#it is HOT to see the opposing team be frustrated!!!! especially when they look like douchey socal fratboy dirtbags!!!!!!!!

[knitpurlgoal]

i hope we get a classic trevor zegras yelling the fuck word moment. hes really at his most attractive when hes been stymied

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

I Can’t Leave

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: When the reader is forced into hiding, she’s desperate to inform her fiancé and his son

Warnings: canon level violence, talk of domestic terrorism, some angst, guns

Word Count:  3.2k

Masterlist

“Here you go,” I said, putting a glass of whisky in front of my father. I took my seat across from him, raising my glass. “To the Speaker of the House, part three.”

He smiled, touching his glass to mine before taking  drink. “Thank you, dear. So how’s work?”

“It’s good. I mean, as good as hunting down predators and murderers can be,” I sighed. “But it’s good, I feel like I’m doing some good in the world.” I looked up to find my father’s expression falling. “What?”

“I just- uh… well it’s not that I want you to be unhappy but this next thing would be easier if you hated your job,” he chuckled awkwardly. Confused and nervous I urged him to go on. “Well there are some bad people after us, Y/N.”

“Dad, you don’t need to dumb it down. I’m an FBI agent, I take down bad people all the time. What’s going on?”

“Some extremists are after our family. Y/N, they sent death threats… about you specifically,” he said as gently as possible.

“Okay, so? I mean yeah, it’s strange that they were sent about me in relation to you but they’ve sent them to mom. I get them on my own from people we’ve locked up.”

“They suspect that the extremists are working with some members of Congress in the opposing party. Which can be incredibly dangerous for you.”

“So what? You want my team to investigate? I can hang back on this one if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Well I’m glad you’re willing to hang back because… you need to go into hiding.”

I only stared at him, not believing what he was asking. “Did you seriously just ask me to go into hiding?”

“Y/N-”

“No, absolutely not,” I refused. “Dad, I’m an FBI agent. If anyone can protect themselves it’s me.”

“This is serious. I’ve talked to people in Homeland Security, people way above you and your team and they recommended you go into hiding.”

“What about you?” I was visibly upset now. “Are you hiding?”

“I can’t. The houses are already divided and each party is getting more radical. I can’t just leave, especially when I was just reelected.”

“So what makes you think I can just leave? Why can’t I just have body guards?”

“Because your job won’t allow that. I know you’ll run away from them with no regard for your own safety the second a — what is it you call them? Unsub? — when an unsub runs away. Besides, they said you won’t be safe unless everyone thinks you’re dead.”

“Excuse me?” I was angry now. “What could possibly be going on that Homeland Security thinks I need to be dead? Oh my god,” I said suddenly, realizing what my father was asking. “Can I at least tell my team that this is fake?”

He shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry. Homeland Security wants as few people to know as possible.”

“Can I at least tell Aaron and Jack?” Tears were pricking my eyes now as he shook his head no. “Dad, he’s my fiancé,” I was begging now. “He has a son. Jack is basically my son. He already lost his mother to a bad guy. I can’t leave them. He can’t lose two mother figures.”

“That’s exactly why you need to be protected. So you can be a mother to him again.”

“Can’t you see this will do irreparable damage? Aaron won’t let me back into his life after I knowingly hurt him and his son in a way they’ve already been hurt. You want me to go into hiding? Fine but please let me tell Aaron.”

“I’m sorry dear, my hands are tied. Your death is already being orchestrated now. Your car will be crashed in about 10 minutes.”

My eyes widened as rage filled me. “I don’t even get to see anyone one last time?” I covered my face in frustration. I needed to calm down if I was going to think of a way to communicate with Aaron. “Fine but just let me do one last thing.”

My father nodded eagerly. “I’ll try my best to fulfill that.”

“Part of the reason I came over was to get my old Hot Wheels. I was going to bring them back for Jack. Can they say they were found in the trunk and you said to take them to Jack because I was delivering them?”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not. I’ll ask the agents posing as officers to bring them.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. “I just didn’t want to leave Jack with nothing, you know? I’ll grab them,” I said, heading into my old room. Immediately grabbing a post-it note and a pen.

I’m alive. Tell no one. Love you - Y/N

I folded it up as tight as possible and stuffed it inside the door of a ‘65 Mustang I had once broken the door off of when I was a kid. I then replaced the broken door, which only fell off when you rolled it around, before tossing it into the box with the others.

~~

Aaron had been cooking lunch on one of his few days off, excited for Y/N to return home so they could have some alone time when he heard a knock on the door. Cautiously he grabbed his gun before creeping towards the door silently. Checking the peep hole he spotted two cops. Frowning, he put his gun down behind the door before opening it. Before he could say anything the officer spoke. “Aaron Hotchner?”

“Yes?” he answered hesitantly.

“We’re very sorry to inform you but your fiancée, Y/N L/N, has passed.” Every ounce of hurt Aaron had ever felt hit him all at once. All the shots, stabs, and the countless punches Aaron had ever felt. This hurt more than Haley, which at the time he had thought would be the worst pain of his life. He didn’t even hear what the cops were saying until they mentioned his son. “We found these. We spoke to Y/N’s father and he said she was bringing them back here to Jack.”

Aaron stared down at the box that was filled near to the brim with Hot Wheels. The same toys that Jack and her had been so excited to play with together. He took the box before quietly shutting the door, wanting to be alone. Setting the box on the kitchen counter he leaned up against it, letting his agony consume him. He couldn’t even make tears fall as empty sobs wracked his body. Aaron was consumed with anger, hurt, sadness, any and every emotion associated with grief. But most of all he was trying to figure out what to say to his son. How could he tell Jack that yet another mother figure was taken from him?

Unable to handle anything he texted his sister-in-law that he had to go into work and asked her to take Jack for the night.

Aaron completely lost the rest of the day. He felt like he was in some sort of haze. He only “woke up” when he started going through Y/N’s Hot Wheels collection, desperate to hold onto her. When he stumbled upon the ‘65 Mustang he was consumed with memories. The first time he had met her parents she had showed him her old room including this exact car. She told him that she used to pass secret messages with her friends in this car. Curiously he fiddled with the door until it popped out. Peering inside he was surprised to see a note stuffed into it. Anxious about what he’d find he pulled out that note that had been very tightly folded.

Without even reading it yet Aaron already felt emotion consume him at the sight of her handwriting. Pushing through he read the note.

I’m alive. Tell no one. Love you - Y/N

He read and reread the short note trying to convince the whisper in his mind that it was in fact for him and Jack. Y/N’s father’s reelection had caused some sense of insurrection in radical groups and he had heard rumors of death threats against her family but they had received death threats in the past. They must have gotten worse and more targeted for Homeland Security to force her into hiding. He also knew she’d never fake her death without telling him and Jack and judging by the nature of the note being smuggled in she hadn’t known about the plan.

While he was relieved to know she was alive but afraid for her safety. If a threat was bad enough to force her underground it must be serious. And he still had to deal with the worst part of it… telling the team and explaining the situation to Jack.

He texted his sister-in-law again that their jet was delayed so he could take Jack for the night and bring him to school tomorrow. Just 15 minutes later Jack was back in his home.

After his son got settled in, Aaron went into his room. “Dad, where’s Y/N?”

Aaron hesitated for a second. “Um yeah, about that…” he had no clue how his young son would handle the news. Especially after Haley had already been killed. “Well first of all, Y/N is okay. She’s safe with a bunch of people to protect her but she’s going to be gone for a little while. Some people are angry at her father and well… they’re threatening to hurt her so some very powerful people think it’s best that she hide for a little while until she’s safe.”

“Is it like the people who hurt mom?” Jack asked with innocent eyes.

That hit Aaron like a bullet. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. “Sort of. They want to hurt her family but this is about something bigger than her family or our family.” He didn’t really think it’d be a great idea for him to explain the intricacies of domestic terrorism to his son right before bed. “But you can’t tell anyone about this, understood? We weren’t even supposed to know she’s alive. Not the team, not your aunt, not your teacher, not your friends. It could be really dangerous for Y/N.”

Jack nodded. “Okay dad. When will Y/N come back? In time for the wedding?”

Aaron also didn’t need the reminder that your wedding was supposed to be in two months. “I don’t know but I hope so buddy. I hope so…”

The next day at work Aaron was trying to work up the nerve to speak to everyone about Y/N’s death. There was a case about some women who looked like her and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this was connected but he knew he wouldn’t be able to share his theories with anyone.

As everyone filtered in they were all wondering about Y/N. “Hey, Hotch, where’s Y/N?” Morgan asked.

Aaron sighed heavily. “About that… I learned yesterday that um…” this was difficult to say even though he knew it was a lie, “Y/N was killed in a car crash yesterday. I thought this news needed to be said in person rather than over the phone.”

The room was left in shocked silence for a moment until Derek spoke. “Hotch I’m so sorry.” Everyone was keenly aware that this would be the second woman their Unit Chief loved that died.

“It’s not just my loss. It’s all our losses,” he deflected, the always altruist boss.

“How’s Jack handling it?” JJ asked.

“He’s not ready to talk about it so I’m giving him some time. I can’t imagine it’s easy losing another mother figure.”

“How are you handling it?” Rossi asked.

That was a question he didn’t know how to answer. Truthfully he wasn’t okay even though he knew his fiancée was alive because he knew dangerous people were after her. “I can’t really afford to think about it right now. Wheels up in 15, we’ll debrief on the plane.”

~

1 Year Later

Even though his fiancée was still alive he was still reeling from her loss. It was hard having absolutely no contact and no updates about the status of her or her case.

He was filling out case reports when he heard a knock at his door. “Come in,” muttered not looking up. After not hearing anything in response he looked up to find Y/N’s father, the Head of the Secret Service, Mark Sullivan, and the Secretary of Homeland Security, Tom Ridge. “Sirs, how can I help you.”

“This is about my daughter,” the Congressman began. “She’s alive.” Aaron wasn’t sure if he should reveal that he knew that or not.

“You already knew,” the Sullivan observed.

“Yes, I did. Y/N sent me a note,” he admitted.

“Has she had any contact with you since?” Ridge asked.

“She hasn’t. What’s happened?” he knew they wouldn’t come to him at work unless they needed profilers.

“It’s been a year since Y/N went underground. She’s been bouncing around various countries and they’ve somehow managed to follow her without us making any headway on the investigation. And we’d like the BAU to help us track these terrorists down.”

“I’ll have my team on it. Where are we going?”

“Brazil.”

~

In less than an hour the entire team was on the plane with Garcia calling in. “Why are we headed to Brazil? We don’t have jurisdiction there,” Reid asked.

“There’s a very high profile victim being hunted by a small domestic terrorist organization. The Brazilian government wants them out and they’ve given us full jurisdiction over any US citizens there as well as the ability to question any Brazilian citizens as long as they’re arrested by Brazilian officers or agents.”

“So who’s the vic?” Emily asked.

“It’s Y/N,” Aaron admitted. It felt like he had just released a breath he had been holding for a year. “She didn’t actually die in a car crash, she had been in hiding.”

The plane erupted into angry yells and confused conversations. “Hotch how could you not tell us?” Derek asked angrily.

“I know you’re all confused and angry, so was I. I wasn’t even supposed to know, Y/N had to smuggle me a note. As far as I know she never knew she was being forced into hiding until it was too late for her to say goodbye.”

“Still you should’ve told us,” Derek seethed angrily. He felt lied to by his boss and one of his closest friends. Both of which were always supposed to have his back.

“Enough, Derek,” Aaron said sternly, silencing the plane. “If you want to be angry be angry at the terrorists threatening her but I was just trying to protect her and she was trying to protect Jack and I. Like it or not this is bigger than you and I will remove you from this case if you can’t keep your emotions in check. Got it?” Derek begrudgingly agreed and soon enough the team was discussing theories.

~

It took a week full of interviews, analysis, dead ends, hundreds of suspects, and more fake names than they could count but the BAU finally tracked down the terrorist organization that sent one of their agents running. And along with with their investigation they had found where their teammate was hiding. Every member of the BAU wanted to rush over but they couldn’t afford to send the terrorists underground again so they waited for them to make a move.

As soon as the BAU got word that terrorists were moving in on Y/N’s location they headed over. Aaron’s heart was beating out of his chest the entire ride over. Terrified that they wouldn’t reach his fiancée in time.

They pulled up to the small cottage just as Aaron spotted some men dressed in camouflage creeping around the house. Aaron barely put the car in park, too anxious to get to his love. “FBI! Put down your weapons and step away from the house,” he ordered as the rest of the team and several other soldiers stormed out of the cars.

Seeing as they were outnumbered several of the terrorists put their guns down and raised their hands in surrender. The same couldn’t be said for the mercenaries at the back of the cottage as he heard a window shatter and several yells from inside. Immediately going for the door he had to knock it down, stumbling inside to find a stand-off. Y/N was stood half shielded by two guards with her gun raised at a few terrorists. The guards he recognized as Secret Service also had their guns raised and they were yelling.

“It’s over,” Aaron announced as soldiers appeared into the window, drastically outnumbering the two men who had their guns aimed at Y/N. One took a shot and he was instantly put down by at least five bullets aimed at him. The partner seemed to have been accidentally been hit because he went down with a yell. But Aaron didn’t care about him, he was concerned about Y/N. He looked over, finding her tending to one of her guards who had suffered a bullet to the arm. Her hands were covered in blood and Aaron wasn’t thinking rationally as he reached her. “Are you okay?” he asked, gently grasping her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Can you call an ambulance?”

“Sure,” he agreed hurriedly. “This is Agent Hotchner, we have two suspects down and a wounded agent. Send medical assistance immediately.” By now the other guard and some soldiers who had medical training were attending to the wounded agent and pushing Y/N away. “Y/N,” he called, dragging her attention away from the guard.

She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in a year. “Aaron,” she began to cry, throwing herself at him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for leaving,” she sobbed against his bulletproof vest.

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” he hushed, squeezing her tightly and stoking his fingers through her hair. “I know you didn’t want this. Thank you for sending that note to Jack and I.”

“I couldn’t bear the thought of either of you losing someone again,” she explained. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Masterlist

[isacksteban]

Hot Headed — Strollini (+ Delilah)

The tension had been building all game. Lance skated down the rink, his breath coming in steady bursts as he chased the puck, adrenaline surging through his veins. The other team had been relentless, throwing body checks at every opportunity, and the referees had let a few questionable hits slide. Lance, usually calm under pressure, could feel his patience wearing thin.

It started midway through the second period. Lance had been cornered near the boards by an opposing defenseman, a hulking guy with a reputation for trash talk. The player shoved him harder than necessary, pinning Lance against the glass.

“Nice skating, sissy,” the guy sneered. “Maybe try sticking to figure skating next time.”

Lance ignored him, focusing on the puck, but the comment got under his skin. Moments later, another shove sent him sprawling onto the ice. The refs called nothing — as they tended to when it camr to Lance — and the crowd groaned.

As the game wore on, the hits kept coming. By the third period, Lance had had enough. He'd managed to be on his best behaviour since transfering to the Oilers before this season but he couldn't act like what the other team was doing wasn't completely fucked. He wasn’t the type to back down, especially when the other team started targeting his teammates. When one of the rookies on his line got checked into the boards so hard he crumpled to the ice, Lance’s blood boiled. It's not so much the idea of himself getting hurt that gets him going but seeing someone smaller and less experienced be targeted for those exact reasons was too much. He skated over, his jaw clenched, and got right in the defenseman’s face.

“What the hell’s your problem?” Lance snapped, shoving him back.

“You want a problem?” the guy shot back, dropping his gloves.

Lance didn’t hesitate. His gloves hit the ice as the two lunged at each other, fists flying. The crowd erupted in a deafening roar, cheering and jeering as the two men grappled. Jerseys were yanked, and helmets clattered to the ice. Lance landed a solid punch to the guy’s jaw but took a brutal hit to his temple in return, the impact sending him stumbling backward.

The refs finally intervened, pulling the two apart. Lance was still seething as he skated toward the penalty box, blood trickling from a fresh cut above his brow and staining his white jersey. His legs wobbled slightly as he sat down, adrenaline giving way to a dull, throbbing pain in his knee.

By the time the game ended, Lance was limping off the ice, the cut above his eye hastily patched with a butterfly bandage. He knew he’d face questions from his coach and teasing from his teammates, but worse than that, he dreaded the look he’d get from Luca when he got home.

By the time Lance made it home, still smelling faintly of sweat and disinfectant, his husband was waiting for him in the living room. Luca, impeccably dressed despite the late hour, had their three-year-old daughter Delilah nestled against his side. She was asleep, clutching a small plush of the Oiler's mascot, Hunter.

“You’re limping,” Luca said, his voice sharp but low enough not to wake Delilah. His eyes zeroed in on the butterfly bandage barely holding the cut on Lance’s brow together. “What happened, Lance?”

“It’s nothing, mon amour” Lance muttered, kicking off his shoes. “Just part of the game.”

Luca’s eyes narrowed, the calm veneer cracking. “Part of the game?” He carefully shifted Delilah onto the couch and stood, arms crossed. “You got into another fight, didn’t you?”

Lance shrugged, trying to downplay it. “It happens. You know how it is. You've seen the product of a handful of fights in my career. You were on my side four years ago when Verstappen called me a slur mid game and I socked him in the jaw.”

“No, actually, I don’t know how it is,” Luca snapped, his Italian accent thickening in his frustration. “You’re supposed to be a role model. Not just for your fans, but for her.” He gestured toward Delilah, who stirred slightly before settling back into sleep. "I don't care what you got away with before we adopted Delilah, before you had to grow the fuck up, but it doesn't matter now."

Lance sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Luca, sweetie, it’s hockey. Fights happen. You can’t just—”

“You’re not some reckless rookie anymore, Lance!” Luca interrupted, his voice rising. “You’re a father and a three time champion with almost eight years of experience. Do you want Delilah to grow up thinking it’s okay to throw punches every time she’s upset?”

“That’s not fair,” Lance said, his voice softening. “I don’t want her to think that.”

“Then act like it,” Luca shot back. “She adores you, Lance, you know she does. She mimics everything you do. You have to think about what kind of example you’re setting.”

Guilt twisted in Lance’s chest as he glanced at their daughter. Delilah’s tiny face was peaceful in sleep, her light curls framing her pale cheeks whistfully, Luca was right.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment of silence. “I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand.”

Luca’s expression softened, though his lips were still pressed into a thin line. “Just... promise me you’ll be more careful. For her. For us.”

“I promise,” Lance said, pulling Luca into a hug. “No more fights. I’ll be the best role model I can be. The best behaved hockey player the sport's ever seen.”

“You better,” Luca muttered against his shoulder, though his arms wrapped tightly around Lance. “Because next time, I’m the one who’ll fight you.”

Lance chuckled, pressing a kiss to Luca’s temple. “Noted.”

From the couch, Delilah stirred again, her sleepy voice piping up. “Daddy, did you win your game?”

Lance and Luca both froze before bursting into quiet laughter. “You know I always win, now go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Lance said, brushing a kiss against her forehead.

As Delilah snuggled deeper into her blanket, Lance met Luca’s eyes. He still had work to do to prove himself, but he knew he was willing to do anything to please his husband.

[kingkunigami]

Imagine coming home from a girl's brunch to see Kunigami on the couch with his arm over the top. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, tapping the seat next to him as his free hand brings a beer bottle to his lips.

He takes a swig before he smiles, "Welcome home baby, just in time to see your team. Half time just ended."

He taps a little more aggressively now as the game of football comes back on, Chelsea at Stratford Bridge, wearing their home jerseys.

"One nill, your team needs to move up the table." He nods towards the TV, keeping his eyes glued to the pitch as Chelsea attacks first, rushing down the field while you roll your eyes at how he watches matches even on his few days off.

"Don't you ever get tired of it.". You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind the couch and pressing a lipgloss sticky kiss to his stubbled cheek.

"Of you?" A teasing smirk on his lips that has you scoffing trying to pull away but he reaches back to cradle your skull, pulls you into a heated kiss, "I never get tired of scoring."

Another roll of your pretty eyes as you pull away, taking off your shoes by the door, he taps the cushion beside him again even though he knows you're headed to the fridge for a beer and another for him.

When you return the large TV has a close up on a soccer play who's just scored, doing a celebration before the rest of them team tries to jump on his shoulders.

"He's kinda fit innt he?" A comment in passing as you round the couch, one Kunigami doesn't let slide, grabbing onto your hip and pulling you down into his lap. Grinding your ass into his soft cock that was quickly growing hard. The soft gaze he normally has for you turning into something more intense, something sharp and like this you can see why they call him a wild card. He leans close, holding you tightly to him as his hot breath fans over your skin, smell of beer on his lip as he growls out what's supposed to be a tease.

"More fit than me?"

I’m screaming over this ahhhh😩 just the thought of him sitting on the couch hoping that I’ll be home in time so we can watch the second half together🥺 because he doesn’t get many days off either, and especially not when there’s a big game on.

And then you end up not even watching the second half anyway because he’s tugged his shorts down and pulled your panties to the side to slide into you. And Kunigami’s attention is on you, and how good you feel— but he sees a goal go in out of the corner of his eyes and he’s fucking you with more vigour.

Or if the opposing team score he’s taking all his frustrations out on you👀

[bokuroskitten]

Okay so my request. 🥺

Poly relationship between Ushijima x reader x Bokuto. Reader feels super neglected due to both of them having super busy volleyball schedules. Of course she knew this when she started dating them. But she still gets lonely and needy. Both himbos don’t realize it due to them being well himbos. It’s not until they notice her clingy to a player from one of the teams who gives her attention. They confront her and she breaks down and spills her heart out to them. They give her the long awaited attention she needs. Can it possibly be smut please? 🥺🥺🥺

I hope this is everything you’re looking for love. Thank you for requesting and sorry it took a couple days. Please, enjoy. ❦

𝔇𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢

〈You know Bokuto and Ushijima are busy men, but the longer you’re away from them, the larger the ache becomes

〷 This piece contains haikyuu time skip spoilers 〷

❈ genre: Angst/Comfort, NSFW 18+ (Minors DNI)

❈ warnings: anxiety/insecurities, Poly Relations (Reader x Bokuto Koutarou x Ushijima Wakatoshi), size kink, dom/sub dynamics, make-up sex.

It wasn’t like they were ignoring you on purpose. Bokuto and Ushijima would never do such a thing. Usually, they were so good at giving you all the attention you needed, checking up on you and asking about your day even after long practices or games.

But things had gotten really busy for your two boyfriends as volleyball season was back in full swing. Playing for the Japanese national team left little time for leisure, leaving you to an empty house that usually was always filled with Bokuto’s laughter or the sound of Ushijima’s rock music. Your days were filled with checking empty group chats, rushing home to make dinner only to find you were the only one eating it, and barely managing to stay awake when the front door finally opened.

It was starting to be too much for you. And you needed them oh so badly. Some night you tried wearing Bokuto’s shirt with your fingers buried deep between your thighs only to find they weren’t long enough to reach your good spots. Or you’d call out Ushijima’s name louder and louder hoping it would bring you closer to a high but it always fell flat.

You started to give up from frustration, actually felt yourself avoiding mirrors or even their touch. You didn’t deserve it, didn’t want to see. Maybe they were doing this on purpose, maybe this was their way of telling you that you weren’t enough for them anymore. Maybe there was someone else, prettier and younger and more bubbly.

There was that one pretty girl who was always conveniently at their practices...

The thoughts began to weigh on you. Made you feel like in your little house of three you didn’t really belong. But you weren’t sure how to bring it up to the boys, not when they were working so hard, and certainly not when they were exhausted every time they came home. So you just kept it all in your chest, letting it build and grow and spread.

All you wanted to do on your day off was stay in bed, allow the covers to swallow you whole so you didn’t have to think about anything. But Bokuto insisted you get up, that grin on his face that usually had you grinning right back.

“Cmon Birdy! Come watch us today! The rest of the boys will be happy to see you too!”

Normally you would have been thrilled at the opportunity, spending the whole day watching your men do what they loved so much. But with everything you’ve been feeling it was hard. Still, you tried your best to match that grin of his, rolling out of bed and getting ready so you could go to their joint practice.

You sat where you usually did, on the first bleacher, front and centre. You were usually so engaged, cheering them on when they hit a particularly good spike or bringing them water when they needed, but today you found yourself distracted. Eyes wandering to the ceiling or fiddling with the hem of the skirt you wore.

You hadn’t even noticed the stranger that sat beside you, just how close he’d gotten. You were taken more back when he spoke so close to your ear, making you jump a little in your seat.

His laughter was so warm. Smooth and thick like honey. You didn’t recognize him, but boy was he handsome. Dark features, light eyes, a smile with a perfect set of teeth. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you pretty.”

Pretty— did he really think you were pretty? Not wanting to seem more like a dunce you forced words from your lips, a little nervous giggle following suit. “I-I was totally zoned out, you didn’t scare me too bad, promise.”

He was staring, and normally this would have made you uncomfortable. Normally you would have told a handsome stranger right away that you were happily taken. But the longer he stared the tighter you pressed your thighs together, the deeper your flush became. You basked in it, the attention you were so craving from your two boyfriends...

“You must be new, I’d recognize a beautiful face like yours.” Another clench of your thighs. You were biting your lip and then his hand was on your thigh. This is where you’d usually slap someone, or call your much larger partners to handle it. But you couldn’t take your eyes off his. And right now you didn’t want to, not when his thumb felt so smooth on your skin.

“What’s your name? And phone number, if your willing of course.”

He was wearing a jersey, one didn’t recognize. Maybe from an opposing team? You just giggled again, tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Words were on the tip of your tongue when a heavy hand fell on your shoulder. The male's hand all but flew off your thigh, his eyes a bit narrowed as the all too familiar voice sounded behind you.

“Baby, come with me.” Ushijima’s voice didn’t waver, in fact, it was deeper than usual, laced with an emotion you couldn’t quite point out. Looking towards the court you saw Bokuto too, thick brows furrowed and arms crossed. Your lips twisted in a thin line as you stayed still a moment, only for Ushijima to easily haul you to your feet.

“W-Wakatoshi—“

“I said. Come.” There was a demand, one that had the frustration bubbling on your features. You tore yourself away from his grip but still stormed out of the bleachers. Bokuto was quick to follow, easily picking up with your pace and walking to your side.

“Baby... what was that...���

“Right in front of us too? Just disrespectful.” Ushijima spoke, now on your other side.

You could feel them, the hot and angry tears that began to swim in your gaze as you stormed towards an empty room. The two continued to talk, trying to understand. You never flirted so openly with others, especially didn’t let them touch you. They wanted answers, needed to know why.

But as soon as the door closed behind you, you snapped.

“It was nice getting attention for once you know!”

That shut them up quickly. Bokuto looked downright shocked, lips held open in a silent gasp while Ushijima still held that blank expression of his. He was going to be the first one to speak but you cut him off, finally letting the tears slip-free.

“I know you two are busy! I know that I signed up for it. But it’s been too much— I’ve been so so lonely... and no one ever seems to notice! Neither of you! I just— I miss my boys, I miss you two so much and it’s not fair... it’s not fair to feel this lonely when I have you both...”

Your voice faded with a small crack, the tears now pooling from your eyes. You tried your best to wipe them away, body beginning to tremble as all the feelings hit you at once. You felt bad yelling at them, seeing their looks of shock. But it was now or never, you had to get it out.

Arms were around you, and you had to blink out a couple tears to realize it was Ushijima who had pulled you in so close. One of his large palms cupped the back of your head, pressed you into his chest with a small little hum.

“Love... sorry you’ve been feeling this way—“

“Why didn’t you just tell us Birdy! We love you so much you know!” Bokuto was quick to follow suit, joining in on the hug which only seemed to make you more emotional. Finally being encased in their warmth, feeling their arms over yours. It was everything you had been wanting.

“I-I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.. and then I just got in my head... I thought maybe you two d-didn’t want—“

“Shush...” Ushijima murmured, not even allowing you to finish that sentence. He pulled away just enough so you could look both of them in the eyes. Bokuto was giving you a small little smile, hoping it would make those tears of yours go away, while Ushijima just sighed, smoothed his palm over your cheek to wipe away tears with his thumb.

“Baby, we love you so much, please don’t ever doubt that okay?” He made sure you nodded before continuing. “We’re sorry, sorry for making you feel unwanted.”

“So so sorry Birdy! I just love ya— well of course we both do but, I just love ya so so much!” Bokuto said with enthusiasm, his smile growing when you let out a little giggle. You wiped away the remainder of your tears, chest a bit shaky as you looked between your two boys. You could see, how genuinely sorry they were. You knew deep down that they would never stop loving you, but hearing it, seeing it on their faces, made the weight that had been sitting in your chest lift.

“I love you both... love you, Bo, love you Ushi...”

“Tonight will be all about you pretty bird, all night just for you,” Bokuto said, pulling you back into a hug that you happily got swallowed into. Ushi nodded in agreement, his palm smoothing over the back of your head as you swayed in Bokuto’s embrace.

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

The evening really had been all about you. From the way Bokuto carried you bridal style into your shared apartment, to the way Ushijima had slowly stripped you in front of the full-length mirror, murmuring in your ear all his favourite parts of your lovely body. Now you were situated in Ushijima’s lap, naked body covered in a light layer of sweat as your chest rose and fell at a quick pace.

“P-Please Sir, want more, need more.” Your voice was nothing more than a whine that was easily shushed by Ushijima. His thick thighs tensed a bit around your own, pulling your legs further apart in the process. “Be patient baby girl, want you to feel every inch of Daddy’s cock.”

Bokuto was struggling to go slow as well, the urge to just thrust wildly into your perfect cunt filling his chest. The look Ushijima shot him told him to keep up this slow pace, for you. So he went in just another inch, making the two of you groan in unison.

“That’s it...” Ushijima’s voice was huskier than usual, large hand palming at your chest as he nodded His eyes were glued to your splitting pussy. “Another inch Bo, just one.”

And it went on just like that until Bokuto’s hips kissed the backs of your thighs, his head rolled back in a pleased moan as you squirmed in Ushijima’s grip. “Beautiful...” Ushi mumbled, his palm slithering down your body to rest on the bulge left in your stomach by Bokuto’s cock. You whimpered at the touch, cheeks feeling hot as his hand slid down to your pussy, traced the way your lips stretched around Bokuto’s throbbing length.

“You’re so stretched around Daddy’s cock baby, you see that? See how Bo can just split you open?” He took hold of your jaw with his free hand, making sure you were looked down at your full pussy. “S-see it Sir, and it feels so good.”

“Fuck yeah it does, this pretty pussy was made for me.” Bokuto rumbles out, his muscles tensing as he suddenly jutted his hips, his tip slapping against your cervix and making you yelp. Ushijima tsked at that, brows furrowing a bit as he snatched one of Bokuto’s hands, made him press it into the place where you and him met. “You need to be patient to Bo, just appreciate how little our baby is, how her perfect cunny stretches just for us. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Bokuto was basically drooling, his fingers pressing along the bulge on your tummy, the one he made. He licked his lips, before a grin curled on his handsome face. “It’s so so wonderful, the best fucking cunt ever. Going to fill you up over and over again tonight pretty girl, make sure you're stuffed absolutely full of Toshi and I so you never doubt again just how much we love you.”

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ scenario: connor losing his mind when you're hurt and charging into the fight recklessly.

♡ pairing: connor kent ( superboy ) x fem! reader

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / i'm sorry but i'm living for these angst to fluff moments rn especially bc i rewatched reign of the superman and forgot how much i loved connor in it.

Connor watched as you were completely slumped on the side of the building, no longer clear headed and struggling to stay awake. what was supposed to be a clean and easy mission turned out to be more than what the league expected.

he had requested for back up and while they were already trying to fight off the thugs that were attacking Connor, he could still see that you were fighting to stay alive and he had no idea if you were even going to come out of this fight alive.

"what the fuck?" Connor whispered, seeing you now slumped on the ground. he turned to the person who attacked you, eyes fully red with no intention of holding back. Clark could sense his song was a second away from committing murder as he saw Connor charge into the heart of the battle with no game plan, just murder.

"SUPERBOY NO!"

+

you waved shyly to the group of league members as you hid behind Wonder Woman. you were new to the scene of sidekicks and had no idea how to even introduce yourself without sounding like a complete idiot.

"woah new girl!" you heard a male voice say as you stood in your place petrified. you had no idea who it was as Diana had yet to individually introduce you to everyone, "i call dibs!" you heard the same voice say.

Diana turned to you before grabbing the boy who was charging towards you by the head and tossed him back to Superman, "she's not up for 'dibs' Superboy. she's my newest apprentice and you will treat her as such," she threatened.

you giggled behind her as a few of the sidekicks introduced themselves. you knew them as the Young Justice team and although you weren't formally with the team, you figured Diana was training you to become apart of them in the future.

"( your hero name ), this is Superboy," Wonder Woman said, "he associated to the Super family," she explained as he pushed up his dark circled glasses and flicked his hair back, "pleasure is all mine," he muttered, shaking your hand.

you returned a tiny smile before she continued to introduce you to Robin and Impulse. you noticed how Superboy kept his eyes on you. you had no idea if it was because he liked you or he disliked you but every time you turned to look at him, he was already staring at you.

after introductions and the cliche 'your real identity is sacred' conversation ended, Diana felt it was for your own good to get used to your new 'teammates'. she wanted you to make sure you weren't uncomfortable around any of the YJ team even if that included Superboy.

"so, what do you like to do for fun?" Wonder Girl asked, sitting down next to you and handing you a bowl of popcorn. you shrugged, "uh, not much. I like to watch tv and read for the most part. no one really invites me to do things with them," you admitted, scratching the back of your head.

she laughed, putting her arm around you, "well that ends today! we should all do something fun! how about we go to the county fair? doesn't that sound fun?" she asked. you shrugged, not really opposed to the idea, "I call all the rides with ( your hero name )!" Jinny replied.

you smiled, following her and Wonder Girl out the door as Robin, Impulse, and Superboy followed behind you. Robin looked at him, "you like her don't you?" he asked, already calculating the minute Connor had fallen in love with you.

"well she's apart of the team, i'd like to hope we'd all like her," he replied as Robin shook his head, "no, you get what i mean by that," Robin pressed as he could see Connor's face fall with realization. he didn't reply but he could tell what he was tell Connor's real answer through his face.

as they arrived to the fair, they all booked it to the first food stand they saw. Robin offering to pay for everyone being Bruce Wayne's son had its benefits. you ordered a simple coffee as you didn't want Robin to spend too much on everyone.

"what ride should we all get on first?" Jinny asked excitedly. you pointed to the tallest ride, it was one of those high rides that sat two people at the top and had them spinning around, "oh I can't do that. it's way too scary," both Keli and Jinny said.

Superboy smiled at you, "I'm down if you are," he said as he grabbed two tickets from the worker, "cool," you replied as the two of you walked to the line, sweat already building up from nervousness.

once they sat the two of you and made sure you were both buckled in, you stared at Superboy nervously as the ride started up and pulled you up before immediately starting to spin. you stared at Superboy, screaming for you life. you unintentionally grabbed his arms, not realizing you were holding onto him as you continued to yell.

Superboy chuckled, finding your reaction cute.

+

after the months passed and you finally grew closer to everyone on the team, you were particularly close with Jinny and Superboy. you and Jinny shared a lot of common interests as she showed you how to shoot a gun and Superboy...well, everyone could tell the two of you were just seconds away from actually dating.

you walked into the YJ lair, sipping on hot chocolates with Jinny as the weather was turning cold. she was cracking some cringe dad jokes, trying to make you laugh as you tried to contain from choking on the hot chocolate.

"hey, where we yall at?" Keli asked. you turned to Jinny before giggling, "just doing a few errands we had to run before I had patrol with Superboy," you said, not really clarifying on what you both were actually doing.

although everyone could see how much you liked Connor, Connor himself thought you had a thing with Jinny. he knew she was particularly close with you and felt as though he was practically competing with her for your attention.

"do you have my phone?" you asked Jinny as she dug into her pocket and handed it to you. you grabbed your phone before quickly snatching her hat and putting it on, "yee-haw," you giggled into the mirror as Jinny started chasing you down the halls.

as you turned a corner, you bumped into Superboy and fell flat on your ass, "oh, I'm sorry Superboy, I didn't see you there," you groaned as Jinny grabbed her had and put it back on her, "you've yee'd your last haw," she said, making you laugh harshly.

Superboy's eye couldn't help but twitch as he gave you his hand, "ready for patrol?" he asked sternly. you looked to Jinny who crept away from the angry Kryptonian and left you to deal with him, "yeah, let me just freshen up again and I'll meet you outside," you murmured, going into the bathroom.

you quickly used the bathroom before checking if you had everything. you opened the door and walked into the lair's common area. Connor had yet to drop the angry attitude and everyone was eerily silent as you walked in. he grabbed you by the arm and practically rushed you out the door.

"weird," Jinny told Robin as he shrugged, "what isn't weird about him," he replied making everyone laugh.

patrol started extremely awkward. you hadn't felt this weird since you first started on the team and you had no idea what was wrong with Superboy since he wasn't telling you.

the two of you walked on top of roof, scanning the empty roads before you turned to look at him, "what's up? you seem bothered," you asked him as you both sat on the ledge, "seriously? you seem annoyed at me or something so at the very least you can try and tell me what's wrong," you pressured again.

he looked at you with eyes of determination before grabbing you by the collar of the shirt and pulling you into a very heated kiss. you were taken back by surprise but let him continue to kiss you. a part of yelled at Connor pulled you close but another part of him was still screaming at him that you still could've liked Jinny.

"I had to do that before Jinny officially took you away from me," your eyes fluttered in confusion, "uh, what do you mean by 'take you away from me'?" you asked, not knowing what he was talking about.

Connor sighed in frustration, "I see the way you're around Jinny and figured that she likes you and vice versa," he finally admitted as he stood up, not wanting to hear your response. you quickly stood up and grabbed him by the wrist, "hey wait," you said.

he stared at you, "I'm really not in the mood to get rejected ( your hero name )," he ran his fingers through his hair annoyed. you shook your head, "I don't like Jinny nor does she like me. we're just really close friends Superboy," you whispered, bringing him into another kiss.

this time, he was the one taken back but he melted into the kiss, all his negative emotions washing away as you continued to kiss him. he wrapped his arms around your waist as you him in closer by the neck. Connor was definitely not expecting this tonight.

"so does this mean that we're like....together together?" you asked playfully shy. Connor let out a laugh before lacing your hands together, "clearly. I can't let Jinny steal you away from me," he jokingly replied.

+

Connor ran to the three different henchmen as his strength was to the point of killing, not caring if he died in the process. he was recklessly dodging bullets, knowing they wouldn't do anything to him. he grabbed the first man and threw him against a wall as it collapsed around him. Connor only hoping that it did enough damage to unalive him.

the second one he managed to choke him out enough to the point where he passed out but that wasn't enough for him. you were on the brink of death and if he had to see you die, he was going to make sure the men who possibly killed you got what they deserved.

"SUPERBOY!" he heard his father scream again. Connor paid no attention to him as he grabbed the third henchman and slammed him to the ground, throwing punches left and right, "listen to me," Clark screamed at him.

he could see the tears coming down Connor's face as anger, fear, and sadness clouded his mind, "this is not you! pull out of it!" he yelled, shaking Connor's shoulder, "you're about to kill this man. I get that you're angry but you don't get anything out of hurting him. all you get it consequences and your girlfriend needs you right now more than ever!" he continued.

Connor finally shook himself out of his trance as he heard his dad telling him to go to you. Connor nodded and ran to you, seeing you unconscious and hardly breathing, "I'm taking her to the hospital," he yelled to Batman before hauling your body into his arms and flying towards the nearest hospital.

once he finally reached the emergency doors, he shoved everyone out of his way and to the front desk, "she needs help...NOW!" he yelled to the poor receptionist. the girl jumped up from fear but nodded and screamed for a bed and a few doctors.

the doctor asked Connor to place you on the bed before the doctor told him that he could follow them inside. a part of Connor wanted to straight up move the doctor to follow you into the OR but he knew that he'd get into more trouble with his dad and the MPD if he hurt anyone else.

for what felt like hours, he was waiting inside of the room they had told him you'd be in once you got out of surgery. he had already gotten the lecture from his dad about the consequences he would've gotten if he actually managed to kill the three men earlier.

"she's going to make it," the doctor told Connor as he walked into the room while they adjusted you to the bed. Connor nodded, "she'll be out of duty for months. she sustained a lot of injuries to her body that'll take weeks to recover and she got a nasty concussion so you'll need to play doctor for the next few weeks to make sure she's okay," he explained.

Connor nodded as the doctor told him that you should be waking up within the next few hours. Connor adjusted himself on the seat and got comfortable as he had no intentions of leaving your side until you were awake and ready to leave the hospital.

you woke up a few hours later, your body killing you from all over as you saw balloons all around the room. you knew you had landed in the hospital but you had no idea how long you were asleep or in a coma even. you turned to see Connor passed out next to you, his body slumped awkwardly.

"Kon, Kon wake up!" you whispered, shaking him softly. Connor jumped up in a fright as he immediately realized you were awake, "how do you feel? are you okay? do you need anything?" he immediately asked as you couldn't help but laugh at his frantic attitude.

"Connor, I'm okay, I promise," you whispered as you brought him in for a kiss, "my body just hurts and i'm still kinda tired," you murmured as Connor nodded. you managed to wiggle yourself enough to make space for him, "babe, it looks like you haven't slept in days."

"I had to make sure you were okay so i haven't exactly slept in a while," he admitted sheepishly. you shook your head, "you're too much sometimes," you giggled as you put your head on his shoulder, "but you love me regardless," he replied.

this was the first time the L word had came up in the relationship, "yeah, I guess I do but now you need to sleep," you said as you closed your eyes and felt Connor pull you closer to him, "I love you too by the way," you whispered, giving him another kiss on his partially exposed chest.

[clearsuitcasecookienerd]

See You in the Stars (part 2)

thank y’all so much for the positive response to part 1! I loved writing it so much and I’m excited to see what y’all think of part 2. there will be a part 3, it’s currently in the works. as always a huge thank you to @lumosinlove for creating this wonderful universe and blessing us with these great characters. enjoy!!

Kasey never forgot that night. Not two days later on a plane flying to Gryffindor at night. Staring out the window at the dark sky and feeling small. Not when he went apartment shopping and his only criteria was far enough out of the city where the sky wasn’t polluted with light but close enough to the rink. Not the first night in his new apartment when he set up his bed just right so he could see out of his window to see the stars. Not the first night after he had the sky lights installed into the ceiling of his bedroom above his bed so he could see the stars before he fell asleep. Not the nights when Kasey would grab his softest blanket and go lay on his balcony and dial up the number he had memorized years ago. Not the night when Kasey realized he might be falling in love with his best friend. And especially not when Alex left Gryffindor for the first time officially as Kasey’s boyfriend. And not tonight.

Tonight, when Kasey had come home from a game with Natalie and he missed his boyfriend. It had been a long game. He had done well in the net during the first period, not letting anything in. But as his sore thigh began to act up later in the game, he had been pulled. He knew he needed to take it easy to encourage healing but it always left him frustrated. Leo had done well in the goal but after a long no score game, the opposing team had been able to score in the last minutes and the Lions had lost 0-1. They had called Alex on the way home from the game before he left for dinner with his team. With a sore thigh and a heavy heart, Kasey was ready for the day to be over.

Standing in the shower, letting the water fall across his face and down his body, all Kasey wanted was for everything to feel a bit more meaningless. He didn’t want his sore thigh to bother him as much as it did, or for the team's morale to be brought down by a loss at home. He didn’t want to feel like it was somehow his fault and if maybe his thigh hadn’t acted up he could’ve had a shutout. And he certainly didn’t want his heart to ache for his boyfriend as much as it did. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to miss Alex, it was that he didn’t want to have to miss Alex. Kasey knew it was selfish to wish his boyfriend could move to Gryffindor to be with him and Natalie but maybe it would make the hurt in his heart a little less. But he knew he couldn’t ask that. He couldn’t ask Alex to pack up the life he had created in Tampa and move to them. Maybe one day, but he couldn’t ask that now.

After his shower, wanting nothing more than to feel like his problems were more insignificant, Kasey grabbed a blanket off their bed and a hoodie that Alex had left at the house last time he visited. Making his way to the balcony off of their apartment, Kasey began to clear his mind. Under the sky nothing mattered. The sky was wide and expansive and while he knew he could get lost in it, he couldn’t help but remember Alex and see him in the stars. Sliding open the door, he threw on the hoodie and spread out the blanket. As Kasey lay down on the blanket, he nestled his nose into the neck of the sweatshirt. Closing his eyes and breathing in deep, he could still smell traces of Alex’s laundry detergent and deodorant still clinging to the fabric where they had begun to mix with Nat’s perfume. As he opened his eyes, Kasey stared up at the sky for the first time since coming home.

Slowly a frown began to cross his face. Clouds. All Kasey could see were dark, grey clouds across the sky. His sky, Alex’s sky. A sky they wouldn’t get to share tonight. Normally Kasey didn’t mind clouds, he could stare at their ever changing shapes almost as long as he could stare at the stars. But tonight, tonight it felt like they were taunting him. As if they knew how much he missed Alex and how much he ached for a night staring at the stars and imagining what it would be like to have his boyfriend beside him.

But no, tonight the sky was covered in clouds. Big, dark clouds that were sure to bring rain. It wasn’t that Kasey didn’t like clouds. The sky was great and clouds were quite the phenomenon themselves. But tonight, tonight Kasey needed the stars. Well, he wanted Alex but the stars would’ve made his heart hurt just a little less.

Sitting up, Kasey pulled the hood of their sweatshirt over his head. As he stood up and collected his blanket, Kasey took a deep breath and looked up to where he guessed the moon was.

“Love you Posie,” he murmured, searching the sky. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

When the sky didn’t respond, not that Kasey thought it would, but maybe he was hoping, he headed back inside and curled up in bed. Almost as if it was taunting him, Kasey could sense the sky from the windows seeping into the room. Getting back up, he crossed the room and flipped the switch that closed the blinds on the skylights above the bed. If the sky wanted to taunt him, he just wouldn’t look at it. He could still hear Natalie’s shower and her soft singing but Kasey climbed into bed and shut his eyes, somehow even more ready for tomorrow to come than he was even just a half hour before.

Without the aid of the stars that normally helped Kasey settle his mind before bed, he was faced with his thoughts. His loud, racing thoughts that wouldn’t let him forget about every moment and every feeling of the day. And they wouldn’t let him forget how much he missed Alex tonight. Rolling over, Kasey grabbed his phone from its place where he had plugged it in to charge before his shower. Still with his eyes shut, Kasey opened the bedside table searching for the closest pair of earbuds. Once his fingers found the knot of wires he knew belonged to his earbuds, he cracked open an eye and untangled them and jammed them into his phone. As his phone unlocked, Kasey stared at his screen. The picture looking back at him was one of his favorites. Frozen on his phone was Natalie, covered head to toe in flour standing in the kitchen mid laugh staring at Alex with what the boys jokingly call her heart eyes. And then there was Alex, also covered in flour that made his hair look like fiery ice with one hand on a mixer and the other reaching out to the camera as if to ask the person behind it to come help him. Kasey longed to go back to that memory. He had taken the picture and then joined his partners in the kitchen to help follow the recipe Leo had given them for cookies. Being kissed with floury lips, Kasey hadn’t even noticed that he himself was slowly being covered in flour from Natalie and Alex’s hands.

Heart aching a little more, Kasey opened his music app and selected his favorite playlist. Alex had created “For My Bear” and shared it with Kasey a month after they had officially started dating. The playlist included songs Alex liked and ones he knew Kasey liked, some of Natalie’s favorites and some from their Ranger days. Every song had a story behind it, or so Alex had said. Kasey pressed play, turned up the volume and put the buds in his ears. Rolling over, Kasey slid his phone under his pillow, cuddled himself deeper in the blankets and closed his eyes.

Even with his eyes closed, Kasey’s mind continued to race. As he began to will it to settle, his heart ached for the stars and their vast enormity that made everything less significant. Everything except for his love for Natalie and Alex, the sky could never take that from him. But tonight the sky caused his heart to feel heavy

When Natalie emerged from the shower and noticed Kasey lying on the bed in their dark room, she was confused. Normally after a rough game Kasey would go lie out on the balcony and stare at the stars. She would often bring him tea or hot chocolate and grab her book. She knew her boys had a connection with the stars and she was more than happy to just sit with Kasey while he stared into the sky. Some nights they would facetime Alex and would lie him on the blanket so he could look at the stars as well.

Tonight though, Kasey was already in bed and if the small frown etched on his face in his sleep was anything to go by, the stars hadn’t made him feel any better. Looking up, a frown crossed Natalie’s face as well. The blinds were closed on Kasey’s skylights. After dating as long as they had, Kasey had made sure to let Natalie know when she moved in that whatever was his was now hers. But Natalie sensed something special about these windows. Positioned over the bed, the blinds were always open and when in bed, Natalie often found Kasey staring at them with a smile on his face. And the number of times she’d walked into the bedroom to find Kasey and Alex cuddled together staring at the stars, she knew they were special. Seeing them shut though, this was new. Crawling into bed, she reached out and ran a hand down Kasey's back. She smiled slightly as he rolled over and tucked into her side, muttering something about how much he loved her. Noticing the earbuds coming from his ears, Natalie carefully pulled them out, paused the music and put his phone back on the table. As she settled in, she ran a hand through Kasey’s hair until she noticed his frown ease and disappear. As she closed her eyes and let sleep consume her, Kasey wasn’t the only one going to bed missing their boyfriend.

[stargirlrchive]

Fantasies - Spencer Reid

masterlist ; request are open (send me stuff <3)

author’s note: okay i have never written smut, ever. and i want to but im shy 👉🏼👈🏼 and i was trying to write some stuff here but i couldn’t get myself to go all the way. so sorry about that, I WILL IMPROVE AND I WILL WRITE A SMUTTY PIECE EVENTUALLY. it’s my goal for the end of the year. italics and bold are a dream & i hate the title again, nothing new

disclaimer: NSFW, smut no actual s*x and very vague (honestly don’t know if it would even be considered but yeah!) GIF NOT MINE

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 3,365

His tongue was hot on your body as it trailed down your chest, reaching near your belly button. He pursed his lip and bit down, letting dark marks litter from your neck all the way down to your lower stomach. You could see a mop of curls but couldn’t make out who it was. But you didn’t really care, his tongue was far too skilled and distracting. He kissed down to your thighs and before he got to where you wanted him most, he looked up and you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach, “Spencer?”

You woke up scared, confused and flustered. Your body had set off into a cold sweat and you were so utterly frustrated. Frustrated for two reasons, the first being that your dream ended right before it got good, and second because you had been trying to suppress those feelings but it seemed that your subconscious mind was catching up with you. Spencer was probably the person you were closest to, and you had managed to block out any feelings you had for him so it wouldn’t interfere with your friendship. Or so you thought.

You felt a flutter in the pit of your stomach and looked at the clock, 6:54 am. You were normally up by 7:30 to get your day started and head over to the office so you figured you’d just stay up.

Your daily morning routine was done and you were ready to go, still having a half hour before you needed to leave so you decided you would just grab a coffee. Your thoughts circling back to your dream every time your eyes fluttered shut and you couldn’t get the image of the genius out of your mind. It felt so real and so hot. You had no idea how you were going to get through the day.

Even as you sat at your desk it was so obvious something was wrong. Every time the door to the office opened you flinched and Derek and Emily had taken notice. “What’s wrong?”

Emily was looking at you with so much worry and you felt bad because you had no idea what to tell her. “I-have you ever had a dream- like a sex dream?”

“Always.”

Derek’s voice made you jump and everyone around you started laughing because of course he would say that. “O-ok what about if it was someone you had never had a dream like that about and-and you can’t stop thinking about it and it’s going to be so incredibly awkward when you see him, which you’re going to see him in like 10 minutes at most and it was really hot but it was so wrong.”

You had got everything out in one breath and your cheeks were a permanent shade of red as they both laughed at you, “It was Hotch wasn’t it?”

“What the hell!”

They laughed at your utterly mortified face, “No it was not, it was Spencer!”

“It was Spencer, what?”

You had stilled at the sound of his voice, you had been so involved in recounting your nightmare to your friends that you had failed to notice him walk in, they were still laughing at you. “Y-you forgot to turn the lights off from the office last night, since you were the last to leave.”

He did not look at all convinced but to your relief, he let it go. You just needed to keep a respectful distance from your cute genius friend and everything would be fine.

~

It was not fine, nothing about the day was fine. Hotch had paired you and Spencer together to work on some reports from the last case the team had taken on. He was so close you could smell his cologne and his floppy head of hair taking you back to your dream. You shifted and tried to get as far away as possible from him, hoping he had not noticed. But he had.

He noticed everything and he was hurt, to say the least. He didn’t understand what had caused the change between the two of you. You had always been very close.

The two of you had started working around the same time but you were strictly working under Penelope. Until you realized you preferred being hands on with the BAU, you hated having to stay behind. And your age, the two of you were the youngest of the group everyone always teased that the two of you would end up together, or at least hooking up. None of that had happened, much to Spencer’s disfortune.

“Did I do something?”

“What?”

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Your face was scrunched you in confusion and also discomfort, you didn’t want things to be weird but you felt bad. Bad because now when you looked at him all you could picture was his tongue tracing your body. And it felt so right, like ink marking parchment but you knew it was wrong. He had no idea about your fantasies and you hated having to keep a secret. Especially from Spencer.

“Spencer, you did nothing wrong. I-I just don’t feel good. And being in here is making me really hot and maybe I just need to work at my own desk because I feel suffocated in here.”

He knew you were lying, his eyes had hardened and he was so angry. “I need to clear my head, I can’t concentrate.”

He heard you vaguely mumble before you stepped out of the office, letting him drown in his thoughts of what was going on with you. You quickly walked out of the office the two of you had been in and we’re going to make your way to the restroom when Hotch stepped out of his office.

“Can I see you for a minute inside my office?”

His voice was flat, but there was amusement dancing in his eyes and you felt your stomach drop, turning to see Emily and Derek snickering behind you. You knew they had kept talking about it and Hotch had over heard them.

He motioned for you to shut the door and so you did, sitting down stiffly as he danced around the words he was going to say, the amusement lingering in his eyes made you tense up. This was mortifying, “Get on with it, Hotch.”

“People think I have no sense of humor, but I think I have pretty great sense of humor. Don’t you?”

Your eyes narrowed at your boss, “Depends.”

“How’s working with Reid?”

“It’s been normal.”

He was full on smiling now, “Are you ever going to tell him?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about and even if I did know, wouldn’t you want me to not say anything. No fraternizing.”

His eyes rolled so far back you were sure it hurt him, “As long as it doesn’t affect your work, I could care less what you all do, or who you do, outside of the office.”

Your cheeks burned, “But if you need motivation I know he feels the exact same.”

Your eyes narrowed on his figure once more, questioning him, “You get a few drinks in him and he’s an open book.”

You didn’t respond, not knowing what to say, “But seeing as it’s as hard as it is for you, I’ll just have him work with Garcia and you can finish up paperwork with Prentiss and Morgan.”

You couldn’t oppose, not that you wanted to, you needed some space from him. You stepped out of his office and made your way to your two colleagues, “What was that about?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I’m working with the two of you now.”

“It can’t be that bad working with Spencer is it?”

They were teasing you, “No but it is distracting, so how can I help?”

~

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you left Hotch’s office, but by the look of anger and confusion on Spencer’s face when he left the room he was in you could tell it had been awhile. You forgot to tell him you weren’t working with him anymore.

“Shit-sorry Spence. Hotch to-“

“You’re being so childish.”

You tensed at his words, “Excuse me?”

Derek and Emily could feel the rising tension and quickly tried to jump in for you. “You’re so angry at me you had to go tell Hotch to change you assignments.”

“No I didn’t. He-“

“I can’t believe you.”

You were fuming, he wasn’t giving you the chance to answer, “Maybe if you stopped interrupting me and let me explain myself you wouldn’t be so angry.”

“Whatever, I didn’t need your help anyway. You weren’t necessarily helping. If anything just slowing me down and being a nuisa-“

“Reid.” Derek’s voice cut through to the two of you, the hurt clear on your face and Spencer’s anger leaving him in a second. He shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t mean to say that.

You turned away from him and ignored the way he was calling out for you, instead diving into the huge pile of paperwork the three of you still had.

“Drop it, Spencer. Hotch wanted you to help Garcia anyways.” You heard him sigh after Emily told him to leave you alone, only looking up from your mountain of work when you heard his footsteps disappear.

~

Spencer wanted to pull his hair out, he was hurt by the way you had been acting but you hadn’t actually said anything to hurt his feelings. And he did, he purposely hurt you and the guilt was eating him up. Clearly affecting him and Penelope was growing frustrated with his constant pacing.

“You’re more twitchy than normal.”

He let out a breathy laugh, delving into what exactly had happened between the two of you. Penelope was glaring at him, “I-I know, I was mean! And I didn’t really mean it I was just hurt. I dealt with it wrong.”

She huffed quietly, “You need to apologize.”

Spencer’s eyes looked frantic, he didn’t even know what to say to you, “Hey I have feelings for you and since you didn’t want me around you I felt hurt and in turn, I was a dick.”

“Now.”

She was pushing him out of the room, ignoring his protest and locking the door once he was out. He let his head fall onto the door and heard the muffled voice of Penelope through the door, “You can’t come in until the mission is complete.”

He turned from the door and let his eyes scan over the floor, he couldn’t see you.

“On her lunch.”

Emily didn’t even look up from the pile of paperwork and Spencer muttered out a quiet ‘Thank you.’

He was walking towards the lunchroom when JJ stopped him, an iced coffee in her hand, “She isn’t in there.”

His face scrunched up, “Does everyone know what happened?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“Hotch’s office.”

With that she walked alway and Spencer groaned quietly, you were avoiding him.

-

“And then he was going to call me a nuisance. I know he was, Morgan just got him to stop talking before he finished his sentence. Can you believe that?”

Hotch was trying not to laugh at you, “Yes well men are idiots.”

“You’re a man.”

“I’m the only exception.”

“Rossi too.”

He laughed quietly as you angrily stabbed your food, “I am never going to tell him now.”

“I thought there was nothing to tell?”

You glared at him, “Now out of my office, I have work to do.”

You huffed and made your way to leave, you knew he’d let you stay if you really wanted to but you still had work to do. “I will keep pairing you up with him if you don’t tell him.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

You both laughed and you shut his door, stilling as you saw Spencer lingering around your desk. He sent you a small smile and you turned away from him, making your way towards the restroom. You couldn’t believe that all this was happening because of some stupid dream you had.

When you returned Spencer was no longer at your desk and you quickly jumped back into your work, hoping no more distractions came your way.

~

Thankfully, the rest of the day went without any interruptions. You tied your hair up and made yourself some coffee, you wanted to come in later tomorrow so you decided you’d stay as long as you needed to, to finish up your work. Slowly everyone began to gather their things and leave, and you tried not to think about how you had not seen Spencer leave.

Hotch and Rossi were talking quietly among themselves as they were walking out, “Late night?”

You nodded, “Just a few more files, I should be out here in like an hour more or less.”

“Have fun.”

You smiled at both of them and continued on with your work.

40 minutes had passed and you heard quiet arguing coming from Penelope’s office and then the door being pulled open and both her and Spencer walking out, turning away from the both of them to keep working.

You could hear them talking quietly amongst themselves and then Penelope spoke up, “Do you have a lot of work?”

“Just two files, im almost done.” You sent them a smile but it was mainly for Pen, they both knew it and Spencer was shifting awkwardly between his feet. “Perfect! You shouldn’t take too long and Spencer can help so you don’t stay here by yourself.”

“No.”

But Spencer was already walking towards you and you huffed quietly, “I don’t know why he would want to if he clearly thinks I just hold him back.”

He whined your name out quietly, asking you to stop. You turned back to Penelope to see she had already left, she sent you a thumbs up from the elevator and you slumped into your seat. You didn’t know if you were being childish but you were upset with him.

He took one of the files and you worked quietly next to each other, but you could feel his eyes on you every couple seconds. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything. You had both finished the the file you were working on and you simply closed and we’re preparing to leave.

He was getting frustrated again, you could tell by the way he was wearing his bottom lip out and the way his arms were bawled up in fist. He hated when the people he cared about were upset with him, when you made your leave to walk away he had enough.

His hand had wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you in abruptly, causing you to curse under your breath. His arms had enclosed around you at the desk, not letting you leave.

He was so close his cologne had began to take up everything around you and you resisted letting your eyes close. You were looking up at him as he towered over you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said and I shouldn’t have said that! I don’t think you were slowing me down and everything else I said.”

His words were soft and frantic and there was guilt in his eyes and you huffed quietly. You forgave him, and he knew you had too. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I was being weird today too.” Your cheeks burned pink as you remembered your dream and you realized just how close he was to you. He noticed how your cheeks flushed and how you pushed yourself from him, although it didn’t help much. You were still so close. “Are you going to tell me why?”

“I don’t want to.”

You were playing with the ends of your hair, a nervous habit. “It’s embarrassing and I don’t want things to change between us.”

His face scrunched up in confusion and he removed his arms from around the desk, letting you leaving if you wanted to, but you didn’t and Spencer was glad you hadn’t. “I don’t think anything could make our relationship change. Unless you say Harry Potter is better than Star Wars.”

You both laughed quietly, things feeling normal again. “I had a dream about you-about us. And you were doing things, to me. And I just can’t get it out of my head and you’re distracting. And while I’m confessing I guess I should just tell you I’ve had feelings for you, that sounds so juvenile I hate it. But I’ve had feelings for you for the longest time and I kept trying to suppress it because we’re friends but we’re also colleagues and it would create so much tension and now I can’t stop talking because I’m nervous and you don’t feel the same because you aren’t saying anything, which is fine, I just needed to tell you.”

He was all over you in the next second, hand on your hips as he pressed himself against you and pressed you against the desk even more. The metal causing a slight sting, but that was the farthest thing from your mind. His lips had melted into yours and his tongue exploring your mouth. He let out a quiet moan as your rolled your tongue against his and tugged on his hair. He had sat you on the desk towards the edge and continued the assault on your lips, his hips rolling against yours and feeling a surge of confidence flow through all parts of his body at the moans and whimpers leaving your lips.

His fingers were fumbling with your belt and your hips bucking into his hand despite your words. “Spencer we’re in the office.”

“I don’t care.” His words were deep and heavy and you couldn’t bring yourself too either. As soon as he undid your belt he unbuttoned your pants, his hand slipping in and instantly pressing against your clothed center, his long fingers applying pressure to your pulsing core. The fabric adding friction as your hips moved with his hand. His eyes were glued to where his hand was and you lifted your hips, moaning as he pushed harder against you. “Take them off.”

He was helping you out of your pants when the two of you heard coughing to get your attention, jumping apart. There was a custodian who was looking anywhere but the two of you, his cheeks pink, “I clean this floor today.”

You fumbled with buttoning up your pants as Spencer tried his best not to laugh at your mortified face, “We’re really sorry, we didn’t know anyone else was still here.”

At this Spencer laughed and you shoved him away from you, still flustered as you grabbed your bags and made your way to leave, not being able to meet the eyes of the man who had caught the two of you.

Your thought were running a million miles in your mind but Spencer’s long fingers tangled with your and pulled you out of your spiral. “You okay?”

Your cheeks burned profusely as you waited for the elevator, “Oh come on, don’t tell me you’ve gone shy after the fact that I had my hand down your pants.”

“Spencer!” You whined and hid your face in his chest, he laugh rumbling all through his chest before he pulled you with him into the elevator. “I’m kidding, I like knowing I caused that.” His hand was rubbing softly against your cheek, his eyes flickering all over your face and he was leaning down again. His lips pressed softly onto yours and held you as close as he could, it was proving to be difficult between all the things you both were carrying. You bit down gently, pulling his lip with you and he huffed quietly, eyes closed as he savored the taste of your lips on his. “We have a lot to talk about.” He nodded and a dopey smile littered his face, “Are you tired to go out to eat?”

You shook your head no and you smiled at him as he took your hand in his again, “I know a great pizza place.”

“Sounds great, and by the way, Harry Potter is better than Star Wars.”

taglist: @swellwriting @carolinesbookworld @theboywhocriedlupin @awfulmoons @lumos-barnes @fortisfiliae @finnofamerica @beskarjedi @aperrywilliams @ta-ka-shi-ma (let me know if you’d like to be added <3)

[lillupon]

Soccer players!Minwon enemies to lovers

available on twitter

minwon w photoshoot encouraged me to dust off the soccer players!minwon enemies-to-lovers fic i wrote 4 years ago and never posted. i thought it was too ooc even for a fanfic, and they hated each other so much that i couldn't make them smooch lovingly ;;

reading this whole thing makes me scream omfg i can’t believe i wrote this LMAO it’s so far out of leftfield for me

The ball comes hurtling through the air and Mingyu launches himself into the opposite corner of the goal, just barely getting his hands around it. Hitting the ground knocks all the breath right out of him, but the ball is safely tucked against his stomach. He’s on his feet less than a second later.

“Fucking wake up!” Mingyu screams at his defenders, and in particular, Wonwoo. They’ve been sleepwalking through the entire game so far. Reacting seconds too late. From where he’s standing, his teammates look like they’re watching with their fingers up their noses as the ball sails over their heads. 

“You can fuck right off, Mingyu!” Wonwoo flips the finger as he jogs backward.  

Seething, Mingyu throws the ball towards Seungcheol, far away from Wonwoo, just out of spite. He can’t stand that guy. Wonwoo’s a mouthy son of a bitch. Thinks he’s hot shit just because he’s signed for half a million dollars a year and makes more money off endorsements than the rest of the team combined.

It’s only been thirty minutes and Mingyu feels like he’s been playing for hours. He’s heaving for breath. Pissed off at his defenders for letting the ball slip between their legs. If they had been doing their jobs properly, the other team should never have been close enough to even attempt a shot. But mostly, Mingyu’s frustrated at himself for letting in three goals. He’s getting sloppy, he knows. The pressure is getting to him. It’s a high-stakes game, one that will either bring in the sponsors or have their current ones jumping ship. The way things are going now? Mingyu may as well pull his pants down and present his ass for the reaming he’s going to get from their coach.

The referee blows the whistle, signalling the end of the first half of the game. They’re down four nil and the morale of the entire team is starting to flag. They want to give up, Mingyu can tell. It’s almost impossible to recover, especially since no one’s head is in the game. Mingyu can’t talk, either. He can barely see straight past the red haze clouding his vision.

He storms into the locker room without a single glance at his teammates. He yanks off his gloves and whips them into the far wall. They’re made of fabric, but when they hit the wall, it sounds like a gunshot going off.

Someone grabs Mingyu by the shoulder and wheels him around. He comes face-to-face with Wonwoo who looks as angry and frustrated as Mingyu feels. His brows are drawn into a furious vee and his cheeks are blotchy with red. He gives a shove that has Mingyu stumbling back into the lockers with a metallic rattle.

“What the fuck was that?” Wonwoo snarls.

“That’s what I want to ask you! Because it’s looking to me like you’re playing for the other team. Is someone paying you to throw the game?”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Oh, fuck off. You’re acting like it wasn’t you who let in all those goals.”

“Those goals would never have happened if you were doing your job properly, and you know that.”

“Yeah, just pin your failures on me,” Wonwoo says. “I wasn’t the one looking the other way when number fourteen scored.”

“I don’t think you understand how this game works. If you were doing your job properly, number fourteen shouldn’t have even gotten to me.”

“Sure, let your defenders do all the work. I guess you’re just getting paid to scratch your ass out there,” Wonwoo sneers. 

A growl rips from Mingyu’s chest and he lunges, arms outstretched. Suddenly, Seungcheol is there, restraining him with an arm around his waist. Mingyu shoves him off.  Doesn’t take his eyes off Wonwoo for a second. With a huff, Mingyu yanks down his jersey to straighten it out.

“What the hell’s the matter with you two? You guys are teammates, not on opposing sides of a war. Jesus,” Seungcheol, center back, says. He’s a good guy, veteran player. A real pacifist with more sense than anyone Mingyu has ever met. “We’re all trying our best out there, okay?”

“I wonder about that,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath.

Before Mingyu can respond to that, Seungcheol says, “Take a walk, Mingyu.” 

“Me?” Mingyu asks, incredulous. “Why do I—”

Seungcheol fixes him with a deeply unimpressed look that has him falling into a grudging silence. Mingyu turns on his heel and leaves.

He finds himself in the storage room. It’s dark. He fumbles his way to the back. There’s a stack of mats in the corner and he punches them a few times to loosen the frustration coiling inside him. He takes a deep breath, holding it for three seconds before exhaling slowly. He’s been doing a lot of yoga and breathing exercises lately, trying to get all zen and shit. He’s not sure it’s working.

Mingyu scrubs a hand over his face and sighs heavily. He can’t help but feel like this game went to shit because of him. He says a lot of things to the defenders when they’re slipping, and he means every word. But when it comes down to it, he’s the one who either saves the ball or lets the other team score.

The door swings open then, letting in a flood of light. It’s Wonwoo.

“Jesus, what the fuck do you want?” Mingyu asks.

Wonwoo is smiling at him, which is never a good sign. “Seungcheol told me to apologise to you. Said it wasn’t good for us to go into the second half angry and resenting each other.”

Mingyu narrows his eyes. “So? Are you going to?”

“Take a guess.” Wonwoo comes closer. Mingyu squares his shoulders, ready for a fight. “I’m here to tell you to open your fucking eyes next half, you talentless piece of shit.”

“You need to sit the fuck down,” Mingyu snarls at him. He’s shaking with anger and adrenaline, blood pumping so hard it’s like he’s still out there lunging for the ball. He’s had it with this kid—never mind that Wonwoo is older than him. He doesn’t act like he’s older, spoiled brat that he is. “Get it out of your head that you’re better than the rest of us. Because you’re not.”

“I don’t—”

“Shut the fuck up. Everyone hears you complaining on the phone about how your teammates can’t play worth a damn. You mouth off on us and walk around like you own the entire team. This might come as a surprise to you, but you don’t.” Mingyu steps in close to Wonwoo, crowding him in against the wall. Their chests nearly touch and he can feel the heat radiating off Wonwoo. Wonwoo has to tip his chin up to look him in the eye, and it satisfies every petty inch of Mingyu.

Mingyu continues, “You’re just a two-bit rookie who doesn’t know center back from striker. You’re never where you need to be. You don’t pass when you need to pass. You think you can win on your own, and when we lose, it’s everyone else’s fault except yours. The only reason you’re here is because your daddy has connections.” And because you have a pretty face that the sponsors can’t get enough of, Mingyu doesn’t say. Wonwoo’s got the classic K-idol look, with his sharp cheekbones and defined jawline. Too bad he’s an asshole. You can’t win it all, Mingyu supposes.

Wonwoo is glaring up at Mingyu, breathing hard. The colour runs high on his cheeks and his jaw muscle jumps. He’s wound up so tight he looks two seconds away from either punching Mingyu in the face or coming in his pants. “Fuck you, Mingyu, you’re one to talk. You think everything is a challenge to your authority. You act like you’re the poster boy for good behaviour, but you’re the one who’s getting into fights out there, you hypocritical piece of shit,” he grits out. His mouth works, and then he spits a fat globule of saliva at Mingyu.

Mingyu recoils. Drags his forearm across his face. Growling, he grabs the front of Wonwoo’s shirt and slams him against the wall, pressing him bodily against it. They’re nose-to-nose and Wonwoo is going cross-eyed from trying to keep Mingyu in his sights. Jesus, Mingyu wants to bust him up. Make such a mess of his face that he cries every time he walks past a mirror. 

Instead, Mingyu ends up glowering at him. He has no idea what it is about Wonwoo that riles him up. Every rookie wants to prove themselves, show that they can’t be walked all over by doling out as many caustic insults as they receive. Everyone’s frustrated and ready to lash out at the slightest provocation after a string of losses, and Mingyu gets that. But for some reason, Wonwoo manages to tick him right the fuck off.

Mingyu’s half hard in his briefs. It’s not unusual. All that adrenaline and pent-up aggression have to go somewhere. He just hates the fact that it’s Wonwoo that his body decides to react to. Mingyu grinds his teeth. His fist tightens on Wonwoo’s collar. Jesus, he’s not entirely sure if he’s going to deck Wonwoo or makeout with him at this point.

They’re pressed together from shins to chest, so it’s no surprise that Wonwoo notices that he’s hard. Wonwoo’s lips curl up into an infuriating smirk. “Don’t tell me this is how you usually react to our fights, Mingyu,” he says. As though he’s not fattening up in his shorts. Mingyu can feel it. “Is this what it’s been about all this time? You trying to get my atten—”

Mingyu smashes their mouths together. Wonwoo makes a muffled noise of surprise. Mingyu’s heart is beating somewhere up in his throat. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, but he knows he’s gotten Wonwoo to shut up for once, and that’s no small success. Wonwoo struggles against him, puts hands on his chest and tries to push him off. Mingyu grabs his wrists and pins them to his side. 

“I fucking hate you,” Wonwoo snarls against the press of their mouths.

And then he starts to kiss Mingyu back. 

This has been a long time coming, ever since that drunken night that ended with them on the bar floor, dry-humping each other under the guise of wrestling. Wonwoo’s been an itch in his system for months now.

There’s nothing gentle about the kiss. They kiss like they’re fighting, all teeth and not enough tongue. Mingyu wedges a knee in between Wonwoo’s thighs and presses up, causing him to gasp out a moan. Wonwoo rocks his hips down in search of friction, a guttural groan vibrating in his throat.

Mingyu pulls away, breathing hard. He puts his back to the nearby wall to give him something to lean against. “Get on your knees,” he says.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Do you want this dick or not?” Mingyu asks. “I don’t care either way.”

He thinks Wonwoo will back out. It’s for the best if he does. They’re in public; they’re in the middle of a game; they hate each other’s guts; he’s pretty sure Wonwoo has a girl, or at least, someone he fucks, on and off. One of those reasons alone would have made this a colossally bad idea. 

Instead, Wonwoo clamps his mouth shut and drops to his knees. Mingyu’s stomach lurches as though he is looking down from a great height. His mouth goes dry and he swallows with a loud and painful roll of his throat. No fucking way. Now here’s a sight he never thought he’d see: Wonwoo glaring up at him, somehow managing to look both pissed off and turned on at the same time.

Mingyu palms himself through his shorts. Wonwoo’s eyes immediately zero in on the movement. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and whatever shred of hesitancy Mingyu felt burns up. 

He pushes his shorts down, just enough to get his cock out and to let his balls hang free. He wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and gives it a rough, experimental stroke. A pearl of precum has blurted out from the slit. He smears a thumb over it, the breath shuddering out of him.

Wonwoo is riveted, eyes tracking the way Mingyu’s hand works over his shaft. His own cock is tenting in his shorts. Mingyu absolutely lets it get to his head, his lizard brain preening. A reaction like that, just from a little bit of kissing, just from seeing Mingyu’s dick. In Wonwoo’s defense, it is a pretty good dick, if Mingyu says so himself.  

Mingyu jerks himself off. Once, twice. “You want this?” 

That seems to snap Wonwoo out of his cock-induced daze. “I’m not going to beg,” he says, but already, he’s leaning forward, mouth falling open in request.

It’s downright nasty, is what it is. Mingyu is sweaty and stinks of Eau de Hardwork. The fact that it’s Wonwoo of all people makes it all the hotter. His nostrils flare as he inhales the musk of Mingyu’s cock. His lashes flutter. 

Mingyu feeds his cock to Wonwoo. Gets his hand slapped aside. Wonwoo takes over, curling his fingers around the base of it, suckling at the head a bit to get it wet.

Mingyu inhales sharply when Wonwoo licks a flat stripe along the underside of his cock where a vein throbs. Wonwoo tortures him with those kitten licks, hotly mouthing his way up to close his lips around the head of Mingyu’s cock.

Mingyu doesn’t want to show Wonwoo how affected he is by all of this, but he can’t help the low groan that leaves him when Wonwoo swirls a tongue around the sensitive crown. As though aware of Mingyu’s tenuous control, Wonwoo’s eyes crinkle with amusement. He pops off Mingyu’s cock. His mouth works. But this time, instead of spitting in Mingyu’s face, he dribbles a line of saliva down his length.

“Suck a lot of cock, do you?” Mingyu says. His voice is embarrassingly rough. He threads his fingers into Wonwoo’s hair and tugs in an attempt to get that mouth on his erection again.

Wonwoo’s response is to open wide and swallow him down, hand covering what his mouth can’t.

“Oh fuck,” Mingyu moans, head falling back against the wall with a thud. Unwilling to miss even a second of this once-in-a-lifetime moment, he looks between his legs from under half-lidded eyes. Seeing Wonwoo’s dark head bobbing up and down, hand moving in tandem with his mouth… The sight is as gratifying as the suction on his cock, if not more so.

Mingyu rocks his hips back and forth. This whole thing is so surreal that he can’t help but half-laugh, half-moan. “If I knew all it took you to shut up was a cock in your mouth, I would have done this a long time ago.”

Wonwoo’s teeth flash and Mingyu yanks him off with a hiss, fingers tightening into the short strands of Wonwoo’s hair. Wonwoo’s breathing hard, lips glistening with spit.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” Mingyu says, hand tightening and giving Wonwoo’s head a little shake to punctuate his words, “or I’m gonna throw this door open and show everyone what a good little cocksucker you are.”

Wonwoo’s lips curl. “The door is five meters away, dumbshit. I’d like to see you try.”

A flare of anger spears through Mingyu—smug fucking bastard—and he doesn’t even think when he slaps Wonwoo across the face. It’s not a hard slap, but hard enough to let Wonwoo know that he means business. Except that fucker—he moans. The sound is so faint that it might be mistaken for a shocked noise, and it’s quickly covered up by Wonwoo who mockingly drawls, “Yes. I understand, Sir.”

Satisfied, he lets Wonwoo back on his cock. This time, Wonwoo doesn’t waste time teasing and swallows him down.

For a brief moment, Mingyu is still somewhat in shock. His own action took him by surprise. He doesn’t usually slap the people who blow him; he’s usually grateful. But Wonwoo brings out the worst in him. And then there’s the fact that Wonwoo moaned quietly—Mingyu knows what he heard—at the palm strike across his cheek.

Those thoughts are promptly sucked out of his dick. Mingyu doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone who looks so haughty while sucking cock. Sometimes, Wonwoo will pull off to circle his tongue around the head, the corners of his lips ticking up impishly. He’s full aware of the effect he has on Mingyu. Then he takes Mingyu almost all the way down to the hilt. The noises he makes are filthy and carnivorous. Hungry.

Goddamn, he likes this, Mingyu thinks wondrously. 

Wonwoo’s eager. Squirming on his haunches. His free hand has found his way between his legs to knead himself. He’s getting distracted, the rhythm he built up faltering.

Mingyu shoves Wonwoo further down onto his length. Feels the tip of his cock hit the back of Wonwoo’s throat.

Wonwoo chokes and pulls off, inhaling on a gasp and coughing. He drags a forearm across his mouth, wiping, and glares up with watery eyes. The force of his glare is diminished by the redness of his cheeks. It’s a look that sends a jolt of arousal straight to Mingyu’s cock.

“Get back here,” Mingyu says. “And don’t get distracted by your own dick this time.”

Mingyu puts both hands on Wonwoo’s head and begins to fuck the tight circle of Wonwoo’s mouth. Wonwoo is ready for it this time. It doesn’t take long before Mingyu transitions from slow and shallow rolls of his hips to full-on thrusting into Wonwoo’s mouth. Mingyu curses, gut spasming with his rising pleasure. 

Wonwoo’s throat works around the intrusion. His lips are stretched wide, chin coated with saliva. His eyes are wet, lashes clumped together. It’s all so obscene, so incredibly fucking hot. 

Mingyu’s balls draw in tight and his breathing goes ragged. He fucks Wonwoo’s mouth a little faster, grits out, “Oh, fuck—” That’s all the warning Wonwoo gets before Mingyu is shooting his load. Mingyu groans loudly, hips jerking involuntarily. He keeps Wonwoo held down, the sensation of Wonwoo’s throat contracting around him prolonging his orgasm. Mingyu wants to laugh. Holy shit. “Yeah, that’s it,” he breathes. “Swallow every last drop.” 

Wonwoo makes a valiant attempt at doing so, but there’s so much cum that it trickles out the corner of his mouth.

By the time Mingyu is done, they’re both breathing hard. Well, it’s Mingyu’s who’s breathing hard; Wonwoo is coughing and gasping for breath. 

Mingyu’s not done here yet. “Clean it up,” he says. Wonders how far Wonwoo will allow himself to be pushed before he snaps.

Wonwoo is quiet when he uses the head of Mingyu’s cock to scoop up the errant drops of cum and push it back into his mouth. Then, he laps up the remainder of Mingyu’s release.

Mingyu shivers at the rasp of tongue on his softening cock. Once he’s clean, he tucks himself back into his briefs.

“What about me?” Wonwoo asks.

Wonwoo, rich and spoiled boy that he is, has probably been given everything he has ever asked for on a silver platter. He says “Jump” and people say “How high?” It wouldn’t hurt for him to work for the things he wants; that would be a first in his life.

And maybe, Mingyu is also thinking about how hard Wonwoo gets when he’s pushed around. How that light slap had him moaning softly.

With that in mind, Mingyu pushes his cleats between Wonwoo’s legs. The top of his shoe bumps his erection. “Go on,” Mingyu says. It’s no big deal, he tells himself even as his heart is pounding violently against his ribs, if Wonwoo decides that he’s had enough of Mingyu’s bullshit and stalks off. Mingyu has already gotten what he wanted.

“What?”

“You have thirty seconds to get yourself off. Go,” Mingyu says, prodding his toe against him.

Wonwoo’s eyes round and he flushes a violent shade of red. He opens his mouth as if to protest. But then he doesn’t. Just clamps his lips together and begins to move his hips. It’s possibly the sexiest thing Mingyu has ever seen. Blood rushes to his head, swelling and pounding and pulsing in his skull. A groan escapes Mingyu, as though he is the one getting much-needed friction on his cock.

“Look at you,” Mingyu whispers. “Rutting against my foot like a bitch in heat.”

Wonwoo honest-to-god whimpers. There’s no other way to describe the absolutely tiny, pleasure-filled sound that leaves him, so incongruous with the person Mingyu has always known him to be. He drives his hips down with increased desperation, moaning shakily. He clutches around the bend of Mingyu’s knee, forehead knocking against Mingyu’s thigh.

If Mingyu hadn’t spent just seconds earlier, he would have gotten hard again. Instead, he just watches Wonwoo bump and grind on him with a dry mouth.

Someone knocks on the door, three sharp raps. “Game’s about to start. You two kiss and make up yet?” It’s Seungcheol.

Mingyu yanks his foot away. 

Wonwoo sobs out with loss. Tugs on his ankle. “No, I haven’t—”

“Too late. Your time’s up.” 

He groans, a truly miserable sound. “I hate you,” he says, glaring up balefully. 

“If you’d quit thinking with your dick for two seconds, you’d remember that we’re in a middle of a game,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo stands up on coltish legs. 

It actually hurts Mingyu’s heart a little to leave him like this. He leans in to whisper into Wonwoo’s ear, “So this is what’s going to happen. We’re gonna go out there and we’re gonna do our jobs. And if we don’t make a fool of ourselves out there, then I’ll take you back to my room and fuck you so hard you’ll be limping through practice for the next week. Sound good?”

After a moment, Wonwoo relents and says through gritted teeth, “You better. Or I’m going to flip you over and fuck you myself.”

Mingyu snorts. Yeah, that’s the Wonwoo he’s familiar with.

Wonwoo roughly adjusts his crotch. “Jesus, how the hell am I supposed to play like this?”

“If you don’t get your head in the game, we’re going to end up becoming the MLS equivalent of Brazil in the 2014 World Cup.”

Wonwoo blanches.

Miraculously, they  end up tying the game at 4-4. It’s a better outcome than anyone could have expected. Wonwoo flashes a wicked smile, looking ridiculously proud of himself. And he should be; a single ball didn’t get past him in the second half.

Mingyu finds himself smiling back.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Star Trek: The Characters

Storytelling, especially where it regards movies and television, is always evolving.  

Whether it’s in deeper themes, better effects, different genres, or evolving archetypes, there is always something that is changing, except, perhaps, where the importance of characters are concerned.

Characters are an integral part of storytelling, particularly where it concerns television.  When it comes to television, the setup is everything, and the characters are part of that setup, that ‘home base’ that the audience returns to at the start of every episode.  The characters are the people that the audience gets to know, who star in each adventure.  Characters are what holds the audience’s investment, the reason fanbases tolerate bad episodes and praise good ones.  In the end, the main characters keep an audience’s attention, making each episode, even the bad ones, enjoyable.

In short, characters can make or break a television show.  It is vital that they be likable, or at the very least, interesting, lest the audience utter those eight deadly words:

I Don’t Care What Happens To These People.  

Once those words are uttered, it doesn’t matter how gripping your narratives are.  The viewers will start to leave.

See, while a film can get away with some lesser characters by distracting with an interesting concept, set-piece or a fast-paced story, television can’t.  Thanks to a smaller runtime and a smaller budget, television, by necessity, tends to be character based.  As a result, the main cast of a television show has to be able to work in multiple stories of different kinds.

This means that writing for characters on television can be pretty difficult.

The best television characters tend to merge two ideas together: That of relatability and entertainment value.  

You see, television, like all stories, tells stories of exaggerated versions of reality, especially in the cases of science-fiction adventure shows like Star Trek.  The only way to make an audience buy an unbelievable world is to create believable characters to place in that world, that relatability in the stories and characters.  When we see McCoy’s frustration, or Kirk’s boldness, or Spock’s reservedness, we see elements of ourselves, our own personalities and lives.  It is vital to make characters seem real, if not realistic.

The question is, does Star Trek manage to do that?

That’s the question we’re going to be answering today.  Let’s take a look, starting with the Captain of the Enterprise Crew: James Tiberius Kirk.

Kirk truly was The Captain in every sense of the word.  A Reasonable Authority Figure who did far more adventuring than realistic counterparts would have, Kirk was an Action Man, level-headed, dutiful, and always loyal to his ship and his crew.  A Bold Explorer (it’s in the job description), Kirk, while not fearless per say, took the Chains of Commanding quite seriously, and would often face down hugely powerful beings, power-mad computers, or other forces beyond him in order to save his crew.  A Determinator to the last, known for his interesting ways to think outside the box and refusal to accept a ‘no win scenario’, he is the unquestionable Hero of the show, the Leader, who often throws the rules aside to do what he feels is right, in a constant battle To Be Lawful or Good.  He was a Charmer, an expert fast-talker, and very smart.  In later installations of the franchise, Kirk would become a Living Legend, much as he became in our own pop culture.

All that being said, the common cultural image of Captain Kirk isn’t quite right.  Allow me to adjust it, as best I can.

More than any other character in Star Trek, or perhaps the history of television in general, Captain Kirk is possibly the most misrepresented character of all time.  Since the ‘60s, Kirk has evolved into an icon of heroism, machismo, and brash boldness, with even the recent Star Trek reboot depicting, not Kirk, but rather, the distorted, separate idea of Kirk in the modern light.

This idea, quite frankly, is just not right.  While Kirk did have his share of romances, he was no womanizer, often entering into dubiously consented-to relationships reluctantly, in order to save the ship.  The relationships he did actively pursue, he threw himself into wholeheartedly, and he was just as crushed as the other party every time they fell apart (for proof, watch City on the Edge of Forever or The Paradise Syndrome).  Kirk was no player.  As a matter of fact, he was a deeply compassionate man who respected the women in his life as much as he respected Spock and McCoy.  It just so happened that the women in his life tended to not stick around, unlike his one true love: The Enterprise.

Even his reputation of the ‘Cowboy Captain’ isn’t accurate.  As I mentioned before, Kirk was defined by compassion.  His moments of ‘rule-breaking’ wasn’t to impose ‘the way he thinks things should be’, it’s because Kirk cannot bear to watch helpless people in trouble.  The few times where he does break the famous ‘Prime Directive’ (To not interfere with less developed races) is to help.  Kirk was a deeply moral character, determined to not stand by while people were taken advantage of.  He wasn’t rash, either.  While it may be accurate to say that the ship’s doctor, Leonard McCoy, was a bit on the hot-headed side, it is entirely inaccurate to accuse Kirk of the same.  Kirk was an extremely smart man, a level-headed captain who was an expert at thinking fast.  He trusted his instincts, but he trusted his advisors too, often finding a balance between McCoy’s impulsiveness and Spock’s cold rationality.  Kirk’s intelligence and competence is often lost, overshadowed by his more extreme companions, and some audiences have forgotten the truth of Kirk’s character: a cunning problem-solver capable of saving the day under enormous pressure, whose decisions are far from based in irrationality.  He is a romantic, duty-bound to protect his ship and crew, greatly exaggerated and mis-characterized in the years following his captaincy.

As such, Kirk was a well-rounded, balanced character, far more three-dimensional than the modern idea of him tends to give him credit for.

That’s all well and good, sure, but how does he fit as a main character in a television show?

As a matter of fact, absolutely incredibly.

Kirk serves as a wonderfully effective lead, compelling, entertaining, and interesting.  Infinitely more developed than most leads of his time, and even more modern examples, Kirk was a game-changer, a revolutionary kind of protagonist who just worked.  The perfect balance of the main trio of the series, Kirk is the perfect face for Roddenberry’s ideals: a hopeful pragmatist, an idealist who proves the best of humanity: compassion mixed with intelligence, boldness combined with understanding.  A man of action surrounded by True Companions, Kirk was an extremely gripping protagonist who felt intensely, a perfect person for the audience to connect to and be invested in.  He drove the stories, opposed the villains, and always saved the crew, as a hero should, but it’s important to note that Kirk was hugely human, possessing many of our greatest attributes, but some of our failings as well.  He wasn’t perfect.  Sometimes he made the wrong choice.  In the end, though, he was us, or us as we should strive to be: always learning and helping, and always reaching for the stars.

But of course, Kirk wasn’t alone in his position as the ‘lead’ of the show.  It’s doubtful the show would have survived in the popular culture as well as it did if it weren’t for his support team, his True Companions: Dr. Leonard McCoy, and, more famously: Mr. Spock.

If Kirk represented the best of humanity, Spock represented the critique of it.  In a previous article, I pointed out that Spock exists as a very unique character: a half alien, half human crewmember who, while equally valuable to the script and the characters as Kirk was, served a different purpose: to point out and explore humanity from the outside.

Like I’ve mentioned before, Spock is a different sort of character than Kirk is.  Where Kirk is a demonstration of the best of humanity as we see it, Spock is a demonstration of humanity as someone else might.  He served as a criticism of the human condition, a character at war with himself and his heritage, split between the emotional humans, and the rational Vulcans.  Spock is the Number One, almost Comically Serious as he eschews his more illogical half and chooses to embrace the stoicism of the Vulcan people.  A Gentleman and a Scholar, Spock has Hidden Depths, a heart of gold and deep emotions that he usually succeeds in hiding.

Most of the time.  More on that in a minute.

Spock’s role in the show was The Smart Guy, the Stoic who had all the answers, all the statistics.  He was the champion of impartial logic, of cold rationality.  His job was to give Kirk the hard answers, to bring to him the facts and give him their options, especially the unforgiving ones.  He is the cold to McCoy’s hot, a stern-faced, cold-blooded computer.

Or is he?

Much like Kirk, there is a lot more to Spock than meets the eye.  While the cultural perception of Spock has often mutated into a parody of itself, much as it has done to Kirk’s reputation, Spock remains a much deeper character than he, or a brief skim of the series, lets on.  As I said earlier, Spock is at war with himself, uncomfortable in his own skin.  He insults humans for their humanity, but has strong, deep friendships with them.  He is not above expressing frustration and their emotional natures when pushed (usually by other forces that knock his guard down), but isn’t frustration a human emotion?

Spock is a bag of contradictions, a supposedly emotionless master of sarcasm, a man without feeling who invites his close friends (emotional humans) to a private Vulcan ceremony, a cold-blooded creature with undying loyalty who occasionally makes ‘illogical’ decisions that would make Kirk proud.  A lover of music and a sympathizer to space hippies (Not one of Star Trek’s better episodes, admittedly), Spock was an outsider who fit neither fully as a Vulcan or Human, a person who was struggling to find his place in the universe.

At first, this seems incongruous with the ice-cold exterior he projects, however, rather than being an example of inconsistent writing, it’s a shining example of development and nuance.

You see, Spock never gives up his following of logic.  He just begins to approach it differently.

Spock’s style changes slightly as Star Trek progresses (most notably in the films, released ten years after the show’s final season), from cold, ‘computer’ logic to something else: human logic.

One thing of especial note in the original Star Trek show is that you could see characters visibly affecting one another.  Kirk, Spock and McCoy all influenced each other in the ways they thought, reacted, and planned, and worked best as a unit.  In this, the humanity of the main cast affected Spock in his slow, reluctant appreciation of human merits.  In time, Spock began to make one or two decisions based on human logic, intelligence and emotion.  In episodes like The Menagerie or The Galileo Seven, Spock makes decisions that seem out-of-character for him, based in emotion.

Spock is, in many ways, Star Trek’s best known and favorite character.  The most visibly recognizable, as well as the most distinct, Spock is given more episodes exploring him than any other character, with installments like Amok Time and Journey to Babel, (the latter of which we explore his parents, and discover why it is that Spock has such a hard time with his human half) helping to examine Spock as a character.

The end result was a beloved science fiction icon, Kirk’s right hand man, an analytical, fascinating character as well-crafted and loved as Kirk himself.

Spock and Kirk are often remembered fondly, and are typically considered the most memorable and iconic characters of the franchise, but they don’t work alone.  Their dynamic is as effective as it is because of balance.  Spock is one extreme, and Kirk is the middle, but it’s no good without the other extreme: Dr. Leonard Horatio “Bones” McCoy.

McCoy is all hot-blooded human, the third of the main Power Trio.  An old-fashioned competent doctor who wasn’t entirely thrilled with deep space, McCoy is a deeply emotional character, duty-bound to follow his morals.  He clashed with Spock regularly, routinely criticizing him for his perceived lack of emotion.  Despite the fighting, McCoy respected Spock greatly, counting him as a close friend, despite their arguments and different perspectives.  A cantankerous pacifist (though not above getting into the action when needed), McCoy is a Super Doc and a Sarcastic Devotee, a Grumpy Old Man who serves as the Heart to Spock’s Brain (hah!), a man who values Honor Before Reason who values the Good Old Ways.  He’s a Determined Doctor who does everything he can for his patients, and a Deadpan Snarker to the point where he can match Spock in verbal sparring.

Bones represents the unpolished rawness of humanity, getting carried away with his emotions sometimes, but always with the best intentions.  Another Jerk with a Heart of Gold, McCoy’s gruff nature accompanied a deeply moral man, very concerned with human empathy and doing the right thing.  No philosophical discussion was complete without McCoy’s two cents, telling Kirk what he thought the right thing to do was.  He was the quintessential Knight in Sour Armor, who would follow Kirk to the ends of the earth, complaining the entire way.

Despite the fact that he’s not as well-known as the other two members of the Power Trio, Bones was a vital component to the True Companions dynamic.  His Vitriolic Best Buds relationship with Spock made up one of the most interesting and compelling dynamics on the show, serving as perfect counterbalances to one another.  However, although his most famous role in the show was arguing with Spock (and delivering phrases such as ‘He’s Dead, Jim’), there is another, equally important position that he held in the trio.

McCoy served as a foil to Kirk, as well as one to Spock, a confidante, a close friend, providing perspective.  While Spock was focused on the logic, Kirk on the best thing for the mission, McCoy’s focus was purely on the ‘patients’, the people, the right thing to do.  No matter the situation, McCoy was the closest to empathy with the people involved, and provided the audience with another surrogate, saying the things that the viewers are thinking.

While not being a terribly big fan of space (and liking transporters even less), Bones was the epitome of the Frontier Doctor to the stars, taking care of every patient, even if they weren’t humanoid (Devil in the Dark) or a heavily pregnant woman who refuses to listen (Friday’s Child).  McCoy was painfully human, reminding us of our most problematic traits while also holding onto that wild, fiery compassion that made him so incredibly humane, relatable, and understandable, making him just as vital to the Enterprise and her crew as Kirk or Spock.

The trio worked best together, providing a perfect main cast for an audience to follow.  The formula was an interesting one, allowing the audience to hear separate viewpoints and ideas, listen in to the philosophical banter, and truly feel the strong friendship holding the leads together.  The dynamic between them was powerful, an extremely vibrant bond that connected all three very different characters.

The result?  Extremely dynamic characters that remain iconic and memorable even to this day.

But the cast didn’t stop there.

The other characters of Star Trek, while not quite possessing the pop-culture iconography of the main trio, still hold their own rather impressive cultural footprint.

None more so than the chief engineer, Montgomery Scott.

Scotty’s job was to be a miracle worker, solving impossible problems in impossibly small amounts of time.  Whether it was the transporters, the phaser banks, the shields, or the engines, Scotty was the man for the job.  Nobody had a better understanding, or love for the Enterprise than Scotty (except maybe Kirk).  He was the king of outside-the-box solutions, and had the Enterprise jury-rigged to push her past her limits more times than can be easily counted.  As the name implies, he was also Scottish, and extremely stereotypically so.  Kilt, whiskey, haggis and all, Scotty was extremely proud of his heritage (though not quite as much as Chekov).  Fitting the traditional stereotypes, Scotty had a fiery temper, with a Berserk Button triggered by any insult to the Enterprise.  A Gadgeteer Genius (and the inventor of Scotty Time) as well as a Genius Bruiser, Scotty was both the brains and brawn, more than capable of holding his own in a fight, or thinking of a new, creative way to push the Enterprise past her capacity.

Scotty also held the distinction of being third in command, routinely taking the Captain’s chair when both Kirk and Spock were in the landing party.  He was also the focus of a few episodes, making him a rare character with a Day in the Limelight, with episodes such as Wolf in the Fold, The Lights of Zetar, By Any Other Name, and The Trouble with Tribbles giving him a little more screen time and story than is typical.  Scotty was an indispensable member of the crew, a life-saver on more than one occasion, and another of the legendary, iconic characters of the original Star Trek.

But it didn’t stop there.

Lieutenant Nyota Uhura was another prominent character.  As the ship’s communications officer, she codified the term ‘Bridge Bunny’, although she proved herself far more useful than she’s typically thought of.  Whenever given the chance, Uhura is a capable Action Girl, intelligent, witty, and good at her job, being extremely fluent in multiple languages.  She too got her days in the limelight, with episodes such as Mirror Mirror, The Gamesters of Triskelion, and The Trouble with Tribbles giving her more to do than just sit at her station and say ‘hailing frequencies open’.  Uhura was Silk Hiding Steel, not typically in the heat of the battle, but tough as nails when she had to be.  (I’ve talked about Uhura’s extensive influence on the real world in the Legacy article, but even that doesn’t scratch the surface of what Uhura’s impact has been.)

There were others on the bridge crew of equal importance, including the ship’s helmsman, Hikaru Sulu.

Sulu was a level-headed officer, amiable and cultured, with an extensive knowledge of botany, fencing, and antiques.  Yet another Deadpan Snarker (it must run in the cast), Sulu is another Genius Bruiser, as skilled in fighting as he is in his piloting, with a great sense of humor.  He is given special attention in episodes like Mirror Mirror and The Naked Time (Albeit as evil, and Brainwashed and Crazy), but often got great character moments in multiple episodes (especially Shore Leave).  A reliable officer and loyal to the core, he made an interesting character by himself, although he did end up forming a fun ‘Those Two Guys’ dynamic with the youngest of the cast, Pavel Chekov.

Chekov was introduced in season 2 as the navigator of the Enterprise.  A bright young man with a fierce, passionate loyalty to Mother Russia (which evidently invented every good thing known to man), Chekov tended to be at the receiving end of a lot of the embarrassing agony in the series (mostly because Walter Koenig had a great scream).  Also serving as a relief science officer, Chekov was plenty smart, if a bit of a Cloudcuckoolander, and the king of Cultural Posturing.  Reckless and impulsive to balance Sulu’s calm good humor, Chekov’s temper tended to get the better of him.  Like the others, he’s given a bit more screen time in episodes such as Mirror Mirror, The Trouble with Tribbles, The Way to Eden, The Deadly Years and Spectre of the Gun, but got to shine in plenty of other episodes, demonstrating his capabilities (despite being ‘The Intern’ and the Plucky Comic Relief) as a competent officer.  Unsurprisingly, he was yet another Deadpan Snarker, lending his style of jokes well to bounce off of Sulu’s drier humor.

But there was more to the crew than the bridge.

Another crew member of note was Christine Chapel, one of the nurses who operated in the sickbay.  Chapel was notable for having an attraction to Spock, as well as being another in the long line of Enterprise Deadpan Snarkers.  One of the most caring of the Enterprise’s crew, Chapel was given larger roles in episodes like The Naked Time, What Are Little Girls Made Of?, Amok Time, and Plato’s Stepchildren.

Arguably though, one of the most important characters in all of Star Trek was the Companion Cube: the Enterprise herself.

The Enterprise was one of the most powerful ships in Starfleet, a character in her own right.  The epitome of the Cool Starship, the Enterprise was well known for Explosive Overclocking, and always coming through in the end (with a little help from Scotty).  A Lightning Bruiser of a ship, the Enterprise became as legendary as her captain and crew, as beloved as the characters themselves to the point where one of NASA’s shuttles was named after her.

The characters of Star Trek are legends, both in and out of universe, and they are for a reason.  No member of the crew is useless.  Everyone has a purpose and a job to do, and each was distinct and unique.  No two characters were the same, and each brought their own special personality and abilities to each episode they appeared in.

And that’s what made the drama of the show work so well.

Each character felt real, memorable and genuine.  We as an audience worry for them with each danger, and cheer with each victory.  We liked these people.  We cared about what happened to them.

And they worked.

In each scenario and situation, the characters found new and interesting ways to deal with the circumstances, while never losing the core elements of their personalities.  That’s important, hugely so.  These characters were loved, and still are, for a reason.  They work very well as characters, both in main and supporting roles, providing entertaining and compelling figures for the audience to invest in.  The balance between relatability and entertainment was hit perfectly for every single character, allowing everyone to shine in their own ways in each episode.  They felt real, and in the end, that’s the point of a character.

After all, one doesn’t get to be some of the most iconic television characters of all time by being boring.

Thank you guys so much for reading!  Join us next time as we discuss Star Trek’s place in the times and the culture.  If you have anything you’d like to say, don’t forget to leave an ask!  I hope to see you all in the next article.

[needlepcint]

INTRODUCING...

          HALLE BAILEY, CIS WOMAN, 20, SHE / HER   ⟨  ✽  ⟩   hey, you haven’t bumped into nia williams lately, have you ? they have been living here for the past two years ( during the school semester ) and during that time, locals have gotten to know them as quirky & charming.  a little birdie told me they can be quite vain & devious  though. explains why they’re an architecture major at whitby university. they really remind me of field time at six am and still making your eight am looking flawless, spandex shorts under short skirts paired with high heels you can run in, && impeccably manicured hands handling any power tool with ease. if you’re ever looking for them, i bet you can find them around the retro room. 

HIGHLIGHTS...

          the daughter raised by a single father, a former nhler, though also with the help of his teammates’ wives and girlfriends — a unique situation that shaped her life ; a lover of beauty, no matter what it may be, but a little obsessed with it when it comes to herself ; tiny but with a nose for scoring, speed, and elusiveness on the field that’s made her a two time women’s soccer mvp and she’s only a junior ; sometimes comes across as a little ditzy and airheaded, but though she has the look of a girly-girl, looks can be deceiving and certainly don’t underestimate her ; has an incredible knack for turning old things into new and desired items, mostly with regards to furniture and knicknacks.

THE STORY...

— cole harbour, nova scotia, the birthplace of sidney crosby the next one, eight years later — nathan mackinnon, and six years after that : nia williams. her birth was unplanned, however ; her mother only twenty and working towards med school. her father a halifax mooseheads player just having fun at her conception, now twenty-two and playing out his dreams in the nhl with the montreal canadians.

— things always work out in the end, though, and at twenty-two her father became her sole guardian and growing up quite a bit in the process, her mother vanishing from her life at that point and never re-entering.

— she was technically raised by a single father, but she was also perhaps raised by the veterans on the team and most importantly, the wives and girlfriends of her father’s teammates whose care she was left in the care of during games. it was them that taught her the things that her father couldn’t, and nia never wanted for her mother, that space happily and willingly filled by almost two dozen women who were older sisters, mothers, aunts... they were family.

— but even with all the make up and fashion advice, nia was very much her father’s daughter as well : crawling around the outdoors, going one-on-one on the ice, swimming in the ocean and still looking flawless while doing it. michael williams was a good father in the end, and grew into the role.

— she play hockey and soccer growing up, seeming to have a nose for offense, as elusive on skates as in cleats. nia could’ve been great at both sports, was great at both sports, but in the middle of high school she made the switch to focus on soccer full time. her passion for the ice remained, but the opportunities in soccer were stronger — and she loved the outdoors, loved the field in the early hours of morning.

— it was in the summer after grade 11 that she was offered a scholarship from whitby university to play women’s soccer ( amongst others ), but whitby fit the bill for what she wanted, and port briar reminded her a lot of home in cole harbour with the chilly sea. so after graduation, she was off to whitby to play soccer.

— on the college scene, it became obvious that nia simply put, was a star. a small but ever elusive forward who had speed that didn’t seem possible with her stature and an ability to score like no one else. the campus loved her, the team loved her, and opposing teams loved to hate her on the field. she was named mvp of the team as a freshman, a feat she would repeat her sophomore year as well. she’s currently gunning for her third.

MISC...

— architecture feels like an odd choice for those who don’t know nia well. she tends to come across as a little bit of an airhead, ditzy, not always the greatest with common sense. but she is actually quite book smart and sometimes, the ditziness is just a bit of an act. she had fostered a bit of FASCINATION with arenas having been in so many growing up, she began to harbor a desire to design one ( and to do it better ). sketching had been something that held her attention when she needed to be seated and still, and that fit in perfectly. after entering whitby undeclared, nia found herself drawn to the architecture department and program, officially declaring at the end of her freshman year.

— nia is hardly ever still : tapping fingers, jumping knees, sitting and then standing. she was diagnosed with adhd when she was seven. she is medicated for it now, but it also still manifests in attention deficient for her, leaving a wake of unfinished projects in her wake. sports had been one of the few things that held her attention, kept her occupied, and one of the few things she worked to hone her skills in.

— because of her tendency to jump from one thing to another, it’s no surprise she had a litany of hobbies that she’s tried : you name it, she’s likely tried it once. everything from yoga, to sewing, to painting, to rock climbing. in some ways it’s made her a bit of a jack of all trades, though she always comes back to soccer in the end. 

— however, one of thing did stick, kinda. in high school she took a woodworking class and from that spawned a hobby of furniture upcycling. her father had always been good with his hands and she knew her way around power tools, still does. she takes great pride in being able to fix things to be usable again, and loves to shop around the retro room or drive around port briar looking for things left at the curb. it can’t be a huge project though, like anything, if it’s not done in one go, chances are she may never return to finish the project. 

— she lives in an off-campus apartment this year after spending the first two in dorms. she’s looking forward to having her own space and kitchen ( even with roommates ).

— rigid schedules help her to keep organized when her natural tendency is to fall back into messiness and chaos. living with a neat roommate has helped her in some ways, because though messiness is her tendency, she finds that neatness helps her to keep focused and on track. being reminded to clean every week has been good for her.

— her favorite color is red and she has a penchant for red nails and red lipstick.

— her father is now an assistant hockey coach in the ncaa, but not at whitby. she sees him when that school in in town though she’s always rooting for whitby. her summers are spent back in cole harbour and she is still in touch with some of the wives and girlfriends who she’d been so close to.

— she’s an early bird, as odd as it is. she’s always loved sunrises over the atlantic ocean. you can find her either on the field or out for a run in the early hours, and then when the snow flies, likely doing yoga.

PERSONALITY...

— on the surface nia is very much a pretty girl. always looking flawless, a little ditzy, a little shallow. her smile is her weapon and she uses it to get people on her side. she likes people to like her, though one might hesitate to truly classify her as a nice girl or a mean girl. she ends up falling somewhere in the middle as most people do, never mean without cause but not friends with anyone. her enemies aren’t always obvious, something kept under wraps with petty glares and muttered comments. she doesn’t go looking for trouble, but if it crosses her path she meets it head on. her soccer star status has endeared her with some and made her just as many enemies, especially on their rival teams. she’s generally sweet to everyone she meets, but wrong her and she’ll be the first to be shit talking behind your back.

— men and women alike find her charming, something that suits her tastes. she’s been in a fair number of flings, though nothing that she ever saw as longterm. nia in general doesn’t look at the big picture, which has frustrated some who saw something more with her. but people still love her all the same. it’s a power she pretends to not know she has, but she’s more devious than her lipsticked smiles portray her to be.

— she has a thing for looks, rarely looking less than pristine herself, even in the middle of practice on a hot pre-season day. beauty, she’s been told, starts on the inside, and she does believe that, but helping along the outside never hurts either. she likes to feel good about herself, and comfort doesn’t always take precedence.

— nia always has a schedule, but at the same time, she’s almost always late. time management is a thing she’s still working on, and the only advice is to tell her anything is fifteen minutes earlier than it is.

— she’s a pretty girl, but has never felt like she had to stick to that box. instead, she has a way of just looking flawless no matter what that does. people judge her from her appearance and she knows that, but she also relishes in being able to prove people wrong. she knows her way around a math class and almost every power tool there is, she’s not afraid to get dirty --- just looking bad, so she’ll find a way to make mud look flawless. she’s obsessed with beauty, just not always the most conventional forms of it.

APPEARANCE...

— 5′0″, built lithe and fast.

— style : cute and cottagecore on the daily, but isn’t afraid to toe the line into edgy for nights out. a bit of “hardness” can make its way into her outfit in blacks and faux leathers matched with flowy silks and puff sleeves. she can make the switch from “good girl” to “bad girl” as quickly as she wants, depending on how she’s feeling that day.

— jewelry : an absolute sucker for jewelry. often is on esty too often despite her already extensive collection of bracelets, necklaces, and rings. her style is often dainty jewelry, though she doesn’t discriminate.

— tattoos : a small butterfly on the back of her left shoulder

— scars : several small nicks and almost invisible ones

OOC...

hiiii. it’s ollie again ✌️😎... and bc i normally play hockey bois... here’s my self-indulgent tie to hockey via nia whoops.

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

four seasons with akaashi

wow i think i’m starting to see a pattern of not knowing what i’m writing???

pairing: akaashi x reader

genre: fluff

i.

Spring comes with many firsts: the first year of high school, first cherry blossoms, and first love.

Akaashi is quiet, but not opposed to interaction. You realize this when you join Fukurodani’s volleyball club as the manager and watch in awe as the silent setter dealt with Boktuo in such a calm manner. You momentarily forget that the two of you are the same age. He’s calm, composed, and quick to put a stop to Bokuto’s antics; you’ve even heard him go through the wing spiker’s long list of weaknesses in passing. In short, you think Akaashi is amazing.

In fact, he’s so amazing that you find it hard to get closer to him although the two of you were in the same class. It’s not that you feel that he’s cold toward you, but it’s difficult to strike a conversation up with someone who seemed to dislike the loudness of Bokuto so much. You’d hate to disturb him, especially since he already has his hands full, but you can’t help catching your eyes landing on his figure from time to time.

Sometimes during classes, your eyes wander toward your right where Akaashi sits studiously, writing down careful notes from each and every lecture. You notice the light pen callus on the side of his ring finger and how he miraculously keeps his paper straight on his desk when he’s writing. He’ll never openly volunteer to answer or read, but whenever the teacher calls on him, his answers are correct, and you can’t help but feel soothed by his voice.

When you’re not looking at him, you don’t catch the stray glances that Akaashi also sends toward your way. He doesn’t understand why but opts to justify it with the fact that the two of you had volleyball in common, and that the volleyball jacket you wore frequently stood out specifically from the rest of the uniforms. Sometimes he’ll break into a smile when he sees that your papers end up shifting, tilted at a ridiculous angle when you’re concentrated on writing or when your brows furrow at a particularly tricky problem. He thinks it’s secretly amusing, endearing almost.

“I’ll help,” Akaashi offers quietly one day, reaching toward the basket carrying the bottles that you had just filled. It’s the first thing he has said to you ever, aside from the casual ‘hellos’ and ‘thanks’ he spared whenever you managed to make eye contact with him. It’s so foreign that you think you’ve done something wrong, but the fact that he’s merely a few inches apart from you makes your thoughts stop.

“Sorry if I was being slow,” you murmur finally, a little embarrassed, and hang your head low. Akaashi lets out a rather affronted noise that startles the both of you, and you turn to look at him, confused.

“No, I just thought it looked heavy,” he tries again, seeming to struggle with his words. Rather than following up, he lets the topic drop and takes a water bottle, not noticing Bokuto smiling rather smugly behind him.

“Don’t mind him, Y/N!” the owl-like boy laughs. “That’s just ‘Kaashi trying to be friends with you! He’s been mulling over it for days now! Whenever we’re in the changing rooms, he’s always like, ‘I wonder if Y/N dislikes me. We’re in the same class and club, but we don’t talk often’—“

“Bokuto, please shut up,” Akaashi says pointedly, trying to cover the taller boy’s mouth. He’s uncharacteristically flustered, and if you squinted, you could see the pink rising on his cheeks along with his frustrated furrowed brows. You almost laugh too; even the stoic setter could have his feathers ruffled sometimes, and in full honesty, it was such a refreshing sight to see.

“Actually,” you start shyly, chuckling slightly, “I was under the impression that I was disliked by you. I guess we both misunderstood.”

Akaashi shifts his attention from Bokuto to you, looking rather surprised. He’s sure that greeting you frequently would do well to break the ice, but he can’t believe that he gave you such a cold impression. It wasn’t lost on him that his silence usually came off unwelcoming, but he decides then and there that he should try harder. For what, he doesn’t really know.

“Isn’t that nice, ‘Kaashi? You made a friend!”

And so, Akaashi returns to scolding Bokuto about interrupting conversations and saying too much while, as promised, helping you hand out the bottles. The banter is lively and nice, the most emotion you’ve seen the setter express, and you think that you could get used to the chaos that is the volleyball club.

Spring is when the first seeds of love are planted, waiting to bloom.

ii.

Summer is hot with the buzzing of cicadas and the smell of sweat mixed with freshly-cut grass. It’s a little nauseating.

Hosting training camps were literal hell; in between making sure that there are enough clean towels, extra bottles, and an abundance of food, you find most of your summer dedicated to manager work. It’s torturous under the beating heat of the sun, and it makes you think about leaving the club forever. Of course, you don’t and never would, but the thought’s there.

Bokuto’s practically bouncing off the gym walls during the days leading up to the big event. For days on end, he’s talking about Nekoma-this or Nekoma-that, and by the time the team of stray cats actually arrives, you’re sure that you already know their names. You note that he’s the closest to the one with messy hair and a cackle louder than Bokuto’s yells. It’s overwhelming, especially for Akaashi who has to be there to calm Bokuto down, but also keep his spirits up for three days straight.

“Tired?” you ask during one of the breaks, handing him a bottle filled with chilled water and a plate of sliced watermelon. He accepts it graciously with a simple nod.

“With the way Bokuto keeps playing, we’re bound to be doing more diving drills,” he sighs. You giggle a little at the exasperation in his voice, but you still feel a little bad. Running around with towels was already tiring enough, so you can’t imagine working up a harder sweat under this relentless heat. “Are you busy?”

“Yeah,” you respond, stretching out your arms. “I thought setting up the sleeping area was bad, but cooking for a thousand volleyball players is absolutely the worst.”

He nods sympathetically and slides over on the stair step that he’s been sitting on, a silent invitation for you to take the spot next to him. You’re touched at his kindness and want nothing more than to accept the offer and just talk for hours on end to Akaashi, but you shake your head. There were things that needed to be done, and you’d hate for Yukie and Kaori to be the ones doing your share of the work. Akaashi seems to understand.

It’s a little disappointing to see so little of each other during the day even though the two of you were at the same location for the same reasons. To Akaashi, you’re a nice and fresh breeze that counters the loud arguments between Bokuto, Kuroo, and the delinquent-looking guy from Nekoma; you’re calm and can read him like an open book. With you around, he doesn’t feel the need to struggle over finding the proper words, and even when he does speak, it’s not a scolding. He’s at ease when you’re there with him.

Much to Akaashi’s luck and yours too, nighttime is when things calm down. You find him sitting quietly at the sidelines of the gym, making sure that Bokuto doesn’t break anything out of sheer excitement as he works on blocking with Kuroo. He’s working on his summer assignments, and it’s expected from him, but you’re quite amused at how even after a grueling day’s practice, he still finds it in himself to study. This time, you’re free and take the spot on the floor next to him.

“Mind if I join?” you ask, waving your math assignments around. He’s more than happy to have you there and nods not once, but twice. “Aren’t you tired?”

“If I don’t do a little bit every night, it piles up,” he mumbles, writing numbers neatly into his notebook. “It helps me go to sleep better, too.”

“I’m usually the night-before kind of person,” you laugh, opening up your booklet as well. “This is the first time in my life that I’ve done my summer work early.”

He hums, which is how he reacts when he’s surprised, you’ve learned. The two of you sit in silence, exchanging words once in a while for help. Akaashi’s way ahead of you, but you’re glad that he doesn’t find you too annoying when you ask to compare answers for the first few exercises that you’ve done. The yelling and crooning of Bokuto and Kuroo become white noise; you’re only fully aware of Akaashi right now and the fact that your shoulders are so close to touching. Five centimeters. Maybe six, but nothing more than that.

Even now, after months of getting to know him, you find your eyes glancing at him from time to time. You’re distracted, and you want to beat yourself up for it, but it’s almost instinctive. His side profile and his concentration are mesmerizing, his silence giving him an air of elegance. You’re so tempted to move closer, to fill those few centimeters and come into physical contact with the boy next to you, but you get flustered at the exact thought. The two of you were friends. Setter and manager. Classmates. Nothing more.

Unsurprisingly, your progress is poor, and you’re a little ashamed to say it’s because you were distracted by Akaashi. Even when the training camp is over, you still haven’t managed to make a large dent into your math work, and you’re ten times less motivated to continue it once you’re home and without Akaashi. It’s a blessing that the boy is an angel and is at your door during the last weekend of your well-deserved summer break.

“I was wondering if you needed help,” he says simply with a bag filled with cold drinks and ice cream in hand. He’s an angel. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t-“

“No I do!” you answer quickly, heart beating fast. “I still have three more subjects to do, so I’m in a little trouble.”

Akaashi blinks at your outburst, and then breaks into one of his rare smiles. He lets out a laugh, a genuine, hearty laugh that you’ve never heard before, and you think you’ve finally discovered what angels singing sound like. You’re so mesmerized by Akaashi himself that it doesn’t exactly hit you that you’ve invited him into your room until much, much later, when he’s again, five or six centimeters away from you. Leaning on his elbow, he reaches over to your paper to point out errors or little tips, but they’re just noises to you. Lovely noises, but you don’t register a thing he’s saying. His mouth is moving, and you’re aware that you should be paying attention, but whether it’s this cursed heat or own nervousness that’s making you heat up and your heart throb like crazy, you’re mind is anywhere but on your work.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” Akaashi asks, looking toward you.

“No,” you play off cooly, or as cooly as you could. “It’s just a little hot, don’t you think?”

“I have ice cream if you want,” he offers kindly, moving away from you and rustling through his bag. You let out a breath.

Summer is hot, and it’s when you realize that your little interest with the team’s setter is something a lot more than a small crush. It terrifies you.

iii.

Autumn brings in a refreshing chill that replaces summer, and before you know it, the leaves have turned into beautiful reds, oranges, and yellows.

Days have grown shorter, and by the time you leave the school, juggling between manager duties and the cultural festival, the sky outside is practically pitch-black. Walking home alone is a problem, which is why Akaashi takes it upon himself to walk you back home. Him and Bokuto, that is. Akaashi’s aware that he isn’t the scariest or strongest guy around, so he figures that with Bokuto’s large build and even larger voice would provide extra security.

The first time the two walk you home, Bokuto’s talking a mile a minute about how cool his class’s haunted house is coming out and making every effort to invite both you and Akaashi to check it out. Akaashi only comments about how he’ll be busy with his own class, even though you know well that he has free time in the afternoon. You stifle a giggle and nod, encouraging Bokuto to continue and hyping him up out of kindness.

It bothers Akaashi more than he thinks it would, and he almost feels silly for feeling so sour whenever Bokuto had your attention. It’s becoming a more and more frequent thing, he realizes that night. Even during practices, he preferred it when you were talking to just him rather than the other players, and it makes him disgusted with himself for being so selfish. He’s typically not the type of person to tape his fingers, but whenever you walk toward him and offer to help with tape in hand, he never turns you down.

There’s just something about the way your hand radiates a comforting warmth. When your fingers brush against his digits, carefully wrapping the white material around his damaged fingers, he finds it too quick, almost to the point of teasing. There are days where you’ll be so focused on the bandaging that you don’t notice the fondness in his eyes, scanning over your figure and wishing that your fingers would just intertwine with his. Akaashi wants something permanent, something longer than just brief encounters, and he secretly wishes that you’d give him all your attention.

But of course, he can’t say that to you. He find his wishes ugly. You’re Fukorodani’s manager, not his, and it was wrong of him to think otherwise. Still, he can’t help but feel a little bit bothered whenever Bokuto leaned a little too close to you whenever he spoke, shaking your shoulders or patting you on the back out of enthusiasm. Akaashi figures that he wouldn’t be bothered if you weren’t bothered, but it eats away at him when he doesn’t see you rejecting any of Bokuto’s energy.

“Let’s go,” Akaashi says to you one night. You look at him, tilting your head.

“But what about Bokuto?”

“Coach wanted to talk to him,” Akaashi informs before turning toward the door. He makes a motion, so you shrug and follow. The coach part isn’t a lie, but Akaashi leaves out the part about Bokuto nudging him in the ribs and telling him to spend some “quality alone-time” with you, since it’s too embarrassing.

The two of you walk home with you chatting about the day and how busy it is. Akaashi listens to your lovely voice, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful thing sound there is; it’s a stark contrast to Bokuto’s yelling, and he swears that he could listen to you talk about anything and still be emotionally invested. That being said, he’s not exactly paying that much attention, because as you continue rambling about how making the costumes for your class play is just too difficult, Akaashi becomes increasingly aware of the space between the two of you. Or rather, the lack thereof.

He estimates a few centimeters. Maybe three or four. He’s not sure, but he’s so tempted to reach for the same fingers that had danced around his countless of times during practice. He wants to feel your hand in his, and instinctively, he moves his hand closer to yours. He wonders if you’ve noticed too, if you’re just as aware of him, as he was of you. Maybe then, he’d feel more confident about his feelings.

Akaashi’s no fool. He knows that he’s in too deep when it came to you, but he also knows that those feelings were already there long before autumn started. Even during the summer, he’s curious to know if you noticed how he was sweating bullets when he entered your well-cooled room, or if you saw how often he found himself looking for you during the training camp. He wants to know if he catches your eye in any sort of way, and he needs the reassurance that in some sort of miraculous way, he makes a stronger impression on you than Bokuto does.

Autumn is when the leaves begin to wither and die, much like Akaashi’s self-confidence. He retracts his hand.

iv.

Winter is when the first snow falls.

Akaashi’s still walking you home, much to your pleasure, and although you’re not entirely sure why Bokuto has to stay after to see the coach so often now, you can’t really complain. It’s a little mean, and you do like Bokuto platonically, but you’re grateful for every second alone that you spend with Akaashi. You’re even more delighted when he becomes more involved with your conversations, speaking more and more. It’s like he finally opened up to you, and you’re ecstatic that you’ve become his confidant.

“It’s getting colder and colder, huh?” you say, bracing yourself as a particularly strong gust of wind blows. You grasp at the hood of your jacket to keep it from blowing off, but you’re still freezing nonetheless.

“Should we stop for hot tea?” Akaashi asks, frowning. “The convenience store is just around the corner.”

“Last one there has to treat!” you declare and break into a dash for the store. He follows behind, jogging rather slowly. You knew that in any circumstance, even if given a thirty minute handicap, Akaashi would probably be able to outrun you, so you know that he’s letting you win when he isn’t instantly right past you.

“I guess I’m treating,” he says, walking toward you when you reach the destination, and you roll your eyes. “Not happy?”

“You didn’t have to let me win, you know?” you chuckle as he opens the door for you. “I can well afford two teas instead of one.”

“But I wanted to treat you,” he answers simply. He grabs two bottles of lukewarm tea, his preferred brand and your favorite brand that he has committed to memory.

Even with the tea in your hand, you still find yourself freezing again the moment you step outside the shop. You try to hide it, but your shiver gives you away, and Akaashi is immediately back to frowning.

“We should get you home quickly,” he decides, picking up his pace. Now it’s your turn to frown; it’d only get colder from here, and if that meant rushed walks every night, you’re devastated that your time with Akaashi would be shortened. It’s silly, and you know that you should put your health first, but you wish that there could be another way. You lag a few steps behind him, hoping that he’d notice, and of course, he does.

He takes a peek behind his shoulder, and while still frowning, matches your pace. The two of you walk in the same comfortable silence that you’ve enjoyed for the past months, and you aren’t thinking about anything particular until you feel something warm against your hand that isn’t the tea. You almost stop breathing but choose to keep quiet as Akaashi’s hand maneuvers itself slowly around yours. He’s painfully deliberate about the entire thing, hesitating at each action and stopping every so often as if fighting with himself. Gently, he rests his finger in between yours, and the grip is so loose that you think your hand might slip out. He braces himself for you to fling your hand away, but when you don’t and instead look at him in shock and confusion, he’s out of words for a proper explanation.

“I thought your hands looked cold,” is the best he can manage, because even if you asked him what he thought he was doing, he doesn’t have a good answer. He’s not thinking straight; if he was, he would’ve asked for permission. “Sorry-“

“Yeah, they are,” you answer quietly, looking at the pavement and coming to a full stop. “Thanks.”

When Akaashi feels your fingers wrap around his hand, he almost thanks the weather for being the way it is, so that he can blame his reddening face on the cold. He gives you a light squeeze, which you return along with a smile from ear to ear and a flush just as severe as his. He feels a little dumb now for being jealous over Boktuo.

“Now we can walk slower, right?” you ask, looking shyly toward him, but are dismayed when he shakes his head.

“We still have to get you home, so you won’t catch a cold.” Always ever so responsible. “But I wouldn’t mind giving you a call after.”

“A really long call?”

“Yeah,” is all he says, smiling too. He’s not sure if he can put what love feels like into proper words, but he supposes that it’d be similar to the feeling of your hand wrapped around his, swinging happily as the two of you walk under the light snowfall.

Winter is cold, really cold, but you’ve found the perfect person to keep you warm.

[quixotic-writer]

Coming Clean

Song inspo: Coming Clean — Green Day

Summary: There is no time in your life more confusing than your teenage years. You start questioning everything, especially yourself. Sal had everything figured out, Q pretended as though he did too. When Q finally comes face to face with those feelings, Sal offers to help sort them out.

———————————————————————

The teacher sounded like white noise at this point in the lesson, Q clearly didn’t care about a single word that was coming out of the teacher’s mouth. He doodled little characters in his notebook to pass the time as he thought about more important things like what he’s going to be doing after school.

Sal, who sat next to him, was on the same wavelength but somehow a little more attentive to the class. He understood everything that was going on but just couldn’t be bothered with it. He didn’t quite know where his mind was right now or where his train of thought was traveling to, it felt like a mental moment of peace.

“Hey Sal.” Q whispers over to him snapping him out of his trance like state. “You wanna hang after school and go to my place?” Sal lights up at the question.

“Hell yes!” Was his short response before quickly looking back to the front of the classroom to see all their fellow classmates staring at them as well as the teacher.

“Mr. Vulcano and Mr. Quinn, I sure hope you aren’t talking in my class AGAIN?” They both straighten out their posture and side glance each other knowing they got caught talking in class yet again.

“Brian was just asking to use an eraser is all Mr. McNeilly.” Sal quickly grabs the eraser from his desk and hands it to Q. Smooth recovery but it was kind of obvious their short talk wasn’t about an eraser.

“Thanks Sal. Sorry Mr. McNeilly.” Q tries to look remorseful. All Mr. McNeilly does is raise his eyebrow and continue with his lesson. The boys sigh in relief and slump back into their chairs.

As the time passed since the mini exchange, Q couldn’t help but count down the minutes until school was finally out. He was always excited to hang out with Sal and vice versa, but Q had reached a time in his life where he was beginning to sort out and figure out all his emotions. He had this love and adoration for his best friend, but it grew to feel like an infatuation and he thought it was a normal thing until being told otherwise.

“So like, you’re telling me no one feels that kind of emotional attachment??” Minor panic was setting in his bones, he didn’t want to expose the skeleton he had hiding in the corner of his closet.

“...No, Q. Maybe for a girl I find hot, but not a friend.” Murr said shooting Q a suspicious look. He felt his face go hot and his hands begin to sweat as he fiddles around with the ring band on his middle finger.

“Maybe i’m confusing my feelings and just being dramatic. Speaking of romance, how’s that girl you’ve been talking to that attends the neighboring school?” He tries to quickly divert the conversation over to a subject he knew Murr would take it and run with it and it would be like the topic was never brought up.

“Q being dramatic? Unheard of.” Joe says sarcastically as he takes a huge bite out of his sandwich, smiling to himself. Murr continues rambling on and Q sinks in on himself and his gears start working over time. Is it true that these are romantic feelings he has for Sal? He never really took the time to sort out these emotions, he mostly repressed them and said “eh, i’ll figure it out later.” But later became now very quick.

Why did figuring yourself out have to be so hard especially when it deals with someone you’re best friends with? He knew he liked girls, he knew that much for sure. But when it came to guys, that’s when things got a little blurry for him. Sal seemed to be the one that threw a curve ball on him and was the one to turn everything upside down.

Sal had an “I don’t give a fuck” attitude about his romantic taste. He never messed too much with labels and didn’t really see the point in them. While he knew he lusted for ladies, he wasn’t opposed to the idea of being with a guy at all. He had played a detailed scenario where he was with a guy, and it didn’t bother him at all, he was indifferent and comfortable with the thought. He believed there could be a special person who could just woo him, so for that he kept himself open to any options that were laid out in front of him. One of those options: his best friend Q, but he’d never say anything assuming Q didn’t bat for the same team he did per se.

The school bell rings and it made Sal jump out of his skin a little since he had lost track of the time. He looks over to Q and they both smile to the other knowing their game was now afoot as they gather all their things. When they start making their swift exit, they were halfway out the door when Mr. McNeilly decides to get in his final words: “Enough talking in class you two. One more time and I will for sure separate your seats.”

“Yes Mr. McNeilly.” The two say in unison and leave before being further lectured on their poor classroom behavior.

“I swear that class gets more and more painful with each passing lesson. It’s so boring it’s almost as if they want us to fail.” Q complains to Sal as they both hop into his car and take off to presumably Q’s place either chill in his room and put some records on, or get lost in the forest for a bit. Either way, they both were just happy to spend time with the other.

As they rode along the road, Sal stared outside taking in the familiar view of the small town they know. Q had his eyes on the road, but he didn’t feel all there, it felt as though he had been set on auto-pilot.

“So I hear you have been chatting it up with a girl yourself, eh, Q?” Sal has a giddy grin on his face that shows he was eager to find out the latest gossip on his friend’s romantic life. In reality there was no gossip to be heard, there was no girl. It was all a made up scenario Q made to evade any suspicion on his confused orientation status.

“Yeah... her name is uh... Samantha! Her name is Samantha. Yes. Met her at the mall food court. Brown hair, green eyes, a gorgeous combination of features if you ask me. She has this radiating smile and a laugh that takes me out.” Sal smiles and nods, little did he know Q was, in reality, describing the person sitting next to him. But he would never tell him that. “So any girl you have your eyes set on lover boy?” Sal’s heart palpitated for a second knowing that now he was in the hot seat.

“Not really a girl per se. I do think a guy is pretty cute though.” He casually blurts out. Q feels his palms sweat and he begins gripping the steering wheel just a little bit harder.

“Guy?” Q half chokes on the air he was breathing and his voice cracks as he tries to get out a single word.

“Is there... a problem with that?” Sal raises his defenses, he imagined Q would have been fine with it and not have cared.

“No no... sorry it just caught me off guard a little. You do you, i’m glad you’re happy and comfortable with yourself. Tell me about him.” Sal began to sweat, he wasn’t expecting a follow up question.

“Well... he’s nerdy or geeky or whatever... um. pretty chill y’know. Yeah.” Sal knew that was the stupidest blurb he ever went on and was mentally face palming himself over and over and over again. But he knew he couldn’t say too much without being too obvious, he wasn’t about to unintentionally confess who his crush is to his crush.

The car was silent for the last tail end of the drive to Q’s place. When they get there, they both take themselves upstairs to his room where they follow the same routine they always have. Sal throws himself onto Q’s bed while the other sat on the floor shuffling through his box of records to find something to play in the background while they talk the day away. The grainy sounds of an old Elvis record begins to fill the room as the two sit in silence.

“So how did you know?” Q looks over to Sal who raised his head to meet eyes with Q.

“That’s so vague Q, more specific please.” He slumps his head back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling knowing this was gonna be a weird and awkward conversation.

“How do you know that you like guys?”

“Same way that I know I like girls, same way you know that you like girls. I just feel it, go with the flow of my heart. I find a dude attractive and maybe I wanna kiss him, boom.” Q had heard over and over the same statement of ‘you just know,’ and honestly it wasn’t helping his case at all. It had grown frustrating trying to find help and advice when it was the same dead end every time. “But y’know the game changer is a kiss. That’s what sealed the deal for me.”

“You’ve kissed a guy before?” Q feels jealousy taking over with a slight twinge of confusion, he had never heard of Sal ever kissing some other guy.

“Yeah it was a dare at a party, that’s how I figured things out. What’s with all the weird questions today?” Sal sits up and seats himself at the edge of the bed. He looks all over at Q’s face and the deer in the headlights look he had made it all click together in his head. “We don’t have to talk about it if you’re uncomfortable Bri.” Q’s eyes never left the box of records he was looking through. Sal was his closest friend and he knew he could tell him this much, but it still terrified him because he felt like he was just supposed to know and have it all together. He hated being vulnerable and open, he felt as though it made him an open target for attacks. So instead, he kept all his serious problems to himself and was left alone to solve them.

“I just feel so lost. I feel like it’s almost.. wrong, to have the thoughts and feelings that I am.” He buries his face into his now sweaty palms. He’s trying so hard to be open about what’s going on for once, but it all feels so mortifying. Sal stares at Q and knows there’s one quick fix to the problem.

“Brian, it’s okay to be confused. You don’t have to have EVERYTHING figured out, especially something like this.” Sal tries to console his stressed out friend with soothing words. It wasn’t often where Sal had called Q by his actual name rather than his nickname, he knew he was serious and only trying to help. “Listen, if it helps to make this easier, just kiss me.” Q’s head shoots up immediately and his whole face turns red. Sal smirks knowing that was the exact reaction he was gonna get.

“Seriously?” Q was absolutely floored at the sudden offer.

“Well, Bri, I wouldn’t offer if I was serious. Now pucker up butter cup.” Sal makes kissy noises to Q in attempts to lighten the mood, somehow it made his face become even redder than before. Q gets up and sits next to Sal on the bed, he never once dared to make eye contact. His heart was racing so fast inside his chest it felt like it could escape out of his body and run at any moment. “Are you sure you’re up for this Q?”

“If I don’t do this, i’ll be left lost for a while. If you’re offering, i’ll take it.” Q finally looks into Sal’s eyes and his mind flat lined for just a second. This was it, the moment he craved deep in his soul no matter how hard he suppressed it. The two begin to lean in closer together, eyes closing, the radiating heat of their faces warming their senses.

And then it happened.

Their lips connected and for once in this painstaking soul searching journey, Q felt tranquil. He reaches his hand up to hold Sal’s face as he proceeded to deepen the kiss, hungry for more after starving himself of affection he knew he wanted. Q hums at the sensation and Sal hums back in response. When they finally pulled apart, Q finally figured himself out. Sal couldn’t help but smile since he could see the fireworks shooting off behind his best friend’s eyes.

“Sal. I think i’ve finally figured it all out.” Q was breathless to say the least.

“I’m glad I could help out.”

“And now I think I should tell you the truth. My truth.” Q’s leg is frantically bouncing at the same rate as his heart, he twiddles his fingers, and his eyes are fixed on anything but the upper half of the boy sitting next to him.

“And what is that?” Sal knew what was coming, and he had the biggest shit eating grin on his face. Finally the truth was about to unravel before him.

“I’ve liked you for a while, but I just couldn’t seem to map out the feeling properly until now. I think I spent all this time denying myself thinking it’ll make me less of a man.” It all came flooding out and Q had never felt lighter than in that moment, finally releasing all that had been weighing him down.

“I knew that ‘Samantha’ character sounded all to familiar in the car. I’ll let you in on a little secret myself: I’ve liked you for some time too.” The two lock eyes and share a smile between them. “Liking a guy doesn’t make you any less of a man Q. I think suppressing your true self is what takes that away. It takes a real man to be open and honest and today, I think you found what makes you a real man.” Q felt overwhelmed with emotions and couldn’t help the floodgates from spilling. Tears fell down his cheeks and dropped onto the ground. They didn’t say much more than that, Sal had taken Q into his arms and they shared a moment’s embrace.

“I was so scared. Thank you Sal.”

“Hey, no more tears, okay?” Sal pulls away and takes his fingers to wipe away the tears that were cascading on his friend’s cheeks, he pulls his face close and gently placed a kiss on his forehead. “What if I asked you to go to a movie this weekend? Just us. What say you?” Q smiled wide.

“I think that sounds great.” He answered with confidence not fearing his emotions anymore.

“Then it’s a date.” The two beamed with overflowing joy and happiness. Secrets revealed and out in the open between the two young boys. They never thought that this moment would have ever happened, a mere stroke of luck and proper timing. But the stars had aligned just for them to shine

[thorne93]

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 54)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:2821

Warnings: Language, taking sides, arguing,mentions of casualties from past fights,Civil war major  plot points, songs for this part: The afterglow, Look what you made me do- Taylor Swift, Falling Apart-Papa Roach Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once all of you returned home, Hank and Charles escorted you and Shannon to the med bay. They took a sample of Shannon’s blood and tissue and determined that after one session, she should be healed. They suggested you give her one more treatment and after that, they would anesthetize you and Shannon and remove your triggering, and remove her Red Room protocol. 

Of course, you agreed eagerly and after two days you were released from the mansion. You had seen Remy once and he apologized for his actions and asked if you could stay friends. Without hesitation, you said you’d like nothing more. 

Shannon returned to Stark tower with her husband, and you returned to your apartment with Loki. 

Life went on… normally for a while. Loki continued his work with Stephen. In fact, most days, you met him at work when he was getting off and the three of you had tea. It was nice to have Stephen back in your life again. You worked where you could find it, whether it was with Jane, or Shannon, or even Bruce. Shannon and Tony had  a blissfully happy marriage, running Stark Industries and helping to manage the Avengers.

From what you could tell, the storm had passed. Remy and you remained friends, acknowledging his feelings and he respected your wishes to stay with Loki. You still visited him, and he you. Loki wasn’t jealous any more, for he had you and he knew this. You and Tony had made complete amends. Since that night at Xavier’s mansion, you let bygones be bygones. You both loved Shannon, and you missed being friends. It wasn’t just Stpehen and Remy either. You seemed to gravitate towards the Avengers compound quite a bit, and when Shannon was busy, you spent a lot of time with Wanda, Pietro, and if Clint was around, him too.

Shannon was completely healed at this point. She could exercise her powers at will and not be drained of them. 

You and Loki visited Asgard, often. Most of the time you went for a week at the end of each month. It was nice to visit the motherland and return to a familiar home. Loki finally began to accept that Earth was his home and he started to feel…. Happy here. He didn’t really care if he was on Asgard, or Voromir, or Earth, so long as he was with you. 

It seemed everyone was happy, moving on, building their lives back up from the chaos that had been the last five years. 

Until Secretary Ross came in and said he was introducing a new plan for the Avengers -- The Sokovian Accords. Wanda had accidentally killed some citizens, and now the government was cracking down on the team. 

“Steve’s right,” Shannon suddenly said, once the debate had broken out about the accords. Sides were being taken, quickly. So far, Sam and Steve were against signing this treaty, as it were. Natasha, Vision, and Rhodey leaned on the side of complying with the government. 

“What?” Tony asked, shocked. He pulled up an image of a boy, a boy who was crushed by some of the destruction caused in Sokovia. You felt a pang of guilt. “You’re telling me you’re okay with that?” Tony demanded of his wife. 

“I’m saying that the Avengers should be able to go out and save the people and clear the danger from becoming worse. We shouldn’t have to wait to be called upon to save the day. That’s not what we are, that’s not why we were formed.” 

“Exactly. Tony, what if there’s somewhere we need to go, and we can’t because of this?” 

“The Avengers were created to save the world from whatever threat is upon the Earth. So for us to be there like sitting ducks… it’s infuriating because I could be healing people while the rest of you are handling whatever’s left,” Shannon responded.

“Y/N is awfully quiet,” Natasha remarked. 

“Look, I’m not an Avenger, not official, so I--”

“Right, her vote doesn’t count,” Tony interjected with a smile at you. 

“But I agree with you, Tony,” you finished. 

Tony did a double take. “What?” 

“What?” Shannon scoffed. “Y/N/N, what--” 

“Shannon, toying with forces unknown will result in bad outcomes. Maybe it’s good you--we-- don’t go running to every fight. Look where that got me. I became a slave because I thought I could help fight them.” 

“You were forced to do something you didn’t want to, Y/N. But as the Avengers it’s our duty to defend the only home we have against whatever or whoever tries to come and take over.” 

“No matter the cost?” you asked incredulously.

“How would you feel if everyone on this earth became a slave because we were told we couldn’t stop the threat from doing that to us? It would mean that everything we've done would be for nothing.”  

“I understand that but look at New York, look at Sokovia, look at what just happened with Wanda. If Banner had been more under control, or if we’d had the government to help extract the citizens…. Maybe we wouldn’t have as many casualties.” 

“You know we wouldn’t have any casualties from New York if you and your boy toy hadn’t come in storming the place,” Sam retorted and you shot him a look of frustration. 

“We’re going to get nowhere arguing like this,” Tony stated. “The accords are being signed in a week, in Vienna. I suggest you all be there, if you don’t want to be considered criminals.” 

With that, he left the room, Steve got a text message, and you and Shannon stared at each other. 

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

Loki said he was staying out of it, but supported your decision either way. You informed him you would sign as a symbol of good faith to the government and to show you could comply. Maybe order was a good thing. 

A week later, you were in Vienna with Tony, Rhodey, Nat, and Vision. Vision complimented you for making a sound decision. Nat said she was glad to see you there. Tony was… still bitter about Shannon and didn’t talk much. 

Until the next thing you knew was the signing had exploded. 

From there, it was a whirlwind of fighting. Apparently, the Winter Soldier, the man who had trained Shannon, Steve’s old friend Bucky had blown the place up. Steve went after him, only to be arrested and all of them in captivity, until Bucky was reactivated. 

Shannon, Steve, Bucky, and Sam were fugitives. They had escaped holding and you and Tony had figured out they were headed for the airport. 

That’s when things got really hairy. When you ran into them, you were trying to stop them, just hoping they’d give themselves up. But Steve and Bucky were determined to chase down a phantom. For you, it wasn’t about the Accords or Bucky or any of it. You had made a promise to the UN, and now you had to bring the others in.

On one side, it was Steve, Sam, Bucky, Shannon, Wanda, Pietro, Scott, and Clint. 

On your side, it was you, Tony, Rhodey, Vision, Nat, Peter, and T’Challa. 

Utter hell broke loose between the two opposing sides. You mainly focused on fighting Wanda and Shannon, the two you could do the most damage against. Ultimately though, Steve and Bucky got away with the help of Shannon and Nat. Tony followed them. 

When the fight ended though, you and Shannon made up, as did you and the rest of the group. You felt the accords were silly, and slightly unnecessary, but it seemed like a step in the right direction. You respected everyone’s choice on the matter though, and that’s what everyone said once the physical fighting was over. Everyone had civil discourse on what had happened. But ultimately, Rhodey had to make the call to Ross to ask that they all be arrested.

“No, Rhodey, you can’t do that,” you begged, turning to him. “Come on, they were just trying to help Bucky, you know this. Come on, it’s Steve. It’s Shannon,” you pleaded. “We can’t do this!”

 He continued to stay on the phone as he talked to you. “It’s out of my hands, Y/N. You know as well as I do if we just let this go, we’ll all be as good felons too.”

“It’s okay,” Shannon assured. “He’s right, Y/N. It’s your duty to call this in.” 

“No,” you argued. “I didn’t sign up for this shit. I signed up to stop threats. No one here is a threat,” you retorted, angry. “You didn’t get a chance to keep me from jail. You pulled strings to get me out early. I want to be better for you. You don’t belong in a jail cell. Vision, come on. You know as well as I do none of them belong in prison!” You were trying to plead with the people on your side, but their hands were tied. 

“Y/N,” Shannon said softly, “it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Tony won’t let any of us stay in a cell too long. It’ll be a slap on the wrist. He’ll make sure everyone gets cut some slack and gets out. No civilians got hurt. It was just us. We’ll be alright.” She came up and rubbed your back. 

You peered at her, glancing to all of your friends. “I don’t like it.” 

“I know,” she agreed. “It’ll be fine.” 

The government showed up and all of them stood still, not fighting as handcuffs were put on them. That part killed you.Meanwhile, you tears were hot on your face as Vision wrapped you in an embrace, trying to comfort you.

You never wanted anyone locked away, especially Shannon. She didn’t deserve the same fate you had after New York. Truthfully, none of them did. Tony could be stubborn, and you knew he thought they got what they deserved except for Shan, but you couldn’t bear to see them in that prison.

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

Tony walked into the floating cell that held all of his friends, including his wife. He didn’t want her to be here, or any of them, really. But the law was the law. He walked up to her cell after he made a round to everyone else. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t bear to look at her just yet. 

“Shan…” He started, his voice sounding broken. “What the hell, babe? You went against me on this? We fought? Physically. What the hell happened?” 

“Tony, you know how I feel about this. As a team we were formed to save.” She turned her body to face him. She didn’t attempt to come closer to the cell wall. She didn’t want to get shocked again. “I’m sorry we fought but we needed to get Bucky out of there, you wouldn't really understand why I did it but I did and I don’t regret it.” 

“I’m so glad you were concerned with getting Roger’s friend out of there,” he snapped, beyond angry and hurt. “Shannon, I needed you, beside me. I thought as my wife you’d support me, back me up. And then you just… You decided to go against not only me, but most of the global governments. Was this all to get back at me in some way or…? I gotta know.” He had that signature amused, irritated look. He was at his wits end.

“Tony, would you not make this about yourself for once? I’ve always stood by your side in everything!” she shouted and took a deep breath. “I was not about to sign something that makes me the government's pet going when they call. You would have done the same thing to  save Rhodey if it had been you in Steve’s shoes.” She got up, walking a little bit close. “Just like I would have done for Y/N or you, not that it seems to matter to you.” she lowered her voice at the end.

“How can you say it doesn’t matter?” he asked, his voice low, hurt. “Shan, everything you do matters to me. That’s why it hurt so bad to know you fought me on this.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. He shook his head. “Shan, babe, I just wanted us to be on the same side. We’re not always on the same side, and it kills me when we aren’t. It surprised the hell out of me when you said you disagreed with me on this. When I found out that you weren’t going to sign, I freaked.” 

 She stepped as close as she could to the plexiglass. “All my life all I’ve know is following orders and being the assassin they want me to be and I finally got away from that when we created the Avengers and I met you,” the pain in her eyes was evident she hated that she hurt him like this but he didn’t want to live through another version of her past. “And now you ask me to do it all over again but as a soldier to the government? It took me years to feel comfortable in my own skin after all the atrocities I did back then I won’t start again from zero.” She wiped the few tears that had escaped. She couldn’t do this. She wouldn’t, not if she had the choice.

He sighed, rubbing his neck. He started nodding. “You know what? You’re right. I never thought of it that way. I saw it my way and that’s all I could see. All I saw and heard was that you weren't backing me up, and I freaked. But you’re absolutely right. You’ve never gotten autonomy and for the first time in your life, you got a chance to do that. I’m just sorry it ended in this. You gotta help me right now though. Where did they go?” he implored, staring at her. “I want to help them, but you gotta tell me where they went.”

“How do I know you're not just going to lock them in here with us?” She scrunched her eyebrows. “They should already be at the location, Tony. They need to end what Zemo started.”

He frowned. “Zemo… Where would he have gone?”

She looked at Sam who shook his head as if knowing what was going on. “ I can’t tell you Tony.” she points to the cameras with her eyes hoping he’d get why.

He sighed before pulling his watch up, running his finger over a few things. “There, audio is out. We have thirty seconds. If you ever trusted me for a moment in our life, you’ll tell me now. It’s either me or the government,” he challenged. 

“It’s you Tony,  it’s always. “ she stopped. “They’re in Siberia that's where all the other super soldiers are frozen.” she put her hand to the glass not caring that she’d get shocked. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he vowed, kissing his fingers and pressing them against the glass. “Gimme some time. I’m gonna go help them, and I’ll be back to get you babe. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you or on your side.” He gave her an apologetic smile. 

She winced at the pain of the shock. “Just please be careful...fuck!” she pulled her hand back from the glass. “Damn you Ross!” she glared at the camera and she looked down at her hand to see that it was bleeding.

“I’ll take care of that prick,” Tony promised. “Love you. Be back in a bit.” With that, he turned and was off. He needed to get to Steve and Bucky before the UN caught on. 

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

Tony arrived at the bunker, happy to help Bucky and Steve, only to have that idea shattered. The truth of his parents murder sent him reeling and he launched into a full on fight, ready to tear Bucky apart. Steve left him and his suit broken in the bunker as T’Challa had captured Zemo. 

Steve and Bucky went off to God knows where, and T’Challa, Tony, and Zemo returned to the States. Tony got back and got Shannon a deal. He immediately got Shannon out of the prison as soon as possible, as he did with Clint and Scott, both who had kids. The rest stayed in the prison cell until Tony could maybe work something else out. 

But by the time Tony started on the paperwork, Steve had busted everyone out of the floating prison. He sent Tony and Shannon a letter saying if anyone needed him, he’d be there for them. 

As of that moment, everyone knew the Avengers were no more. 

You kept in a bit of contact with Wanda, Pietro, and Steve, keeping the correspondence from Tony. Ultimately, you had to return to Asgard with Loki and Thor for Odin and you lost touch for around a year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @essie1876​ @magpiegirl80​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @iamwarrenspeace​ @marvel-imagines-yes-please​ @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification​ @thejemersoninferno​ @rda1989​ @munlis​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @bubblyanarocks3​​ @igiveupicantthinkofausername​​ @kaliforniacoastalteens​ @feelmyroarrrr​​ @kaelingoat-blog​ @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​​ @damalseer​​ @heyitscam99​​ @yknott81​​ @sorryimacrapwriter​​ @glitterquadricorn​​ @xxqueenofisolationxx @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @bittersweetunicorm​​ @alyssaj23​​ @sea040561​​ @princess76179​​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​​ @sarahp879​​ @malfoysqueen14​​ @ellallheart​​ @breezy1415​​ @marvelmayo​​ @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @cocosierra94 @hardcollectionworldtrash @capsmuscles​ @marvelloushamilton @paintballkid711​

Loki: @lostinspace33​​ @ultrarebelheart​​ @lenawiinchester​​ @esoltis280​​ @tngrayson​​ @wangdeasang​​ @harrymewmew @jayfantasyatyourservice​​

UC: @lokis-high-priestess​

[lynne-monstr]

fic - right there beside me (somehow inside me)

the king's avatar | yuhuang | rated m

"huang shaotian gets a very special surprise on his very special day.”

contains: tentacles, tentacle bondage, attempted tentacle noncon (but no noncon in the fic), consensual tentacle sex, praise kink

ao3 link

Huang Shaotian is confident in saying he’s seen it all in Glory, but he may have to amend that statement. He’s never seen this. Spilling from his computer monitor is a mass of what can only be called tentacles.

He rubs his eyes but nope. Still tentacles. Lots of them.

“What the hell?” he says.

Not his most imaginative reaction but give him a break, it’s not every day he sees the setup to a porno come to life at his place of work. Sure, there was that one time with the package delivery that ended up being a mistake but this is a whole other level. He pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. And then yelps because ouch.

There’s only one explanation that makes any sense. He spins around, waiting for his teammates to come out of hiding and laugh at him for falling for their stupid joke.

“Hey, hey, not cool guys,” he calls out. His voice echoes across the empty training room.

Empty, because his teammates have all gone home for the summer vacation, though he wouldn’t put it past them to come back for a joke, especially considering what day today almost is. Huang Shaotian should be home too, but there was a paperwork issue with management and both he and Yu Wenzhou got dragged back.

“Zheng Xuan, show yourself! Don’t think I haven’t seen your porn stash, I know this is you.” No answer. “Come out, come out and maybe I won’t tell the captain you’ve been slacking and making weird kinky shit instead of the summer training you promised.”

The part of his brain not gibbering can’t help but think the approaching tentacles look like the ones from Swoksaar’s Death’s Door, a skill Yu Wenzhou likes to use as a finishing move.

Something primal unfolds in Huang Shaotian’s gut. Something that screams run.

By the time he backs away (and nearly trips over his own chair) it’s too late. The tentacles descend on him, wrapping around his ankles, his wrists, his torso. Pulling him to the ground. He tugs at them and he fights but whatever they’re made of, they’re strong. His breath comes in large heaves of air and he stops struggling before he wears himself out. The tentacles poke at the waistband of his jeans and he’s seen enough weird porn to know what comes next. Normally he’d be all for taking the spotlight in his own fantasy but this isn’t some idle fantasy. It’s real and it’s happening, whether he wants it to or not. He suddenly feels very alone in the middle of the training room, very alone and very—

Stupid, very stupid, that’s what he is. Stupid Huang Shaotian, too busy freaking out at impossible, creepy tentacles instead of thinking like a blademaster with a partner.

“Wenzhou!” he cries out. “Captain, Captain, in here! The training room! Now!”

It’s late but Yu Wenzhou is always around when Huang Shaotian plays into the night. He says it’s because he wants to make sure Huang Shaotian isn’t causing mischief but Huang Shaotian knows the truth. Yu Wenzhou is a romantic who doesn’t like to go to bed alone.

Sure enough, the door bursts open to the very welcome sight of his captain framed in the doorway. Any lingering hope he had of this being a team joke is shattered at the absolutely shocked look on Yu Wenzhou’s face.

His mouth opens, closes, and opens again. “Shaotian?”

“Don’t just stand there, help me!”

Yu Wenzhou rushes forward. Almost as quickly, he’s stopped in his tracks by Huang Shaotian yelling, “No!” He tilts his head, and it would be hilarious how familiar that exasperated look is except, has Huang Shaotian mentioned the tentacles?

“Don’t come closer or it’ll get you, too. It’s a Death’s Door.” He gasps out the words as the tentacles roam over his chest. They stop curiously at his underarms before making their way downward. It feels kind of good but he’s not thinking about that right now. “It’s your stupid spell, Wenzhou. Cast it, cast the spell and get rid of it!”

The request isn’t completely off the wall. Most of the high-level warlock skills have a spoken component the avatar voices during play. It’s a last-ditch guess but he can’t think of anything else. Not that he thinks Yu Wenzhou is actually a warlock but until right now he didn’t believe in tentacles either. He’s willing to try anything.

What the hell kind of situation is this, anyway? No one warned him about this crap in training camp. Where’s the skill guide for poor esports players on how to avoid tentacle attacks at home? Are the old pros holding out on him? Huang Shaotian will fight them all. He’s not exactly in condition to fight at the moment so he does the next best thing. He starts chanting the spell for Death’s Door. He’s heard it enough times that it’s almost second nature. He sags in relief when, shortly after, Yu Wenzhou’s smooth, steady voice is added to his own.

About time, Captain, he doesn’t say. Now probably isn’t the time for jokes about being slow.

Not that he thinks Yu Wenzhou will leave him like this but it’s bad form to taunt the guy that’s about to save his ass. Literally, in this case.

He really hopes this works.

Another tentacle pokes at the corner of Huang Shaotian’s mouth, prodding against his lips and his teeth. His lightning fast reflexes kick in, and he stops chanting and keeps his jaw stubbornly shut. He nearly screws up the whole thing by taunting the tentacle—Take that you slimy thing, no Sword Saint mouth for you. Ha! Are you sad, are you disappointed? Too bad—but remembers himself in time.

At the same time, the tentacles work their way up his calves and over his knees. Unlike with his mouth, he has no way to stop them and he doesn’t try, not even when they spread his legs apart. He needs to save his effort for thinking, the same way he would in Glory when Troubling Rain is caught in an unbreakable combo. His mind is ticking over everything he’s seen, frantically searching for something he can exploit—a weakness, an advantage, anything—but he’s too securely caught.

Another tentacle dips under his t-shirt to brush against his stomach and he clenches his jaw against the way it brings his whole body to attention. Clearly he and Yu Wenzhou need to have sex more often if something as simple as that can make him want to roll over and ask for more.

His captain will fix this, he can fix anything.

From the corner of his eye he can see the strained look on Yu Wenzhou’s face as he continues his chanting alone. There’s tension in every line of his body and Huang Shaotian knows him well enough to understand it’s because he’s holding himself back from running to him.

Even in this weird as fuck situation, Yu Wenzhou is calm and levelheaded. He really is the best captain in the whole world.

It’s hard to say whether the heat that flares between Huang Shaotian’s legs is because of Yu Wenzhou’s grace under fire, or because he’s maybe getting a little hot and bothered at being tied up. He’d be lying if he said he never fantasized about this exact kind of situation, right down to having Yu Wenzhou’s eyes on him as he’s teased into getting hard. If this keeps up, he might start begging and he can’t say for certain if he’d be asking to be let go, or for more.

And with that mortifying personal revelation, Yu Wenzhou finally finishes the chant.

Every single tentacle in the room falls still. Unfortunately, they don’t let him go, which means he still can’t move but it’s definitely an improvement. Well, except for the slightly embarrassing bulge in his crotch.

In the doorway, Yu Wenzhou stands stock still.

Huang Shaotian can’t move but he can speak. “Captain. Um a little help here?” He tugs at the inert tentacles holding his wrists above his head but it only earns him a glare. He swallows. “Or not. Take your time. No rush.” He lowers his voice and playfully mumbles, “Just like training camp.”

It fails to get a rise out of Yu Wenzhou and Huang Shaotian goes from pouting to concerned. Yu Wenzhou would never keep him like this deliberately, not once he asked to be released. What if the spell went wrong, what if Yu Wenzhou is in some kind of danger and Huang Shaotian’s sitting here cracking jokes?

He renews his struggles against the tentacles. “Captain? Is everything okay?”

Yu Wenzhou still doesn’t answer but this time he nods. It’s enough to stamp out the frantic maw of worry in Huang Shaotian’s stomach. His eyes trace a bead of sweat as it drips down Yu Wenzhou’s temple towards the edge of his jaw.

When Yu Wenzhou finally speaks, his voice is strained in a way Huang Shaotian isn’t familiar with. “I can’t send them back.”

He thought he’d heard all his captain’s voices by now. The tone of voice that says he’s stressed or mad, the disappointed voice that Huang Shaotian hates the most. He’s heard Yu Wenzhou elated after winning an important match, or proud when someone on the team pulls off an impressive maneuver. He’s heard Yu Wenzhou cry out when he comes, his voice wound as tight as the muscles in his body.

This voice is pure frustration on a level Huang Shaotian has never heard before and it worries him more than the tentacles keeping him pinned to the floor.

“Wenzhou what’s wrong? Is the spell hurting you?” It still feels wrong to say that kind of sentence out loud, like that’s the kind of world he lives in now. A world where he can ask the captain of an esports team about fucking magic. What the hell. But he does what he always does; he adapts. Besides, if anyone can learn to grasp the mechanics of the impossible on the first try, it’s Yu Wenzhou.

“No, I’m fine. I just can’t—I can’t control them. I can’t make them let you go. They won’t leave.”

“Maybe they want what they came for first.” Huang Shaotian tests the theory on his tongue. He’s not actually opposed, not anymore. Not with Yu Wenzhou controlling the tentacles.

Yu Wenzhou, who’s the smartest, hottest person Huang Shaotian has ever met, catches on immediately. “No. That’s out the question, Shaotian. I would never do that to you. Never.”

“It’s alright. It’s okay if it’s you.” Huang Shaotian smiles, trying to convey how very not opposed to this plan he is. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it. “Come here, stop hiding in the doorway.”

Yu Wenzhou must be more shaken than he lets on because he does what he’s told without complaint. His eyes scan Huang Shaotian, from his spread legs to his arms raised over his head, as if checking him for injury. His eyes stutter at the bulge in his pants.

Huang Shaotian wriggles in the grip of the tentacles as best he can. “Like what you see?”

Instead of answering, Yu Wenzhou kneels on the ground beside him and threads his fingers through Huang Shaotian’s hair. His eyes close and he bends over until his forehead is resting on Huang Shaotian’s.

It takes a moment for Huang Shaotian to realize he’s saying something over and over, the words are nearly too soft to hear. It takes another before the sounds coalesce into words.

“—tian, Shaotian, Shaotian, Shaotian…”

Huang Shaotian struggles for real this time, desperate to get his hands on Yu Wenzhou and reassure him, but it’s as futile as every other time he tried. He only has his voice. For anyone else, that might not mean much but Huang Shaotian is hardly most people. “Wenzhou. Wenzhou, listen. I’m okay, I’m fine. Nothing happened. You rescued me with that badass spell like a real life Swoksaar.” He pauses for breath. Who knew getting attacked by tentacles was so exhausting. “Wenzhou, look at me.”

Slowly, Yu Wenzhou lifts his head.

“There you are.” It earns him a smile. “You know, I’ve had this exact fantasy about Swoksaar and the Death’s Door tentacles. Let’s not waste this opportunity.” He looks down at his own dick, which has flagged a little but is still noticeably hard in his pants.

“You know I’m not actually Swoksaar, right?”

Huang Shaotian laughs. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you put on the costume you had to wear for photos during that one All-Stars year.”

Yu Wenzhou laughs but doesn’t look convinced. “We can find another way.”

“Please don’t make me stay like this all week while you video chat with the other captains for research.” Huang Shaotian pauses and adds, “I’m okay with it if you are, I am, I really am. But only if you are, too.”

Yu Wenzhou nods. “Okay.” he says. When Huang Shaotian doesn’t look convinced, he huffs out a cute, tiny laugh and admits, “You’re not the only one who’s had that kind of fantasy.”

In one smooth motion, he cups Huang Shaotian’s face and kisses him.

Kissing the captain is always good but when he tries to grab hold of him, he’s brought up short by the tentacles. Except instead of the usual frustration, it sends a jolt of heat racing down his spine.

“Captain, please.” He tugs a bit at the tentacles for emphasis.

Something possessive gleams in Yu Wenzhou’s eyes and the tentacles holding Huang Shaotian tighten and stretch his limbs even further apart. Just as quickly, Yu Wenzhou’s eyes go wide and he curses. “Sorry. I’m still learning to control them.” His face scrunches into a look of concentration and the tentacles relax their grip, though they don’t let Huang Shaotian go. “It’s not like they came with a manual.”

He concentrates once more, and this time the rest of the tentacles begin to stir, brought to life by Yu Wenzhou’s will. “Tell me you want this.”

Huang Shaotian licks his lips and nods. “Captain, you’re about to bring half my teenage fantasies to life, and some of my adult ones, too.” When the tentacles don’t move again he sighs and says. “Yes, I’m sure, now fuck me already. Come on, come on, let’s do this, I’m ready.”

The tentacles descend on him, pushing his pants and underwear down to his thighs before he can do more than blink. Another pair tugs his t-shirt over his chest so it’s bunched up beneath his armpits. A chill hits his exposed skin and he arches his back for more, only to be held down by Yu Wenzhou’s hand low on his stomach, so low that his thumb is brushing the line of his pubic hair.

“Patience, Shaotian.”

Huang Shaotian squirms beneath the touch and nearly jumps when he feels something thick and slick slither between his legs. “That’s a laugh, Captain. Don’t you know who you’re talking to, I don’t have patience, I only have—”

“I know exactly who I’m talking to,” Yu Wenzhou interrupts him, continuing to stroke his thumb further down the trimmed patch of hair. “I’m talking to the best opportunist in the alliance.” The tentacles follow the newly exposed skin to wrap around Huang Shaotian’s bare legs. “My partner.” They push his pants all the way down until they’re on the floor along with his shoes and socks. “My vice-captain who once hid for three hours during a melee training exercise just so he could win with a cheap shot at the end.”

Yu Wenzhou finishes right as the tentacles bend Huang Shaotian’s knees up to his chest. They wrap tight around his calves, binding them to his thighs and exposing him to Yu Wenzhou. He can feel the burn from how wide his legs are spread but he doesn’t try to close them.

He tries not to think of the sight he must make and instead says, “It worked, remember. I won the game.”

“Yes, you did,” Yu Wenzhou agrees, settling himself in front of Huang Shaotian and placing a kiss to the tip of his leaking cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Yu Wenzhou’s lips are fire against his skin.

He squirms when his cock is engulfed in a warm, wet heat, but there’s nowhere to go. His arms jerk against the tentacles. He’s desperate to thread his fingers through Yu Wenzhou’s silky hair the way he’s done so many times before but it’s a lost cause, especially now that Yu Wenzhou has apparently figured out how to control the hoard of tentacles.

One of them brushes against the sensitive spot behind his ear, even as Yu Wenzhou’s tongue curls around the length of his cock. Huang Shaotian keens, and doesn’t have time to recover before the flick of a tentacle plays over his nipple. Another one teases the thin skin of his inner thigh.

The pressure on his wrists is comforting, now that it’s Yu Wenzhou who’s holding him down, who’s playing his body with the same focus he applies to everything he deems important. Yu Wenzhou would never hurt him, never do anything he didn’t want, and so he lets himself drift on the tide of sensation.

He’s hard and aching by the time Yu Wenzhou pulls off him with one last swirl of his tongue. His throat is raw and he realizes he’s been speaking this whole time but for the life of him, has no idea what he might have said.

There’s a gentle prodding at his rim that feels more like a question than a tease.

“Shaotian,” Yu Wenzhou strokes the inside of his thighs from his knees all the way up to his balls but he doesn’t touch where it’s most needed. His lips are red and shiny and Huang Shaotian wants to lick the taste of himself off them. “I want to hear you say it.”

Huang Shaotian doesn’t need to ask what he’s talking about. “Kiss first,” he says. He can’t help it, he was always encouraged to chase his dreams, though he doubts anyone who ever told him that meant it quite like this.

Yu Wenzhou’s eyes go all soft and gooey and Huang Shaotian scents victory in the air.

Sure enough, his beautiful captain leans over him and gives him the requested kiss. Huang Shaotian squirms in delight. If his legs weren’t tied down by tentacles, he’d wrap them around Yu Wenzhou’s waist and never let him go.

When the kiss is over, Yu Wenzhou raises an eyebrow but doesn’t touch him again. “I’m waiting,” is all he says.

Huang Shaotian is riding the high of his own delight. He licks the taste of himself off his lips, and gives Yu Wenzhou what he wants. “Please, please, please, just fuck me already.”

The low, smooth laugh he gets in return sends a pleasant shiver down his spine. It’s one of his favorite sounds, the kind of laugh he only hears when they’re in bed together. The kind of laugh that says Huang Shaotian needs to try harder to earn his pleasure.

And fine, if the captain wants to play dirty, Huang Shaotian can play dirty. He loves to play dirty.

He lets his legs fall further apart, pleased when the tentacles allow it. He licks his lips until they’re as shiny as the captain’s just were and tugs at the tentacles holding his arms aloft. He knows exactly what he looks like, stretched out and shameless and more exposed than he’d usually ever consider being in the team’s training room.

“Captain,” he says, drawing it out until it’s practically a moan. It’s a bit of a low blow, using the title like this in bed, but he’s seen the way Yu Wenzhou’s pupils blow wide whenever he does it. He strains his head to see the reaction now and—there it is—even behind the glasses, he can see the words hit home.

Yu Wenzhou collects himself impressively fast, straightening up onto his knees and tilting his head. They both watch as, predictably, Huang Shaotian’s cock twitches against his stomach in response.

“So predictable,” Yu Wenzhou says, shaking his head. His lips are pressed together but he isn’t fooling anyone. He looks so fond his heart might actually jump out of his chest and start humping Huang Shaotian’s leg.

The tentacle makes tiny circles along his rim but still doesn’t press inside, no matter how much Huang Shaotian tries to scoot himself down in encouragement.

What does a guy have to do to get fucked with magic tentacles? He’s pretty sure none of the other vice-captains have ever had this dilemma. Not that he can pose the question to the vice-captain’s chat at the moment. But even if he could, he doubts they would have any practical experience to offer him.

“Are you going to fuck me or just talk at me all night, Wenzhou. And yes, I realize what that sounds like coming from me so don’t start.”

A tentacle pokes at his lips but doesn’t try to press inside. “Be good, Shaotian.”

It’s like flipping a switch. Anticipation sings through Huang Shaotian’s veins, narrowing his world to a laser sharp focus. He barely resisters the words that spill from his lips. “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good. You’ll see I’ll be the best, watch me—

The tentacle enters his mouth at the same time the one below him presses inside his body. Huang Shaotian is caught between them, completely ensnared in Yu Wenzhou’s grasp.

“So good.”

It takes him a moment to realize the words aren’t coming from him. That they can’t be coming from him with his mouth filled. The embarrassing, muffled whine that follows, however, is him. He can’t be too upset about it, since it earns him a string of kisses to his inner thigh. He likes it so much he does it again.

“So good, Shaotian,” Yu Wenzhou says again. “Show me how good you are.”

So good, so good, so good. He’s caught in place and not just by the tentacles. Yu Wenzhou’s voice is a siren song; Huang Shaotian would follow him to the ends of the earth just to hear him keep saying that.

He strains against the tentacles holding him down, needing more. More touches, more words, more Yu Wenzhou. He nearly cries when the tentacle in his ass presses in deeper, lighting up his body in a blazing starburst when it hits the perfect spot inside him. A second tentacle prods at his rim, dipping inside little by little to stretch him open wider.

He barely notices when the tentacles coil around his chest. They hoist him up, the tentacles lashing his thighs to his calves loosening to allow him to kneel. He flails at the changing gravity but there’s nowhere to go. Vaguely, he registers his shirt being tugged over his head, his arms guided behind him and held fast by the tentacles.

The look on Yu Wenzhou’s face puts him at ease. He recognizes the curl of satisfaction around his eyes whenever he masters a new technique in Glory. Of course his captain has managed to wrangle the tentacles precisely to his will. Did he mention he has the smartest, most hottest captain? Huang Shaotian would tell him that except his mouth is filled with a very large tentacle at the moment.

He settles for another whining noise.

Yu Wenzhou must like it, because his eyes go wide behind his glasses. He strokes Huang Shaotian’s sweaty hair, his smile widening when Huang Shaotian instinctively nuzzles his head further into his hand.

The second tentacle stops teasing and enters him, and he feels so full he could burst. Stretched so wide he doesn’t think he can take anymore. His cock is an inferno between his legs, bobbing hard and hot against his stomach with each thrust. He’s burning out of control and he can’t stop it. He needs, he needs—

He bites down on the tentacle in his mouth. There’s nothing else he can do.

Immediately, the tentacle withdraws from between his lips. He gasps, sagging in his restraints.

A hand strokes his temple. “Shaotian, I’m here.” It’s Yu Wenzhou. His strong hands on his skin, his lips pressing kisses to his eyes, his nose, his cheeks. “Too much?”

“Need you,” is all he says. He’s too tired for anything more. He’s so close, his entire body taut like a string ready to snap except he can’t. “Please. Wenzhou, please.” His voice is a wreck and he doesn’t care. He never cares when it’s Yu Wenzhou, who’s seen him in every possible state, good and bad, and has never loved him less for it.

“Anything.” Yu Wenzhou kisses his lips, his tongue gently sweeping into Huang Shaotian’s mouth. There isn’t much finesse in it, not from either of them but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Yu Wenzhou is here with him. Touching him. Always by his side.

Huang Shaotian gasps against Yu Wenzhou’s mouth as the tentacles twine together inside him and thrust harder, hitting his prostate with every drag in and out of his body. Another tentacle finally—finally—wraps tight around his cock. His hands clench where they’re held behind his back and he buries his head into Yu Wenzhou’s neck, nearly sobbing in relief as the tentacles stroke him just the right side of too hard.

It’s the only thing he can do, the only movement he has left to him. He’s pinned in place, helpless to do anything but take what Yu Wenzhou gives him.

A hitched breath steals his attention and he picks up his head to see Yu Wenzhou looking back at him with surprise scrawled on his face. For a terrifying second, he thinks something has gone wrong, but then the look fades into something more primal.

Movement between their bodies makes him look down. He nearly comes at the sight of Yu Wenzhou pleasuring himself with nothing but the tentacles under his control. He’s still fully dressed except for where his pants are undone, the tentacles moving in time with the ones wrapped around Huang Shaotian’s length. Huang Shaotian can feel the tiny thrusts of his hips against his own.

He’s beautiful like this, head tilted back and lips slightly parted. If Huang Shaotian’s cock wasn’t so painfully hard, he’d want to freeze this moment forever.

There isn’t time to appreciate the view before the remaining tentacles wrap around them both, pressing their chests together. Pressing their cocks together. Yu Wenzhou’s breath is hot and heavy against his mouth, his hot, hard cock sliding against Huang Shaotian’s as the tentacles stroke them in time together.

He can feel Yu Wenzhou on every part of his body, inside him and around him like a claim. Huang Shaotian has never liked the idea of belonging to someone but right now he feels like every part of him belongs to Yu Wenzhou and he revels in it.

They’re tangled together, inseparable. This time, it’s Huang Shaotian who catches Yu Wenzhou’s lips and kisses him. Yu Wenzhou groans into his mouth, eagerly kissing him back.

It’s okay if he belongs to Yu Wenzhou because Yu Wenzhou belongs to him right back.

He’s already hovering on the edge and the thought is enough to tip him over. The wave of heat inside him crests and breaks, sending shockwaves all the way down to his toes. Huang Shaotian shudders as he comes all over himself and Yu Wenzhou’s pristine clothes. He can feel Yu Wenzhou’s body tense against his own, and in the next breath, the band of tentacles tighten around them both. His captain isn’t far behind. Sure enough, he feels a sticky warmth against his stomach as Yu Wenzhou’s breath punches out of him in a single word.

“Shaotian.”

If Huang Shaotian hadn’t just come, he’d get hard again at how obscene Yu Wenzhou can make his name sound on his lips.

They’re barely kissing as they ride out the aftermath, too wiped out to do more than pant into each other’s mouths. As if from far away, he can feel the tentacles laying them down and releasing them. There’s a wet, sticky noise as they withdraw from Huang Shaotian’s body.

It leaves him feeling far too empty.

All too soon, his brain kicks back into gear and he realizes he’s lying naked on the floor of the training room. Which is kind of gross but whatever. They’ll both shower later, and he’s very much looking forward to that. In the meantime, he’s too tired to do anything else but curl into the warmth of Yu Wenzhou lying next to him, tugging his stupid white t-shirt up so he can get his hands on skin. It has the added benefit of getting a lot of the sticky mess they made out of the way. With that accomplished, he noses into the dip of Yu Wenzhou’s collarbone and breathes in the smell of him.

“You’re fucking amazing, Wenzhou, has anyone ever told you that?”

A pair of arms wrap tightly around him and there’s the press of lips against his hair. “You do. All the time.”

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s not feeling.

“Where’d the tentacles go?” he mutters, not really caring about the answer. “Are they gone? Did we wear them out?”

“It’s just us,” Yu Wenzhou confirms.

“So I was right. We did need to fuck them back home. See, you should listen to me more often. I’m always right.”

It’s a testament to how sated Yu Wenzhou is that he doesn’t give him that sexy stern look he’s so good at. He only kisses Huang Shaotian’s hair again. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Good. You do that.” He loses track of what else he says, too content at being held in Yu Wenzhou’s arms for anything resembling thinking. His big muscles are great for cuddling. He should probably tell Yu Wenzhou that, though he gets the feeling he may have already mentioned it.

A hand nudges at his shoulder, stopping the stream of his internal monologue. He doesn’t mind, it wasn’t anything important anyway.

“Shaotian, it’s after midnight.”

“And?”

Yu Wenzhou tilts his chin up and presses a warm kiss to his lips. “Happy birthday, Shaotian.”

Huang Shaotian freezes, before a burst of laughter breaks from his chest. In all the excitement, he’d almost forgotten. Another thought comes to him. “You didn’t arrange all this, did you.” He flops his arm at the computer where the tentacles came from, where his account card is still sitting innocently in the card reader.

“No, never.” Yu Wenzhou shakes his head, and Huang Shaotian can see that he’s serious. “I’d never spring something like that on you without asking first.” The serious expression melts as he adds, “Besides, didn’t I already tell you I’m not actually Swoksaar. I can do a lot of things, but summoning tentacles at will is outside my skill set.”

Huang Shaotian snuggles deeper into his chest and hums. “I know, I know, it was a stupid question. Though you should add tentacle-wrangler to your list of skills. You can use me as a reference.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I update my resume.”

“Nope, no resumes. You stay at Blue Rain forever.”

It isn’t a serious demand—if Yu Wenzhou truly wanted to leave Huang Shaotian would never stand in his way—but Yu Wenzhou nods anyway. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” he says. “But anyway, since this wasn’t my birthday gift, that means you still owe me a present.”

They really should get off the floor but that means getting up and his legs still feel like rubber. Yu Wenzhou must be doing his mind reading thing, because Huang Shaotian can feel him sitting up. Reluctantly, Huang Shaotian does, too.

Yu Wenzhou thankfully doesn’t mention cleaning the room as he helps him to his feet. Which is just fine. They’re both still a little unsteady and it’s nothing that can’t wait. Especially over the summer, when most of the team is scattered elsewhere.

“You’ll get your present tomorrow,” Yu Wenzhou says as they stumble their way out of the room.

Huang Shaotian pouts. “It is tomorrow.”

“You’ll get it after a shower and sleep.”

They go back and forth like that all the way back to Huang Shaotian’s bedroom before falling into bed in a sated heap in each other's arms.

When the training room closes behind them, the room is left in darkness, except for the computer where Huang Shaotian’s card is still plugged in. On the monitor, Troubling Rain winks at a figure off-screen, unseen except for a flash of silver hair, and disappears.

[cruisercrusher]

Dicktiger week day one— birthday 🎂 🎂🎂

Dick was cold when he woke up.

Which was not a new thing. He’d been finding himself getting cold quite frequently in the last few days. March wasn’t exactly known for being the warmest of months, and he and Tiger had been steadily making their way northwards. And, being on the run was kind of just like that.

But he wasn’t cold because of the icy wind outside. Although there was a draft— these cheap motel rooms were far from five star.

The bed itself was cold.

Also not a new thing. Tiger rose early to pray at dawn, every day without fail, and always stayed up after that. Dick always tried to sleep in as much as he could. Rest so thoroughly evaded him at night, after all.

The room was cold. Again, not because of the draft. Dick lifted his head and looked around the small space, and realized he was completely alone.

He jolted, a flash of worry like lightning making him bolt upright. He almost threw himself out of bed and into his gear when halfway through the action he spotted the handwritten note on the bedside table.

Wait here.

Dick frowned. So Tiger had just left with only those instructions, not telling Dick that he was going, when he would be back or what he was doing? They were supposed to be a team. You were supposed to communicate with your teammates.

Look, he knew that Tiger didn’t like working with him. Fine, Dick didn’t need him to like working with him. But they still needed to work together.

He sighed and pushed himself out of bed anyway, knowing he probably wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep after that shot of adrenaline.

First thing Dick did was open up their med kit and dig around, looking for a painkiller. He’d woken up with another headache. It seemed like he was constantly having headaches lately, of various degrees of pain, but he kept smiling through it.

Being on the run was not fun. It never is fun. He could act like he was having fun and make jokes and poke the bear that was Tiger’s temper until he lost a finger all through it, but really, it was not fun. Between the fights and the car chases, and the bouts of banter, in the quiet moments when all they could do is keep running or try and get as much rest as they could before they start running again… everything caught up to him.

Too much had happened in the last… year? Two years? He didn’t know, his grasp on time was slipping— too much had happened that he hadn’t processed and he was paying for it now.

And moments alone were the worst of all.

Suddenly having to go off all his meds all at once because there wasn’t time to pack anything or bring anything with them other than the clothes on their backs did not help either.

Seriously did not help. In fact, Dick felt like shit.

He found a little bottle of pain meds. He shook it. It was mostly empty. He sighed again and took one. Dry. Just to spite himself.

Dick wished Tiger had told him he was going somewhere— he would have asked him to grab some Advil if he got the chance. He’d even have thrown in some puppy dog eyes and a ‘pretty please’.

Luckily, he didn’t actually have to wait that long before the door to their room unlocked from the outside and creaked open.

Tiger walked in, stone faced, but in a way that looked like he was trying hard to keep his expression blank. Even still, there was a slight furrow to his brow, that seemed to stick through his every waking moment. He was holding a box.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” the other spy said upon seeing Dick sitting at the flimsy table. He walked over and set the box down on the table in front of him, then took a step back and folded his arms. “Here.”

Dick looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Is this some sort of prank box? A spring-loaded clown doll isn’t going to jump out at me if I open it, right?”

Tiger scoffed. “Of course not. Just open it.”

So Dick opened it.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, exactly, but it wasn’t a birthday cake.

It was a pretty typical store bought cake, with white icing and red, blue and yellow little fondant balloons decorating the top, around the fancy cursive letters that read ‘joyeux anniversaire’.

He blinked first down at the cake, then up at Tiger, a look of obvious confusion on his face. “Huh?” He said, quite intelligently if you asked him.

“It is a birthday cake.” Tiger grunted. There was a hint of red in his cheeks. He probably wasn’t expecting to have to explain himself.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Dick deadpanned. “But what for?”

Tiger frowned. “It is your birthday.”

Dick blinked again. “It is? Shit, I didn’t even notice the date. Wait, how do you know my birthday?”

“It was in your file. I read it when we first were assigned partners.”

“And you remembered?” Dick smiled, and Tiger blushed harder and looked away. “And you— you got me a cake?”

“It’s customary.” Tiger grumbled. “If you don’t like it—“

“No, no! I do like it! I love it!” Dick looked back down at the cake, then at Tiger again. “I— I mean— you—“

His smile started to crack and crumble as he stammered. “You… care…?”

Tiger frowned as Dick’s whole expression started to dissolve and his eyes went distinctly glassy. Dick quickly started to wipe at the tears that pooled there, though yet to fall. “Sorry— Sorry.” He muttered. “I just— I should say thank you. This is… really nice.”

But for some reason speaking those last few words just made things worse for himself, and Dick turned away with a single, gasping sob, before Tiger could see him fall apart. Why now, he internally lamented, why do I have to have a break down now?

“Uh—“ He heard from behind him, and Dick could easily imagine the confused expression that must be on Tiger’s face. The man wasn’t exactly the emotionally supportive type, that was Dick’s job. He felt bad for making Tiger witness this mess— especially after the other spy went out of his way to do something so nice for him. Tiger didn’t deserve this.

The chair across from him scraped across the floor as Tiger pulled it out from the table, and creaked loudly when he sat down. “Richard,” he said, and Dick turned further away, hiccuping a little. “Are you… okay?”

No. Dick wanted to say. I’m not okay.

(Well if you wanted honesty that’s all you had to sayy I never want to let you down or have you go it’s BETTER OFF THIS WAY for all the dirty looks the photographs your boyfriend took remember when you Broke Your Foot from Jumping Out the Second floor I’m NOOOTTT OOOOKAYYY IM NOT—)

Yeah, okay.

Yeah, I’m fine, Dick also wanted to say. He didn’t know why, but he was always hesitant to tell people when he wasn’t doing alright. He never liked to burden people with his load of shit, especially not when they needed his help more.

But Tiger wouldn’t buy it for a second, and while he may not have been the emotionally supportive type Tiger also didn’t take any bullshit and wouldn’t appreciate Dick just lying to his face like that.

Though Dick was sure that absolutely no one would be convinced if they were in Tiger’s place, watching him cry his eyes out because of a birthday cake, and he tried to tell them nothing was wrong, literally through tears.

“No,” Dick said. “I’m not okay.”

(Well if you wanted honesty that’s all you had to sayy I never want to let you down or have you go it’s BETTER OFF THIS WAY for all the dirty looks the photographs your boyfriend took remember when you Broke Your Foot from Jumping Out the Second floor I’m NOOOTTT OOOOKAYYY IM NOT—)

Okay okay, enough of that.

“I can see that.” Tiger retorted, even though he was the one who asked in the first place. Dick decided to cut the guy some slack. He sniffed, wiped the tracks of tears off his cheeks as his (fucking annoying) crying slowed to a stop. He looked at Tiger over his shoulder.

“I… sorry, it’s just been… a rough year. A rough couple of years, actually.”

He didn’t elaborate any further. He probably didn’t need to. Tiger didn’t prompt him to elaborate. He probably didn’t need to, either. Dick suspected Tiger knew already about (most of) the shit that had made these last few years so rough. Dick didn’t know how Tiger knew, but Tiger had this way of knowing pretty much everything.

Maybe he was secretly a meta. Probably not, but maybe.

Dick turned more fully in his chair to sit in it the right way, except he pulled a foot up onto the seat to tuck his knee into his chest. He looked at the cake again. It looked, in all honesty, pretty good.

He just… wouldn’t think about the calories. He could do that much, pretty simple— eat some cake and not stress about the calories.

And if the sugar made him break out, then whatever. He didn’t care if Tiger saw him in an aesthetically imperfect state. And he knew that Tiger didn’t care about it— they’d been on the run for a hot minute and had only just a few days ago managed to get a hold of some toothbrushes. Tiger’s beard was scragglier than it usually was. Neither of their hygiene or grooming habits were exactly peak at the moment.

Besides, Dick thought with a smirk— despite the lingering wateryness of his eyes—, Tiger was into him regardless of poor hygiene and unwashed clothes, and regardless of how much Tiger insisted he hated him. Dick had caught him practically gazing longingly at his collarbones the other day— his collarbones! Dude was on a whole other level of both repression and desire if he was looking at Dick’s collarbones as opposed to his more popular assets.

But Dick appreciated that. He’d made a comment once on how frustrating it was that everyone was more focused on his ass than anything else about him, and Tiger hadn’t even glanced at his backside since. So he was a man with taste who also respected boundaries.

Also, he got me a birthday cake. He went out of his way to get me a birthday cake. That’s not really something you do for someone you hate. Dick thought, and smiled back up at Tiger, wiping away the last traces of his tears. Tiger eyed him suspiciously.

“What?”

Dick smiled wider. “You like me.”

Tiger coughed suddenly, looking away. He glared down at the floor. “I do not! I told you before, I can’t stand you, and— and I cannot wait until I no longer have to spend even a second in your infuriating presence.”

“Yeah, yeah, blah blah you’re going to kill me someday yada yada. Why’d you get me a cake, then?” Dick teased him.

“It— well—“ Tiger stammered, something that Dick had never ever seen before. “I… wanted… I thought you would like it.” He admitted. Dick’s smile softened.

“I do like it.” He said, “Thank you.”

Then he sniffed, for some reason the tightness in his throat came back and his eyes once more looked suspiciously dewy. Tiger got a slightly constipated look.

“Don’t start crying again. Please.”

Dick laughed. “I won’t, I won’t.” He said, hoping he wouldn’t. “It’s just… been a while since anyone did something so nice for me without an ulterior motive.”

He shot Tiger a look, but it was still teasing. “You haven’t got an ulterior motive, right?” Tiger sighed.

“I wish I did. Now are you going to eat that thing or not?”

“Oh, right.”

Tiger handed him a travel fork from one of their packs, then reached back down into the pack and started rummaging around. Dick wasted no time in plunging the bamboo fork right into the cake, breaking through the icing and pulling away a generous bite of what was revealed to be chocolate cake. Tiger looked back up as Dick brought his fork up to his mouth, and stared at him incredulously, with no small amount of disgust. Dick paused.

“What?”

“You’re just going to… eat the… and not even…” Tiger searched for words. Dick shrugged with a pout.

“It’s my birthday cake, I’ll eat it however I want to.” He pushed the cake box more towards the center of the small, round table. “Want some?”

The other spy looked between Dick, the cake with the one bite taken out of it, the fork in his hand, and back at Dick.

“You can just eat from the other side. I promise you won’t catch any cooties.” Dick offered, nudging the cake forward a little more. Tiger huffed and didn’t say anything, but still took out the other fork and stabbed it almost violently into the side of the cake closest to him. Dick finally ate his bite of cake, grinning around the fork. (Wow, this is good cake.) (Just don’t think about the calories.)

‘Cooties… ridiculous.’ He heard Tiger mutter under his breath. He ate another bite of the cake, his qualms about Dick’s lack of table manners seemingly behind him. “I shouldn’t have done this. If I had known you had forgotten it was your birthday I would have just let the day pass quietly without any fuss.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” Dick said it like he was teasing, but he and Tiger both now knew it was true. “Hey, you know what would make a great birthday gift?”

Tiger raised an eyebrow at him. “What, the cake wasn’t enough for you?”

“Nope,” Dick smirked. “The only thing that can satisfy me…” he paused for dramatic effect, “is a hug.”

Tiger groaned. “Absolutely not.”

Dick didn’t mean to let his face fall. He meant to brush it off with a laugh, but then his smile slipped and he couldn’t catch it before it was simply gone. Tiger noticed. Dick cringed.

It would be nice if some cake and a little bit of banter were enough to fully lift his spirits, but unfortunately it just wasn’t cutting it.

He was still cold.

Tiger sighed and stood up. Dick looked away, chewing at his lip.

(Yeah, so maybe Tiger did care, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would never exploit Dick’s moments of weakness. He was still a spy, Dick had to remind himself. He was still a spy and everything Bruce ever instilled in him was telling him not to trust him.)

(But he trusted Tiger anyway. So maybe he was an idiot, he didn’t care. He just needed to be not so all encompassingly alone in this world right now.)

Tiger rounded the table so that he was standing next to Dick’s chair, positively towering over him. “Stand up.”

“What?” Dick blinked.

“Stand up.”

Dick stood up. Tiger had been standing so close to his chair that when he did he was nearly chest to chest with the taller man, and Dick felt his heart speed up involuntarily at the proximity.

Almost as soon as Dick was on his feet, Tiger was uncrossing his arms and wrapping them around Dick instead— one arm around his back pulling him close and one hand cupping the back of his neck, and if Dick didn’t know better he’d describe it as tender. Gentle.

Tiger didn’t do tender or gentle.

So how could you explain this, then?

Dick couldn’t see Tiger’s face like this, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of sour expression he might have right now. Dick didn’t care. Tiger was— Tiger was warm, he was so warm, the heat seeping through Dick’s clothes and skin and all the way down to his bones.

He stifled a gasp and snapped his arms shut around Tiger’s back, clinging way tighter than was called for, but Tiger didn’t say anything.

Everything was going to be okay. Things sucked right now, but Dick wasn’t alone. Tiger was there, and he cared, and that was all Dick needed.

When Dick fell asleep that night, in a different but just as shitty motel room, pressed against Tiger’s side, he was warm.