost as much as the fact that the other man was his same height give or take an inch or two. He usually ended up with someone much smaller and while that could be fun in and of itself, there was definitely something to be said for someone that could match him. “Znachit, vy tozhe govorite po-russki?” he asked, the words rolling off his tongue with a practiced accent. Jackson was feeling a little more confident in showing off given how Mishka had responded to the ‘hidden talents’. “I grew up a few hours south of here, but I’ve moved all over because of the military.”

That shouldn't have been that sexy to hear, but here he was all ready to urge Jackson to walk faster so they could be alone. It’s been a good minute since he’s spoken in his native tongue so he had to think back on what it was that he wanted to say. “YA by ne byl russkim, yesli by ne mog,” he said with the same smile on his face but it wasn’t as bold as before. It wasn’t overly noticeable, but he looked away a second after. “Oh, so you’re a native to Georgia then? I’ve heard about the trails up North, and the apple picking shit. Have you ever been?”

Jackson laughed lightly at the reply, being bold enough to lean over a bit to bump into Mishka’s shoulder. “Fair enough,” he replied, not wanting to show off further for the moment. He kept an eye on the buildings as they passed calculating that they were about halfway to his place. The realization caused nerves to threaten in the bottom of his stomach, but he pushed the feeling down, refusing to let it get the best of him. “I am, but I’ve never been up there. Much closer to Florida. I don’t think I ever actually even made it up here to Atlanta except for once on a field trip or somethin’.” Jackson shifted the bag containing his books from one hand to the other as he glanced over at Mishka again, having trouble keeping his eyes off the other man. “Surprised my accent didn’t give me away,” he tried to laugh.

The odd touch to his smile faded away when he was bumped into. “Accent? I mean, I wouldn’t know what a Floridian accent would sound like.” He might’ve practically grown up in America, but the different accents within the states were still a bit hard for him to pinpoint. Anton was relaxed, probably a lot more than Jackson was, but he pretended to not notice. “I’m surprised that you haven’t asked where my ‘Russian accent’ is. It’s usually the first thing people ask when they find out I’m from mother Russia.” The last two words were said in an overly thick drawl as he schooled a serious expression. That lasted for another few seconds before he melted back into an easy smile.

“Well, considerin’ that I spent over a year learnin’ it and even more time listenin’ in, I’m used to all kinds of accents, comrade,” Jackson shot back, a bit of teasing in his voice. His own accent was easier to hide once he’d started to pick up other languages, but it still managed to creep into his speech, especially if he was drunk or pissed or tired. He realized after a moment, he’d stopped paying attention to their course and he reached out, grabbing Miskha’s arm to stop him. “We are passin’ my building,” he said with a laugh. Clearly it wasn’t hard to distract him lately. Phones, cute boys. Jackson looked down at his hand before pulling it back with an awkward laugh. “Sorry, just didn’t wanna have to backtrack.” He turned them to the left and lead the other guy up to the building, unlocking the door for them.

The mix of accents threw him for a loop or two, but he was thoroughly enjoying it. “Well, I’m still just as impressed as before and if I’m allowed to be completely honest- it’s really hot.” He grew sly with his words, but fell short when he was stopped. Anton looked around and committed their surroundings to memory just in case he would need it for future reference. Just in case, right. He almost reached out to stop Jackson from dropping contact, but he realized how desperate that might seem. He was needy but he wasn’t that bad. “Don’t need to apologize,” he said happily as he trailed after Jackson again.

They were close to his apartment, but still not inside the safety of the four walls so Jackson was still on fairly high alert. He was trying, he really was, but old habits were hard to break. Mishka seemed to be making it easier to forget about his worries though, for a few minutes at a time anyways. He pushed the door open and lead them inside, moving towards the elevator to save the other man the four floor climb up the stairs. “I should warn you,” he said, looking over as the doors slid open and he stepped inside. “My place isn’t...big or fancy or anythin’.” Nerves were rising with a vengeance the closer they got to being behind closed doors but he was trying so hard to cling to that boldness that seemed to spike some in Mishka’s presence.

“It’s all good. If you had like some suite or something I think you’d have to help me pick my jaw off the floor,” he joked lightly as he stepped into the elevator. The area wasn’t that bad so far, but then again it wasn’t like they were in the shitty parts of downtown like he was. Well, no, that was an exaggeration since he was on the borderline of the good and bad there.

Jackson laughed lightly at Mishka’s response, but the sound didn’t quite convey humor as his nerves crept into it. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford something like what the other man was talking about, but it just seemed...wasteful to him. Growing up poor had instilled certain tendencies in him and even now that he had the money, he still couldn’t bring himself to spend it. Especially considering his place wasn’t somewhere he spent much time. The elevator dinged a moment later and he was stepping off even before the doors opened fully. The move may have made him seem eager, but it was nerves driving Jackson as he made his way to his apartment. “At the risk of sounding crazy, can you--uh...take your shoes off when you come in?” he asked as he unlocked the door and pushed it open for Mishka. It was small and weird and stupid, but shoes in his place bugged the fuck out of him, it always had.

He was curious to see what Jackson’s place looked like. Surely it wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be? Guess he would find out soon enough. Anton walked behind the other and quirked an eyebrow in a silent question but he just shrugged. “Yeah, sure. You want me to stop there though?” Alright, he knew that he should probably stop the slew of flirting but he couldn’t help it. Once he stepped inside he toed off his shoes and bent down to pick them up. “Anywhere you want me to put them specifically?” He wasn’t trying to poke fun at the request, and he hoped he conveyed that by his expression as he stood there for instructions.

Jackson bit his lip hard at Mishka’s insinuation, trying not to let his mind wander to where it was so obviously being directed. But they were inside his apartment now and he pushed the door closed to make that more tangible. Alone, just the two of him. There was a bit of a struggle inside him at the thought, a part of him wanting to just do what he’d been feeling and the other part still choked with nerves. “Make yourself at home,” he answered, willing to leave it at that. His own shoes were toed off and nudged in line along the opposite wall with the rest of his shoes and he nodded his head towards the other end of them. “Over there is fine. Sorry if I sound crazy. It’s just a thing.”

He waited patiently and followed after Jackson. His shoes were put next to the other’s and he’d admit that it was a bit weird, but there wasn’t any harm being done. With that out of the way he turned his attention to the space before him. “It’s honestly not as bad as you made it out to be,” he mused as he looked around. It was minimalistic at best and there didn't seem to be anything out of place or extra. “You know.. It’s kinda weird that my place is almost like this except for a few things.” His own apartment was tidy and he didn’t have too many belongings. Nothing more than he needed at least. Anton went over to the couch and plopped down. A soft noise left him as he rested his arm on the side of the couch. “Definitely see why you were so relaxed with Netflixing earlier,” he said with a loose grin as he leaned back into the furniture.

It seemed Mishka took his words to heart and Jackson watched as he settled down on the couch, trying not to notice that little noise so much. The more they learned about one another, the more they seemed to have in common which was...odd. He was used to being the weird one, the guy that everyone just kind of tolerated. Even his ‘relationships’ had been based less on mutual interests and more...well. It wasn’t on things like similar tastes in books and coffee and things like that. He shifted into the living room, dropping his bag of books and grabbed the remotes from the coffee table, holding them out in offer to Mishka. “I’m not here too much, honestly. But yeah, now you see what I gave up to bring you coffee?” His words were teasing of course, but maybe he wanted to drop the hint that he’d done so because he’d been eager to see the other man again too. “Do you want something to drink?”

He was making himself quite comfortable with where he was at. Anton tucked his legs up as he curled in against the corner. For a man with his height it was comical to see him fold in on himself like this since his limbs weren’t short oro average sized. “I really do,” he said as he took the remotes from Jackson. It took a bit of fiddling but he got the TV turned on and started to flip through Netflix. He wasn’t looking at what sort of things Jackson had been watching. Not at all. Anton sported a crooked smile and looked back over. “What ever can I do to make it up to you? That coffee saved my ass, but the only thing I’d like to drink a tall glass of you,” he said with just the same amount of confidence as before.

Jackson couldn’t help but smile at the way Mishka curled up on the couch, the movements oddly...endearing and served to make him look smaller and almost harmless. Not that he was fooled by that for a second though. After the remotes were handed over, he’d started to move towards the kitchen, ready to grab whatever was requested but the response had him stopping in his tracks. His face didn’t flush this time, at least not noticeably, but he shook his head as he turned back into the living room. “Don’t be so sure it’s safe,” he said, his voice low as he bent down from behind the couch to bring his mouth close to the other man’s ear. In the next moment though, Jackson had straightened back up and turned back to the kitchen. “And while that’s cute, I’m tryin’ to be a good host and all that.”

He was about to look back at the screen, but he stopped short when he suddenly felt Jackson’s presence right by the side of his face. Oh shit. Anton automatically swallowed dryly just from the dip in the other’s voice. It was just a slight peek into whatever it was that Jackson was hiding, but boy did that make things even better. The lopsided smile remained on his face as he finally stared at the TV before him. “Cute? And here I was thinking that I was being clever. Water’s fine, but I’m not taking back what I said before.” Maybe he’d regret saying that, but he was willing to take that chance anyways.

“I wouldn’t expect you to take it back,” Jackson replied easily as he shifted into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from his refrigerator. He snagged one for himself after a moment before moving back into the living room, glancing at the screen for a moment to see what Mishka was up to. His nerves were settling, slowly and he looked back at the man on his couch as he held out the bottle. For a moment he was struck by how Mishka looked just like he belonged right there, comfortable and curled up on his couch while browsing Netflix. But Jackson shook his head to dislodge the thought. Talk about crazy. “Find anything interestin’ yet?” he asked with a smile. Before Mishka could respond though, there was a knock at his door and even though he’d been expecting it, he still tensed a little. “Be right back.”

Oh, so he was a lot more cheeky than he had let on originally. That was definitely something he could get on with. Anton kept browsing until he came across a show he hadn’t touched on in a while. With his interest caught he leaned forward a bit and squinted his eyes. Damn contacts were starting to dry up again and it irritated the hell out of him. “Uh huh,” he said absently as he rubbed his eyes for a moment. When he was done itching his eyes he blinked a few times and looked over. He took the bottle and was about to say thanks, but was cut off by the sudden knock. Unless Jackson was expecting some other company he was almost sure that it was the pizza delivery.

Jackson snagged some cash from his wallet on the way to the door and tugged it open just enough for the transaction to take place, making sure to keep himself situated so that Mishka couldn’t be seen on his couch. It was stupid, yes, but he was so almost conditioned to be secretive at this point in his life that it wasn’t even a voluntary thing. He made his way back into the living room, pizza in hand and sat the box down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “I hope meatlovers is alright,” he said, not missing the irony of his words. “Do you need any ranch or anything?”

Food and sex was probably the top two things he valued in life. It wasn’t like he had anything else to concern himself over, like family for instance. Didn’t have them anymore so he just indulged himself in his two top not so guilty pleasures. By the time Jackson turned around and came back with the pizza he was all eyes and ears on the box. It was great that someone like Jackson was carrying it, but he was a whole lot more inclined on getting his grubby hands on a slice first. “Meatlovers is my favorite actually,” he said to the side as he rearranged how he sat. Anton reached over to open the lid and shook his head. “Nah, only thing I need is this right here.” A slice was taken, but he paused for a second as he just stared at the pizza. “Actually, I take that back, ranch would be great,” he said as he glanced at Jackson before he took a bite.

Jackson just watched the way Mishka seemed to come alive at the sight of the pizza box and he couldn’t help but laugh at the reactions. If he could find someone to look at him the way the other guy was staring at that slice, he’d be set for life. Another laugh and a shake of his head and he turned back for the kitchen. He poured the ranch into a bowl and grabbed a few napkins, placing them in front of Mishka on the table before moving to take a seat himself. “Is it good?” Jackson asked, arching a brow and looking over at the other man as he reached for his own slice.

Anton resumed his previous position as he ate. He was tucked away again and a content sigh left him as he tried not to inhale the first slice. Normally he would’ve been on top with his eating schedule, but, well, he had someone distract him today. Said distraction came back with the ranch and he beamed at Jackson over his mouthful. He hummed back in response as he worked his way onto the crust. When his hand was empty he untangled himself again and reached over for a second slice. This time he dunked the end of the pizza into the bowl and didn’t bother to curl up again. Anton just sat leaned forward with his elbows propped on his legs. He took a bite and felt some of the ranch smear onto the side of his lips, but he pretended to be more absorbed into the TV to notice. The first episode was put on play and he kept on eating, still very much aware of everything else around him.

Apparently food--or at the very least pizza--was a thing for Mishka and Jackson paused his own eating to watch the other man for a second. In an odd sort of way, he felt like the fact that Mishka was tearing into the pizza was a bit of a win or a point in his own favor. And Jackson could definitely use all of those he could get. He glanced over at the screen a few times as he ate but for the most part, his attention was focused on the other man on his couch. This was...comfortable and nice in an almost domestic sort of way. And honestly, it was a bit of a relief that Mishka hadn’t tried to jump him the minute they’d walked in the door. Not that it would have been horrible if that were the case, but just...Jackson wasn’t about those quick hookups and honestly, he felt like the other guy was worth more than a quick fuck, or even a long one. Jackson noticed the smear of ranch and opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. Instead, he reached over and swiped his finger over the streak of white, taking his time before drawing his hand away and pushing it into his mouth to suck it clean.

He was caught between a snort and a laugh from what showed on the TV, but the noise sort of died in his throat anyways when he felt the side of his mouth get touched. Anton was looking over in a heartbeat and God that wasn’t fair. He had enough sense in him to finish chewing so he could swallow, and when nothing was in his mouth he let his lips part slightly as he watched Jackson with narrowed eyes. “If I get ranch on some other part of my body would you do the same thing?” He asked out of pure curiosity and nothing else- he swore on it. The rest of his slice was forgotten as he kept his attention on Jackson even though his stomach was yelling at him to just cram the food into his mouth already.

Okay, so maybe Jackson didn’t need to suck his finger that long or in quite the way he did, but he couldn’t help but give Mishka a show, especially given how the other guy had been talking so much shit and practically molesting straws in his presence. The finger fell away and he chuckled light, offering only a smirk before he was biting down into his pizza to ensure Mishka had to wait that much longer for an answer. He was more relaxed now, more comfortable, and his guard was coming down to let some of his more natural self out. So far, the other guy had managed to make him feel like it might be okay if he did. “I think I’m capable of making enough of a mess of your body without the ranch,” Jackson replied, his smirk settling easily as he reached for his bottle of water.

He honestly couldn’t say it enough but holy fuck. All of this confidence and flirting was going to make him run for his money at this point. His mouth hung open a bit more and his pizza was completely forgotten for the time being. There was a feeling that he was either going to end up terribly frustrated or just wrecked, but it was invigorating nonetheless. “That so?” He asked, voice a little airy as he dragged himself out of it. Anton cleared his throat and looked away so he could take another bite from the slice in his hand. “Care to elaborate or?” He trailed off as he murmured around the mouthful, but he kept an eye on Jackson while he chewed.

Jackson’s smirk only grew at Mishka’s response and it only helped to bolster the little bit of boldness he was running on. It felt good, honestly, and it was a kind of good he hadn’t felt in...well, a very long time. He lifted one shoulder lightly in a half shrug and took a sip of his water. “I told you, I’m much more of a ‘hands-on’ kinda guy,” he commented before finishing off his slice of pizza. He leaned forward to reach for another, unable to stop a bit of smugness from creeping up at just how well he was handling this. Surely Mishka had just assumed he was some blushing and stuttering mess, but oh how that was so wrong. At least behind closed doors. That kind of attitude hadn’t served him well during military school and it definitely wasn’t the temperament that had pushed Jackson through the Marines. Hopefully Mishka could appreciate this real side of him just as much as he seemed to enjoy the shy idiot he was most of the time.

He actually had to take the time to close his eyes and almost pray for there to be a time and way for them to fuck. Don’t get him wrong, he loved how this was playing out. It totally blindsided him, but it was one of those really great surprise that he wouldn’t cash in for the world. Anton didn’t choke on his food by some miracle, and he was done with the second slice a few moments afterwards. “Uh huh. Seems to me that it’s more of a watch-me-and-hands-to-yourself’ sort of thing.” Was he complaining? Oh yeah, he was definitely getting to that whiny stage, but who could blame him? What Jackson executed since they had gotten inside was so well done. It’d be a fucking blessing if he didn’t pop a boner anytime soon.

Jackson rolled his eyes at Mishka’s words, hearing the complaint loud and clear. But he was feeling more and more in control of things as they went so he wasn’t going to let the other guy take it back that easily. He would have to fight him for it. Granted, that thought opened up so many other more interesting ones, but he pushed them away for the moment as he took a bite out of his pizza, a few bits of meat falling into his lap without his notice. “Patience, darlin’,” Jackson replied once he’d swallowed down the food. “I’ve gotcha all night, don’t I? Unless you’d rather go into work instead?”

He huffed as he reached for another slice and he ate that in lighthearted grumpiness. There hasn’t been a time where he was one for pet names or nicknames in general, but hearing Jackson call him darlin’ just added onto the unfairness level that was being played out right now. It made him frown and shoot the other man a look before he looked back ahead of him. “I already sat my fat ass down and got comfy. I’m not about to leave any time soon and deal with drunk assholes who’ll try to get me just as drunk and hungover again.” Well, he didn’t get hungover every single time he took a shift at the bar, but when things got busy he didn’t have the time to hydrate himself properly. “Plus, I like pouting and shit so unless you kick me out you’ll have to deal with it.”

Jackson’s brow arched at the mention of Mishka’s ass, but rather than comment, he took another bite and chewed slowly as the other guy continued to gripe. Sure he was complaining but it was  cute in a weird sort of way, especially when he admitted that he was pouting. It was a bit of a change from the demeanor Mishka had shown him before, but he damn sure wouldn’t complain. And he really had no room to given that he wasn’t exactly the mess he’d shown either. “I can deal with it. I promise,” Jackson said simply, tossing Mishka a look without bothering to explain his words further. Let him read it however he wanted. Another sip of water and he was finishing off the crust, debating on another slice as he picked up the bits of meat that had fallen onto his lap.

Anton just rose an eyebrow in response. There wasn’t a smile or a frown on his face now. His lips were in a neutral set, but he made sure to keep that bit in mind. He was already cracking his knuckles in his head since Jackson had said that he could deal with his grousing, and who was he to hold back on that? He kept his eyes trained on the show, but he was more preoccupied with what else he could complain about. In the midst of his thoughts he ate through his third slice and when he was empty handed again he sighed softly. After he wiped his hands with a napkin, Anton leaned back and draped his arms over the back of the couch. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes for a moment just to rest his retinas, and Jesus when did he get this tired? Oh, right, ever since he woke up this morning.

Jackson almost laughed at the sudden silent treatment Mishka was giving him but he didn’t. He didn’t point it out or draw attention to the fact, instead he took a few more sips from his bottle of water and pretended to train his eyes on the show that he absolutely had not been paying attention to. Once it was clear the other man seemed to be done, he shifted up from the couch and began to clear away their mess, knowing he would focus on it if he didn’t do it now. And he wanted to give Mishka his undivided attention. “You’ve not touched the drink I worked so hard on for you,” he said with a teasing smile, handing the bottle of water to the other guy once again before disappearing into the kitchen to deal with what was left of their meal.

Honest to God he was just resting his tired ass eyes, but he wasn’t that honest to begin with and he certainly didn’t believe in God. Anton cracked open an eye when he heard Jackson start to move. A soft hrmph left him as he took the bottle as the other left the couch. He leaned back up and opened the bottle so he could take a few gulps. The bottle was capped and put on the table while he rubbed his eyes again. Still not a word came out of him as he settled back into the couch again. He could keep this up all day and night. He’s done it before and it certainly didn’t seem like he was leaving anytime soon.

Jackson finished up in the kitchen and washed his hands before returning to the living room to find Mishka curled up on the couch again. Glancing over, he noticed the water missing from the bottle on the table and he smirked to himself, glad to see the other guy had done as he’d wanted. A light clicked off in the living room before he moved to settle back down on the couch, stretching out and getting a bit more comfortable than he had before. Jackson looked over at Mishka. “Are you actually watching this? Or can I find something else?”

He glanced over at Jackson when the other spoke up, and he really regretted doing that. The play of light from the TV and windows were fucking with him. That had to be it, because the way Jackson looked right now was way too inviting for his liking. Or well, his stubborn liking more like. Anton looked back at the screen and frowned again. He reached forward and over his legs to snag the remotes. He still didn’t say a word as he offered them out to the other with an eyebrow raised and a stubborn set to his jaw.

Jackson had hoped his question would get Mishka to speak but as the remotes were handed over, it was clear that wasn’t going to be the case. Oh, he was stubborn as fuck. But he admired the dedication. “Thank you,” he said with a smile, pretending as if nothing was out of the ordinary as he took the remotes and turned his attention to the screen. It took a few moments to find what he wanted, but finally Jackson clicked play and sat them down on a side table. Casually, his feet lifted up to rest on the coffee table and hands came up to cross behind his head as he settled in to watch the show. After a moment, he shifted around in the name of getting more comfortable and ignored the way the hem of his shirt rode up just enough to show a patch of skin and a hint of his toned stomach.

He wanted to grumble back but he just looked away again. This time he really did try to pay attention to whatever show it was that Jackson picked. It’d help him stay in line with this whole stubborn thing he had going on even though it was petty as hell. He was getting into the groove of the show before he noticed Jackson moving. It was a habit to just look at whatever moved around him, and now was no different. Except when he looked over and saw the expanse of skin that was washed over by the light from the TV he wanted to straight up bang his head on the table. Oh, what he would do to get his hands on that- much less his lips because he was about to salivate by just imagining what the rest of Jackson’s body looked like. After another second he tore his eyes away and went back to the screen again as he tried his hardest to keep his mind away from the other’s image.

Jackson was actually paying attention to the screen for the first few minutes of the show, perfectly content to let Mishka sulk in silence. Why exactly he was sulking, he couldn’t say, but he wasn’t going to interrupt it. Eventually, he leaned forward to grab his bottle of water from the coffee table and his shirt rode up even more, a good part of his back being bared for a few seconds until he leaned back. As he tipped the bottle up for a drink, he made the wise choice to try to glance over at Mishka. And water spilled down onto his shirt from the slight change in angle. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, the bottle finding a place on the end table as he looked down at his shirt. It just seemed to be Jackson’s day for spills. And he’d been doing so well. With a heavy sigh, he shifted up from the couch. “I’ll be right back,” he informed the other guy, not expecting a response as he moved around the back of the couch and tugged his shirt over his head.

He was getting back into the lull of the show when Jackson all but scared the shit out of him. Anton flinched from the curse and looked over with wide eyes. For a second he felt worry flare, but when he realized that it was just another spill accident he calmed down. Not enough for him to say anything though. Anton just leaned back into his side of the couch again but he couldn’t help but stare at Jackson when the guy all but took his shirt off. This time he let out a whisper of a groan as he tried to make himself watch the show again. That lasted for half a second before he was peeking over to where the other had gone. His head was already rested against the side of the couch so he just craned his neck a little bit more so he could watch Jackson change. That sounded really fucking creepy, but he was already ogling at the other anyways.

Jackson barely made it into his room, wet shirt in hand before he realized he was missing the show. Turning on his heel, he crossed back into the living room, his words almost dying on his tongue when he saw the way Mishka was craned around and staring at him. He managed to hold in the laugh, but the smirk lifted the corners of his lips. “Hey, can you pause it for me? I don’t wanna miss anything,” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. Of course he could have easily skipped back when he settled back down, but where was the fun in that?

“Uh huh.” That was all he could really say at the moment. His mind was pulling a blank as he drank in the sight before him. No wonder Jackson did modeling on the side. The amount of detail on the other’s body were doing things to him and he had to actually slap himself mentally so he could stop staring like an idiot. Anton blindly groped for the remote but when he missed the second try he gave an irritated noise and looked over so he could grab the damn thing and press pause. He also has to shift his position a little bit more so he could easily rest his arm over his lap, because something was starting to rear up all thanks to Jackson’s tactics. More of a hands on guy my ass, he grumbled to himself as he looked away from the other again.

Jackson’s smirk grew wider at the almost grunted response, but hey, it counted as speaking in his book. A small victory, but he wanted a much bigger win than that. He waited until the screen paused and Mishka looked back at him, purposely loitering for effect. “Thanks,” he said, flashing the other man a bright grin before turning around and heading back into his room. He rummaged around in a drawer for a few moments before he pulled out a tank top and tugged it over his head. He considered changing his jeans out for something else too in order to be really comfortable but decided against it for the time being. Jackson headed back into the living room and stopped behind the couch again. “Do you need anythin’ while I’m up?” he asked, hands coming down to smooth over Miska’s shoulders as he spoke.

He was back to frowning again, but this time he had on a faint scowl. Usually he was the one throwing the shots, and even during the times where he wasn’t there wasn’t this much teasing involved. This was like some form of torture. He was sure of it. If he was an actual sleazy asshole he would’ve tried to do a lot more than pout, but he didn’t roll like that. Anton almost flinched again when he felt Jackson touch his goddamn shoulders. It wasn’t skin on skin contact, but this was the closest he’s gotten so far. You, was what he wanted to say but he kept his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked back. It was a bit of an odd stretch from the angle he was at, but completely ignored how his head bumped against one of the other’s forearm as he glowered at the man.

Jackson looked down when Mishka’s head tipped back to look at him and he waited patiently for a response, letting his hands move from the other man’s shoulders down over his collarbone and across his chest. But again, it was clear he wasn’t going to get a word out of him. That was fine then. His hands moved again, retracing their path backwards until he pulled them away. “I’ll take that as a no then,” he said with a light laugh as he withdrew completely, acting as if everything was completely normal. He crossed back around to the front of the couch and settled back into his spot. Glancing over, he spotted the remoted in Mishka’s hand and reached over into his lap to tug it free. “Thank you,” he hummed out, leaning back to his side of the couch slowly as he clicked play again.

This was at the top of the chain of being so goddamn unfair. He tried not to give into saying something snippy back like how the only thing he wanted while Jackson was up, which the man was not, was to get his ass back down on the couch so he can purge his mind with the TV show. The laugh just made him huff again, and he was just tempted to fall apart completely when the remote was taken from him. Sure, he could just remove his arm and spread his legs out. Not like there was a forming bulge in his jeans or anything. As if. Anton just ran a hand through his hair and didn’t give a fuck if it messed with how he had styled it this morning. Now it stuck up at random places but, hey, he was frustrated alright?

Jackson wasn’t stupid. He knew full and well what he was doing and that little huff just confirmed that he was doing it well. And the way Mishka kept his arms in his lap when he’d been stretched out before told him he was definitely on the right track. His eyes trained back on the screen but it wasn’t long before he was glancing back over and biting back a laugh at the ways the other man’s hair stuck up. “You alright, darlin’?” he asked, still sticking to the act that nothing was out of the ordinary. Rather than go back behind his head, Jackson’s arms stretched out to drape over the back of the couch as he smiled over at Mishka.

He was being fucked with, he knew that very well, but it wasn’t in the right way and Jesus how long was this going to play out for? It was a constant battle of flipping between giving in and staying stubborn as fuck. It was exhausting, really. Anton squinted back and sniffed lightly as he looked away from Jackson. Now the show had his undivided attention and he was set on keeping it that way. Unless Jackson did something like get up and stand in front of him of course, but if that happen it would snap the last of his efforts and open the dams of everything he’s been wanting to say since he went quiet.

Jackson knew he was just dragging it out at this point, but he couldn’t deny how much he was enjoying how stubborn Mishka was being. And he had to give him credit for sticking to his guns the way he was. For as fun as it was though, he couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t slowly getting near the end of his patience. His hand came down from the back of the couch to slip under Mishka’s arm in his lap and he rubbed lightly over his thigh, giving it a squeeze. “You’re awfully quiet over there. Is my show borin’ you? Or are you still poutin’ that I haven’t pinned you down and fucked you yet?”

Wow, this show was so interesting and so much better than the fucking chiseled ass guy that was sitting so fuckign close to him. Definitely a lot better than Jackson. No doubt about it. God he was going to grind his teeth at this point. All of his senses were on extra high alert just from how tense he was, but when he heard and felt Jackson’s arm get moved he just tossed all of his self restraint out the goddamn window. Anton looked over with blatant surprise on his face with an actual whine unfurling from his throat a second later. “I’ve been fucking waiting for ages and you just fucking tease in the most goddamn excruciating way, but I’d be a fucking liar if I said I hated it,” he said in a rush as he moved his hand to hold the other’s wrist. He was sure that if things came down to it he’d get his ass handed to him in a fight, but now that Jackson was actually touching him below his torso he was not letting that go easily.

That fucking whine hit Jackson where it hurt, slipping right past his defenses and completely under his skin. It hadn’t been his goal exactly but that was only because he hadn’t know it had been an option. Mishka’s words brought a smirk to his lips and the way the other man’s hand wrapped around his wrist--not stopping but almost encouraging his touch only added to it. “All you had to do was say somethin’, darlin’,” he replied easily. Jackson’s tongue darted out to roll over his lips as he shifted over on the couch, turning to press against the other man. One hand braced on the arm of the couch as the other pulled away from Mishka’s thigh in favor of wrapping around the back of his neck as he brought his lips down to claim his mouth in a kiss.

All he had to do was ask? He wanted to call it bullshit, but before he could say anything else he was sucking his breath back into his goddamn lungs. His space was being crowded in the best way possible, and just the look the other gave him was enough for him to release his hold on Jackson’s wrist. Finally, fucking finally they were going somewhere. He could’ve wept in joy, but he was too preoccupied by the pair of lips that were pressed against his. A pleased noise left him as he all but melted into the other’s attention. Anton reached for Jackson, needing to get his fill of contact on that body. His hands met solid, warm skin and he was in heaven. That was it. He could make amends right now and pass on without any regrets. No, wait, he took that back because this was just the pre-warmup of what was to hopefully come- which he direly hoped would be Jackson and himself in the near future. His lips parted as his tongue peeked out to run along the seam of the other’s lips, asking silently to deepen the kiss as he felt along the man’s chest and arms.

Jackson hummed in pleasure at the feeling of Mishka’s lips against his and the way the other man seemed to melt beneath him. His mouth opened easily at the press of tongue, his own pushing forward to get a better taste--something he’d been dying for since the moment he’d met him if he were being honest. His hand moved from the back of Mishka’s neck, slipping down to wrap around his thigh and tug, encouraging him to shift around to make this better for both of them. Now that he’d finally bit the bullet and kissed him, there was no way in hell he was letting the other man leave here. At least not without something to show for the time spent.

The second the other’s lips parted he delved in without another moment’s hesitation. He was so damn eager to lick and taste, and that was exactly what he got. His hands were just as hungry as his mouth was it seemed like since he was trying to feel everything that was within reaching distance. When he felt a tug at his leg he complied without needing to think. In the back of his mind he knew that he’d get cramped up if he stayed in this weird half curled position so he straightened his limbs out. Anton took some amount of effort to make sure he didn’t knee Jackson or anything. It took a few moments, but he had the kiss to keep a part of him busy. With his legs straightened and his body practically spread out underneath Jackson he was completely content with how their bodies slotted against each other. There was no hiding the rise in his pants at this point, but he was sure that there wasn’t a need to cover it anymore. Not that he really could now that they weren’t just dancing around each other.

Jackson was quickly getting lost in the kiss, in how hungry Mishka’s mouth and hands seemed to be for him. It was perfect and exactly what he wanted and needed, to feel like he was craved  and desired just as much as he felt for the other man. He shifted around as Mishka moved with his tug, settling down on top of him finally. A groan sounded as he felt what the other man had been trying to hide press against him. Not that he was the only one now, Jackson’s own pants growing tighter and he rolled his hips down, offering them both some much needed friction. His lips dragged away from Mishka’s finally, his mouth moving down to nip over his perfect jaw. “Good boy,” he hummed out, fingers tangling in his hair as his lips dragged down to his neck. The words slipped out without thought so he didn’t even stop to worry how they would be received as teeth grazed the skin. “This what you want?” Jackson shifted again, an expert rock of his hips down into Mishka’s.

Oh, that was really nice to hear. The deep, throaty groan had him wanting more, and he had no reason to hold back on that. Anton was greedy as fuck and he loved  to take during times like these. He also made sure to give back just as much as he took as well. The grind against him had him pitch in his own opinion of how it felt as he moaned into Jackson’ mouth before the kiss broke. His eyes opened halfway and he preened at the praise. A lazy yet heated smile graced his face as he looked at Jackson through his lashes. Another moan slipped past him but this time it was a lit more airy as he gripped onto the man above him. “Fuck yes,” he said without a single care in the world if he sounded completely wanton right now.

The sounds that he pulled from Mishka, the way the other man clung to him as he rocked down against him, it was intoxicating and Jackson was very quickly losing his grip on that whole self-control thing. It had been months since he’d even kissed anyone and actual sex? It took more thought than he cared to put forth to remember the last time that had happened. His nips at the other man’s neck turned a little harder, teeth pressing in more urgently but still seeking permission before leaving an actual mark. His hand squeezed between them and he raised his weight just enough to allow it in, fingers tugging at the waistband of Mishka’s pants before his hand was pushing inside, unable to be slowed down by things like buttons and zippers or even underwear. Immediately his hand wrapped around the other man’s cock and he stroked over the length, thumb teasing over the tip to draw more delicious sounds from him. “Stop me,” Jackson breathed out. “Stop me if you don’t want it.”

“Oh, fuck.” Those two words seemed to be his go to now, but in his defense it was rather hard to form a long and coherent train of thought when he was descending  into something like this. The blunt pressure against his neck had him automatically tilt his head back to give the other more access. Hickies weren’t something that he obsessed over, because they were evidence of some sort of connection that happened. Be it purely physical or not, he usually strayed away from it unless the other person was just dying to it. Now, though, he was craving it. He wanted to feel that short sting of pain again and again, and all over his neck- hell, even his whole body if he could help it. Having Jackson reach down and bypass the barrier of his pants and boxer briefs made him suck in a sharp breath before he hissed out in pleasure. “The,” he paused to let out a short pleased noise, “fuck?” Anton tugged at the back of Jackson’s hair so they could make eye contact. “I never want you to stop. You hear me? Fucking mark me everywhere. Make me fucking limp around when we’re done. Do whatever the fuck you want with me ‘cause holy shit I want it. I fucking need it.”

Consent was a very, very big deal to Jackson and he didn’t care if it broke the mood or the moment to get it. Of course Mishka had talked a lot of shit--they both had--but that didn’t mean anything now that they were actually getting down and dirty and he wanted to make sure the other man knew he had an out. He almost froze when his head was pulled back, but he met Mishka’s gaze, and bit back an honest to God growl at the words. There was nothing about any of it that didn’t make him want to just rip the clothes out of his fucking way, but no, no. Calm, he’d get there. Without a word, his mouth was on Mishka’s neck, lips sealing and teeth digging in as he tongue worried a mark into the skin. His hand worked over the other man’s cock a little faster as his hips rolled down to press his own achingly hard length into his thigh, wanting to give Mishka a tease of what he was in for. Jackson was a big guy, tall and broad and muscular and he knew he was well proportioned. His mouth dragged down only to leave another mark before he forced himself to stop for the moment and instead, he claimed Mishka’s mouth in a deep kiss. “Fuck, I want you,” he mumbled against the other man’s lips. His words paused as he kissed him again. “Naked and spread out on my bed right now,” he finished, his tone making it clear he wasn’t asking so much as ordering.

He was ready to bask in whatever it was that Jackson wanted to give him, but he honestly didn’t mind telling the other what he wanted. It didn’t make the moment any less heated in his opinion, because in more cases than not people tend to like how needy could be physically and verbally and he knew that. So, yeah, he was more than pleased to have Jackson go straight for his neck when he was done talking. It pulled a small groan from him before he tumbled out a longer and filthier noise not just from the quickened strokes around his cock, but also from feeling Jackson roll against him. He felt the size of the other against his leg, and fuck that just made him that much more excited. Anton let Jackson do as he pleased. It didn’t matter if the man was trying to suck bruises onto his neck or if he was trying to kiss the living daylights out of him- he wanted it all with such a desperation it even surprised himself a little. To be fair though, he had worked damn hard to get here so he felt fairly justified with how he was acting. When the kiss broke he almost chased the other’s lips, but his brain managed to halt his body since Jackson didn’t move that far away. For a second he just stared at the other with his eyes blown with lust before he simply smirked. “That all you really want?” He asked with a small hum and he was proud of himself for not sounding too out of breath, because holy shit he wanted that too but he didn’t make a move to get his ass over to the bedroom just yet.

Was that all he wanted? Jackson would have laughed at the question if he hadn't already been far, far too distracted by the pure want pounding through him. Another crash of lips and roll of his hips and he was pulling his hand free of Mishka's pants, shifting himself from on top of the other man. Of course every single cell in his body screamed in protest at the broken contact but he ignored it, sliding down to his feet and reaching down to all but snatch Mishka up. Hands were around the other man's waist, slipping down to grip his hips and his mouth found his neck again. They were never going to make it to his bedroom at this rate but Jackson just couldn't fucking help it. Finally though, he forced himself back and away from Mishka. Fingers slipped into the other man's hand and he tugged him forward without a word towards his bedroom.

He was half expecting Jackson to keep up with stating what he wanted, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining when it never came. What he did whine about was the loss of touch down below, but he just switched his attention back to what the other was doing to his. There were definitely going to be big ass marks there later, but fuck if that didn’t just rile him up even more. When Jackson got off of him he didn’t complain even though he was tempted to pull the man back down, but remembered that it might be easier to maneuver around on a bed instead of a couch. So he shut his trap and followed after Jackson without any other sort of prompting.

Thank God for his apartment being small because Jackson wasn't sure he could have waited the time it would have taken to get Mishka back to his bedroom otherwise. Given both their heights the couch really wouldn't have ended well. Not that he would have been too upset about knocked over or broken furniture but still. As soon as they were over the threshold, he was turning and tugging the other man into him, hands going for the hem of his shirt as he captured his mouth in another kiss. Touch, contact, he needed it constantly it felt like and Jackson wasn't going to hold back so long as Mishka was willing. Breaking back from the kiss to pull the shirt off, his hands wasted no time in going for the other man's pants as his teeth found his shoulder. Mishka had said he wanted marks everywhere so who was he to deny him that? Pants and underwear were loosed and shoved down and without giving the other man a second to even breathe, he pushed him down onto the bed as his hands went to discard his own tank top.

This was like the best goddamn roller coaster he’s ever been on. Weird comparison, but it’s always been his sort of thing to think of. There was the incline, the brief moment where everything stands still and then the drop. Sometimes there was another hill to go over, and he knew that if this ride was an actual thing it would be pitiful, but he was having a blast right now. The incline had been so torturously long, but now that they were starting to edge over into the drop he felt exhilarated. His need for close contact was just as desperate as the other’s and damn it felt good to know that they were on the same page. All of the shyness from before dissolved from Jackson and he wasn’t sure which part of him he liked better. Anton let the other undress him and he worked out another groan when he felt teeth bite down on his shoulder. Not long after that he was tumbling down, but he wasn’t complaining. He got to witness Jackson take off that offending tank top right on top of him and he swore that he was about to drool from the sight.

Jackson bit his lip hard at the sight on his bed, his eyes locked on Mishka’s naked form as he stripped off the rest of his own clothes. He wasted no time in climbing up on the bed and pressing down into him again, bare skin sliding over bare skin. The sensation was amazing and enough to pull a low sound from the back of his throat as his lips found the other man’s again. He’d have been lying if he said he hadn’t been anticipating this, but the reality was so much fucking better than even his imagination. Hips rolled down again, letting their lengths slide together as his teeth scraped over Mishka’s bottom lip roughly. Jackson wanted to go slow and take his time, but the desire was too strong and his mind seemed to be set on one track at the moment.

This was wonderful, simply amazing, and he didn’t hide the fact that he was all for this. Anton kissed Jackson back with just as much vigor, and he would admit that his breath hitched slightly when the other ground down against him. His hands were back on Jackson instantly, and as nice as this was, he had a sudden desire pop up into his head that couldn’t be ignored even if he tried. Not that he wanted to anyways. He might not know how to fight properly, but he knew a few tricks here and there. When his lower lip was bitten and tugged he felt a spike of arousal go through him. It was enough to spur him into flipping their positions with seemingly practiced ease. Well, it was definitely practiced from all the times he’s slept around. He didn’t even break the kiss, but now it was his turn to get a view from above. Anton leaned back slightly only so he could latch his mouth onto the column of the other’s neck for a moment before he began his trek downwards. “You remember what I said about how good I am with my mouth?” He murmured in between the pauses where he would worry over a new area of skin. “I’d be more than happy to show you what I meant.” Anton smoothed his hands over the other’s thighs while he scooted further down so he could settle in between Jackson’s legs. “If you wanna fuck into my mouth then by all means-Ne ostanavlivaysya.” He flashed a brief smirk before he pressed his lips against the base of the other’s cock. A long stripe was licked up to the tip where he then wrapped his mouth around the swollen crown. Anton sucked lightly as he swirled his tongue around before he dipped into the slit slightly. He hadn’t even gone down completely and he started to moan in appreciation. It just goes to show how much he enjoyed to go down on a guy he supposed. After a few more seconds of sucking around the tip he started to inch downwards until he felt the back of his throat get nudged. Instead of gagging like his body instinctively wanted to do he just forced himself to relax so he could take in a bit more before he pulled back up with his cheeks hollowed. He set a decent pace as he bobbed his head, never letting up on the sounds of pleasure he felt by doing this.

Jackson had been just about to reach down between them to wrap his hand around Mishka’s cock again when out of nowhere he was being rolled and flipped onto his back, lips still connected when they settled with the other man on top of him. Okay, well that was impressive as fuck and it had been a while since he’d met anybody that played dirty that way. His hands had smoothed down to settled on Mishka’s hips, a part of him considering rolling them again to regain his position on top but then there were lips on his neck, teeth pressing down and the thought was lost. His head titled to the side instinctively and a moan was pulled from his lips at the feeling of a mark being returned. He would have stopped Mishka if he’d been thinking about it, his fear of being discovered just that great, but in the moment, he wanted it. Wanted more. And more seemed to be exactly what the other man was going to give him.

Jackson shifted up on his elbows slightly as Mishka’s mouth began to move down his body, watching and letting out a quiet hiss of pained pleasure at each little mark being worried into his skin. He was getting more turned on by the second--if that were even possible. It seemed to be the case though and he let out a low sound at Mishka’s words. Fuck his mouth? He hadn’t gotten an invitation like that...ever actually. But fuck if he would say no. He watched, breath hitching when the other man’s lips finally pressed against his cock, and he did his best to resist the urge to rock forward at least for the moment because he wanted to see just what Mishka was capable of. It was barely seconds later that a loud groan fell from his lips as his tip brushed against and then went past the back of the other man’s throat and holy fuck. Jackson’s fingers threaded through Mishka’s hair as he braced himself up with his other hand because there was no way he was going to miss a sight like this. Slowly, his hips began to arch up, pushing his cock into the other man’s mouth and while the movements were almost unsure at first, it wasn’t long before the pleasure of the moment overtook him and Jackson began to thrust forward, using his hold in Mishka’s hair to control him as he fucked into his mouth. “So good, fuck,” he breathed out, his eyes searching to meet the other man’s as he set up a rhythm. “Your mouth is perfect, baby.”

Normally, he hated it when people messed with his hair. The back and lower parts were fine, he supposed, but when people decided play with the part where he took the time to style it every morning.. That’s where he had an issue. Except that pet peeve flew out of the goddamn window now that he had a dick down his throat. He was in seventh heaven, especially when Jackson got on board with letting him deepthroat like the whore he was. It was twice as good when the other started to fuck into him like he had wanted from the beginning. He was constantly groaning and moaning as he sucked in earnest. The other noises he made were wet and sloppy, but when he heard Jackson speak up he instantly looked up at the other. Anton felt so fucking smug about the clear pleasure the other man felt, and he keened at the praise. He didn’t let up on the rhythm and after a while he shifted his body a little bit so he could play with the other’s balls.

The sounds Jackson was pulling out of Mishka were like literal music to his ears and the vibrations that went through his cock as the other man moaned and groaned around him were only adding to everything, pushing his pleasure higher. And then they made eye contact and a loud rumble was pulled from deep in his chest. It might have been an odd sort of thing but he loved it. To look back in someone’s eyes and see just how deep under they were and how much they loved it and wanted more. And that’s definitely what he saw gazing back at him from between his thighs. Mishka had been whiny and pouty before and it was translating perfectly now. Everything felt so fucking good and the attention to his balls has Jackson’s hips bucking. But it had been a long time since he’d been with another person and it was so good that it was no surprise that already he was feeling that heat pool low in his stomach. No, no, not yet. Not only would that have been incredibly embarrassing to go out so quickly, but highly disappointing considering everything he still wanted to do to Mishka. So his hips stilled slowly, ignoring the way his body protested as he backed off of his orgasm and Jackson tugged  his mouth away, using his hold in the other man’s hair to guide him back up so that he could capture his lips once more.

As a thought to the side, not that he could really think that clearly right now unless it pertained to the activity at hand- or at mouth more like, he wondered how long this would go on. Call him prideful, but he knew that his deepthroating wasn’t something that usually lasted long. Not because of the chances of him getting lockjaw or anything, but because of how great it felt for the other person. He felt like he had every right to be confident in this skill because he had worked damn hard to get to this point, and he could honestly suck Jackson off for a long ass time. Their locked gaze was practically electrifying and he was thrilled to see just how blown the other’s pupils were. Eyes were the window to the soul and whatever else the saying contained, and this just meant that he was doing a mighty fine job right now. As Jackson pulled him up he didn’t hold back the wet pop that sounded when his lips left the other’s cock. There was a whine just waiting to be breathed out from the loss of weight in his mouth and on his tongue, but he was happily silenced when they started to kiss again. Anton used an arm to support himself against the bed as he got lost within the kiss. The noises he made were deeper now from having his throat used and he absolutely loved it.

Jackson kissed Mishka deeply, his desire coming through loud and clear with the way his lips and tongue moved against the other man’s. Hopefully it was enough to distract from the possible realization on Mishka’s part that he’d been just that close to ruining all their fun before it had even begun. “It’s my turn now,” he hummed out against Mishka’s lips, breaking the kiss and pushing the other man back down onto his back in one fluid motion. Granted, he’d never bragged about his oral skills, but he was pretty fucking confident in what he could do. He barely waited for the other man’s head to settle against the pillows before he was shifting around between his legs and dipping down to run his tongue up his length, root to tip with one teasing stripe. Jackson looked up, capturing Mishka’s gaze as hands soothed up his thighs. Of course, he could have drawn it out and teased the other man but given how long he’d tortured him before this, he felt that would have just been cruel--not to mention that it would take more time denying what he wanted too. His mouth sank down around Mishka’s cock, pushing a good ways down the shaft before pulling back to swirl his tongue. Deepthroating my not be a skill of his, but he didn’t let that stop him as he set up a good pace, pushing down and slipping back up with a practiced twist of his head.

If he could purr like how felines did it he would’ve been rumbling like a fucking machine. There was hardly any space to breathe right, but he wasn’t complaining one bit. Anton let out a soft noise when he was pushed backwards, but he was all putty when his back was fully on the bed. Especially since he was getting the same treatment he had just given Jackson. He took a sharp breath in before it dissolved into a wanton groan. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, but when he saw that Jackson was looking at him he made it a point to hold the other’s gaze. There wasn’t really a thing for him to keep eye contact during intercourse or sex, but he swore he was falling deeper and deeper into the other man’s gaze. What was a thing for him was watching how he was getting blown. There was just something about the spit slick lips and the hollowed out cheeks that got to him. He couldn’t explain it and he never really bothered to anyways since no one asked. Anton reached out and carded his fingers through Jackson’s hair as he mimicked the other’s position from before when the roles had been reversed. One arm was used to prop himself up onto his elbow so he could watch the other without straining his neck. “Fucking shit,” he breathed as he tilted his head back just a tinge from how good this felt.

Jackson drank in Mishka’s reactions, the sounds and the fingers in his hair. In general, that wasn’t a thing, allowing someone else to control his head as he worked, but he didn’t fight against the other man’s fingers as his head bobbed up and down. For as much as he was loving it himself, this wasn’t his main goal and after a few more strokes of his head, his mouth slipped away, replacing the sensation with his hand and using the spit left behind to pump over Mishka’s shaft as his tongue trailed down, teasing lightly over his balls. Jackson let out a hum as he shifted down a bit more, his tongue slipping over skin until it was teasing over the other man’s hole. His eyes flicked up again, almost asking for permission as he licked again, pressing the flat of his tongue over Miska’s entrance, his hand still working his cock over at a steady pace.

In all honesty, he liked to give blowjobs more than receiving them but he just couldn’t find it in himself to complain. His voice actually felt a bit rough and he could only imagine how it’d sound by the time they were fucking. Just thinking about it made his toe curl slightly, but the temporary thought was pushed away when he didn’t feel wet heat around his cock. It wasn’t like he couldn’t see what Jackson was doing, but there was a small lag time in his head. Once it clicked, though, he was grinning as he worked out a small whine. He couldn’t help it- how long had it been since he got rimmed? Far too long if he couldn’t think of an answer right away. Anton canted his hips upwards for better access and a silent urge to get on with it. “You planning on.. Making this a huge tease for me too?” He asked as he cut his laugh in half when he bit down on his lower lip. If Jackson actually wanted to drag it out he wouldn’t hesitate with begging. Anton knew the number he could do when he widened his eyes and pleaded with a voice like this.

Jackson couldn’t even try to deny that he loved doing this and could honestly say that he’d never had any complaints. Being a natural top, it was his favorite way to make his partner fall apart while getting them prepped at the same time. He smirked a little when Mishka shifted around, giving him better access to what he wanted and he only hummed in response to the question. He had absolutely no plans to tease the other man, not with this. He enjoyed it too fucking much to hold back. Pushing his face even deeper, he broke the eye contact and let his eyes slip closed as his tongue darted out to drag up over Mishka’s entranced again and again, each press becoming harder and more insistent. Another hum of pleasure sounded as Jackson pushed the tip of his tongue into the tight ring of muscle just a tease before his free hand was slipping down. He stroked Mishka’s cock a little faster as he sucked his finger, slicking it up before the tip pressed against his hole, slowly easing inside of him.

It was to his delight, and relief, that there wasn’t any prolonged teasing. He might’ve wept if that had been the case- not that it would’ve been the first time he’d done so. Anton kept watching Jackson even after the man broke eye contact, but he couldn’t keep his head straight for that much longer. The moans were being pulled out of him as he got opened up with clear skill. Heat was coursing through his veins as he let his head fall back and his eyes close so he could just focus on what he felt rather than what he saw. The more Jackson loosened him up the more breathier his moan got. There wasn’t a hiss of pain or discomfort when a digit was slipped in. He just wanted more and he was almost tempted to move himself down lower to show it. Actually, scratch that before that was exactly what he did anyways. Anton rocked himself down a fraction, unable to help himself as the itch to be filled grew bigger and bigger.

Jackson knew he was hitting his mark, maybe even beyond that with the sounds that Mishka was making and the way he fell back onto the bed. But he fucking loved it. His tongue continued to tease even as his finger pushed into the other man, doing his best to go slow and be gentle. But rather than being tense or reacting as if it hurt, Mishka shifted and pushed down, almost like he was begging for more. And he was quick to answer that plea, sliding the digit in faster, not stopping until his knuckle was pressed against Mishka’s skin. Rather than waiting though, he pulled back after only a few seconds, dragging back just to push forward again. Jackson’s tongue rolled down, adding a little more lubrication as he began to press a second finger into Mishka’s hole. He probably could have gone slower, but the further in he went, the more he wanted, his hips grinding down into the bed for relief as he worked the other man over.

“Good fuck,” he breathed from feeling Jackson slide in deeper. There wasn’t as much of a gentle touch now and he was glad that his silent request had been answered. He had no qualms with making his thought known verbally, of course not, but he was more preoccupied with the knowledge that he’d more than just fingers hopefully sooner rather than later. His moans got louder when another digit was added in. Now there was a slight burn, but he relished it. Pain might not be his thing outside of the bedroom, or just outside of sex in general, but he absolutely adored it. Especially when it was done like this. The feeling was grounding and it definitely helped him stay somewhat focused as he rolled his hips downwards a little once again.

Jackson moved with the way Mishka rolled his hips, pushing down for more. If there had been a question as to whether or not the other man was used to bottoming, it was erased now. Not with the way he moved, it was too needy and perfect and it only managed to drag a groan from his lips at just what he was in for. A third finger pushed inside Mishka and he did his best to ease the sting with his tongue and the way his other hand stroked over his cock. Jackson didn’t want to drag this out, not at fucking all, but he wanted to be sure the other man was ready for him because once he started….It would take an act of God to make him stop. “Tell me you want it. I wanna hear you beg for my cock, darlin’.”

He was angling his hips while Jackson kept at it, and the timing of it all was too coincidental in his opinion. A shock of pure pleasure shot through him as he all but gasped. His eyes opened and he looked at the ceiling while he gripped the blanket below him. Tension bunched throughout his body for a quick second before he was pushing against Jackson with renewed vigor. “Fucking shit--” It was hard enough to say more than a few words at the moment, but now Jackson wanted him to form complete sentences? Challenge accepted even though half of his attention was on getting his prostate rubbed again. “I fucking want it so fucking bad. How much longer are you going to make me wait? Three fingers in. You’re three fucking fingers in- just fuck me with your cock already. Fucking make me feel stretched and if I can feel my ass and legs when we’re done I’m not letting you fall asleep or any of that shit. We’re going at it until I’m fucking sobbing.”

Jackson should have known when he told Mishka to beg that he was in for a treat. The other man had already shown just how much of a mouth he had on him in more ways than one. But every single word was perfect and damn near sent a pang of pure want straight to his cock. He let his fingers curl slightly, pressing against that sweet spot inside of Mishka before he dragged them out slowly and shifted up on the bed. “Good boy,” he hummed out with a smirk as he leaned over to his nightstand. Jackson wasted no time in tearing open the condom and rolling it on, adding a bit of lube from the small tube on his nightstand too for good measure. And then he was moving and leaning down, supporting his weight with one hand at the side of Mishka’s head as the other wrapped around his cock to guide it in. He couldn’t be bothered with words in the moment, his mind far too focused on what he was finally finally about to get to spout out some line. So instead, Jackson kissed Mishka, tongue pushing into his mouth roughly as his tip pressed against his entrance and he began to push in.

That seemed to do the trick and he would’ve been proud of himself if it weren’t for the deliberate slide over the bundle of nerves that had him hitching his breath again. There was the ghost of a keening noise that got stuck in his throat, but he was sure that there would be time for that to expand fully soon enough. Anton felt almost painfully empty as Jackson prepped himself, but he didn’t whine anymore. He was more geared towards the anticipation that danced around in his gut from seeing the condom get taken out. Then his gaze moved up to the other’s face before he was pressed into another kiss. His lips parted instantly and the blunt press against his hole was what made him groan all low and filthy. Anton spread his legs wider, needing Jackson to be inside of him already even though he knew it’d be better if he got the chance to adjust, but he didn’t care for that right now. He just wanted to get fucked into the mattress already.

Everything else seemed to fall away as Jackson’s hips pushed forward, breaking the kiss to let out a groan as his cock sank slowly, inch by inch into Mishka. The relief and the pressure, tight walls squeezing around him was so fucking amazing and he had to resist the urge to just snap forward. He wanted to give the other man time to adjust because three fingers or not, this was a lot different. Finally, finally, he buried himself in Mishka’s ass, their bodies meeting and another lower sound was pulled from the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jackson groaned out. His free hand smoothed down over the other man’s leg before wrapping around his thigh and tugging to encourage him to wrap around him as his hips began to pull back. His mouth found the unmarked side of Mishka’s neck and he bit down to add another sting of pain, nearly pulling all the way out before he was thrusting forward with a little more force.

The sound of them both enjoying this moment in unison was a lot hotter than necessary. His eyes were half lidded again as he felt himself get filled. It was mind numbingly delicious, and he wanted more of it. So much more, but the rational side of him appreciated the restraint Jackson had to let him relax a bit more before things could move on. His ass would thank that notion later even if he was beyond that reasoning right now. “Damn right I am,” he gritted out as he swallowed thickly. His legs wrapped around Jackson’s waist after the hint, and he made sure to cling to the other from this point out. Again, he tilted his head to the side as the other worried over an unmarked part of his neck. The combined feelings almost made him wheeze, but a more appealing sound was put forth instead thankfully. “Fuck yeah. Don’t go all soft on me. Fuck me like you fucking mean it.”

Jackson melted a little as Mishka’s long, long legs wrapped around him, the other man clinging to him and causing that wave of feeling needed to wash over him again. It was nearly as intoxicating as the man himself and only heightened his pleasure in the moment. His hips moved and stirred, wanting to really feel just how tight Mishka was and he was on his way to setting up a pace, his teeth showing no mercy as they found the other man’s collarbone. But then of course Mishka’s own mouth opened and he let out an almost growl at the sound. Jackson’s forward push stopped and instead he arched back, letting his cock slip free of the other man completely. His head lifted up and he locked eyes with Mishka. “I’m sorry but it sounds like you’ve forgotten just who the fuck is in charge here. This ass?” he said, shifting to press his tip against the tight ring of muscle in a tease. “It’s mine and you’ll take whatever the fuck I give you and you’ll fucking love it.”

He was desperate, alright? He hadn’t felt his damn good without a drop of alcohol in his system in months. Usually his hookups and one night stands were when he was completely inebriated. Most of the times he remembered everything that happened, but there were a few times where he did not remember. This though? This was something he’d remember until he was rolling in his grave. There was another word on its way out before he sucked it back into his goddamn lungs. He was empty again and this time he flat out whined. It wasn’t quite a whimper since there was strength in the sound, but holy shit that was fucking hot. To see Jackson get all bossy like this? Oh yeah, definitely going in his spank bank for later. It was involuntary but Anton leaned his head back even more when he felt Jackson press against him slightly., almost as if he was trying to steal the other’s attention away just by the sole image of the mess that had become of his neck. The spatterings of deep reds and forming bruises probably looked like a goddamn masterpiece, but it wasn’t that simple. “Ponyal“,” he said, more blown away by how turned on he was right now than anything else. If he had the chance to step back and reevaluate what he had said just now he would’ve been beside himself. There hasn’t been a time where his tongue slipped like that, or well, there had been but the other person had asked him to speak Russian.

The whine that sounded hit Jackson right in his weakest point and he damn near gave in at just the noise. He wasn’t sure if Mishka had already figured out he loved it that much and was doing so on purpose or if it was just the other man’s natural self. Either fucking way, he was getting lost in it. Whiny, needy, clingy, greedy, desperate and demanding. He was eating it up. And especially the way that Mishka gave in to him. “Khoroshiy mal'chik,” he purred without hesitation. There had been a handful of times other languages had slipped out when he was lost in a haze of sex, but usually he was far too distracted make much sense. Not that it mattered but it did now because he knew it was Mishka’s native language. Without further hesitation, his hips shifted again and he managed to like up with the help of his hand and he pushed back inside the other man, the slow or even gentle movements gone as he sank down, fully burying his cock in that perfectly tight ass again. Jackson couldn’t hold in his groan at the feeling because even if he was making it clear he was in control, he could never deny his own pleasure in it all. His hand slipped down to grip at Mishka’s hip, almost holding the other man in place as he pulled back and thrust into him again, his pace picking up as he fell into a hard and fast rhythm.

Again, that shouldn’t be that hot, but here he was, already fucking keening from hearing that roll off of Jackson’s tongue. Who knew he had a thing for different languages during sex? He certainly didn’t, but he sure as hell knew now. His lips fell apart a bit more as he felt the push in, and after that it was all gone. More specifically- he was gone. The way Jackson pushed back into him made the previous motion sheepish almost. Anton grew in volume with the sound that was dragged out from what felt like the depths of his fucking soul. They fell into a harsh pace right off the bat and he was living in it. His mind was going numb as his body coursed with absolute pleasure. Soon enough he wasn’t even aware of the things he babbled a litany of nonsense. All of which were directed towards how fucking good this felt. How good Jackson felt and how wonderful he felt as well. It wasn’t even to his knowledge that he was speaking in Russian, but that seemed like such a small thing compared to the bruising hold on his hip kept him down as his ass was pounding into.

Jackson’s ego was stroked with every thrust of his hips, but even he wasn’t immune to the heat of everything. And seeing the mess Mishka was dissolving into beneath him. Whines, whimpers, moans, half words, mixed Russian, the other man was literally coming apart it seemed and he fucking loved it. His lips crashed down to still the flow of words for the moment, needing that connection, needing more as he slammed his hips forward, like he was trying to get deeper with each movement even though he’d already gone as far as possible. He was feeling that need and desire, craving every last bit of Mishka that he could have and in the moment he couldn’t care less at how aggressive he was being to get it. It was a slippery slope though and the further he fell, the more he wanted. Jackson forced himself back up and away, shifting back on his knees more as both hands gripped at Mishka’s hips, jerking the other man forward a little into a better angle. His hips never stuttered, never faltered and he looked down, drinking in and drowning in the sight beneath him. “Stroke that cock for me, baby. Wanna see how much you love this dick.”

God, he could feel that slow, heated tension start to build, but he didn’t have the sense to do a count down. Not that he thought he really could since Jackson had been pulling out surprises left and right since the second they met. He felt his teeth clack against the other’s when he was silenced with a bruising kiss, but fuck that felt oddly good. Or maybe he was already that far gone to connect it with the rest of his brain. Whichever reason- he was still panting from how merciless he was getting fucked. Anton was jarred from his absent thinking when the other leaned back. The sight shift had him punch out a sharp, strangled noise and he all but scrabbled for some sort of purchase. One hand found Jackson’s wrist while the other automatically did what he had been told to do. Anton worked over his cock at the same pace as he was getting rammed into by the other, and he was sure he’d be seeing stars really fucking soon. His mouth hung loose as a shameless moan was punctuated by each snap of Jackson’s hips.

Jackson wasn’t as immune to all of this as he hoped he could be. Not that he didn’t want to get dragged down and lost in the moment, it was that he wanted it to last. He wanted to last. But again, that heat was coiling tighter and tighter low in the pit of his stomach with each snap of his hips. Mishka’s hand around his wrist managed to ground him a little, his focus pulling a little from his own pleasure to the man beneath him and fuuuccckkkk. “That’s it. Fuck...Просто так,” he encouraged, teeth digging into his bottom lip in an attempt to hold in his own moan. It failed of course, the sound forcing its way out anyways as he felt Mishka’s walls tightening around him. “Cum for me, darlin’. I want it right now.”

He almost wanted to tell Jackson to shut up, because could only do so much with how he was getting rammed into. It was too much to hear him talk like that, but that’s exactly what the other wanted apparently. His breaths turned shallow but his grip on Jackson’s write didn’t falter. It grew tighter if anything and he was close. Jesus Christ he was close. His neck and chest strained as he pressed his head back against the bed. The command did things  to him, but he didn’t climax right away. It took a few more tugs around his own cock before he lost it. He didn’t just get pushed over the edge. No, he fucking got slam dunked into the goddamn floor with the force of the orgasm. Anton came with a shout that could’ve passed as Jackson’s name, but he’d find that as a miracle since it felt like his mind was short circuiting as his body locked up. He spilled over his hand and onto himself, but the release of it all winded him so thoroughly he almost thought he forgot how to breathe for a second.  

It was if Jackson could see his words taking a physical effect on Mishka and he fucking loved it. The way the hand around his wrist tightened, the other man pressing back against the bed almost as if he was trying to fight it and hold off. But he couldn’t and it didn’t take long until he was tensing, Jackson’s hips having to push that much harder to keep up his pace as Mishka clenched around him and cum spilling and splashing down over skin. That was nearly too much, but it was the sound of his name, nearly hard to miss as it mixed with the moan that did Jackson in. His hips pumped wildly as he chased his own orgasm. Everything tensing and tightening until finally, finally it just snapped and his cock was throbbing and spasming as he came. There wasn’t exactly a name for the sound that tore through him as he emptied himself, the pleasure crashing down over him, relief after having gone so, so fucking long without it.  A few more thrusts, stutters of his hips before he was stilling his movements, his body coming down to press into Mishka’s and paying no mind to the mess between them as he claimed his lips in a surprisingly sweet kiss.

He, for one, didn’t do the whole cuddling thing after sex. The afterglow was fine, he supposed, since he was usually too worn out to fucking move. Well, that was if the sex was mind blowing, but he actually found himself curling his lips into a content smile when Jackson laid on top of him only to plant a kiss that lacked the heated need they were winding down from. His entire body felt heavy as hell and almost all of his energy had been sapped away, but God had it been worth it. Anton kissed back in languid motions as he draped his arms around the other. This was good. This was comfortable and he honestly couldn’t care about the mess on his stomach right now. He was still floating along for the euphoric ride, and it’d be a bit before he came back down.

Jackson kissed Mishka slowly, almost like they had all the time in the word, and the pace was nearly the complete opposite of only moments before. But he didn’t care. He was riding the high of everything for as long as he could. Granted, he wasn’t much used to having time to cuddle or come down because most of his experiences had been hurried moments of opportunity, so maybe he was soaking this up as much as possible. It didn’t seem the other man minded though as arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer it felt like. Eventually, he broke the kiss and pulled back. “Come on, baby. Need to get cleaned up before the feelin’ good fades and it hurts to move,” Jackson said, reluctantly pulling away. The comment could have been taken as vain almost, like he was just that damned good, but it hadn’t been meant that. And either way, he knew he was right because he definitely hadn’t taken it easy on Mishka.

If he was being honest with himself, unlike how he was ninety percent of the time because of his ties with being in denial a lot, he’d admit that this was nice. He wasn’t comparing Jackson to his exes, mostly because none of them came close to what just happened, but there was the phantom of an idea of how domestic this almost was. It should’ve put him on edge. It should’ve had him find a reason to leave so he could go home and sober up from the endorphins that were clouding his mind, but he didn’t. Anton stayed right where he was and only grumbled when he was urged to get up. The only reason why he followed after Jackson was because of the fact that this wasn’t his bed. If it had been he wouldn’t have given a shit if he got the sheets dirty. Well, that and also because he got to get an eye full of the other’s ass as well.

Jackson lead Mishka into his bathroom, trying to push the blissful afterglow from his mind enough to be responsible. It wasn't that he was worried about his sheets so much as how their bodies would end up sticky and he'd rather deal with it now than live with the uncomfortable regret later. A shower was what came to mind, of course but he wasn't sure it was a good idea to push for it, especially considering how it would only serve to make him want another round and it was already unbearably late. So instead, Jackson pointed out where everything useful was and left the other man to his own devices, snagging a towel to clean himself for the immediate moment as he headed for the refrigerator.

His heads were still stuck in the clouds and pull from the remnants of the orgasm. It was a wonder that he wasn’t spouting something since his mouth almost never stopped moving. A small noise of appreciation as he was left alone. Anton cleaned himself up and padded back out into the bedroom, already feeling incredibly sluggish. He didn’t try to look for where Jackson went since the bed was right there. Anton fell down and sighed happily as his body sagged into the blankets and pillows. The question of if he should stay here for the night came up, and he knew he needed to ask but his body refused to cooperate. So he remained face down and starfished on top of the bed as he fought off the lure of slumber.

Jackson heard the bathroom door open and made his way back into his room, laughing lightly at the sight of Mishka spread out on his bed, face down. God, that ass was so perfect. “Careful now, or I'll take that as an invitation for a round two,” he teased as he crosses over and settled down next to the other man's head. He held out the bottle of water in offer. “I was right, huh? You don't wanna move now, do ya?” Maybe there was a hint of smugness to his voice, a bit of teasing on his tone as he looked down at Mishka, his other hand coming up to smooth over his back. Of course, he couldn't pass the opportunity to run his palm over that amazing ass either.

As tired as he may be, he still found it in himself to jerk his head up and look over with squinted eyes. “I mean, I never turn down another round unless the fuck was just that bad, but I’d never say no with how I’m feeling right now.” The smile he gave was lopsided as he tracked Jackson’s movements. “Unless you want to haul my ass all the way home then I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a small huff as he took the water bottle. Anton propped his upper half up with the help of his elbows and he couldn’t help but grin smugly at Jackson when he felt his ass get touched. “Now I see how you’re more of a hands on sorta guy.”

That in and of itself was plenty of an ego stroke, the fact that Mishka said he'd not turn down another round. Of course, the idea got tossed quickly because it was late and they were both clearly exhausted. Jackson's brow quirked slightly when the other man said he planned to stay, a part of him not stupid enough to get his hopes up for such. He shook his head and laughed as Mishka shifted up and snagged the water. “Looks like you and your amazin’ ass are stuck with me for the night then ‘cause I don't think I could be convinced to put on pants, let alone actually leave.” He let his hand continue to trail over Mishka's skin, smirking at the comment. “Told ya not to doubt me, didn't I, darlin’?”

“Streaking’s a thing you know,” he said absently as he drank a bit of water before he capped the bottle. “Uh huh, sure did, but it would’ve been great if you showed me, you know, sooner.” It was a clear complaint but he didn’t hold any malice in it. Anton just rolled over onto his side with a low groan. The water bottle was left near Jackson in favor of burying his face into the nearest pillow. “I don’t know about you, but I’m like.. A minute away from passing the fuck out. Feel free to join, or not, I’m sleeping anyways.” His voice was getting groggier and his body was already trying its hardest to shut down. Going off of three hours of sleep from the night before could do that to him sometimes.

Jackson only rolled his eyes at Mishka's teasing and complaints, not wanting to put forth the necessary effort to argue or snark back. He grabbed the water bottle when the other man turned over and took a drink as he shifted up from the bed. “Yeah, I'll be right back. Gotta turn everythin’ off.” Of course the only thing he wanted to do was crawl right up next to Mishka and pass out too, but one of them had to be the adult and it was his place. “You better not be a blanket hog,” Jackson teased as he disappeared into the living room to finish getting the apartment ready for bed.

When Jackson got off the bed he let his eyes slide shut. There was a slight burn from just how tired he was, and he knew that his contacts would give him hell in the morning, but they were made to be slept in. Anton just mumbled back a quiet noise as he remained still. “I don’t like blankets,” he said, already halfway gone from being conscious. If he was awake he would’ve gone on about he got hot way too easily under a lot of blankets, but his mouth was already closed so he kept it that way as he started to doze off.

Jackson made quick work of turning everything off in the apartment, not wanting to leave Mishka alone in his bed for too long. God, when was the last time he’d thought that?...Or maybe even the first time? Even for as much as it sounded as if he’d lived, here in Atlanta was his first time having a place of his own. And Mishka was the first person to share his bed. The thought hit him out of nowhere, but it was far too heavy to hold up given his exhaustion, so Jackson brushed it away as he clicked off the last light and made his way back into the bedroom. He climbed up onto the bed, head falling against the pillow as he tugged up just the top sheet over them.

There was only a shred of consciousness left in him when Jackson got into bed. He stirred a little just to make a noise to inform the other that he knew that the man was beside him. No mind was given when he felt something get put on top of him. It’d probably be off of him by the time he woke up, but for the time being he just said fuck it and finally succumbed to the sleep that he had desperately needed.

Jackson settled in and looked over at the quiet noise Mishka let out. The other man really hadn’t been kidding about how tired he was. It was cute though and he knew at least a part of the exhaustion was thanks to him. He lay still for a moment, but it just wasn’t quite comfortable, so Jackson turned to his side facing Mishka as his arms slipped out to wrap around him and tug him close. Arm draped over the other man’s waist, he pressed a kiss to one of the marks on his neck before nuzzling in and burying his face against the skin wordlessly. There, that felt much better. Jackson’s eyes slipped closed and moments later, he was joining Mishka in a comfortable sleep.

[justthinkingofwaystoavoidbusses]

Together

Can you do a David Webster x Reader!Air Force Mechanic? I was thinking that David and the reader met each other when David noticed that the reader was reading Shakespeare. They then become very close through letters and eventually meeting up in Europe and falling in love. Thanks! - anon 

---

You were on a rare break, you’re commanding officer had been abruptly called away to a meeting so you had an hour off until lunch time. Around the camp you could see various companies training for battle, and you could tell which CO was the hardest on his men just from the sheer volume of his yelling. You swore you could see the vein in his neck from across the field as he screamed at his men who were stood perfectly at attention.

It had been a week since you arrived and you still hadn’t gotten used to the Georgian heat, you had started training to be an air force mechanic further up North where the temperature was more preferable but you’re whole squad had been moved to camp Toccoa and there was nothing you could do about it. You had been told to read over the manuals they had given you at the start of training but you had already read it cover to cover five times, so you were sat out in the sun enjoying a copy of one of your favourite Shakespeare plays, Much Ado About Nothing.

During times like this you needed a little comedy in your life, and though Shakespeare may be long gone he certainly had a way with words like no other. You wished you had packed more to bring with you when you left home, you had an entire collection next to your bed at home and you could still remember all your favourite passages. At school you had to study his plays in your English class and you had fallen in love, doing your best to get your hands on as many of his plays as you could, it was just a shame that no one else seemed to like his work. They always found it boring, or too hard to understand, but the way the words flowed made perfect sense to you.

You had been sat close to the tent they served food in, and you could smell lunch almost cooked. It wasn’t the most appealing of aromas but you were starving and anything would do though you usually waited for most of the men to take their place inside first so you didn’t have to deal with them queuing up with you.

Soldiers began to trickle inside as they were let go for lunch but you paid them no mind. In the past week most of them had gotten used to having you around camp and now mostly left you alone, you only looked up when a shadow blocked the light on your page. “Can I help you?” you asked, squinting up at the figure.

“Is that Shakespeare?” the man asked, an excited lilt in his voice.

You nodded slowly, “Yeah. Why?”

“I love Shakespeare,” he shifted and you could now see his face. He was fairly tall, had a strong jaw line and bright blue eyes.

You smiled, “Yeah, me too.”

“You getting lunch?” he asked, when you nodded he offered his hand, you took it and he hoisted you up. “So, what’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N. You?”

“David Webster,” he replied with an easy smile. You joined the back of the line and quickly grabbed the food that was meant to be a sandwich and took a place together on a bench near the back of the tent that was empty. “What do you do around here?”

“Air force mechanic. What about you?”

“I’m a private in Easy Company.”

You chewed on your sandwich, “That the one always running up the hill.”

He let out a long suffering sigh and nodded. You chuckled, “Sucks to be you.”

Another soldier walked past, you recognised him as one from a different company who didn’t approve of you being around camp. “Women should be at home, you know, or in the kitchen. Why don’t you go make me some seconds,” he taunted.

“Go away, asshole,” you shoved him away, he stumbled but laughed to himself as he walked away to join his friends. You glared at his retreating form, used to his remarks by now, and bit angrily at your sandwich.

Webster had his eyebrows raised in shock at the encounter, “I can see he’s not in your good books.”

“No, and if he were I would burn my library,” you retorted without thinking, a smirk coming to your face when you realised what you had said. It took it a second for it to click in Webster's mind but when he did he laughed at the quote. “You like Shakespeare then, Web? What’d you do before you came here?”

“English Literature at Harvard.” You let out a low whistle and he blushed slightly, “You?”

“A guy in my town went to university to take English and he sort of tutors me. I didn’t have enough money to go myself,” you shrugged. Webster felt bad, guilty that he had more than enough money for these things but you didn't seem to be bother by it so he pushed the thoughts aside. “So, what are your favourite Shakespeare plays?”

---

David,

They have us doing full checks on the C-47’s at this camp, I think the invasion may happen soon, but I’m sure you knew that already. Us mechanics have been split into two groups, who goes with the pilot and who stays to cross over at a later date. I’m going in with the pilot so I might see you over there, wherever it is they decide to drop us. Good luck and stay safe, remember your training and you’ll be fine.

Y/N

---

Y/N

We got the briefing. The jump is gonna happen in the next week and I’m terrified. Did I ever tell you I had the opportunity to be an officer, one of the ones behind a desk and safe from all this. I turned it down because I wanted the experience of being a foot soldier, for my book, which I now regret. What if I don’t make it out of the plane? What if I land in the middle of an enemy camp? There’s so many things that could go wrong I feel I might explode if I think about it. You better stay safe as well.

David

---

David,

Don’t be an idiot. You’ll get dropped in the DZ with the rest of your company who’ll have your back. Everything will work out okay. Screw your courage to the sticking place, god dammit. I trust that you’ll make it through. Believe me when I say you’ll be okay. Besides, I’ll be over there to keep an eye out for you.

Y/N

---

Operation Market Garden was a failure and everyone knew it and it hadn't even begun yet. You had been sent in to gather up and fix some army trucks that had been left behind in a retreat, the enemy had since moved out so it was only a quick in an out mission with the other mechanics in your squad. You had internally complained that they had you getting trucks not planes but this is what you had been trained to do, so do it you did.

You managed to salvage the trucks and bring them back to HQ where you could really work on the engine. You were deep in the engine when you heard the gravel crunch behind you, you didn’t expect to hear the voice you did, “Y/N?”

You spun around and your face lit up as you saw your friend, “Web! What are you doing here?”

“Passing through, gonna take a town later today they say. Just stocking up on some ammo.”

“Well good luck,” you couldn’t keep the smile off your face after not seeing your closest friend for so long.

Someone called for him to hurry up and he gave you an apologetic smile and you waved him off and let him go, as he walked back to join his company you couldn't help but notice how he had filled out a bit more and the scruffy look he was now sporting only added to his looks. For the first time since you had met you actually felt attracted to him, wanted him for something more than friendship.

You quickly stopped your thought track and buried yourself back into working on the engine. You couldn’t think of him like that, especially in the middle of a war.  

---

“Are you Y/N Y/L/N?” a young private came up to you the next day.

“Yeah, why?” you asked with a small frown.

“You’ve been requested in the med bay. By a private David Webster.”

Your eyes widened, “Is he okay?”

The private nodded, “Yes. This way miss.”

You followed after him to the med bay where you quickly spotted Webster propped up on one of the beds. “What happened?” you rushed over to him.

“Got shot in the leg. Can you believe I said ‘they got me’ when it happened?”

You smirked at him, “What would Shakespeare think?” you shook your head at him in mock disapproval and he grinned. “When will you get back on your feet?”

“I don’t know,” he grimaced as he shifted in the bed, “Not for a while I don’t think.”

You bit your lip, “At least you get a bit of a break. I’m sure you’ll be better in no time.”

You stayed with him as long as you could, trying to ignore the jolts your stomach made when he looked at you with his dazzling blue eyes. When one of the nurses kicked you out you promised to come back when you next got the chance but you and your squad got moved out that night and you didn’t have a chance to say goodbye in person.

---

David,

I’ve lost track of where they’ve been carting me around. My life is one engine after the other and I get not time to just sit down and read a good play. It’s amazing I can find time to write this. I hope your leg is doing better. Are you back with your company yet?

Y/N

---

Y/N

Not yet. I can only just about hobble on my leg. The nurses say it could be another couple of weeks before I can leave the hospital. I understand your frustration though here the problem is I have too much time and too little to do. I feel I may die here from boredom alone, if I ever make it back to combat I may go down there (with yet another horrendous cliche line as my last words). I sometimes think I might actually die a bachelor, which based on the marriage suitors my parents have suggested in the past it may be preferable. I yearn to see the lines again. My book won't consist of much if I’m waiting here, but alas, I can’t walk away. Literally.

David

---

David

Sorry to hear your legs still in a bad way. Don't worry, I get the feeling you’ll live to see the end of the war. Try and rest the leg as much as possible and listen the the nurses.

Y/N

---

The war was over. You couldn’t believe it. It was over. You could go home.

You had kept in contact with Webster through the months, though letters didn’t come frequently as the mail delivery was slow and you rarely had the time to write back. Still, you knew about him rejoining easy company and being treated as an outcast until he was finally accepted again, you knew about Landsberg and you knew he was now on his way home.

You had volunteered to stay back in Europe for a while, keep tabs on the vehicles and fix them up as much as you could to see if any of them could still be used or go into displays. You still kept sending letters to David and they came each week now, he had invited you to stay at his place when you returned home and you had eagerly accepted.

After all this time your feelings for him hadn’t diminished. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and it was no different for you. You just didn’t want to go home just yet, you craved the routine and stability being in the air force brought you but soon it came to the point where they sent you home.

The boat ride was long and arduous, though the rocking isn't what made you feel sick. It was the thought of returning home and not have anyone recognise you, or you not recognise them. It had been close to three years since you last saw your friends and family, and a lot had changed in that time.

---

When you had returned to America you and David had helped each other out. Now living together your feelings for one another quickly escalated until they burst. It had been long coming, since camp Toccoa, since Holland. You couldn’t place when it happened but you knew you loved him with all your heart and you knew he loved you just the same.

Together you slowly readjusted to civilian life. You were there whilst he wrote his book and went off onto the sea. He was there as you got a job you liked doing. You were there for each other in the night when you woke from another nightmare. And you were there for each other when things didn’t go to plan.

You stuck together through everything. It had been an instant yes when he got down on one knee, some three years after the war ended.

---

The wedding was in a week. You were strangely calm. You had seen your friends and family members all freak out at this point but you felt content, this was what was right. You and David lay on the couch together, basking in the soft sunlight that trickled past the curtains and onto you. “Remember years ago in that letter, I said I might die a bachelor?” he asked, his voice quiet and silky in your ear.

You hummed in acknowledgement, you had kept and reread all of his letter during the war and you still knew all of them off by heart. “Yeah,” you whispered.

“Well, when I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.”

“You getting cold feet?” you teased.

You felt him smile against the back of your neck and he pressed a soft kiss there. “No, quite the opposite. I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to to protest.”

You smiled and rolled in his arms to face him, “Love me!..why?” you played along.

“When you depart from sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave,” he replied smoothly and you could help but blush. Even after all this time.

“Sap,” you fondly rolled your eyes and leant in to kiss him. This is where you belonged. Next to the man who shared your love of Shakespeare, and could make you feel safe with a single touch. There was no place you would rather be.

***

A/N- This got a bit long. Hope you liked it! Requests are open <3

[nico-in-space]

Sunny/Bright/Winter/Night

This is an original story of mine that I’m working on. I figured I could post the rough drafts online so I could get probable feedback on them! :) They’ll just escape into the void of Tumblr, so it’s not like it really matters, but I’m putting myself out there anyway, just for the hell of it.

Summary: For each situation, there are at least a hundred different perspectives. Naturally, when the aliens invade Earth, there are a few different perspectives on that event.  One is in favor of the operation. It will, in the end, benefit Earth's prosperity, and add more diversity to the already incredibly advanced ecosystem.  Another couldn't care less if aliens are invading. She's currently in the process of writing her application for MIT. It's not going so great. Also, she just had a MASSIVE fight with her best friend, who's been unusually grouchy lately. What's up with that? Not that it really matters, at this point. Now, what to study next...  One wishes that the aliens would beam her up, as she's feeling lost, alone, and depressed for many, many current reasons. But maybe she's been feeling like that for longer.  Another has been trying, fruitlessly, to defend Earth from the eventual capture of its people, but really wishes she had a helping hand in her project. Her co-workers don't seem to understand that a battle cannot be won with only force. You need knowledge, too, which is something she has quite enough of, thank you. How do their stories intertwine? Find out in Sunny/Bright/Winter/Night.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad here! I update there more regularly. :)

CODENAME: AGENT S1143

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. It protests at the action, squeaking unpleasantly, the sound reverberating in the large domed room that my cubicle, along with many others, is situated. I'm done working for the day, finally. It always feels like my work is never-ending, but my job is important, at least in the eyes of the Overseer. 

I flex my feet, hearing the joints crack. Us menial workers "run the show," according to the many posters hung up around the satellite base. We are the backbone that run the hypothetical "body" of the Earth Mission #024. At least, that's what the Overseer tells us to make us feel better.

 My work consists of an infinite amount of paperwork. Well, fairly recently in terms of history we've gone digital, so it's all computerized work. My older co-workers often complain about the supposed "laziness" of folk my age because we never had to sort physical paperwork like they did. It's really fucking annoying, to be honest. But I digress. My job is basically to scan over the documents which detail, in exactness, the birth of a Human, and all their medical "traits." I run the document through diagnostics to make sure there are no glitches. It's just some debug program, one that I could probably program myself if I had the desire,  but I'd probably get in trouble with my Local Leader. As much as I don't give a literal fuck what my Local Leader thinks, I don't feel like being electrocuted to death anytime soon. After the document goes through diagnostics, I click the confirm button, and the next document pops up. It's all I live for, basically.

It's menial; almost an insult to my intellect. I pride myself on being a fairly smart Ki'golian these days, though I was fairly rebellious in my youth, and didn't spend much time at the Academy. I preferred to spend my time in more...lucrative ways.

I get up, rubbing my shoulders. Terror above, they're sore... What I wouldn't give for a sauna in this damn place. Not like I'd ever be able to use something like that, as a folk of my status.

Feeling rather sour, I leave the Dome to head to my apartment. I swipe my card, entering my apartment Block, then find my room number and swipe to enter that. Alone at last. I recline on my bed, looking out the small window to the view of Earth. The planet is large, and I am currently viewing the Pacific Ocean. It's the largest one, which is the only way I can remember it. It's incredibly blue, even covered with clouds, and I find that I can't look away. The sun's light reflects on it even from my vantage point, though the clouds cover most of it, swirling gently, circularly. Actually seeing it in person is kind of a shock to me still. I've done boring work before, in boring places, so I figured the Earth Mission, when they reached out to me, would be no different. But the scenery, at least, is incredibly extravagant, even if the pay isn't.

 ...it really is a beautiful planet. I suppose there are things that don't have a monetary value. Scenery like this, I suppose, can be counted as one of them.

-----

GAMER-ID: BETATESTER 112

"Dammit!" Tasha exclaimed, slamming her controller on the ground. Next to her, her friend Leila yelled in success, punching the air with fervor. She was at Leila's house, playing video games with her together after school. The room was brightly lit, and Leila's screen was massive. It was a video gamer's heaven.

"Fuck, Leila, you're way too good at games. Seriously," Tasha groaned, rubbing her temples. She continued, "you'd be real good in the robotics club. I could use a friend there."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Leila reiterated, setting down her controller and pulling a hair tie off her wrist, using it to pull up her hair. Tasha couldn't help but watch the motion, watched Leila's tan, toned arms as she fixed her hair. "You hate that the guys there think your sexuality's a challenge." Tasha blinked, focusing back on Leila's face.

"You think the teacher's wishy-washy for letting that shit happen. But you want to go to college for Rocket Science, so you're sticking with it anyway." Leila scoffed. "If I were you, I would'a quit the moment one of 'em started hitting on me."

"Not all of us have a career in lucrative hobbies, Leila. I gotta work for that future degree, y'know?" Tasha grumbled, annoyed. "Which means I have to be in a shit ton of clubs, even ones I'm...less fond of, and I've gotta do well in my classes, so that MIT might even consider me. I just wanted a little more support, that's all I was asking. It's not that hard to join a-"

"Stop." Leila's voice was tight. Her shoulders had tensed up. Tense herself, Tasha leveled her gaze at Leila, not about to back down now.

Outside, a bird trilled. Leila's robotic butler rolled to its charging dock and hooked itself on, shutting down for a quick nap, it seemed.

Leila scoffed.

 Tasha blinked.

 "Video gaming is hard work, okay! It's an actual skill."

Tasha glared at Leila. Leila was changing the topic again, like she always did when Tasha brought up her tendency to slack off. 

"No, it's not," she responded, annoyed with herself for encouraging this particularly irksome behavior of Leila's.

"Fuck you. It is," Leila growled, giving Tasha the respective finger.

Tasha groaned, frustrated, throwing her hands up in the air. This is how their conversations have been going lately, and Tasha can pinpoint it starting during the week that Tasha and their mutual friend Akane began casually dating, three months ago. Ever since then, for whatever reason, Leila has been really tough to be around, especially with applications for college starting up this month.

Tasha knew Leila was sensitive about her grades in school. No matter how much Tasha tried to reassure her it was just a letter, it didn't mean anything towards her intellect, it was still a touchy subject with her, for whatever reason. Leila wasn't planning on going to college, and college was all Tasha could think about. It was, in hindsight, a recipe for disaster. 

"You know what," she began, getting up from her seat. "I'm getting a little tired of your attitude, Leila."

Tasha grimaced, before flicking her off. She hated to do it, but Leila seriously needed a taste of her own medicine."Wait, Tasha," Leila whined, but it was too late.

Tasha had walked out of the door.

 Tasha strode purposefully to her car, parked in front of the Horton's mansion. Leila was just another nobody who spent all their time gaming. A nobody who had once been special to Tasha, but not anymore. Tasha had bigger things on her plate, and that plate didn't have room for Leila's rich girl problems.

Tasha gunned the engine, tasting the delicious feeling of knowing that Leila, right now, had heard that, and was probably upset.

It was almost like freedom.

-----

LEILA

She yearned after those Saturday nights spent drinking strawberry lemonade and watching the clouds, sun bright, in her eyes, in Tasha's eyes, the bright summer sky turning everything a shade of gold. Flittering, fluttering, old dandelion fluff from spring still in the air, making her nose itch.

She loved to watch as the white puffs blew in the slight breeze. She wished, oh God, did she wish, that she could fly like them, free, warmed by the sun, dancing against the wind.

And when she looked into Tasha's warm hazel eyes, she was part of the way there.

.

.

.

But all she felt now was the deepest chill, winter's chill creeping up her bones and settling in her spine. It froze her. She couldn't move, as her dearest friend and one-sided lover walked away, for what looked like the last time.

-----

DIARY LOG 10/10/40

Today's mission went pretty rough. Those damned beasts keep making the chase harder. I keep hacking into their mainframe to try and disable their cloaking device, but they change the security every time. And it's always so God...damned convoluted. Ugh, I have the worst fucking headache right now. Boss keeps telling me I need lasik, or contacts, or even old-fashioned glasses, but there's no time for that. Not when I'm the only hacker on the Resistance team. We really need to get someone else who can program. Jesus. 

End log.

[londonlanded]

Weeks 33 & 34

Happy Monday my people! The 12th saw me heading to our other Four Seasons hotel in the city, the one located close to the Tower of London, though this time I actually had to be there to work as opposed to heading over to play with a $22,000 toilet like I did in September. I spent the evening taking names and helping keep one of my managers calm as her entire client list descended upon the hotel, though the second half of the evening was actually dedicated more towards chatting to some of my old contacts from Toronto, and putting faces to names I'd been hearing since I worked at head office over a year ago!

The rest of the week was fairly quiet, though I had a few funny Four Seasons moments that are worth noting - first off, I'm on my own now, Marielle's last day before mat leave was Friday the 16th, which  means I'm officially fending for myself now at work, there's officially no one to run to anymore and it' starting to feel like I'm actually supposed to be here for a reason! We had a little baby shower/goodbye party for her, the office is definitely going to miss her but considering how much trouble she was having just getting around, I don't think anyone's holding her departure against her.

Second thing to note was that Marielle's last day was actually my one-yer Four Seasons anniversary! I can't believe it, but my longest tenure at any company, anywhere, doing anything has been in hospitality with Four Seasons. They've sent me across the world, trusting me to do three different jobs in three different locations, two countries and one company. I can't believe that all this has come about because of 55 minutes on an airplane. Wanna talk about the butterfly effect?

Sunday morning, an amusing breakfast contrast when I shared a meal with Eve, my colleague at Park Lane. She ordered the big vegan breakfast, which was a massive plate of mushrooms, tomatoes, avocado, toast, margarine, beans and scrambled tofu. I ordered something that consisted of two fried eggs as a topping, ground sauteed chicken, and finished with chicken livers underneath. Vegan I'm not (yet...?).

Monday the 19th (continuing because it was yet another quiet week, leading up to my departure for LA on Friday), of note, it was freakin sunny! And light at the hour I leave the house (between 5:50 and 5:55 AM, with frightening consistency). 

It was an easy last week in  London, and while I had a couple of moments at work that elucidated just how new I am to the role I'm taking over, I survived the mess that was Monday - Thursday, and I officially began to consider myself on holiday. Headed home to pack, and before I knew it, I was headed to the airport Friday morning. Happened to spend a stop on the wrong train, wrongly assumed it was going to Heathrow until I heard otherwise so felt like a bit of a tool as I was dragging my stuff all over the Picadilly line but what can ya do. Unsurprisingly to anyone who's met up with me more than twice, I showed up at the airport ridiculously early, checked in, dropped my bag, and settled in for a few hours of waiting. I was completely calm until I approached secondary security, Americans are a touch more paranoid than the rest of us average Schengen zone bears so you've got to go through another checkpoint as you're approaching your gate. Normally I'd begrudge anything that was remotely indicative of special treatment of one country over another, but not that Friday. I showed up to the gate, opened my passport book, to find it not there. Before the dread could even set in, the woman behind the counter looked at me and said, 'wait, what's your last name? I think I recognize you,' and she did. She leaned over to her colleague's desk and picked my passport and boarding pass up and handed it to me, apparently I had left more than just my luggage at bag drop. Still, goes to show that I didn't need my passport a single time between Security and my gate. Thank god I didn't, because I can only imagine the panic that would have resulted from me losing the single-most important document I possess. Anyway, thank you USA border patrol/LHR security, crisis averted. Seriously though, wrong train and forgetting my passport, two moments that are so phenomenally unlike me that I actually stepped back and wondered if I was losing it. Jury's still out.

Before I settled into my seat, a disgruntled father had asked me to swap with him so he could sit with his family, and I wound up with a ton of legroom in spite of not being able to see any windows for the entire flight. It's a strange experience to see daylight for almost 24 hours straight, by the time the sun set in Los Angeles once I had arrived, it was almost 5AM London time, and I had been awake since 45 minutes after that hour. I was a little fuzzy, to say the least, but in spite of how I felt, I was pretty damn happy to walk outside and find myself in the roaring sunshine, shedding my raincoat and putting on my sunglasses after wiping the dust from their case. Even getting stuck in rush hour traffic didn't stop me from taking in every second of my first hour on the ground, my grogginess fell away as soon as I stepped out onto the street in front of my aunt and uncle's house. My four legged welcoming party took care of me until my cousin got home, and before long we were eating sushi and I was being shown her and her friend's latest dance from their class. In an hour on the ground, I already felt like I was back home.

Saturday morning, after my jetlag roused me at 4:45AM, I decided to go for an explorrun around the neighbourhood I've realized feels my second, third, fourth home? By mile #4, I was down by the ocean, and as I stopped to take a photo, I got asked by a group of runners to take one of them. Turns out they had just finished the LA marathon the week before, and after being their photographer briefly, they decided they needed to take one of me with them too before asking me to join them for part of their run! 

You really never do know what'll happen when you leave the house in LA, though I can't say I was expecting to add a mile and a half to my already-ambitious workout. I suppose my body thought it was 4PM though, that definitely makes my 7AM departure somewhat less impressive.

Home for a shower and a quick sit-down in the sun before heading out on our first adventure - turns out that the word 'birding' means something different in Santa Monica, CA, than it does everywhere else in the world! When Estee told me she had an idea for us, I first thought she had developed the strangest fascination I could have imagined and asked how the hell she got interested in ornithology. It made a bit more sense once she showed me what she meant, turns out birds are electric scooters that have been set up to work on a pay-per-minute system, so you can go anywhere and everywhere accessible by scooter in the Santa Monica area. There are scooters parked everywhere you can think of, parking lots, street corners, sidewalks, every block you can find black birds parked and waiting. You download the app, upload your driver's license information (yep, mine worked even though it's Canadian), you scan the scooter's code and you're ready to go. Seriously amazing system, much to the chagrin of a lot of parents out there who are more than justified in their concern that it might not be the safest option, but I'm of the opinion that getting from A to B with your nose in your cell phone is just as, if not more dangerous than being forced to look at the world while rolling at 15 mph.

In any case, Tee showed me around her neighbourhood on wheels before stopping for lunch at one of her favourite cafes. On the way back to her house, we crossed paths with one of the hundreds of anti-gun  protests that erupted across the USA that day. It's genuinely hard for me to believe that guns are such a massive problem in a country that's supposed to be as advanced as America is, but then again, I'm shocked by a lot of things here. Regardless, you didn't come here to read my opinions, but I'm happy to publicize that I don't think guns have a place in the hands of those who don't need them. And I don't think anyone who doesn't hunt for their own dinner could be considered someone in that position.

Saturday evening, I was reunited with a friend of mine I had met when I was 15 and we found ourselves at the same music camp in Michigan. Niki's born and bred LA, and my trip wouldn't be complete without a little bit of her crazy energy to remind me how special it is to be in her company. We drove down to the water because, well, when you live that close to the sea, you need to take advantage of it. The sun set over Los Angeles, and not even my jet lag could bring me down.

Sunday was on the quiet side, we spent some of the day at my grandmother's house and some of it outside in the sun, the day was fueled with sunshine and optimism but also a looooot of espresso. But also how cool are their espresso cups!!!

That evening, another sushi dinner (reliable choice and repetitive theme in my life apparently), and a movie with some of the other non-family family I’ve spent my years in LA growing up alongside. Every time I come back to LA, nothing changes yet everything does all at once - my cousins grow taller (though not taller than me, ha!), my family friends get older and go from being my cousin’s cousins’ friends to being friends of mine, boys I once knew, who taught me at age 12 to build robots on the floor of the upstairs bedroom, to men who are making movies and trying to crack the acting industry that LA is both infamous and famous for. I leave and I come back and at the same time, everything changes but at once feels more like mine, the less I am here the more it becomes a place I know. Very strange, not sure I even understand what I just said myself. 

Next week, more sunny CA, some work, some play, and the continuation of this gift of a life I call mine. California is a silly place, but the good kind of silly. For all it's perceived vanity, it inspires within me a depth of feeling that is incongruent with the place it is reputed to be. But whatever feelings this place inspires, the one felt most deeply will always be gratitude.

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