#i can work with people but not when they argue over every decision I make and every single failed dice roll

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Five) (18+) / Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 7.0k / navigation / inbox

A/N: Thank you all for waiting for this chapter! I know it took me longer to finish this one than it did the others but it's the longest chapter so far, and I also had a lot of major life events go down in the time between this chapter and last. I appreciate each and every single one of you who stayed patient with me, and I hope that this chapter and that the rest to come are worth the wait :) <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You’re doing a terrible job at paying attention to where you’re going as you take the elevator, jamming your finger against the 12 button so hard it hurts. Pizza is on the twelfth floor, and you’re hoping Daniel will be there early like you so that you can forget about Jake and his tyrannical rule. 

It’s clear as day to you; Jake thinks he has control over you just the same way he has control over the girls that drool over him at the Hard Deck. He thinks one glance will melt your brain into mush, but it won’t. It doesn’t, and you’re not letting the cockiest man you know believe he’s won you over. Especially one that you work with. If anyone found out- if any of your fellow aviators knew that you’d succumbed to Jake’s charms… you’d risk losing the respect you’ve fought hard to earn on the tarmac. You’re not letting your career take a nosedive because Jake won’t stop bragging about getting his dick wet. He doesn’t get a say in your life if he has nothing genuine to contribute to it. You know him well enough to know that caving in and fucking would be the worst decision of your life, and you refuse to let him feel like he’s won you like a prize. You’re standing up for yourself; if he can shit-talk Daniel, you can shit-talk Miss Melons.

Your skin prickles with annoyance the more you think about the woman that had approached you both- seriously, did she not consider that she was being intrusive and rude? You assume Jake has snagged her away from her roommate by now, and they’re probably having a better time than you are. 

Everything feels unfair, down to the coincidental roommate placement. It’s like the universe had heard you needed a break, and wanted to punish you for it.

Cracking open your book helps, but it takes you a while to get into the groove. You’re sitting poolside across from the pizza place, eyes glancing from page to parlor every once in a while to check for a certain bearded man. The main lead is compelling, and your stomach soars as you imagine Daniel in a cowboy hat. You’d save that horse.

Peace is hard to find while sitting poolside on a cruise, but chaos is actually the perfect white noise for you to read, and your concentration isn’t broken until a shadow falls over your lounge chair. You glance up, but it’s not the man you’d wanted to see.

“Hey.” Jake’s already frowning, his face apprehensive like he thinks you’ll scream at him to get away. You want to, but you don’t want to cause a scene.

“What, Hangman?”

“I’m not trying to control you.” He pushes despite seeing your gaze back on your book, “I just don’t think you’re meant to be with Daniel. But I shouldn’t have given you a hassle for doing the same thing to me. I just… I do it because-”

He stops short, glancing sideways at a man running despite the clear no running sign on the lifeguard tower. You decide to help him in his moment of need.

“Because you’re used to women who let you walk all over them. Even if you’re not trying to control me, you’re used to having that control. It’s familiar for you, so you expect it, even if you don’t know you’re doing it. But I’m not like that. You can’t keep me waiting on you.”

The scoff he lets out is accompanied by an expression that looks truly pained, “That ain’t it at all. But forget it. Don’t worry about why I do it. I just thought maybe you were doin’ it to me for the same reasons. But never mind. I’ll shut up about Daniel. Truce?”

You glare up at him, book still open in your lap. He extends an uncharacteristically helping hand, and you wait a truly uncomfortable amount of time before taking it and shaking once.

“Truce.”

He takes the chair beside you, stretched out in the sun. Unfortunately, it seems like your reading time is over as his head turns to you, “So, Dudley showed up yet?”

“He’s coming for lunch.” You cling to your novel, trying desperately to ignore Jake and his instantly broken promise, “What about Melon girl, they weren’t ripe enough for you?”

“She wasn’t my type.” He starts, and there’s a heavy silence before he continues, “I don’t like a woman who thinks it’s fun to get between a couple.”

The sideways glance you send Hangman, the ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk, is lethal.

“Anyways.” He continues, tone more casual now, “Fancy a swim, darlin’?”

“I’ll read instead,” You offer, “But you have fun, Hangman.”

“Party Pooper,” He accuses, standing from the lounge chair he’s occupying and stretching briefly, “You’re an absolute mood-killer. No fun, the most boring person on this boat.”

“I’m about to be more of one: have you put sunscreen on?”

“Nope,” He grins, “You volunteering to do the honors, you sleazy thing?”

“Absolutely not. But you can use the stuff in my bag.” You nod at your tote bag, “Don’t use it all, though.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jake nods, folding into a seat on the edge of the lounge chair beside yours, “So, what’s going on in that book, they boning yet?”

“Mhm.” You nod absently as Jake begins smearing sunscreen over his arms and legs, “Real sexy stuff.”

“I’ve got somethin’ sexier for you.”

“It’s a porn book, Hangman,” You clarify, in case he’s forgotten, “I’m trying to read porn. Leave me alone.”

“There’s porn right here!” He calls, arms out to show off his impressively tanned and toned chest, a thick layer of sunscreen giving it a sheen that glistens in the light. As reluctant as you are to admire anything about Jake, you can’t lie; he has a body worth ogling. But you will not ogle it.

“This porn’s better,” You hum, glancing up at Jake through your lashes, deceptively inviting, “This guy’s got a cowboy hat on.”

“I’ve got a million and one cowboy hats,” Jake insists, slowly inching towards you and away from the edge of the pool, “Is that really all it takes, darlin’? ‘Cause I can slap one on in seconds, if that’s what you’re after. ‘Even brought one with me in case my roommate was into it.”

“Mm, maybe,” You let him get closer, excitement clearly swirling in his eyes as he advances towards your chair. He doesn’t notice the shifting of your feet until it’s too late and one is shoving firmly against his chest, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling backwards into the pool.

There’s not anyone in his immediate vicinity besides you, so you take the brunt of the splash, but it’s worth it.

“But I like it better when the hat’s on a real gentleman!” You call, laughter interrupting your words as Jake emerges from the pool well and truly soaked, shaking water out of his hair. He’s been thoroughly underwater trained, so he’d been able to catch his breath in time despite the surprise of it all, and there’s no real harm done besides the initial splash.

“You dirty rotten minx,” He calls, water dripping from his short hair into his eyes, “You lured me in with the promise of cowboy hat sex just to push me in the pool?”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” You’re still laughing, but maybe this bout of giggles is only to annoy him, “That’s, like, the oldest trick in the book. Well, maybe besides the cowboy hat sex thing. But you shouldn’t have gotten so close!”

He braces his elbows on the wall of the pool, the border surely burning his skin. But he stares at you regardless, “I thought you were finally givin’ in.”

“It’d take a lot more than a cowboy hat to make me give in, Jake.” You laugh, turning back to your book, “Like, a full personality transplant.”

Jake hears Danica’s words repeated back to him in his head, ‘Show, don’t tell’.

“Noted. I’ll look into one’uh those,” He quips, smile sarcastic and empty as he resorts to swimming alone, “Hey, when you’re done with that chapter, you should join me.”

“No.”

“Alright.”

You glance away from the book’s pages at Hangman’s unusual, immediate acceptance of your refusal. But he lifts himself out of the water- no stairs, no ladder, only his forearms against the deck, and your stomach sinks as you realize he might be playing a game of wills with you.

Instead, he sits beside you again, this time facing away from you, “Will you rub some sunscreen on my back?”

You want to say no. You would, if he were only asking to feel your hands on him. And maybe that’s part of it, but you also know that as much as he tans, he could burn, and his back is the only part of himself that he can’t reach. You’d want someone to do you the solid too, so you sigh and set your book aside.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

“Mhm.” He nods, passing you the sunscreen, “I’ll rub it wherever you want, Y/N.”

You whack him upside the head with the bottle, and when he hisses in pain and pitches forwards, you squirt some of the lotion onto your palm and begin applying it to the broad, tanned, muscled expanse of his back.

You’re no masseuse, but apparently you’re rubbing all the right places, because Jake lets out grunts and groans that are borderline pornographic. If they were coming from anyone else, you might have squirmed in your seat, but each one sends your eyes rolling skywards as you cover Jake’s skin in goopy sun lotion.

“Damn, you’re good.” Jake grunts as you dig into a knot beneath his shoulder blade, “Do that again?”

“I’m putting sunscreen on you, Jake, not working out muscle tension.”

“Oh, come on, just a little more?” He pleads, turning so that he can glance at you from the side of his gaze, eyes shining in prayer.

You dig extra hard into his muscle, and you take some sort of wicked pleasure in the way that his resulting groan is more of a pained yelp than something of enjoyment. 

“There, Hangman.” You whack the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades, “You’re all oiled up.”

“Aren’t you glad you were the one to get to do it?” Jake grins blindingly, and you bury your nose in your book again to avoid answering his question.

“Oh, you can stick your face in that book all you want,” Jake drawls, and you hear the displacement of the water he steps in as he lowers himself into the pool, gracefully and by choice this time, “But I know you liked having your hands all over me, darlin’.”

You want to gripe something back- something witty and cutting that will tear him down where he stands, but he’s turned away from you, already submerging himself to begin swimming laps. You admire his dedication to exercise even while on vacation- you have no plans to visit the gym in the lower decks.

Jake sees the diving board just as you do, and you keep him in your peripheral vision as he climbs out of the pool to make his way up the ladder. Your novel is begging to be read, but your eyes stick firm on one fitting word- ‘abdomen’ so that you can watch Jake from the corner of your eye as he prepares to dive.

Fortunately, you don’t need to continue the ruse of reading because Jake bellows from across the deck, “Y/N, look!”

You’re met with a grin when you look up at him, his arms raised above his head and joined flush together in diving position, “I’m gonna dive- watch me.”

“I’m watching.” You call, injecting your voice with as much disinterest as you can manage without feeling guilty, “This feels like babysitting, Hangman.”

He dives instead of quipping back, and it’s an impressive one, not that you’ll sing his praises for it. He comes up on the side of the pool closest to you, arms flinging an arc of water onto the concrete before you.

“Was it good?” He asks, panting slightly, hanging onto the wall.

“Yes,” You reply, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you condescend to him, “You did so good, honey.”

“Shut up,” He sends a wave of water splashing over your sandals, and you can’t be mad at him after all the teasing you’ve been inflicting upon him.

“I’ve been workin’ on my diving,” He goes back to swimming around, this time more casual as he keeps his head above the water to speak with you, “My nieces back home are learnin’ to swim so I’ve been in the pool a lot lately. Anytime they drag me in there I dive in and splash them.”

His arms cut through the water with strength and ease, confident strokes as you mull over his words. The image of Jake urging a toddler in floaties to cross a 3-foot gap into his arms is- endearing, not that you’ll admit it. You hum in acknowledgement, and tuck back into your book.

There’s not many people in the pool this early- most are probably still in bed with a hangover and a mess to clean up - and it’s large to boot, so there’s plenty of room. Your eyes drift left and catch sight of a jacuzzi, and suddenly your beach chair seems to pale in comparison.

Okay, you won’t join Jake in the pool, but you’ll relax for a couple of minutes in the jacuzzi. Just until Daniel gets here.

Jake doesn’t notice that you’ve stood until your chair is empty, and you have a perfect view of him floundering, scanning the entire deck until he spots you half-submerged in the hot tub.

You get to laugh at him again, and he grants you a good-natured grin instead of getting annoyed.

“I thought you’d finally found what’s-his-name,” Jake swims over to the separation wall that keeps the hot water parted from the cold, “Mind if I join you, Y/N?”

“Only if you’re- careful!” You shriek, trying desperately to protect the pages of your book from his sopping wet skin as he scales the barrier, “Hangman, if this book gets wet, you’re replacing it for me.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll take you on a shopping spree, relax. Hey, if I’m buyin’ you porn books, doesn’t that make me somethin’ like a sugar daddy?”

“You’re not getting any sugar,” You shrug, “But sure.”

“Just call me daddy, Y/N.” He grins, “That’s all the sugar I need.”

You hide behind your book so that he can’t see the way your face wrinkles into a grimace. The heat from the jacuzzi spreads inexplicably quick all of a sudden, warming your neck, your ears, your face, and Jake lets out a thick, heavy groan as he settles into the warm water.

“This is nice.” He muses, eyes closed, “Real relaxing.”

“It’s less relaxing when someone’s talking the whole time,” You peek across the side of your book, “Shut up, maybe?”

Jake snorts, leaning his head back against the edge of the pool, “Alright, alright your majesty. I’ll stay silent.”

You don’t verbally thank him, but you don’t make a scene when his leg drifts across the jet currents of the jacuzzi to brush against yours.

You cover a good chunk of your novel before a voice calls your name, and this time it’s the two people you’d been hoping to see all morning. Danica waves giddily at you and Jake, who’s picked his head up from where you thought he’d fallen asleep and is already mad-dogging Daniel. You wave back to Danica, and cast a quick glance down at your bathing suit before standing to greet Daniel. It’s just as tight and showy as you prefer it to be. 

You pay no attention to Jake where he gets out behind you, too focused on Daniel to care. But perhaps you should have, because you’re two steps from meeting Daniel in the middle when Jake’s strong arm shoves you sideways, and your book is wrenched from your grasp as you fall sideways into the pool.

It’s cold, colder even because you’d been soaking in the hot tub. You’re surprised, but you suppose you can’t even really be mad at him considering it’s just payback for what he’d done to you.

You’ve barely righted yourself in the water before there’s another splash beside you, and when you finally emerge there’s hands reaching for your waist, Daniel’s as you realize he’d jumped in to help you. 

“You-!” You splutter at Jake with bleary, chlorine-soaked eyes, attention split between Daniel who’s trying to ensure you’re alright, and Jake who’s snickering while holding your book in his thankfully dry hand.

“You asshole.” Daniel finishes for you, “She could have drowned!”

“I know how to swim,” You brace a hand on Daniel’s chest- startlingly bare, but riddled with coarse, brown hair, “It’s fine, I- I pushed him in earlier.”

“Relax, Prince Charming. It’s just a bit of payback. And look,” Jake waves your novel in front of you, “Dry as a bone.”

“Well I am- uh, not.” You stand half-submerged in the pool, Daniel still holding onto your waist, “So, I guess I will go swimming.”

“Great. You can swim with us.” Daniel smiles, warm and inviting as he keeps his hands on you.

“Yeah, us.” Jake agrees, taking Danica’s towel and spreading it over a sunny lounge chair for her.

Jake helps lower Danica gently into the pool, holding her hand while she takes the stairs, before jumping in beside you so that you’re splashed by the wave he creates.

“You are an asshole,” You laugh, breaking away from Daniel’s grip to shove at Jake’s shoulder. The grins on your faces are bright and genuine, perhaps the first time you’ve both been able to laugh with each other the entire trip. It feels nice, and you don’t fight when he shoves back at you with strong arms.

“Hey- hey!” Danica shouts, standing behind Daniel with a hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you turn that pushing and shoving into a game of chicken?”

“I’m down,” Daniel seems thrilled to be opposite Jake as he lowers himself for Danica to climb atop his shoulders, “Y/N, you okay on his shoulders?”

Jake does the honors himself, dunking himself under the water and coming up between your legs. You barely have time to plant your hands on the top of his head, fingers twisting instinctively into his hair as you accidentally tug it while he stands at his full height again.

“Shit, sorry Hangman.” You let go of his hair, hoping you hadn’t yanked too hard. He’s forgiven, for now, so you won’t resort to childish things like hair-pulling.

“That’s okay, darlin’.” He grins, craning his neck back to meet your eye, “I like it when you tug on my hair.”

You have to overlook Jake’s suggestive comment as Danica’s already reaching for you, and you eagerly engage in a shoving match while the two men beneath you plant themselves into the bottom of the pool. You manage to get a leg up on Danica, and they’re both pushed backwards by the force of your shove, but Daniel surges forwards and ends up knocking you and his roommate right into each other.

You collapse against Danica, forehead-to-forehead, giggling like little girls. Her eyes are bright and shining with amusement, and her breath smells minty- like gum, not toothpaste. You’re more than happy to begin pushing at each other again, and though you’re confident your navy-built muscles are going to prevail, she lands a critical shove against your shoulder that throws you off-balance and sends you toppling off of Jake’s shoulders.

The water is cold, colder than you remember as you splash into it, and when you come up for air, already laughing, Jake’s facing you, having turned when you’d fallen from his shoulders. He’s grinning too, a hand already outstretched to help you up, but upon seeing you stand his eyes widen and his face drops.

“Shit.” He lunges for you, cutting through the water as his arm wraps around your back to yank you tight against his chest. You protest, grunting with exertion as you try fighting against his grip. But his muscles are impressive, and you’re trapped against his chest despite your best efforts.

“Would you cut it out? I’m trying to help you. Your top came untied.”

“What?” You splutter, water trailing down your face as you quell your instinctive struggle against his crushing hold. You realize that the reason for the extreme cold had, in fact, been because your bikini top had abandoned ship, and you barely have time to process the feeling of your bare tits slammed up against Jake’s hard, toned chest before he’s fishing the bathing suit out of the water and feeding it around your waist.

“Up,” He instructs, lifting his eyes to the expansive blue sky above you so that you can separate yourself from his chest for long enough to cover your own again. It’s- a strange gesture of courtesy that you would have expected from Daniel, sure, but not Jake. Perhaps that’s why you’re so sluggish, why it takes you longer than expected to fit your top back over your tits and grapple with the strings.

“You decent?” Jake asks, and when you grunt in confirmation he drops his eyes again. He notices you struggling with the ties and reaches for them himself, gently swatting your fingers away as he uses his advantage of sight. It presses his muscular shoulder up against your face, and you turn so that your cheek rests against it instead of your nose. Suddenly you’re held against his chest like a slow dance, and something terribly and inexplicably squirmy happens in your stomach.

“Done. I double knotted it.” He hums, and it’s such a sincere tone, one that’s completely vacant of all his usual dickishness, that you lose yourself staring at his face when he pulls away. You begin examining it for any sign that perhaps he was murdered and replaced with a poorly-trained doppelganger.

His hair looks right, albeit sopping wet. His eyebrows are growing slightly bushier than usual, but nothing you’d consider a complete and total imposter. His nose is still the same: strong, slightly downturned (though not as far as Rooster’s), and there’s a tiny patch of sunscreen that hasn’t been rubbed in near his right eye. His mouth is set in a determined purse as he double knots the strings of your bikini top together, and his eyes- his eyes are different.

Miles different than you’ve ever seen them. The outside edge of his hazel-green rings is softened, like someone has blurred their usual sharp border and lined it with suede. His pupils are huge, and they’d be eclipsing his irises if those weren’t so big and puppy-like. He is, in every sense of the word, gentle, inside and out. 

Jake has never been gentle before. 

“You alright?” He asks, and you snap back to reality with his large hands spread over the expanse of your bare back, the eyes that you’d been examining firmly and concernedly fixed upon you. Only a few meager strings separate his skin from yours, and you nod once, steadily as you gently push his arms off of you.

“Let’s go again,” You call to Danica and Daniel, your voice a piss-poor attempt at strength and nonchalance as it lacks its usual life, “Good hit, Danica. But watch out, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Bring it,” She grins gleefully, and her giddy gaze drifts downwards to Jake’s face when he lifts you onto his shoulders yet again. From the looks of it they share some sort of silent conversation- some inside joke that you’re not privy to. 

Something about that, something about her excluding you from a conversation with your own teammate makes you shove her, not enough to knock her off of Daniel’s shoulders, but enough to show her that you’re not going easy on her. She shrieks giddily as she writhes to stay balanced on Daniel’s shoulders, a smidge less broad than Jake’s. You’re thankful for that, for the steady mount you’ve got, as you resume pushing and shoving at Danica.

Jake is going insane. Not only does the phantom sensation of your bare tits- nipples hard from the chilly pool water - stick to him like a wet t-shirt, he can feel you against the back of his neck, your warm sex nestled snugly against him with only the bottom half of your bikini to separate you. Your thighs bracket his head, close enough for him to reach out and bite at, but he has to focus on keeping his stance sturdy so that you can play properly. Daniel’s glaring viciously at him across the few feet that separates the four of you, and he’s not going to let Mr. Mailman win. 

This time, Jake suspects you’ve used that military muscle of yours, because Danica slips backwards off of Daniel’s dewy shoulders and splashes into the pool. Your hand cups beneath Jake’s chin, tilting his head upwards and leaning it back into your lap.

“Nice one,” He grins upside-down at you, and you bump your fist against his when he offers it. Then you’re craning your neck down, surely uncomfortable as you leave mere inches between your lips and his, and his ears are ringing.

“Back up,” You murmur, disguising it as a congratulatory speech while Daniel helps Danica back onto his shoulders, “Get them to chase us and we’ll use the momentum against them.”

“Darlin’,” Jake proclaims, pride puffing up his chest that your legs are resting against, “You’re my kinda woman. Always looking to win.”

“Just do it, Hangman,” You scoff, but your eye-roll is less than irritated, fond if anything due to your partnership as Jake drops his head to face Daniel and Danica once more.

Jake stands in place where he’d been before, but when Danica engages with you he begins backing up. Slowly, carefully, ensuring that his feet are planted steadily each step so that you’re not tipped over, he makes his way towards the drop off towards the deeper end of the water. Daniel follows, taking the bait, and soon enough his predicament becomes obvious: he’s not as tall as Jake.

He stands somewhere close to six feet, surely, but not past it like Jake does. Your partner’s head is still comfortably above water, smirk in full force as Daniel’s beard becomes waterlogged. 

“That’s not fair!” Danica laughs, petting sympathetically at Daniel’s sopping wet hair, “Poor guy, we’ll get you stilts for the next round.”

Daniel lands a teasing pinch against the curve of her ass and she shrieks. You lunge for her, using her momentary shock to catch her off guard as you send her tumbling backwards into the water behind Daniel. 

You don’t have time to celebrate before Jake is ducking down and slipping himself out from beneath you, his strong arms bracing your fall so that you barely sink a few feet into the water. He crushes you in a celebratory hug, his laughter harmonizing with your own. He turns you both to face Daniel and Danica as they splutter to catch their breath, his cheek pressed flush against your own. 

“Chicken Champions,” He declares, holding you tight to his side at his own height, which means your feet float above his own in the water, “I’d offer to go again, but that’d just be cruel. You ladies wanna chatter in the hot tub while Danny-Boy and I show off on the diving board?”

“I brought a book,” Danica hums, face dripping with water you feel only mildly guilty for submerging her in, “If you wanna read, Y/N, I’ll do it with you.”

“Perfect.” Daniel nods, already cutting through the water on his way to the diving board, “I’ll be careful not to splash you guys.”

“I won’t.” Jake supplies helpfully, his grin turned shit-eating as he eyes you up, “No point in reading one of them smutty porn books if you’re not soaking wet.”

“Splash me and I’ll throw your room key off the side of the boat, Hangman,” You promise, “You’ll be begging strangers to take pity on you in the elevator.”

“Nah, that’s not my style,” Jake’s voice is dripping with intent while Daniel takes position on the diving board, his swim trunks dripping steady trails of water. You don’t know why until he continues, taking his own bait, “I’ll leave that to Daniel.”

You blame Jake’s comment for why Daniel’s dive nearly turns into a belly flop. It’s instantaneous, really, Daniel’s changing of posture as he register’s Jake’s biting words, and you have half a mind to admonish Jake for riling Daniel up during a dive- that could have ended badly. As it stands, Daniel does a sort of cannonball, though not intentionally, and you and Danica cringe in unison when he lands, sending water splashing well over the divider into the hot tub. Your book remains mostly unscathed- only a droplet of water lands on the cover and obscures the male lead’s face, blurring out his beard and making him appear clean-shaven. 

Jake is already scaling the ladder, and when he gets to the top he surveys Daniel emerging from the water.

“Six,” He shrugs, sneering down at Daniel from the highest point on the deck, “‘Could’ve clinched a seven if you hadn’t splashed the ladies, but your form was still shit.”

He doesn’t give Daniel a chance to fire back- or maybe the man is just too smart to take Jake’s bait - before he sets his arms together above his head, and seamlessly, impeccably cuts through the water. For someone so muscular and bulky, his form is graceful- not that you’ll ever tell him that. Water arcs outwards from where he’d landed, one half of the splash practically targeting Daniel where he stands watching.

He swims farther, nearly reaching the other end of the pool before he emerges, shaking water from his hair like a dog as he looks intently at you and Danica in the hot tub for a rating.

“Ten!” Your reading companion shouts, blessedly unaware of the tense atmosphere- or again, too intelligent to fall for Jake’s lowly antics- and you look at the water-stained cover of your novel.

You smear away the water droplet with your dry thumb, and the male main character’s beard returns.

“Four.” You call, voice deadpan as you lock your eyes on your novel, “For playing dirty and sabotaging the other contestants.”

Hangman’s grin is open-mouthed and cemented into place as he stands taller than Daniel in the water, tanned skin standing starkly out from the blue of the chlorinated water, “Dirty’s the best way to play, darlin’.”

Danica shoots you a look from behind the spread of her novel that you’ve sent many-a-girlfriend before. It’s the wide-eyed, restrained smile that screams ‘We’re talking about this later’, and you mirror her expression with your own disdain.

“Leave us alone,” You call, grinning apologetically at Daniel so that he knows he’s only a bystander, “We want to read.”

“Let’s leave the ladies to their smut, Dorian.” Jake calls, louder than he needs to be as he stretches to display his toned abdomen and muscled arms, “We can find our own fun. Wanna see who can swim the fastest? Place your bets, ladies: pilot or mailman?”

“You swam pretty slow when you crash-landed in the Pacific that one time,” You muse, fighting to keep a smirk off of your face, “I remember thinking you would die in the time it took for you to swim back to shore.”

“Wouldn’t’ve gone so slow if I wasn’t hauling my RIO back to shore. He hit his head on the way down,” Jake dips his head towards Danica, happily regaling her with the tale,  and you realize you’ve only fluffed his ego more, “So he was unconscious. Well I couldn’t just leave him there, ‘poor guy was only a trainee. So I took him along. It did slow me down, but,” He heaves a disgusting, gaudy, fake sigh, “It was worth it to send him back home to his mama.”

You taste a hint of blood where you’ve apparently chewed through your lip. You let it go and hope nothing escapes your mouth. It would be a shame to stain the pages of your novel red.

You’re trying very hard not to pay attention to Jake and Danica where he’s engaged her in a staring contest. Well, you suppose it’s not much of a contest that she can win: the point is that you’re losing. Jake’s showing off his impressive build, still running his mouth with every vaguely self-complementary anecdote he can embellish, and Danica is taking the bait, which means that your rampant attempts to cool Jake’s ego have failed. 

You let the warm, borderline-hot water sink into your skin and simmer alongside the building irritation that threatens to blow beneath the surface. You’re tired. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation for you- or, if not relaxing, a good way to blow off steam. You were supposed to be bent in half up against the shower wall by now, not bending the pages of your book with the strong grip you’ve cemented onto them while you mediate Jake’s ego and the willingness of so many women to accommodate it. 

Part of you wants to let loose and have fun- not with Jake, of course. Never with Jake. But part of you wants to act rationally, forget the constant rivalry between you two and let him shack up with whoever will show him her tits first. But the other part of you, the one that cheers every time he places second in a show of skill, wants to knock him down a peg. It’s why you’re so persistently humbling him- or, trying to, at least. Something about him putting on this cocky persona- erasing all human emotion to make way for pure sleaze puts you on edge, and you pity the fool who believes it.

You can’t tell if Danica’s that fool yet, because she’s turned back to her book with a smile, but to her credit she doesn’t ogle him while he’s swimming. It would be easy to- he’s all tanned muscle and gestures that show off just the right curve or vein. He knows how to preen, but Danica seems to be minding her own business. That makes it easier for you to read your own novel; you don’t feel like you have to keep an eye out for her anymore.

You’re not sure whether it’s a love for the act or a wordless competition to outswim the other that keeps Jake and Daniel occupied with lapping the pool for so long, but as more and more people filter out of their rooms and onto the deck, there’s not much room for recreation anymore.

“Are you done?” You ask Danica, peering over at her after someone unknowingly sends a wave of water straight for you both, narrowly avoiding soaking your novels.

“I think I’m done.” She nods sheepishly, rushing to stand and keep her book dry, “Should we run away before the men notice we’re leaving?”

“Excellent plan,” You laugh, but you can practically feel Jake’s eagle eye upon you as you race for your towel, leaving soaked footprints behind on the wooden deck, “We should go get some pizza. They’re making more now that it’s a little busier out here.”

“You shouldn’t stare like that.” Daniel’s irritatingly smooth voice, pitched up slightly from Jake’s and entirely free of Jake’s rugged charm, makes Jake’s lips yearn to curl into a sneer.

Jake pivots in the cold pool water to face Daniel rather unimpressed, a scoff begging to burst from his lips, “Like what?”

“Like she’s a piece of meat, or something.” Daniel’s arms are crossed, and Jake plants his feet firmly against the concrete floor of the pool.

“Oh, you’re so virtuous,” Jake drawls, his skin burning and not from the rays of sun hitting it directly, “You frenched her in an elevator, Daniel, you’ve got no room to be talking to me about class.”

“She wanted me to kiss her. She kissed me.” Daniel insists, and Jake laughs- actually laughs, a grit of his teeth and a forceful exhalation of air, “That’s different than staring at her ass while she runs away from you like you’d flip her skirt up at a drive-in movie theater.”

“Flipping skirts,” Jake laughs, sadistic grin in full force, “Daniel, I’m not that old fashioned! Please, she’s in a bathing suit that she chose, for a sex cruise that she booked, and you know what? She probably wants you to be staring at her ass in it. And you don’t seem too concerned with the other people on the deck, I’m sure a few of them are looking too. And are you worried I’m looking at Danica’s ass?”

“You’re not looking at Danica’s ass.” Daniel nearly bites his tongue in an effort to keep his voice level, “Because you’re not interested in Danica. You’re interested in Y/N and you can’t have her. She’s not yours.”

“She’s not yours, either.” Jake spits, and there’s a moment of silence where both men’s chests heave with barely-suppressed tension. Jake realizes that he’s admitted to Daniel that he has no real claim over you, but the other man doesn’t fight back against not having one of his own. But you are his, you are Jake’s, in the way you’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, in the look in your eyes when you’d stared into his own earlier, in the stain on his pajama pants.

You’d moaned his name- his name, not Daniel’s.

Someone knocks into Daniel from behind, backing right into him and nudging him slightly off balance.

“Oh!” The woman shrieks, “I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine.” He offers her a tight smile, heading for the ladder, “Don’t worry about it.”

Jake hauls himself up out of the pool with nothing but his forearms, using his towel to dry his hair if only to show off the expanse of his chest to any who may be watching. He checks- you’re not.

“So,” Danica leans forwards into your space at the pizza counter, eyes meaningfully wide, “Tell me why he’s acting like this.”

“He always acts like this.” You scoff, and when she levels you with an unimpressed glare, you insist, “No, really! He’s just- everything is a competition to him, everything. I met his mom once, and she told me that he used to have races at the dinner table to see who could finish their food first. He kept making himself sick but as long as he’d beat his brothers he didn’t care. He always has to win, and right now, he’s competing for us.”

“No, he’s competing for you.” Danica corrects you, “Is he winning?”

“Hell no. He’s- he’s not really competing for me, not meaningfully. He just wants to say he ‘got me’, you know? That would be major bragging rights on the tarmac. But that’s exactly why I can’t give in- I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her fellow pilot! Then they wouldn’t see my achievements anymore, just my mistakes.”

“I get that.” She nods, “But how do you know he’s just gonna dump you?”

“I’ve watched him dump the whole of San Diego,” You scoff, “That’s what he does. He doesn’t do love, he’s the kind of guy who’s only ever interested in something quick and dirty.”

“Everyone does love.” Danica frowns, “Some people just start later in life than others. And I think he’s starting now. With you.”

“Love,” You laugh, and sure, it’s dramatic, but if it gets through to her, you don’t care, “A man who loves me would not have tormented me for my entire career.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully, “I think he does. Even if he doesn't act the way you think he should, even if he doesn't act the way you would, I think he does love you. I think he just loves differently. I think he's new to it. What has he done to torment you?”

You huff, grateful for the opportunity to vent, “He constantly tries one-upping me- again, he can’t lose. He just- he pokes and prods and teases me like we’re on the playground or something, and it’s non-stop. It’s not like he’s sweet most of the time and then there’s a few bouts of light teasing, it’s- it’s constant, and I can’t ever let my guard down, or I’ll lose.”

“So you’re fighting to win, too.” Her eyes narrow slightly, “Why?”

“Because. I can't be second-best, and I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her coworker. I’m not doing that.” You repeat.

“Oh," She laughs, "So you're both stubborn. You don't want to lose, either. But second-best is temporary, rankings come and go. And I understand your thing about not wanting to be known for sleeping with him, but even if you did sleep with him, the whole Navy doesn’t have to know.”

“They will, Hangman will brag. He always brags.”

“He won’t- not if he’s in love with you, not if you want him to keep it private.”

“He’s not in love with me-!”

“Four slices of Pepperoni, two cheese?” A large tray is placed between you and Danica at the counter you’re both leaning against, and it snaps the two of you out of your debate.

You turn to see one of the employees looking expectantly at you, and Danica stammers, “Uh, three cheese.”

“Sorry.” He smiles placatingly at her, scooping another slice onto the plate, “Three cheese.”

“Thank you.” You take the pepperoni pizza, leaving Danica to collect the cheese. You feel bad for walking away, even if you know she’s hot on your trail, but you feel frustratingly suffocated, like everyone is urging you to make the biggest mistake of your life and never considering why you simply can’t. She doesn’t know Jake, she hasn’t spent the last decade with him as he’s blown his way through tourist after tourist, bragging all the while. And he doesn’t understand what it would be like- even if he wasn’t looking to win, even if he did just want to try casual sex for fun, you’d never be able to escape that reputation. 

You feel like you’re going crazy, and you plop down between Jake and Daniel where they sit at opposite sides of a table, ready to stuff your face with pizza instead of dealing with any of it.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[woso-story]

A Shoulder To Lean On

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Alexia Putellas stood in the empty locker room, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights her only company. The echo of her coach’s words still lingered in her mind. “You won’t be making the squad for the game this weekend, Alexia.”

She had expected it. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t ready. Her knee still felt like a ticking time bomb. It wasn’t just the physical pain anymore; it was the mental battle. Every time she planted her foot, her mind flashed back to the moment of injury, the sharp sting, the helplessness. She had worked her entire life for this—everything had been for this moment. But now, standing here, she couldn’t shake the feeling of doubt. The pressure was suffocating.

It wasn’t just about the injury. It was everything. Two Ballon D’Ors, countless trophies with Barcelona, but it never felt like enough. People expected more. She was expected to be the same Alexia she had always been: the unstoppable force, the leader. But in this moment, she was just a woman with a broken knee and a heart full of worry.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind. "You’re meant for greatness, Alexia." But her father had never seen her play for Barcelona’s first team. He passed away just two months before her dream came true.

“Everything for him,” she whispered under her breath as she slowly gathered her things.

It wasn’t the game that bothered her, or the squad decision, it was the thought that she might not be able to get back to the level she had once been. That she might not be able to play again. The thought gnawed at her, every day, every moment.

But then there was you.

You, the one person who had been there through it all. The quiet strength beside her, the calm amid the storm. You had been together for over two years, and you weren't involved in football at all. It was a relief. After hours on the pitch, in front of cameras, after facing the demands of the Spanish Football Federation, you were a reminder of something normal, something simple.

Alexia walked into your shared apartment, the familiar scent of lavender filling the air. She saw you sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in hand, a soft smile tugging at your lips when you saw her.

“How was training?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. You could see it in Alexia’s eyes.

Alexia sighed, dropping her bag by the door. “I didn’t make the squad for this weekend’s game.”

You set the cup aside and patted the space beside you on the couch. “I’m sorry. But you’re doing the right thing, Lex. You know that, right?”

Alexia nodded, though the weight of it all was heavy on her chest. She wanted to argue, to say that she was ready, that she could fight through it. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t true. The knee was still fragile, and her mind... her mind was even more fragile.

Without a word, Alexia collapsed into your side, burying her face in your shoulder. And then, something happened that Alexia never expected. She felt the tears start to fall.

The floodgates opened, and all the emotions she had been suppressing poured out. She cried about the pressure, the expectations, the constant feeling that she had to be perfect. She cried about her knee, about the fear that she might never be the player she once was. She cried about her father, about how she had worked so hard to make him proud, only to have him taken from her before he could see her dreams come true.

"I don’t know if I can do it anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “What if I’m not good enough anymore? What if my knee can’t take it? What if I’m letting everyone down?”

You held her, your arms wrapping around her tightly, offering comfort without words. You let her cry, let her release the weight of the world that had been pressing down on her for so long.

“Lex,” you said softly, once the tears had slowed. “You’re not alone. I’m here. We’re in this together.”

Alexia sniffled, grateful for your unwavering support. “But I’ve worked my whole life for this. I can’t just... give up.”

“You don’t have to give up,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “You just need to give yourself time. Your knee will heal when it heals. You can’t rush it. And you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You’re doing everything you can, and that’s enough.”

Alexia took a deep breath, feeling a little lighter, though the doubts still lingered. You always knew how to calm the storm inside her. You didn’t try to fix everything or offer empty reassurances. You just were there for her—a constant, steady presence, reminding her that it was okay to take a step back.

You stood, reaching out a hand to Alexia. “Come on, let’s go to bed. You need to rest.”

Alexia allowed herself to be led to the bedroom, her body heavy with exhaustion. She lay down on the bed, curling up under the soft blankets. A few minutes later, you returned with a steaming cup of tea and a small sandwich.

“You need to eat,” you said, setting the tray down next to her. “You can’t keep skipping meals.”

Alexia managed a small smile, grateful for the care that you always showed. She took a bite of the sandwich, sipping the tea slowly, feeling the warmth seep into her body.

After she finished, you crawled into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her. Alexia nestled her head into your chest, the rhythmic beat of your heart soothing her racing mind.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Alexia murmured, her voice muffled by your shirt.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied softly, your fingers threading through Alexia’s hair. “I’m always here. Always.”

Alexia’s eyes fluttered shut, the weight of the day still pressing on her, but the comfort of your embrace made it bearable.

As she drifted off to sleep, you kissed the top of her head. “You’re not alone, Lex. We're in this together. And I’ll be right here, no matter what.”

And for the first time in weeks, Alexia allowed herself to believe that things would be okay. She wasn’t alone in this fight.

[limethefirst]

Could I request a platonic Wolverine x Innocent Reader x Deadpool where the reader is a superhero and the two want to take care of them and shows them the ropes but argue about how to do it?

No pressure or rush, hope you’re having a wonderful day/night!

-W.P 💚

Hero in training

pairings: Wolverine x reader x Deadpool (platonic)

warnings: violence, swearing

summary: Wade and Logan don’t see eye to eye when it comes to training methods

a/n: thank you for requesting! I wasn’t super sure in what way you wanted reader to be innocent so please forgive me if this isn’t to your best liking, also I’m gonna start working on part 3 of void runners soon so keep an eye out!🫢

No one ever said being a superhero was easy, but it especially wasn’t easy when you were being trained by both the Wolverine and Deadpool. The two people who hardly ever got along.

You watched as Wade and Logan stood in front of you, Logan wearing casual training clothes and Wade in his normal red suit. Wade looked excited, he was ready to show you his ways but Logan had another approach in mind.

“Alright kid, first we need to learn to control your powers, from there we can begin with some drills, slowly moving up to advanced drills then work more on strength training” Logan started, his plan was to train your powers and then learn some moves with them, hoping it would help you in the self defense aspect of crime fighting.

This was something Wade didn’t find appealing, “Woah back the fuck up now Peanut” Logan glared at the man, before Wade continued, “Remember we’re both training them, and I say we need some more fun in this training, maybe learn some cool flashy moves, or we can start off this party with a dance off!”

“A dance off?” You looked at Wade, a bit confused on his method of teaching but not entirely against it.

Logan on the other hand didn’t appreciate the comment, “This isn’t some type of circus act, this is real life Wade, we need to have some type of approach or we won’t make progress, and all that will happen is they get injured out there,” you looked between the two men, wishing someone else had trained you instead.

“Well why don’t we just see what our little sugar plum fairy thinks,” Wade then turned back over to you and booped your nose, “Okay kiddo, do you wanna have a fun training with Papa Wade!! Or do you want to be all bored and tired with meanie Wolverine!” Wade asked you, his voice sounded like he was talking to a little baby.

You looked at both men, unsure of what to say, not wanting to upset the other. Then the idea came to mind, “Can’t we try both methods? Maybe a combination?”

“Fuck no, that idiots ‘method’ is going to get you hurt,” Logan quickly replied, this caused Wade to go over to you and grab your head in his arms.

He began to pet your head and started cooing, “Do I look like I’d ever let anything harm them?”

You stood there as Wade held your head tight, a sigh escaping your lips, “Please Logan, I know its unconventional but I really think it’ll work!” You started to plead with the man.

Wade slowly let go, a hand still on your head, while Logan stood there, unsure if this was the right choice, but he knew how persistent Wade was.

Logan caved, “Fine but if there isn’t any progress, only I’ll train you, got it kid?”

You have him a smile and a thumbs up, Wade just went up to Logan and clung to his arm, “Awe you’re such a softy aren’t you my little firecracker!”

Logan quickly let his claws out and stabbed him in the stomach, already regretting his decision.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you continued your combination training, Logan taught you defensive skills as well as offensive, he also showed you a lot of strategies that would protect you when the time came, while Wade showed you the flair of being a hero, without having to kill as he knew that wasn’t the type of hero you wanted to be, even though every once and a while he’d try to persuade you.

Even though you’d decided to do the combination training, both men still argued all the time.

“Why the hell are you telling them to jump through the sky light when you want to sneak attack a criminal?” Logan’s finger pushed into Wade’s chest, irritated that he’d tell you to do something so dumb and risky.

“Because they need to look awesome while saving the day, oh don’t forget the funny joke once the bad guy sees you, alright my sugar cane,” Wade looked over to you and you gave him a happy smile with a thumbs up, knowing you probably weren’t gonna do that but it was nice to make him feel good before he and Logan fight again over how that isn’t an ethical way of fighting crime.

You decided it was best to leave before they started to get at it again, you knew that tomorrow they’d go back to helping you anyway. So maybe it was better to let them get it out of their systems every one and a while.

[danyllura]

Despite Snows focus being on Katniss, I would argue Peeta played a far more of a rebellious role in his part of the “star crossed lover” during their first games than her. From the moment Cinna gets them to hold hands during the opening ceremony their pairing is shrouded in a “touch of rebellion” - we know alliances among district partners is normal/expected but it is also clear that the terms of agreement are temporary and built upon the goal of their individual survival. Peeta is the one that breaches that agreement, by pushing their relationship beyond district partners to that of “star crossed lovers” with the admittance of his crush on Katniss. It is the intent behind why he chooses what to share that is shrouded in rebellion. Early on Peeta is aware of Katniss’ potential as a tribute and beyond that he recognizes that “spark” that can make her “desirable” to others. Yes, he genuinely loves her. But he shares so not to be honest, or to make himself a sympathetic character for the capitol, but to hopefully benefit her in the arena. He pushes this further by his continuous reiterating of his feelings to the audience, during his time with the careers, alone, and then eventually with Katniss. Time and time again he displays that her survival is his ultimate goal in the games, willing to prioritize her victory over his own life. And while yes, Peeta does this because he does truly love and care about Katniss, he is intentional with his actions. He broadcasts his feelings because it benefits her. And every aspect of that goes against what the games are meant to do to people; divide them.

Comparatively, in regards to the “star crossed lovers” Katniss is much more obedient to the rules of the games. She doesn’t initially portray herself to return Peetas feelings. She plays as a solo player, and Katniss quite literally states she appears “heartless” because of this when they watch back over their time in the arena. When it’s only one promised victor and she believes Peeta to be allied with the careers, she drops a nest of tracker jackets over where Peeta is sleeping and showing she views him as any other competitor. Katniss only reciprocates the role of “star crossed lovers” when the capitol has allowed that type of alliance to work within the games. And if anything her later trick with the berries, is a scene of the capitols own making. It is a final act of desperation. Katniss’ knows Peeta is on the brink of death and it’s even a possibility for the Mutts that had just killed Cato to reappear. When she’s handing the berries to Peeta and as she spills them into her mouth, Katniss is not thinking of the significance of her choice or the potential consequences it may illicit. It’s an emotional decision, not a calculated one. In comparison, laying Rue to rest in a bed of flowers was a far more calculated act of rebellion from Katniss.

But despite all this, President Snow almost solely blames Katniss for the oncoming rebellion. And while Katniss does do many things that help initiate that spark, such as volunteering for Prim, singing to Rue, risking her life for Peeta at the feast- it isn’t that he blames, but rather her lying about loving Peeta back. Because Snow is stuck in the past with his belief that Lucy Gray tricked him into loving her. And Katniss, with her singing and her Mockinjays, is such an obvious parallel of Lucy Grays ghost- he misses the fact that Peeta has been a far more calculated player that has actively rebelled from everything the games are meant to turn you into from the moment he was reaped.

[eyelessfaces]

uncalled for

summary: you get quite upset when poe "saves" your assigned mission by giving orders to your teams without consulting you; poe is determined to fix his mistake.

warnings: (public) arguing, talks of the future; family and having kids

tags: gn!reader, angst, being parents to bb8, fluff, this ends up being real sweet tbh

word count: 1.7k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

(uh yeah I'm back if you even noticed I was gone lol. I might just post this and disappear again for a little longer idk but anyways I'll explain the reason whenever I'm back for good; I'm okay don't worry, and I'm still gonna post fics don't worry it's nothing too serious fr)

It causes a disruption when you both barge into the hangar; despite the constant clattering and whirring of tools and material there, both your bitter shoutings have been overlapping the sounds ever since Poe started following you closely, right from the moment you hastily jumped out of your x wing to try to forget about the awful management of your mission that would probably cost you to never get to lead one again. 

“It was my call, not yours” you affirm bitterly, voice dripping with resentment, your steps heavy and hurried as you try to shake Poe off but he is anything if not persevering, so it only manages to piss you off even more and fuel your frustration. “I didn’t need you to save my mission or whatever,” you exclaim, causing heads to turn as you walk across the large room, barely minding what is going on around you. 

“I did because I knew it would work!” Poe tries to explain, still heeling you closely. “I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t sure it would be successful” he declares louder than he needs to, thrown off when you suddenly stop in your steps, turning to him.

“So you think you can make decisions for me? You think I can’t do it, can’t command a mission correctly?” you rhetorically ask, revolted, sighing a profanity under your breath before you storm off again, your steps resonating with frustration. Poe sighs and winces before he follows you again, taking a hold of your arm.

“Babe come on you know that’s not–”

You stop again, your patience running short. “You had no right to encroach on my orders, I knew what I had to do, and you stepping in with your own instructions could have blown the whole mission up!” you call out, pressing a finger to his chest. 

It’s when you finally take a moment to take a look at his face that you realize it, what is going on; you are being the center of attention, the little show everyone stopped their current task to sit and watch, your every word carefully awaited by your unwanted audience. 

You sigh softly, taking a moment to step back from the situation. “Now leave me alone before we embarrass ourselves further or before I tell you things I don’t really mean just because I’m angry and don’t wanna talk to you” you hiss softly before leaving Poe in the middle of the busy room where he watches you walk away, helplessly standing there. 

When he looks around him, most people turn away and avert their gazes to pretend they haven’t witnessed anything, and Poe is well too aware of the tension still lingering in the air even as you exit the room.

When Jessika climbs down from her ladder after watching the scene from her cockpit, BB-8 rolls over to her and chirps sadly, having observed yours and Poe’s argument from afar just like most of the hangar after his master went running after you. She kneels down to the droid’s level, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“That’s gonna be fine Beebs, they always end up figuring it out somehow” she affirms as the droid’s upper part sinks in distress accompanied by saddened beeps. Jessika can’t help but smile fondly at him and his obvious concern, at the fact that he quite literally acts like you are his parents.

—

A few hours have passed when Poe joins you again; you don't notice him at first, having made sure to get focused enough on your paperwork to forget about the whole situation and try to ease the frustration within you. It's only when you put your datapad down that you see him leaning against the door frame.

“You're so pretty when you're focused” he smiles gently when your eyes meet his figure, causing you to roll your eyes and reluctantly smile at his words despite your lingering frustration. 

“I’m still mad at you,” you sigh softly as you try to hide your slight smirk, gaze darting back down to enter numbers into your datapad.

He acknowledges your feelings with a nod, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “I know.” he admits, stepping into the room. “That’s why I’m here” You look back up at him, taking a deep breath as you set your datapad aside; despite the fact that everything he did since you wrapped your mission up got on your nerves, deep down you only wish for this to situation to get figured out and eventually be behind the both of you. You join him in front of your desk, leaning against it.

“I knew what I was doing. I was handling it” you affirm before he even gets the chance to do so much as open his mouth.

He holds a hand up to slow you down. “I know,” he nods understandingly. “I shouldn’t have redirected the plan, I should have trusted you. I was just afraid things would go wrong considering how it was all starting to go down so quickly” he explains. “I know I could have fucked it all up, everything you put in place so the mission could go right” you slightly tilt your head to the side in agreement. 

“And I know my move was probably a lot more dangerous than the plan you had in mind to make everything right but you know I would never put you or our teams in danger, only myself” he declares with a concerned nod, causing your expression to soften. “You, never. I would never risk it, no matter what” there’s a soft frown over his face as his eyes flicker with sincerity, his confession making your heart ache as it hangs in the air before he talks again. “And I never doubted your ability to command a mission.” 

You nod with a heavy sigh, acknowledging his apology. “I should apologize too. I shouldn't have lashed out on you like that either.” you admit and nod sheepishly, reflecting on your impulsive behavior. “I really wanted this mission to go right”

“For what it’s worth,” he starts with a small smile, trying to dissimulate a bigger one. “I talked about it with Leia and she thinks you did pretty good” his declaration doesn’t fail to draw an appreciative smile from you, one that makes him mirror your action. “And she thinks we would work great together”

“And I agree,” you reply, finally feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as the tension between you begins to dissipate. “We do make a good team.”

Poe’s smile widens, relieved to see you loosen up a bit. “Yeah, we do” he agrees with a small huff, stepping closer to you. “I just hate seeing you so worked up.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “I hate getting worked up,” you scoff. 

“I’ll try to think about it twice next time,” Poe promises, reaching out to gently take your hand in his. “I don’t want to step on your toes or make you feel like I don’t trust you or your judgment.”

Your fingers intertwine with his, the warmth of his touch calming you further. “Well I’ll try not to snap at you,” you promise in return, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze as you let your head rest against his chest with a small, barely audible sigh. “Especially not in front of everyone,” you mutter, earning an amused chuckle from him. You melt into his touch as he leans to press a gentle kiss over your forehead, his hand that is not holding yours coming to wrap around you.

It is only after you pull away from his embrace and leave a chaste kiss to his lips that the corner of your eye notices a sort of spy in the corner of the door frame.

“What’s he doing here” 

Poe frowns before he turns around, huffing out a laugh when he notices BB-8 peeking out the door. “How long have you been here?” he jokingly scolds his droid that fully reveals himself now that he has been caught. “You know he doesn’t like when we fight” he softly sighs turning back to you, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes before he looks at BB rolling over the both of you.

You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile at BB-8’s presence. “Very sweet of him to be looking out for us,” you start, reaching out to pat the droid’s dome affectionately. “But maybe he should learn not to eavesdrop.”

BB-8 chirps playfully, obviously pleased with the attention, seemingly eager to be a part of the reconciliation.

Poe chuckles, kneeling down to scratch behind BB-8’s sensor with a fond smile. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll work on that,” he says before glancing back at you with a soft smile. “He's our kid, he’s been worried sick about us, weren't you?” he turns to BB, who's beeping frantically in agreement.

You glance at him, then back at Poe, a softness settling in your chest at the sight of them together, your little family. “Our first kid, yeah” you smile softly, heart fluttering inside your chest.

“First? Meaning there's gonna be more?” Poe asks with a playful smile, getting back on his feet. He raises his eyebrows as he awaits your response, and you both laugh at the sudden change of atmosphere as Poe wraps a hand around you before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You huff out a laugh at his quick jump to conclusion, “I don't know, you're a pretty good dad to this one,” you shrug.

“A couple hours ago I was dead to you and now we're talking having kids” he laughs into your hair, a teasing tone in his voice. 

“You weren’t even close to being dead to me, you’re so dramatic Poe” you declare with a small scoff, poking his chest lightly. “That’s the reason Beebs loves you so much” you tease, making him huff out a laugh. “I’d say we should focus on surviving one parenting experience first,” you chuckle looking down at BB-8, nudging Poe playfully. “But who knows what the future holds?”

Poe grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement as his arm grasps tighter around his hold on you. “As long as I have you by my side, I'm up for anything babe.”

—

reblogs and feedback are extremely (I cannot stress this enough) appreciated!!

star wars masterlist: @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @unear7hly

[bluesturngold]

i have trans men and trans masc individuals in my life who i love and care about, when i was working in education the trans kids i knew best were trans masc, as a suicidal 18 year-old-college student at one of my lowest points ever the person who most got me to accept being nonbinary was trans masculine. i love and care about trans men and trans masc people and i fully believe you are vital to pushing trans rights forward: trans separatism is a bad idea and we are worse off with a fractured community.

but please understand, i have a trans feminine perspective, and a white person's responsibility to my trans women and trans feminine community members of color. nobody's perfect, but i have enough trust in my own understanding of intersectional transfeminism to know that if white trans women won't speak up against the transmisogyny in LGBTQIA2S+ communities on tumblr we're fucking over every trans woman who has it worse than us.

the issue has been escalating for the past couple of years, we saw the rumors and backlash spread about rita after her ban that followed her to other social media websites, we saw the trans women of color who stuck up for her and ended up banned as well, and we continue to see a new trans woman practically every day, regardless of whether the post contains eloquently phrased concerns or is venting personal frustrations, vilified for speaking candidly about the impact transmisogyny has on their lives, especially when factors of race, class, and disability frequently keep trans women and trans feminine people so isolated the only place they can retreat to is a web platform where we're liable to get banned if we criticize how it's run or harassed into hiding if we criticize how community members treat us.

trans men and trans mascs absolutely have unique challenges at the intersection of transphobia and the misogyny associated with being assigned female at birth, but the frequency with which the concept of transandrophobia is wielded as a cudgel to try and put trans women and trans feminine bloggers 'in our place' after we express concern about trans guys perpetuating transmisogyny is absolutely enough to make anyone paying attention think that might be the only reason it's ever brought up.

when trans women and trans feminine people on this site rail against the way we're treated by 'transandrobros,' look at the sorts of behavior we've had to deal with:

arguing for the ability to call women 'guy,' 'dude,' 'man,' other masculine terms accepted by patriarchal society as 'genderless.'

they/them-ing trans women and trans feminine people who don't have pronouns in bio but are talking about being a woman.

they/them-ing trans women and trans feminine people who have pronouns in bio excluding they/them.

they/them-ing trans women who have pronouns in bio including both sher/her and they/them but making a point of using they/them to degender her as punishment for arguing, or to diminish her standing as a woman when arguing about topics where it is essential: patriarchy, misogyny, transmisogyny, etc.

insisting trans women who lament not being born a cisgender woman are lucky because trans masculine dysphoria exacerbated or ruined certain experiences which cisnormative society associates with cisgender womanhood.

insisting trans women who lament not having specific childhood experiences which cisnormative society associates with cisgender women are lucky because trans masculine dysphoria exacerbated, ruined, or led to a decision not to participate in those experiences

making false equivalencies between non-trans women/trans feminine people facing transmisogynistic harassment, violence, etc. as accidental targets when the current global anti-trans hate movement is collectively focused on eradicating assigned male at birth transgender women and transfeminine people.

arguing trans women and trans feminine people on the whole are or were 'male socialized,' or universally had a period of benefiting from male privilege prior to coming out, when there's a ton of smart and incisive writing on tumblr and elsewhere which spends time breaking down the way assigned male at birth kids are bullied, ostracized, and abused while being kept from truly being considered a 'man' when attempts to correct beliefs, behaviors, mannerisms, etc. that patriarchy finds undesirable fail.

labeling trans women or trans feminine people expressing how fed up we are with arguing about the existential threat transmisogyny poses 'radical feminists' or 'radfems,' which has been used for the past decade on tumblr as shorthand for trans-exclusionary radical femininsts who support gender critical feminism and thus primarily target trans women and trans feminine people for the worst of their harassment campaigns.

dredging up years old trans women and trans feminine peoples' interpersonal drama by calling trans women 'baeddels,' and specifically using it as shorthand to frame trans women's grievances, complaints, and discussions of transfeminine separatism as if they're hatefully spawned from 'cruel and irrational disdain towards trans men' when it is self-evident to anyone who understands the origins and escalation of the discourse and has a shred of sympathy for the trans women involved that the proposal trans women become even further isolated is born from a profoundly tragic reliance on social isolation as a means of self-defense which is ingrained in many trans women due to abuse and harassment suffered during our formative years and then again after we came out or began transition.

suggesting transmisogyny is a ploy by white trans women and trans feminine people to better compete in the oppression olympics when the most at-risk transgender people (among all gender expressions, globally) are trans women / trans feminine people of color, and Black trans women / transfeminine people in the USA specifically, with trans women's already greatly diminished earning potential (see here) we can assume that's also impacted by intersections with race, class, and disability, which is theorized to push additionally marginalized trans women even further out into the fringes. (i say 'we can assume' because the surveys available regarding economic discrimination against LGBTQIA2S+ people frequently combine all transgender identities, and the one big report that does didn't publish the ethnic makeup of each group, which again drives home the point i'm making about the intersection of race not being taken seriously enough.)

i included brazil alongside global and usa statistics because in terms of raw numbers it had the most reports of trans people being slain annually. i know brazil's a huge country so a higher number is to be expected compared to a lot of the smaller and less populated countries represented in the global report, but it's gut wrenching, and i'd be doing those i know from brazil, and their trans community, a disservice if i didn't mention it.

also transmisogynoir in the usa is horrific, not only with how it's reflected in the murder statistics but also trans women already have the one of the worst pay gaps relative to cis white men of any demographic in the usa, and pay gaps in the usa get so much worse when race is factored in, then combine that with the typical transphobia and transmisogyny and racism in any given workplace in the usa and it's no wonder trans women of color and especially Black trans women are pushed to the margins of society struggling to make ends meet, which can lead to dependence on abusive partners or reliance on sex work:

other statistics from the TGEU global report indicated most reported murders happen on the street, which does really underscore the extent to which being a trans woman or trans feminine person in public frequently involves considering what safety measures you can take.

seeing people who aren't trans women or trans feminine talk about 'boymoders,' boymoders becoming a meme, boymoders becoming sexually desirable to trans men and trans masculine people and cisgender chasers is difficult. i totally understand the trans women who sexualize it— sometimes if you find it hot you can diminish the chokehold the grief it causes has over you— but also it's one of the few ways trans women as a marginalized group have to navigate daily life. and when you consider the intersection with race, the 'boymoder hoodie' could very well still be a death sentence for a Black trans woman. even if a Black trans woman totally does pass, cis and intersex Black women/cafabs living as their assigned gender already get treated as if they 'fail to pass' by white supremacist anti-trans advocates and the media outlets that further their narratives because they have the twin goals of trying to paint Black women as inferior to white women due to the racist white supremacist standards for womanhood set by the white men who wield the most power under global systems of upholding patriarchy whilst causing even more grief for Black trans women.

it's hard for a lot of trans women and trans feminine people, especially those who are socially isolated in-person and seek community online, not to plan out ways to live day-to-day whilst minimizing the risk of being seen by a stranger, usually a male who already thinks our decision to embrace femininity is contemptible (due to misogyny), who might have been convinced all trans women and transfeminine people are trying to take over women's spaces and the traditionally-women-delegated teaching and childcare industries in order to be rapists and pedophiles, thus believing the disgust they've been made to feel at the sight of any trans woman who doesn't perfectly pass is righteous and they're doing society a service should they kill us (due to transmisogyny).

the second most common place for a trans person to be murdered according to the reports where location was known is within a residential building, and the murderer is most frequently someone the victim knew. i've seen this talked about on tumblr before, but there's another huge intersection between transphobia, racism, economic status, and whorephobia such that sex work is the most frequently held occupation in cases where an occupation was known. trans women of color have it especially bad by every metric, and trans women of color are frequently more likely to turn to more dangerous avenues of sex work (in-person v.s. online) because of white supremacist patriarchy's use of economic discrimination to keep people of color in poverty.

in essence, what i hope your take away from this post can be, is that we will argue in circles forever with absolutely no tangible benefit to anyone other than transphobes when we're treating everything trans women and transfeminine people complain about as overblown or purely anecdotal when in so many cases it demonstrably is not. transphobes don't want trans men or trans masculine people to exist either and they are willing to say and do some heinous shit to try and get trans men and trans masculine people to detransition not excluding murder, but the numbers and the rhetoric transphobes are pushing around trans women and transfeminine people now and for the past few years encourages the worst, most violent and reactionary members of global society to enact horrific life-ending violence against trans women and trans feminine people as if it's a public service.

that is why trans women aren't in the mood to debate the 'validity' of tma v.s. tme; transmisogyny being equivalent to transandrophobia; whether it's fair to say a trans man or trans masculine person is in some way discriminated against for being a man (systemic oppression against men doesn't exist so while you totally do experience some unique transphobic discrimination it can't be connected to maleness through any historical context, just in the context of men's rights activism, which is reactionary and generally based in misogyny, sorry); or why it's extremely basic disrespect for a man to say 'what's up my guy' or similar to a trans woman and then double down on it being 'gender neutral' when she says it's not cool with her (the debate over this is contentious which is why people should default to not doing the thing the trans women may or may not be comfortable with, which is just basic courtesy even if you disagree).

this is a polite and well reasoned request for folks to recognize trans women are serious when we point out the severity of the hate aimed specifically at us. incorporate the broader context of the systemic threats we face in the world we're living in right now, and the way those threats have gotten worse and worse over the past 8 years. when you see a trans woman online recounting or explaining her own oppression to vent, or in hopes of finding comfort in shared experiences and with the assumption she'll be taken seriously and treated with basic respect, it's not reasonable to start an argument or go vague blog her. understand that this impulse, encouraged by trans exclusionary radical feminists and gender critical feminists as well as mainstream media and our cisnormative misogynistic patriarchal society is liable to exacerbate the severe social isolation problem trans women and trans feminine people already have, putting our safety at risk.

if i still haven't conveyed at least a decent amount of the ever-present intersectional pressures of transphobia, misogyny, and race that make these tumblr arguments over who's oppressed in what ways and which of them are worse than others feel like an existential crisis for trans women and transfeminine people, i know it usually takes more than one tumblr post to change a person's point of view. still, though:

if you recognize yourself in the complaints she's making, that's an opportunity to reflect on what harm your words and actions may have contributed to the situation and how you can handle things moving forward. maybe apologize and promise to do better, y'know?

(and if all else fails... keep scrolling, no vague blogging, it doesn't hurt you to leave her alone.)

[inquisitorismone]

ok so the point i was going to make re: the circle tower and ferelden geopolitics was that the fact that all of ferelden only having one single circle, is CRAZY. orlais, a country of similar size, has FOUR; each(!!) marcher city has their own. antiva and the anderfels also have 1 circle each and they are respectively #1 a nation the quarter of the size of ferelden and #2 a barren wasteland of a place. and this is pre-blight! and i can believe that ferelden has a lower population than orlais, but i struggle to accept that ferelden has a quarter the population that orlais does. even nevarra, by all accounts an old and dying state, has 2.

there are clearly templars stationed at many chantries throughout ferelden, but the idea that they could possibly find every single mage in the country and send them to the tower is preposterous. ferelden simply does not have the infrastructure for that, neither to spread out over the whole country to hunt apostates nor to contain them all in one place. (how many people can that tower handle???)

this suggests that ferelden is generally more lax about apostates than elsewhere, which is reinforced both in da2 and inquisition when we get word that alistair (in da2) offered refuge to escaped kirkwall mages in ferelden and that alistair and/or anora (in inquisition) allowed the mage rebellion quarter in redcliffe. you could argue that alistair's decision might have been influenced by the events of dao but anora is (i say this lovingly) a bit of a hardass! rather than being moved by mage assistance in dao i would suggest instead that she is reflecting a larger ferelden attitude towards mages, which is less harsh than orlesian or marcher attitudes

we know that mages in the circle can be called upon in times of war to assist their country's army (i think that was mentioned in dao but it's stated several times in the novels). something to consider, then, is that circles are not only for containing mages and protecting people from them; but they are also for the consolidation of magic as a military power. orlais and the marcher states are creating armies. ferelden, with its sort of implicit acknowledgement that the tower doesn't hold all the mages in the country, lacks that military resource. even in the stolen throne there's only one single mage working on the ferelden side in contrast to quite a few on the orlesian side

which is why it's #1 crazy that the fereldens successfully liberated themselves from orlais #2 crazy that they defeated the blight and, most importantly, it's why you should NEVER UNDERESTIMATE A DOG LORD!!!!!

[ch-4-eri]

Different — Abby Anderson.

Abby X female!reader.

Warnings: comphet, anger issues, owen jumpscare (sorry) shouting, arguing, angst.

Word count: 1.2k

This fic is lowkey trauma dumping, self projection as it’s finest but hey we’ve all been there, also excuse how short it is I’m still learning how to write all over again after leaving it for a hot minute, but please do enjoy this.

You miss her. You really do, you had no other idea as to what made you and Abby’s friendship seem like it was something you’d made in the back of your mind.

Which is stupid considering everything, you knew the source of the problem, how deep he rooted his claws into her, Owen fucking Moore.

He was a senior at some point before he met Abby at a game you both went to. Soon enough he graduated which meant you’d never see Abby after school and or even the entire day as they got together. It dragged on until you noticed how moody she got, more angry than usual and you always knew Abby had temper problems.

You’d see them right outside of school, and he’d just leave her there, and you couldn’t interfere at all— you thought Abby wouldn’t like that, wouldn’t accept help in such situations.. and you were rather drifting, you’d let her figure it out on her own.

You just wondered if she misses you as well? And was Owen really worth it? Forget friendship… Abby was doing horribly in almost everything she used to like to do, her quarterback duties? Yeah, she was often arguing with her team, constantly throwing tantrums after or before games when there’s crowds watching it and the scene’s too awkward. People leave earlier than usual and it’s always intense if the argument is before the game. Even argues with the cheerleaders and their choreography as it’s not something she can pick, only the cheer coach. Abby was disturbed in many aspects, and all you could do was blame Owen.

You also wondered if it’s also Owen or something else? Was he treating her right? You doubt it, putting in mind how much she seems so temper ridden towards everything.

It was a random night you so badly wanted to check up on her, maybe hang out with her like you used to, it was all so awkward and you had no idea how else to resolve such already fucked up friendship.

You pulled up to her door with your bike, the sound of her and Owen arguing was loud enough you could hear what they were arguing about, Abby’s voice too familiar to just get over.

As you made your way out of your bike and to the front door, it slammed open with a very angry Owen stomping out, making you glare at him as he matched your glare and walked away.

Your eyes rolled and walked inside, finding Abby leaning against the counter. Still heaving in anger as she saw you; not even saying anything as you closed the door he almost broke.

“What was that?” You first said, forget the i miss yous and the corny bullshit that used to be okay between you two.

“What was what?” Abby responded, her tone cold and just as pissed off as if she’s still talking to Owen.

“Why was he yelling at you? That’s not okay.” You added, crossing your arms, keeping your voice steady. You’re not here to fight, that was Abby. Your Abby.

Abby narrowed her eyes as she’s surprised to find you there, her disturbance erupts from many things and not being able to talk to you was one of them.

She knew she fucked up when she picked Owen over you, it wasn’t even a decision she made; she just woke up one day without you around, and just him there.

She didn’t like it.

She hated it in fact.

Abby knew Owen was not a soulmate.

But the realisation of losing you for him, that stung more, made her more angry and defensive.

She was too prideful to admit what she did was wrong, be with such a guy and then lose you slowly.

Every time she recalls how good you’d treat her over stuff Owen made her feel bad about it was a damn list she had in the back of her mind every time he said something she didn’t like in which you’d be so sweet about.

Like her working out habits and how she looks, you’d encourage her and ask to come with her to the gym, Owen would just make fun of her for not looking feminine enough.

You’d take care of her when she’s sick never leaving her side enough you’d also get sick and Abby would take care of you when she’s better, Owen would just ignore her texts all day because she’s too sick in bed apparently and she’s ’too big of a girl’ she can ‘handle’ it on her own.

How you made her feel good about herself for having a ‘strong best friend’ and how proud you were of her, while Owen was too insecure to ever say something kind about it, insecure how a girl looks like she could ‘toss him away with a flick’.

The minute she had to compare the two of you, it made her feel more agony than she liked to admit even between her and herself.

As you stood in front of her after such a long time she still knew that she should be sorry, hug you and act like nothing happened.

But she couldn’t; so much had happened, she knew she shouldn’t have let you go, not for Owen or anyone because knowing he was not her soulmate, you were.

You were just right, Abby was always so certain of that, no matter who she lost or who she had, you’d be there and she let go of that like it’s nothing and she can’t mend that now, she felt too unworthy of your friendship.

It can’t be fixed.

“So what? I was yelling at him too, stop with that feminist bullshit.” Abby cursed, rolling her eyes at your defence, she loved you for it; she needed it, but she had to push you away for how wrong she did you.

“It’s not feminist bullshit, Abby, he's treating you like dirt!” You argued, showing her what’s right in hopes she’d see it.

“It’s none of your business! You don’t even have a boyfriend, you don’t get it!”

“Oh low blow! The whole ‘I don’t have a boyfriend’ bullshit just so you don’t admit he sucks and he doesn’t treat you well and he’s too fucking old for you, I don’t know what the fuck is going on Abby but this isn’t you! Hanging out with jerks like him, we used to make fun of guys like him!” You argued, eyebrows furrowed that made Abby wanna go on her knees for your forgiveness, you were right.

She wanted to cry about how wrong she’d been, she wants you back, she wants to just end this and apologise but she did you too wrong to act like this is okay.

“Shut up, get out of here!” Was all Abby managed, she wanted to save you for any more insults that could leave her mouth right at this second, there’s so much she needed to fix but you had to leave right now.

You blinked a few times at her request, Abby never raised her voice at you and maybe she didn’t mean it, but it hurt so much, she could see it as well.

“Don’t come crying to me when he’s left you, and let’s be real he will. And he will find a girl his age or maybe a girl that wears stupid bow ties in her hair because let’s face it he’s a fucking weirdo and you fell for it.” You said as a tear sheds down your cheek. “He wants to change you, and he can’t, I don’t even recognize you anymore… you won’t find me there when he does.” Was all you muttered before breaking down completely at the loss you just have to endure, leaving her house and leaving her there.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Can you please write more for 2003 turtles ? I love the way you write them !

I even have one idea but you don't have to follow it ,I am happy with anything!

My idea was for Leonardo ( Fast Forward) where some other alien was flirting with reader but she was oblivious to it and it got Leo jealous . Maybe it could lead to Leo having some ...private time with reader afterwards if you want to add NSFW .

Thank you in advance ! 🐱🐢

Alien To Jealousy (18+)

FastForward!Leonardo x reader

A/N: It wasn’t until I had finished this, that I realized I had your request wrong (yay, dyslexia). I thought you said the reader was oblivious to Leo’s crush on the reader, and not the alien flirting with her, so that’s what I’ve gone with😂 Well, it hopefully still works. Hope you’ll enjoy💙

All characters are aged up.

Warning: Jealousy, arguing, public sex?, dirty talk, fingering.

Leo shouldn’t be feeling this way. He was above such feelings of greed and envy. He had been practicing it for years, clearing his mind so that he wouldn’t let such unimportant things cloud his mind. Yet here he was, sitting by the bar, cradling the drink in his hand, the class threatening to break at any point, his eyes staring daggers at what had made him feel this way. You. Or more specifically the back of your head, your hair swaying ever so slightly with each movement, as you spoke to the alien in front of you, taking small sips of your drink, while pattering your eyelashes.

Leo should have stayed at home. He should have followed his gut instinct when you and his brothers first came and asked, if he wanted to come with you down to the bar and grab a few drinks. He should have said no. He should have listened to his guts, telling him it was a very bad idea. His guts were never wrong, so why should they have been that day? Well, he only had his own animalistic thoughts and urges to blame. When he saw what you were wearing, his goin was suddenly the decision maker of his being. So much for practising patients and self control, and all it took was you wearing a tight crop top and a pair of well fitting pants.

As Leo sat at the bar and watched you flirt with this stranger of an alien, he cursed himself for even believing that today was going to be the day, that he finally would get a foot out of the friend zone, and into the out ring of your romantic interests.

You turned from the alien with a big smile on your face, causing Leo to turn away, acting like he hadn’t been staring at you most of the night, taking a sip at his drink, in order to act as normal as possible, hoping not to seem suspicious.

With your bright smile and a skip in your step, you quickly laid your eyes on Leo, before making your way over to him, leaning your elbows against the bar with your weight on them.

“Guess what”, you smiled at Leo as you leaned against the bar.

“What?”, Leo asked, trying his best not to look at you, or how your arms on the bar pushed at your chest, making your cleavage much more prominent. He had always loved that low cut dress on you, but today he cursed it like he had cursed every alien in the room that looked at you with any interest.

“I got a date next weekend”, you said, smiling brightly and biting your bottom lip.

Leo felt an ice cold shiver run down his shell. He quickly glanced towards the alien you had been talking to, seeing him still staring at you like a prey. Did it not matter that Leo was right beside you? Did it not matter to these people that you came here with him and his brothers? Or had they all lost their minds and judgement due to the alcohol in their system?

“Great”, Leo said, his face not conveying any emotions as he still tried not to look at you, suddenly finding the sight of his drink in his hand very interesting.

Your expression went from a big smile to a frown. His tone and facial expression was not even meant to fool you. It was as if he wanted you to know that there was something wrong. And so you asked your friend what was going on, hoping to get some straight answers from Leo. But Leo was not in the mood for straight answers. Instead he was in a passive aggressive state, purposefully not wishing to tell you much.

“Nothing’s wrong”, Leo said, drowning his drink in one go, in hopes that you wouldn’t notice how he was tensing up. “Everything’s fine”. But you noticed. You liked to think that you knew your friend, but at that moment, he was starting to act in a way you had never seen before. Leo had never lied to you, so why would he now?

“Why are you lying to me, Leo?”, you asked, getting more and more annoyed with your friend.

“I’m not lying”, Leo said through gritted teeth, trying to get into contact with the bartender. He needed another drink to calm his nerves. Normally it wasn’t this hard for Leo to calm down, but with you, that alien and this whole situation, it was as if he just couldn’t, and everything just kept building and building.

“Leo”, you said in disbelief, finally getting tired of his sudden shit, grabbing a hold of his shoulder and forcefully turning him to look at you. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with me?!”, Leo finally yelled out, standing up from the bar chair, towering in his full height above your head. “What the hell is wrong with you!? You don’t see anything do you? No! You’re too blinded by some idiotic alien to see anything!”

You gasped, and the alien who had been listening in on your conversation let out a quiet; “hey man, not cool…”, with other people at the bar turning to look at you. Somewhere in the crowd was Leo’s brothers, most likely very aware of what was going on, but unsure on how to handle it.

“I can’t believe you, Leo!”, you yelled at him. “What the fuck is your problem!? This is not the Leo I know!”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t know me that well!”, Leo yelled before walking away from the bar. “I’m leaving!”

“Oh no you don’t!”, you yelled out loud, before following Leo as he went out the bar doors and out on the late night futuristic streets of New New York City. “You can’t just run away like that!”, you yelled, hot on Leo’s hells.

“Watch me!”, Leo called out, still walking at a high pace, having you almost running to keep up.

“God damn it, Leo!”, you called out. “Slow down so we can at least talk about it!”

“We have nothing to walk about!”

“We obviously have something to talk about! There’s obviously something that’s bothering you, but so far you haven’t been willing to tell me!”, you reached out for Leo’s arm and pulled him back towards you. “So please just tell me-”.

You were abruptly cut off by Leo’s soft lips being pressed against yours in a firm kiss, almost causing you to stumble backwards. However you were quick to regain your balance, and finally allowing yourself to relax against him, closing your eyes, leaning your head to the side and wrapping your arms over Leo’s shoulders as you kissed him back.

Leo made a satisfied sound against your lips, before letting his hands come to rest on your hips, before slowly backing you up against the nearest wall. You hummed against Leo’s lips, before poking your tongue out, licking Leo’s bottom lip, as if you were telling him that you wanted more. And Leo wasted no time, opening his mouth and allowing your tongues to come together in a dance of dominance. A dance that Leo quickly won, giving him the green light to press himself against you, feeling your dress-covered chest being pushed against his plastron as you arched your back against him.

You felt something flick on within you. A growing need, specifically located to your lower region, where you felt your excitement beginning to pool in your underwear. You needed some sort of small release against this growing need, and so you found yourself moving against Leo, almost asking him to do the same to you. And so Leo did, letting out a small growl of lust, before moving himself against your clothed core.

It never seemed to cross you or Leo’s mind, that anybody could just see the two of you out on the open street, where you stood humping and grinding against each other, with your mouths working hungrily against each other, with small sounds of pleasure escaping the two of you, and a low rumbling from Leo’s churring from deep within his chest.

With your need growing stronger, you hiked one leg up against Leo’s side, where he was quick to grab on under your knee, holding it against him. With his other hand, Leo reached for the bottom hem of your dress, before flipping it up, just enough for Leo to slip his hand beneath it. You in turn angled your hips, making it easier for him to reach your now soaked underwear. Here Leo wasted no time, slipping your underwear to the side, allowing his pointy finger to feel your slick folds.

You moaned against Leo’s lips, tightening your grip around his shoulders as he allowed his finger to lazily move up and down, the thumb of his other hand doing soft stroking motions against the skin of your knee.

Leo pulled from the kiss, his lips still gracing yours as he spoke. “Want me to finger you, (Y/N)?”, he asked, his finger moving teasingly light over your clit, before moving back down to your folds. “Want me to finger you right here on the street?”

“Yes”, you said, surprising yourself with how breathless you already were.

“Yes, what?”, Leo asked, his breath fanning over your lips.

“Yes, I want you to finger me, Leo”, you answered, on the edge of turning into a whimper like plea.

Leo quickly captured your lips with his once more, with your lips and tongues once again moving with each other, as his finger, now covered in your slick, slowly made its way into you. You let out a small moan, the leg still underneath you almost buckling for a moment, as you felt Leo’s thick digit spread you out.

Leo did not wait long before moving his finger in and out of you, groaning at how you started to move and whimpering beneath him, reminding himself that this was how you reacted to just his finger. You, Leo’s long time crush, was moaning and whimpering only because of his finger. He could only imagine how you would react to his member, the thought alone making him speed up the movement of his finger.

“Please, Leo”, you moaned against his lips, making him dizzy with lust and desire. You were really moaning his name, and it was all because of his finger within you. “More, Leo. Please, more”.

Leo, wasting little to no time, added a second finger to you, groaning at your immediate reaction. Your sounds against his lips, your smell and the way your body moved against his. It was addicting. It was everything Leo had ever dreamed of and a lot more. You were a dream come true.

Had the alien thought of you in this way? Had the alien imagined how you would moan and whimper around his finger or member? Leo shouldn’t have thought of it, but he couldn’t help it. And with that thought, jealousy poked its ugly head out at Leo once again.

“Do you think that alien could do this to you?”, Leo asked, his breath staggered as his fingers continued their work on you, feeling your slick walls close in around his digits. “Could he make you feel so good with his fingers?”

“No”, you whimpered, shaking your head, immediately catching on to what was happening. What had made Leo act the way that he did at the bar. “He could never do what you can, Leo”.

“That’s fucking right”, Leo groaned, his fingers reaching new depths within you. “Only I can”.

“Leo!”, you cried out against his lips, feeling yourself and the edge of your peak, clawing at his shoulders in an attempt to keep the world around from spinning.

“I know, (Y/N)”, Leo groaned, feeling your tight walls constricting the movements of his fingers. “Let it go. Cum on my fingers, (Y/N)”.

Pressing your lips firmly against Leo’s, in an attempt to keep most of your sounds under control, you did exactly as he had told you to, allowing yourself to release over Leo’s hand, as his fingers thrusted you through your orgasm.

Once most of your high had tapered off, Leo removed his soaked finger from your most intimate area, before letting go of your raised leg, wrapping his arms tightening around you, keeping your still shaking body against him, as your lips continued to move against each other. You giggled as one of Leo’s hands made its way down to your rear end, grabbing a handful before gently swaying you from side to side, as if he hadn’t just fucked you against a wall in the middle of the street with his fingers.

“Want to take this back to the penthouse?”, Leo asked, resting his head against yours with a passionate look in his eyes.

“Only if you take me on a date next weekend”, you smiled, taking Leo’s hand and interlocking your fingers, before pulling him down the street and towards the penthouse. “You owe me one!”

“Forget next weekend!”, Leo called out as he kept up with you. “I’ll take you out tomorrow!”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last. 

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself? 

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. 

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?" 

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage. 

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--" 

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder. 

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water. 

"No, you don't--" 

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." 

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal." 

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway." 

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.  

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say. 

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you." 

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter. 

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest." 

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left. 

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window. 

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment. 

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene. 

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look. 

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says. 

"And tea?" You add. 

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you." 

"Yeah, I... I know." 

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.  

"Thank you," you smile as best you can. 

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter. 

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down. 

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses. 

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit. 

"You-" he begins. 

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time. 

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation. 

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?" 

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help." 

"Okay, but why?" 

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." 

"You want to?" 

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me." 

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other." 

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?" 

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend." 

"Was," he interjects.  

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes." 

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says. 

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much." 

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders. 

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you? 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.” 

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer. 

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.” 

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.” 

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

Hyunjin in relationships

So, right off the bat, Hyunjin can definitely be prone to using certain...Tricks in relationships? This is the real pisces man energy tbf. But he can be prone to manipulation to get certain outcomes from things in the relationship. Like, he may be prone to playing the victim or withholding information from his partner that he knows his partner will dislike. He'll drop hints and do certain things to get what he wants from his partners. He can also try and adopt certain behaviors or traits he knows his partner likes/of people his partner is close to.

It's never for malicious reasons, moreso trying to...Keep the peace, I guess? Trying not to get his partner mad at him, and trying to keep his partner happy and content, but the manipulation aspect still isn't very good. With that being said, it's also something that can be broken in a sense? Like if his partner calls him out and makes him realize it's not something healthy to do in a relationship then he'll definitely make that attempt to stop.

He likes planning things for him and his partner to do. Like he'll plan out these grand plans for him and his partner to do, and all these things he wants to get them/do for them. Like the type to take his partner out on these really well-thought-out very personal dates.

He both does and doesn't like making decisions about the relationship. Like he likes the fact that his partner may trust him enough to let him decide on big things or even little things in the relationship, but he's also afraid he won't really get it right, and doesn't want to disappoint his partner.

He can also be mildly controlling though? Not in a major or bad way, but he wants certain things done a certain way and if they aren't he's convinced hell will freeze over. He also wants the best for his partner, so a lot of the time he'll try to give advice when unprompted? But again, it's something he'd work on if his partner wanted him to.

He's very happy when he's with his partner. Like, when he's with his partner he's all smiles and adoring looks. It's almost like he worships the ground his partner walks on. He wants to celebrate every little thing they do, because to him all of it is absolutely magnificent, and he tries to be very positive in his partner's life.

His partner is nervous about a job interview? He's their professional hype man, hyping them up at home and talking to them on the way there about how he's sure they'll do good. His partner doesn't get the job? Clearly whoever chose not to hire them doesn't have good decision-making skills.

He's pretty much blind to his partner's faults. If there's an issue, it's obviously his fault. His partner is a fucking psycho? Well, there's more psycho people out there, and they can work past it. Highly delusional.

He especially likes when his partner succeeds though. He feeds off it almost. Because he knows that they'll get the recognition they deserve, and if they don't...More of an excuse to celebrate them. He's happy when his partner is happy, and sad when they're sad.

He hates conflicts though. He avoids them like the plague. Which is interesting, because I can definitely see him with somewhat of a temper. But he's the kind to just shut up and ignore it when his partner makes him angry, if at all. He can have a temper with other people, but with his partner? Non-existent. His partner could literally verbally assault him and he wouldn't say anything back because he doesn't want to rock the boat or risk losing them.

This is definitely where the aforementioned manipulation can come in. Like his partner is screaming at him and then here come the crocodile tears, or even real tears because let's be real here he's very sensitive, because he just wants it over with.

He hates arguing about things. His mentality is more like: "Well, we're different in this aspect so why can't we just respect that? I don't want to fight. Can't we just agree to disagree?"

He has a horrible track record with relationships, especially when it gets to the point of like...Domesticity. Probably because of the avoidance of fights. There are bound to be fights in relationships, but he still fights for his life to avoid them. They also just make him very emotional, and he's a very sensitive person who can't handle being screamed at.

It also doesn't help that, like I said, he's highly delusional. He expects perfection from his partners, and he also is highly delusional, so if his partner somehow manners to shatter this like...Delusion he has, or his image of their perfection (Though the image of perfection part is hard because his partner could run a man over and in his mind the man deserved it) he's just highly turned off by it. Plus he gets the ick very easily early on.

I'm also getting that he's HIGHLY turned off by his partner being like "Desperate" or wanting him too much. Honestly, all this combined probably means he attracts very toxic people who don't give a shit about him. And like I said, he adopts traits from his partners, so it wouldn't be a stretch to say he picked up that manipulation from all his manipulative partners in life. He probably thinks it's normal since it's always happening to him. Either that or that's just how he is, I dunno. That's my inference.

I'm getting a very traditional vibe here. Not in a sense of like, "Oh I need a woman who's a submissive little doormat", but rather he likes to take care of his partner. He likes to make sure his partner can lean on him, and doesn't want for anything or have any worries. And trust me, he has MONEY so he can do that. Like he spoils his partner to no end. You know Captain-Save-A-Hoe? That's literally Hyunjin. Like the end part in particular is SO Hyunjin. (He may attract gold-diggers because of this though.)

Fuck that what they talkin' about I save a hoe Yeah baby, what's up you wanna get your nails done? Come on let's go down to Lee and Kim Nail's, yeah We can get your nails done, get your hair done What about your kids? How many kids you got? Two? Oh, that's cool, yeah, we can go feed and cloth them kids We can go down and get the hookup at Durant Square Yeah baby, I do anything for ya Want you phone turned on? I can get it turned on to my name Matter of fact I get you a cellular phone and a pager We can get that package deal down there at Cellular One Baby, I'm, I'm here for you, I got you

Also, that's ANOTHER thing. He's def the type who you could baby trap with kids that aren't even his. Like you can have a five-year-old when he gets with you but he'll stay no matter what because he doesn't want your kid to be without any type of father figure since his partner is a hoe. (Same thing happened to a friend of mine who’s like…WAY too empathetic) Which is frankly WILD.

It’s also kind of like how Hyunjin let Felix use his card and (To my knowledge/memory) didn’t seem very mad when he full on lost it

But we're getting off track here.

He also probably wants to have a familiar family structure in the future. Him, his spouse, two kids, and a dog with a white picket fence and a nice little SUV. Obviously not that exactly, but to really put it in perspective.

He's also the type who bends to his partner's every whim in both a good and bad way. His partner jumps and he doesn't even ask how high he just fucking ascends. No hesitation. He's definitely the type who'd be easy to just...Use in relationships, and he'd let you because at least he has a use. (This is making me a wee bit sad.)

He also probably tries to emulate his parent's relationship. Granted, it was probably a good example, but he also probably thinks that anything that strays from that is inherently bad. (Though he'd internalize that.)

That's another thing. I can see him being very critical about his partners but idealistic at the same time, and internalizing all of that.

He works really hard for his relationship to work. He pushes through anything that happens, and works like his life depends on it to make it through, and there's that like diligence here. It's both a good and bad thing. Like his partner could be BEATING ON HIM and he'd still be trying to work it out with that "I can fix them" mentality.

When he's with someone, they become his entire life. Like i'm talking he neglects his relationships with his friends/family because he's pouring his all into his relationship, and when it falls apart he falls apart. He'd even cut off friends if he feels like his partner dislikes them. Because he feels like that's what he has to do.

Odd little detail, but he's probably going through a breakup right now, actually, or it's actively ending. So that's...

In relationships, I see him being very very insecure. (Even though he's Hwang motherfucking Hyunjin) Like i'm talking, he's very easily jealous and is convinced his partner is going to trade him in for a better model if he does one thing wrong. He holds his partners to high standards, but also convinces himself he's not good enough for them or enough for them. But he never voices this. He pretends to be all confident and secure, but really he's out here having a mini panic attack if his partner laughs at the joke of another guy a little too hard because he's convinced his partner is about to leave him for someone funnier or smarter or nicer. And then he mentally spirals while outwardly seeming like he's perfectly fine, and all of a sudden he's convinced his partner is going to dump him any second.

He's probably been cheated on a lot. And by a lot, I mean A LOT. His exes were also probably very...Verbally abusive? Maybe physically, but definitely verbally abusive. (I feel so bad for Hyunjin) and I can probably count on one hand the amount of partners he's had that were ACTUALLY into him. (Not even in love with him, just into him.)

Poor baby

He moves fast in relationships. Like, i'm talking if his partner proposed on the first date he'd say yes and get married the next. Like, he just decides "Yeah, this is my person. I want them, i'll have them. They're mine." And then BOOM he's asking them out and they're together.

He moves quickly in relationships, but also moves on just as fast. Breakups absolutely WRECK him, but he moves onto the next best thing in like half a business day or something. He's a quick mover. With that being said he also has a bad habit of going back to his shittiest of shitty exes if they so much as blink at him.

So, these two flew out of the deck together. (The fast moving and the next section), so it's safe to say they work hand in hand.

He ignores his intuition and pushes it down. He listens to his heart, and nothing else. He also listens even more to his delusions. His delusions mask anything. His partner could murder someone and he'd find a way to spin it in his head like they're the victim. (I wouldn't be surprised if he's held someone down while they're in jail because he's that type)

Unconsciously, he pushes down any kind of red flag he gets. Like, my partner just squeezed Bangchan's ass? Well, clearly that's an issue with me. I caught my partner cheating? Clearly I was lacking. My partner just got arrested for shoplifting? Well, they shouldn't have made the clothes so expensive. My partner is mooching off of me? Well, i'm being useful.

This has been genuinely saddening to make, but yeah, that's the conclusion of this reading. Someone check on my man Hyunjin.

Astrological ver.

[anglophile-alfred]

I love the idea of Alfred knowing every language out there because of how many different types of people live in America—and this is specifically a skill Alfred has, not every nation.

He could also use this skill for chaos, like speaking French whenever he wants to piss off England (who does know French, but you will never get him to speak it. Over his dead body).

Canada would probably forget America knows French and say an insult to him in the language under his breath, just to facepalm when Alfred easily replies with a comeback in not only French but specifically Quebec French.

America speaks only English around Ivan as a power move. He also knows that China is more receptive to him when he speaks Chinese. America somehow knowing every Chinese dialect and the intricacies of the language is the only thing China will admit as impressive about Alfred.

At world meetings when all of the languages are flying as people yell and argue, America gets overwhelmed and has to leave the room to cool off. But no one ever realizes that's why he does that.

And of course, he smiles so much when he talks to his people in their native languages and sees them brighten at being understood in their native tongue. I can also see him giving free classes on ASL and braille to help more people be able to speak with those who are deaf and blind. Probably the only languages he's still working on learning are the different forms of sign language in each country. He knows ASL but not BSL, for instance.

Alfred may be oblivious a lot of the time and also have a childish innocence to him in some ways that can affect his decision-making, but he's still smart under all of that. That's also why you see him suggesting superheroes as a solution to climate change while having archeology and astronomy as hobbies.

[kawoala]

hiiii meeya i’m ready to place my order!! could i please have haikyuu (sugawara) and… enemies to lovers? and i was thinking something along the lines of a canon-compliant written piece where reader is either a player on the women’s team or a manager of a rival school, but honestly i don’t mind if you want to change anything! thank you soso much 🫶 this place is beautiful 😍

RIDICULOUS; sugawara koushi. burger—haikyuu. drink—enemies to lovers.

contents word count ; 1380. reader is on crutches. ooc! sugawara. profanity. oh also reader is on the vball team. arguing. confessions.

authors notes this is so dramatic for nooo reason 😭 hope u like this may!

this blows.

usually, you’re vocabulary is a little more mature, but this—standing on the sidelines while your teammates lose to a team they could be winning against—it blows.

and your ankle injury? it blows. the fact that you’re out for the rest of the season, the fact that you know your teammates are blaming you for their losses, the fact that this is your last season and you can’t even finish it—yeah, it fucking blows.

and to top it all off, sugawara’s staring at you from the other side of the gym. he’s sitting with the rest of his team, who are all chatting about something, but his eyes are locked on you. he’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands interlocked, glaring.

you know he’s judging you. you can feel it radiating off of him. even when you resist the urge to stare back at him, you know he’s got his eyes on you.

and the thing is, you don’t know why. since first year, sugawara has had some sort of issue with you. it started in a photography class, when he outwardly refused to be your partner for the semester. and then you noticed that he was avoiding you in the halls. and when the girls and boys volleyball team had their shared team dinner, he didn’t even go near the homemade noodles you brought.

it’s embarrassing, mostly. sugawara is the nicest guy in school—except, apparently, when it comes to you. he’s nice to all of your friends, and when you show up to the conversation, he leaves. immediately.

you’ve tried to be nice. even when people snickered at you in that stupid photography class, you had just laughed it off, saying you’d work by yourself. that semester had been gruelling—even as a first year. and at that team dinner, when you complimented him on his dish and he’d outright ignored you, you’d brushed it off with a small sigh.

for the nth time tonight, you look back up at him. his posture shifts a little bit as you meet his gaze, but he doesn’t look away. you tilt your head to the side, as if asking “what.”

he does the same, but his eyes narrow. a challenge. you scoff and roll your eyes, focusing back on the court. and then, you make a decision.

you’re going to talk to him after the game, ask him what the hell his problem is.

—

the game is over quicker than you thought it would be. seijoh wins and you pretend not to notice the way they sneer at you and your teammates, throwing a cruel laugh at you every so often. you’re so wound up, you almost go after one of them—their libero. feisty little thing. she sticks her tongue out at you as she walks by, like she’s a child.

you walk behind the others on your way back to the locker room, head down. your careful not to trip over your crutches, or get in the way of anybody, but somebody walks by you and their scent hits your nose and you fumble.

your crutches skid to the other side of the hallway and you fall to the ground with a oomf. you sit there for a moment, contemplating even getting back up. and then a pair of shoes appears in front of you, followed by the same scent from before.

”that looked like it hurt.”

the voice hits your ears and you want to throw up. sugawara. you look up and he’s staring down at you, holding your crutches in one hand. “yep,” you say, strained. you help yourself up, putting the weight on your none-injured foot. “can i have my crutches back now? thanks.”

he hands them back with an almost inaudible scoff. he starts to walk away, but then you remember. “wait,” you call out, maneuvering until you’re turned to face him again. “can we talk, actually? i have something i need to discuss.”

he stops and he states before turning around. there’s a look on his face that you don’t recognize. impatience, maybe? he raises his brows expectantly and it only pisses you off further.

”okay, dude, what is your problem with me?” you can’t help the bite in your tone. “like, since first year, you’ve had this unspoken issue with me. and i tried to be nice, don’t get me wrong. but you just absolutely refuse to reciprocate. so, please, just tell me what i did wrong so i can apologize and we can stop this feud we’ve had for three fucking years.”

the outburst surprises him, and it even surprises you a little bit. his mouth opens and closes, like he can’t decide what to say. finally, he squares his jaw and shakes his head. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

your jaw drops. he starts to turn, and your first instinct is to drop your crutches and hobble over to him before he can walk away. you grab his arm and spin him around. “don’t play stupid, sugawara. today, when you were sitting on the bleachers, you were glaring at me. like- like i’d killed your puppy or something! and first year, in that stupid photography class, you stood up in front of the whole class and told the teacher you didn’t want to be my partner.” you pause, chest heaving. “do you know how embarrassing that was? how much i got teased for it? you’re nice to everyone you meet—except for me. don’t pretend you don’t hate me now that i’ve confronted you about it.”

for a long, stretched out moment, he’s quiet, staring into your eyes like he’s searching for something.

”well?” you prompt, brows furrowing in frustration.

“i don’t hate you,” he says quietly. his eyes dart away from yours and suddenly he’s embarrassed. “i don’t hate you, i-“ he cuts himself off, rolling his eyes. “whatever, this is ridiculous. i don’t hate you, okay? there, feud over.”

”don’t give me that bullshit, sugawara.”

”what do you want from me? do you want me to apologize? do you want me to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness?” he rips his arm out of your grasp and his gaze hardens. “you piss me off. that’s the story. that’s why i have beef with you. first year, when we got sat next to each other, you pissed me off. when the teacher said we were partners, i knew you’d distract me and piss me off. is that better? there is no specific reason, you just make me mad.”

you blink. once. twice. three times. “are you fucking kidding me? what, it’s just my presence? the way i smile? the way i make small talk?” you scoff and cross your arms. “you’re fucking ridiculous.”

”yes,” he huffs out. your brows furrow again, this time in confusion. “it’s the way you smile, it’s the way you make small talk, it’s the way you carry yourself, it’s the way you’re too nice to people even though they don’t deserve it.” he takes a step forward, closing the distance between the two of you. “i hate it. every time i see you, i get this pit in my stomach. i avoid you in the hallway because every time i see you, i get the urge to talk to you. to tell you to stop smiling at people. to tell you to pull down your skirt because other guys are looking. you think this is ridiculous? i’ve had a thing for you since the first time i saw you and the only way i can deal with it is by being a massive dickhead to you.”

again, all you can do is blink at him. what is this, a rom-com? he can’t just confess in the middle of an argument like that—also, how did he know angry confessions are your favorite trope?

”what the hell are you talking about”

he sighs, heavy and long. “nevermind.” he shakes his head, then steps around you to pick up your crutches once again. he hands them to you silently, then continues past you, towards the exit. 

he leaves you standing there in the middle of the hallway, face scrunched up, jaw dropped, a million thoughts running through your mind.

what the hell just happened?

[dr5amatic]

THE AGONY OF UNMADE DECISIONS ,

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel if we were villains by m.l. rio. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to, murder, death, and violence. change verbiage as needed.

why are you here? you should know by now i’m not going to tell you anything.

seems safer to let sleeping dogs lie.

it must eat you alive, not knowing. not knowing who, not knowing how, not knowing why.

you’ve kept your secrets all this time. it would drive anyone else crazy. why do it?

want to come out for a smoke? might help you relax.

your time will come to be the tragic hero.

let’s go skinny-dipping! i haven’t been swimming all summer.

seems like just yesterday my dad was shouting at me for throwing my life away.

you can’t do good work if you’re hiding, so we’re going to get all of the ugliness out in the open.

if you haven’t made any enemies in life, you’ve been living too safely.

you make a surprisingly convincing villain.

i know what you’re doing. you’re baiting me.

i don’t know about you, but i want to get cleaned up and go to bed and pretend this didn’t happen for like at least eight hours.

i think we were all fucked up from the start.

you promised me you wouldn’t say a word, so don’t.

i’m sorry, what the fuck just happened?

you know, people aren’t going to put up with your bullshit for much longer.

you’re probably the only person he’d listen to.

where’ve you been all night?

i was making the rounds for a while, but i got overwhelmed and snuck upstairs to do some reading.

i’m done with this fucking party, with all of them down there. what do you want?

why don’t you just tell me what happened? no performance. no poetics.

we can’t just stand around arguing about how it happened, we have to do something.

look, i know you have a pathological need to play the hero, but right now you need to stop and ask yourself if that’s really what’s best for everyone.

someone’s dead and you don’t know where you were?

before last night, everything was fine.

i care about you, and what might happen if you carry on like this.

he wasn’t an easy person to like, but he was an easy person to love.

what do you do? ignore your grief, or indulge in it?

maybe every day we let grief in, we’ll also let a little bit of it out, and eventually we’ll be able to breathe again.

i’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.

it doesn’t add up. we’re missing something.

you look like you might need someone to carry you.

i’m going to bed unless you’ve got something to say.

i’ve had enough of your sexual misadventures for one year, thanks.

it’s fucking freesing and i’m not leaving you out here alone.

when did we become such terrible people?

why don’t we get a drink or something? just us. i can’t think straight with everyone watching like we’re a reality show.

i just–maybe it’s because you’re you, and i mean, look at you–but i don’t understand. why me? i’m nobody.

you know, everyone calls you ‘nice,’ but that’s not the word. you’re good. you’re so good you have no idea how good you are.

we carry on as usual, or they’re going to want to ask all kinds of questions we don’t want to answer.

are you going to cold-shoulder me all night?

what’s gotten into you? you don’t sound like yourself.

you’re smarter than this. 

i’m not keeping any more secrets for you.

you can justify anything if you do it poetically enough.

you’re just going to leave me?

i think hell may have frozen over.

when you enter the theatre, there are three things you must leave at the door: dignity, modesty, and personal space.

anything can feel like punishment if you’re taught poorly.

you can’t quantify humanity. you can’t measure it–not the way you mean to. people are passionate and flawed and fallible. they make mistakes. their memories fade. their eyes deceive them.

i want so badly to be so mad at you that i could kill you, but i can’t, so i’m mad at myself instead. do you even understand how unfair that is?

i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i want to hurt the whole world.

why don’t you sit, and i’ll pour tea?

he was my friend—much more than that, truthfully—and that was enough. i didn’t need to know why.

can i help? i still–i want to help.

let me put myself back together and then i’ll come find you.

it’s like i look at you and suddenly the sonnets make sense.

tell me you didn’t do it.

i never wanted you to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.

we have to go back and act like nothing’s wrong. we’ve got to get through tonight, and then we’ll worry about it. all right?

you know, it’s not too late if there’s another version of the truth you want to tell me.

will you rest easier with one less mystery on your mind?

you were real to me. sometimes i thought you were the only real thing.

[navybrat817]

Look at that stare!

Time to Study

Summary: Bucky told you he needed help with his studies, but you should have known he just wanted an excuse to kiss you.

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: K-I-S-S-I-N-G, college AU, nicknames, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: Okay, lovelies. Meet Titan and Starshine in the college AU no one asked for, Falling For You. Thank you @rookthorne, @sgt-seabass, and @chasingmarvel!❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

"Bucky, I think you've been on that page for the last five minutes."

He shrugged and continued to stare, his blue eyes focused completely on you. A smile began to spread across your face before you cleared your throat and glanced at your book. Your face heated up when you still felt his gaze on you. With the looks of a model and a smile that could make panties drop, it was almost overwhelming to have his attention.

But you liked it.

“Why didn’t we meet in the library?” you asked, suddenly aware of how hot it was in your room.

Or was it him?

You were also aware of how close he was to you on your bed. You could’ve chosen to sit in a chair or on the floor, but you made the decision to take your bed. He followed suit and kept a reasonable distance. But he moved closer with each passing second until his knee almost bumped yours.

No way in hell were you going to stop him.

“It’s more comfortable here,” he replied. You tried not to lose yourself in his eyes when you dared to look at him. “Don’t you think?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you nodded. You even managed not to whimper when he placed his hand on your thigh. With his sleeve pushed up, you could see the veins in his forearm, a visual reminder of his strength. He didn’t slide his hand up any higher or apply any pressure. It rested there, like he was testing the waters.

Come on in. The water’s fine.

"It is, but I thought you said you needed my help," you reminded him when he made no move to read or look over his notes.

Some assumed that because Bucky was good looking, athletic, and a member of the most popular fraternity on campus that he got people to do his work for him. That couldn't have been further from the truth. He was a nice, smart guy, much smarter than most expected. And while he didn't brag about his grades, he more than earned his high GPA through his intelligence and hard work.

The whole package. Wait, why does he need my help again?

"Stop staring!" you said, trying your hardest not to smile when he lightly chuckled. It was such a sexy sound. "We need to study."

"Oh. I actually finished studying before I stopped by. You know I’m getting an A in that class," he smirked, shutting the book and moving it beside him. "Or did I forget to mention that?"

It was your turn to stare at him, your mouth open when he flashed his winning smile.

Smug. Bastard.

"You lied to me, Bucky Barnes."

He pouted before he smiled again. "I didn't lie. I would never lie to you.”

His hand went to the back of your neck as you tried to remember to breathe. "Yes, you did,” you huffed, not wanting to let him off the hook. Even if he distracted you the more he leaned in, his fingertips tickling your skin. “You said you needed my help. I cleared my whole afternoon."

Like he had to twist my arm to make that happen.

"I do need your help. I need a kiss and you’re the only one who can help me with that,” he argued, his nose bumping yours. “And if you want me to maintain my high GPA, I'll need to study every single one of your kisses thoroughly. Even if it takes all night."

That would’ve been cheesy from anyone else, but he made it sound so genuine.

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggled, running your fingers through his soft hair. His words flustered you and you wondered if he noticed. "What would your brothers say if they heard you?"

Ridiculous and charming and handsome and he smells good and his lips are so close to mine.

“Being ridiculous doesn’t change the fact that I need a kiss,” he said, breathing against your lips. "And no mention of my brothers when you're in my arms. Only me."

Only you, Bucky.

“After I’m done studying,” you whispered with a twinkle in your eyes.

He growled when you giggled again, but didn’t give you the chance to move away. One day you'd get out of one of his holds, but today wasn't it. “Just one little kiss, Starshine? Any kind of kiss you want as long as I get one.”

You sucked in a breath when he licked his lips, his tongue close enough that it brushed against your mouth. It would’ve been easy to close the last bit of distance and put you both out of your misery. Still playing the part of a gentleman, the hand on your thigh didn’t move. But his grip tightened a fraction.

Enough to let you know how badly he needed you.

As much as Bucky wanted to, he didn’t kiss you the night the two of you spoke for the first time. He was a gentleman and didn’t rush it, even after you stayed up all night chatting. Now you look forward to each and every kiss.

He could have any girl on campus and he’s desperate for me.

“One,” you agreed, capturing his mouth in a gentle kiss.

Bucky returned it with fervor and you were helpless to do anything but get swept away. His lips molded against yours perfectly and you practically crawled into his lap as he deepened the kiss, studying long forgotten at that point. It was a feat you lasted as long as you did without throwing yourself at him.

This is definitely going to be more than one kiss if we don't stop.

“Back to studying?” you asked breathlessly.

“Only if I get to kiss you again when we’re done,” he smiled.

“Are my kisses that great, Titan?” you asked, running a finger along his sharp jawline.

Maybe you weren't playing fair by using his nickname, which he loved hearing from you, but he started it by suggesting a fake study session just to get a kiss from you and using your nickname first.

Instead of a smug smirk when Bucky pulled back, his cheeks flushed slightly as he regarded you with an easy smile. “If you knew what it was like to kiss you, you’d never wanna stop,” he answered, making your heart thud in your chest as he pulled you closer by the hips.

A knock on the door broke you temporarily from your spell, but you stayed close in Bucky’s lap.

“Hey!” your roommate said through the door. “Are you two decent? I need to grab something real quick.”

Great timing.

“Unfortunately, we are,” you teased, pressing your forehead against Bucky’s as she put her key in the door. "Now we have to study."

“Don't mind me! Not looking!” your roommate announced, rummaging through her closet until she found what she needed. “Use protection! Don’t need you knocking her up!”

Bucky laughed when you groaned, both of you used to her antics. “How about we study in my room next time?” he offered.

“Deal," you agreed, sneaking in one more quick kiss.

Although you had a feeling you wouldn’t get much studying done at his place either, you didn't mind one bit.

Another couple for me to adore. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

[piastrispastry]

Why am I seeing people blaming Lando for Trump being elected like he personally made that decision?

First off can I remind you all this man is a British citizen. He can’t vote in US elections even if he wanted so how on Earth is it his fault Trump got elected?

People refer to the comments from the Miami GP and honestly I hated that McLaren were chosen to host him for so many reasons but here’s as condensed and relevant as I can make this.

Lando and many other drivers like him are PR trained and when you have such a high profile guest such as Donald Trump in your garage for the weekend your PR team has probably given you approved responses to a variety of questions.

The answer Lando gave sounded so PR approved, it sounded sterile, non-committal really. And please correct me if I’m wrong but I’m sure in a stream he has expressed his dislike for Trump.

I also hated how he was asked this question in the first place. This man had just won his first race in over five years yet you use up your limited time on asking him about a controversial man which is guaranteed to get him hate. I know this is how the media works but it makes my skin crawl.

And to anyone saying the other two in the top three didn’t say anything, their teams weren’t hosting Trump. I’m sure if you asked Max about James Charles he probably would have given a similar PR approved answer.

Also, for the record, Trump said he was Lando’s good luck charm, not the other way round. I saw that on TikTok and it was just plain wrong.

So please can we stop blaming him for the results of an election he didn’t even vote in? The hate is getting mental by this point.

In conclusion, I know I am not American but I am a politics student and about as anti-Trump as they come (having argued with multiple boys in that class about him this week).

My heart goes out to every woman, POC, LGBTQIA+ member, child and anybody else who is going to be negatively affected by Trump’s administration. Please know that my inbox is always open if you need someone to talk to ❤️