#make them team up cowards

[thatgothsamurai]

supernatural it boys

[dykedvonte]

Benny x Courier but the Courier is increasingly in denial for their feelings for Benny cause they see him as this loser pretty city boy Vegas type and they slowly (or rather quickly) realize that there were in fact reasons why Benny was able to manipulate so many people, infiltrate the Fort and avoid serious injury for all of it.

Like surprise the corniest loser you know is actually pretty badass and you kinda find that infuriatingly attractive.

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT,

Forgive me if this is a stupid question, but I absolutely love the recs you've given (you've introduced me to tomione, and I love it!) and I was wondering if it's possible to give you some recs in return? There are some books and fics that definitely have dramione / got vibes, and I was wondering if I could share them with you!

So glad you've enjoyed them! Feel free to rec me anything you want. I've read most of the classic recs in terms of fic and adjacent content (Cruel Prince et al), but I'll try anything that's well-written. My tastes run towards weird and/or audaciously creative stuff, and I can forgive a lot of weaknesses in plot on the grounds of (1) ambition or (2) character work. My turnoffs are instalove, protagonists who can't fail, and most Y/A (I'm not a hater, I swear, I just need characters who can say "fuck" when their leg gets chopped off.)

I'm also a fan of weird and fucked-up dynamics.(Wuthering Heights was my favorite book for a while, and as a teenager I wrote an AU in which the book ends on a long sex scene where Heathcliff fucks Cathy's ghost and then immediately gets murdered by Catherine 2.) Obviously, I am very normal.

[thecherrygod]

/

[eorzeashan]

had 2 tanks leave after the same boss in a row in lapis manalis -_- don't queue as a tank if you're gonna have the impatience of a fruit fly and the commitment of a dad who doesn't pay child support

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 57

Chapter Highlights (most of the chapter is the highlight lol)

An hour before dawn, the keep and two armies beyond it were stirring.

Rowan had barely slept, and instead lain awake beside Aelin, listening to her breathing.

That the rest of them slumbered soundly was testament to their exhaustion, though Lorcan had not found them again. Rowan was willing to bet it was by choice.

It was not fear or anticipation of battle that had kept Rowan up—no, he'd slept well enough during other wars. But rather the fact that his mind would not stop looping him from thought to thought to thought.

He'd seen the numbers camped outside.

Valg, human men loyal to Erawan, some fell beasts, yet nothing like the ilken or the

Wyrdhounds, or even the witches.

Aelin could wipe them away before the sun had fully risen. A few blasts of her power, and that army would be gone.

Yet she had not presented it as an option in their planning last night.

He'd seen the hope shining in the eyes of the people in the keep, the awe of the children as she'd passed. The Fire-Bringer, they'd whispered. Aelin of the Wildfire.

How soon would that awe and hope crumble today when not a spark of that fire was unleashed? How soon would the men's fear turn rank when the Queen of Terrasen did not wipe away Morath's legions?

He hadn't been able to ask her. Had told himself to, had roared at himself to ask these past few weeks, when even their training hadn't summoned an ember.

But he couldn't bring himself to demand why she wouldn't or couldn't use her power, why they had seen or felt nothing of it after those initial few days of freedom. Couldn't ask what Maeve and Cairn had done to possibly make her fear or hate her magic enough that she didn't touch it.

Worry and dread gnawing at him, Rowan slipped from the room, the din of preparations greeting him the moment he entered the hall. A heartbeat later, the door opened behind him, and steps fell into sync with his own, along with a familiar, wicked scent.

"They burned her."

Rowan glanced sidelong at Fenrys. "What?" But Fenrys nodded to a passing healer.

"Cairn—and Maeve, through her orders."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fenrys, blood oath or no, what he'd done for Aelin or no, was not privy to these matters. No, it was between him and his mate, and no one else.

Fenrys threw him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. "You were staring at her half the night. I could see it on your face. You're all thinking it—why doesn't she just burn the enemy to hell?" Rowan aimed for the washing station down the hall. A few soldiers and healers stood along the metal trough, scrubbing their faces to shake the sleep or nerves.

Fenrys said, "He put her in those metal gauntlets. And one time, he heated them over an open brazier. There…" He stumbled for words, and Rowan could barely breathe. "It took the healers two weeks to fix what he did to her hands and wrists. And when she woke up, there was nothing but healed skin. She couldn't tell what had been done and what was a nightmare." Rowan reached for one of the ewers that some of the children refilled every few moments and dumped it over his head. Icy water bit into his skin, drowning out the roaring in his ears.

"Cairn did many things like that." Fenrys took up a ewer himself, and splashed some into his hands before rubbing them over his face.

Rowan's hands shook as he watched the water funnel toward the basin set beneath the trough.

"Your claiming marks, though." Fenrys wiped his face again. "No matter what they did to her, they remained. Longer than any other scar, they stayed."

Yet her neck had been smooth when he'd found her.

Reading that thought, Fenrys said, "The last time they healed her, right before she escaped. That's when they vanished. When Maeve told her that you had gone to Terrasen."

The words hit like a blow. When she had lost hope that he was coming for her. Even the greatest healers in the world hadn't been able to take that from her until then.

Rowan wiped his face on the arm of his jacket. "Why are you telling me this?" he repeated.

Fenrys rose from the trough, drying his face with the same lack of ceremony. "So you can stop wondering what happened. Focus on something else today." The warrior kept pace beside him as they headed for where they'd been told a meager breakfast would be laid out.

"And let her come to you when she's ready."

"She's my mate," Rowan growled. "You think I don't know that?" Fenrys could shove his snout into someone else's business.

Fenrys held up his hands. "You can be brutal, when you want something."

"I'd never force her to tell me anything she wasn't ready to say." It had been their bargain from the start. Part of why he'd fallen in love with her.

He should have known then, during those days in Mistward, when he found himself sharing parts of himself, his history, that he'd never told anyone. When he found himself needing to tell her, in fragments and pieces, yes, but he'd wanted her to know. And Aelin had wanted to hear it. All of it.

They discovered Aelin and Elide already at the buffet table, grim-faced as they plucked up pieces of bread and cheese and dried fruit. No sign of Gavriel or Lorcan.

Rowan came up behind his mate and pressed a kiss to her neck. Right to where his new claiming marks lay.

She hummed, and offered him a bite of the bread she'd already dug into while gathering the rest of her food. He obliged, the bread thick and hearty, then said, "You were asleep when I left a few minutes ago, yet you somehow beat me to the breakfast table." Another kiss to her neck. "Why am I not surprised?"

Elide laughed beside Aelin, piling food onto her own plate. Aelin only elbowed him as he fell into line beside her.

The four of them ate quickly, refilled their waterskins at the fountain in an interior courtyard, and set about finding armor. There was little on the upper levels that was fit for wearing, so they descended into the keep, deeper and deeper, until they came across a locked room.

"Should we, or is it rude?" Aelin mused, peering at the wooden door.

Rowan sent a spear of his wind aiming for the lock and splintered it apart. "Looks like it was already open when we got here," he said mildly.

Aelin gave him a wicked grin, and Fenrys pulled a torch off its bracket in the narrow stone hallway to illuminate the room beyond.

"Well, now we know why the rest of the keep is a piece of shit," Aelin said, surveying the trove. "He's kept all the gold and fun things down here."

Indeed, his mate's idea of fun things was the same as Rowan's: armor and swords, spears and ancient maces.

"He couldn't have distributed this?" Elide frowned at the racks of swords and daggers.

"It's all heirlooms," said Fenrys, approaching one such rack and studying the hilt of a sword. "Ancient, but still good. Really good," he added, pulling a blade from its sheath.

He glanced at Rowan. "This was forged by an Asterion blacksmith."

"From a different age," Rowan mused, marveling at the flawless blade, its impeccable condition. "When Fae were not so feared."

"Are we just going to take it? Without even Chaol's permission?" Elide chewed on her lip.

Aelin snickered. "Let's consider ourselves swords-for-hire. And as such, we have fees that need to be paid." She hefted a round, golden shield, its edges beautifully engraved with a motif of waves. Also Asterion-made, judging by the craftsmanship. Likely for the Lord of Anielle— the Lord of the Silver Lake. "So, we'll take what we're owed for today's battle, and spare His Lordship the task of having to come down here himself."

Gods, he loved her.

Fenrys winked at Elide. "I won't tell if you don't, Lady."

Elide blushed, then waved them onward. "Collect your earnings, then."

Rowan did. He and Fenrys found armor that could fit them—in certain areas. They had to forgo the entire suit, but took pieces to enforce their shoulders, forearms, and shins. Rowan had just finished strapping greaves on his legs when Fenrys said, "We should bring some of this up for Lorcan and Gavriel."

Indeed they should. Rowan eyed other pieces, and began collecting extra daggers and blades, then sections from another suit that might fit Lorcan, Fenrys doing the same for Gavriel.

"You must charge a great deal for your services," Elide muttered. Even while the Lady of Perranth tied a few daggers to her own belt.

"I need some way to pay for my expensive tastes, don't I?" Aelin drawled, weighing a dagger in her hands.

But she hadn't donned any armor yet, and when Rowan gave her an inquiring glance, Aelin jerked her chin toward him. "Head upstairs-track down Lorcan and Gavriel. I'll find you soon."

Her face was unreadable for once. Perhaps she wanted a moment alone before battle. And when Rowan tried to find any words in her eyes, Aelin turned toward the shield she'd claimed. As if contemplating it.

So Rowan and Fenrys headed upstairs, Elide helping to haul their stolen gear. No one stopped them. Not with the sky turning to gray, and soldiers rushing to their positions on the battlements.

Rowan and Fenrys didn't have far to go.

They'd be stationed by the gates at the lower level, where the battering rams might come flying through if Morath got desperate enough.

On the level above them, Chaol sat astride his magnificent black horse, the mare's breath curling from her nostrils. Rowan lifted a hand in greeting, and Chaol saluted back before gazing toward the enemy army.

The khaganate would make the first maneuver, the initial push to get Morath moving.

"I always forget how much I hate this part," Fenrys muttered. "The waiting before it begins."

Rowan grunted his agreement.

Gavriel prowled up to them, Lorcan a dark storm behind him. Rowan wordlessly handed the latter the armor he'd gathered. "Courtesy of the Lord of Anielle." Lorcan gave him a look that said he knew Rowan was full of shit, but began efficiently donning the armor, Gavriel doing the same.

Whether the soldiers around them marked that armor, whether Chaol recognized it, no one said a word.

"Ready now," Chaol called out to the men of his keep.

This would be it—today. Whether that hope remained or fractured.

Already, the awakening sky revealed two siege towers being hauled toward them. Right to the wall. Far closer than Rowan had last noted when flying overhead last night. Morath, it seemed, had not been sleeping, either.

The ruks would remain back with their own army, driving Morath to the keep. To be picked off here, one by one.

"We have minutes until that first tower makes contact with the wall," Gavriel observed. A scan of the battlements, the soldiers atop them, revealed no sign of Aelin. Lorcan indeed muttered, "Someone better tell her to stop primping and get here." Rowan snarled in warning.

"Archers!" Chaol's bellow rang out. Behind them, down the battlements, bows groaned. Fenrys unslung the bow across his back and nocked an arrow into place.

Rowan kept his own bow strapped across his back, the quiver untouched, Gavriel and Lorcan doing the same. No need to waste them on a few soldiers when their aim might be needed with far worse targets later in the day.

But one of them had to be noted felling soldiers. For whatever it would do to rally their spirits. And Fenrys, as fine an archer as Rowan, he'd admit, would do just fine.

Rowan followed the line of Fenrys's arrowhead to where he'd marked one of the bearers of a siege ladder. "Make it impressive," he muttered.

"Mind your own business," Fenrys muttered back, tracking his target with the tip of his arrow as he awaited Chaol's order.

If Aelin didn't arrive within another moment, he'd have to leave the battlements to find her. What in hell had held her up?

Lorcan drew his ancient blade, which Rowan had witnessed felling soldiers in kingdoms far from here, in wars far longer than this one. "They'll head for the gates when that siege tower docks," Lorcan said, glancing from the battlements to the gate a level below, the small bastion of men in front of it. Trees had been felled to prop up the metal doors, but should a solid enough group of enemy soldiers swarm it, they might get those supports and the heavy locks down within minutes. And open the gates to the hordes beyond

"We don't let them get that far," Rowan said, eyeing up the massive tower lumbering closer. Soldiers teemed behind it, waiting to scale its interior. "Chaol brought the tower down the other day without our help. It can happen again."

"Volley!" Chaol's roar echoed off the stones, and arrows sang.

Like a swarm of locusts, they swept upon the soldiers marching below. Fenrys's arrow found its mark with lethal precision.

Within a heartbeat, another was on its tail. A second soldier at the siege ladder fell.

Where the hell was Aelin—

Morath didn't halt. Marched right over the soldiers who fell on their front lines.

The pulse of human fear down the battlements rippled against his skin. The cadre would have to strike fast, and strike well, to shake it away.

The siege tower lumbered closer. One glance from Rowan had him and his friends moving toward the spot it would now undeniably strike upon the battlements. Close enough to the stairs down to the gate. Morath had chosen the location well.

Some of the soldiers they passed were praying, a shuddering push of words into the frigid morning air.

Lorcan said to one of them, "Save your breath for the battle, not the gods."

Rowan shot him a look, but the man, gaping at Lorcan, quieted.

Chaol ordered another volley, and arrows flew, Fenrys firing as he walked. As if he were barely bothered.

Still, the whispered prayers continued down the line, swords shaking along with them.

Up by Chaol, the soldiers held firm, faces solid.

But here, on this level of the battlements ... those faces were pale. Wide-eyed.

"Someone better say something inspiring," Fenrys said through gritted teeth, firing another arrow. "Or these men are going to piss themselves in a minute."

For a minute was all they had left, as the first siege tower inched closer.

"You've got the pretty face," Lorcan retorted. "You'd do a better job of it."

"It's too late for speeches," Rowan cut in before Fenrys could reply. "Better to show them what we can do."

Rowan steadied his breathing, readying his magic to rip through Valg lungs. He'd fell a few with his blades first. To show how easily it could be done, that Morath was desperate and victory would be near. The magic would come later.

The siege tower groaned as it slowed to a stop.

Just as the wall under them shuddered at its impact, Fenrys whispered, "Holy gods."

Not at the bridge that snapped down, soldiers teeming in the dark depths inside.

But at who emerged from the keep archway behind them. What emerged.

Rowan didn't know where to look. At the soldiers pouring out of the siege tower, leaping onto the battlements, or at Aelin.

At the Queen of Terrasen.

She'd found armor below the keep. Beautiful, pale gold armor that gleamed like a summer dawn. Holding back her braided hair, a diadem lay flush against her head. Not a diadem, but a piece of armor. Part of some ancient set for a lady long since buried.

A crown for war, a crown to wear into battle. A crown to lead armies.

There was no fear on her face, no doubt, as Aelin hefted her shield, flipping Goldryn in her hand once before the first of Morath's soldiers was upon her.

A swift, upward strike cleaved the Morath grunt from navel to chin. His black blood sprayed, but she was already moving, flowing like a stream around a rock.

Rowan launched into movement, his blades finding their marks, but still he watched her.

Aelin slammed her shield against an oncoming warrior, Goldryn slicing through another before she plunged the blade into the soldier she'd deflected.

She did it again, and again.

All while heading toward that siege tower. Unhindered. Unleashed.

A call went down the line. The queen has come.

Soldiers waiting their turn whirled toward them. Aelin took on three Valg soldiers and left them dying on the stones.

She planted her line before the gaping maw of that siege tower, right in the path of those teeming hordes. Every moment of the training she'd done on the ship here, on the road, every new blister and callus—all to rebuild herself for this.

The queen has come.

Goldryn unfaltering, her shield an extension of her arm, Aelin glowed like the sun that now broke over the khagan's army as she engaged each soldier that hurtled her way.

Five, ten—she moved and moved and moved, ducking and swiping, shoving and flipping, black blood spraying, her face the portrait of grim, unbreaking will.

"The queen!" the men shouted. "To the queen!"

And as Rowan fought his way closer, as that cry went down the battlements and Anielle men ran to aid her, he realized that Aelin did not need an ounce of flame to inspire men to follow.

That she had been waiting, yanking at the bit, to show them what she, without magic, without any godly power, might do.

He'd never seen such a glorious sight. In every land, every battle, he had never seen anything as glorious as Aelin before the throat of the siege tower, holding the line.

Dawn breaking around them, Rowan loosed a battle cry and tore into Morath.

This first battle would set the tone.

It would set the tone, and send a message.

Not to Morath.

Impress us, Hasar had said.

So she would. So she'd picked the golden armor and her battle-crown. And waited until dawn, until that siege tower slammed into the battlements, before unleashing herself.

To keep the men here from breaking, to wipe away the fear festering in their eyes.

To convince the khaganate royals of what she might do, what she could do. Not a threat, but a reminder.

She was no helpless princess. She had never been.

Goldryn sang with each swipe, her mind as cool and sharp as the blade while she assessed each enemy soldier, their weapons, and took them down accordingly. She dimly knew that Rowan fought at her side, Gavriel and Fenrys battling near her left flank.

But she was keenly aware of the mortal men who leaped into the fray with cries of defiance.

They'd made it this far. They would survive today, too. And the khaganate royals would know it.

Galloping hooves drowned out the battle, and then Chaol was there, sword flashing, driving into the unending tide that rushed from the tower's entrance.

"To Lord Chaol! To the queen!"

How far they both were from Rifthold.

From the assassin and the captain.

Arrows rose from the army beyond the wall, but a wave of icy wind snapped them into splinters before they could find any marks. A dark blur plunged past, and then Lorcan was at the siege tower's mouth, his sword swinging so fast Aelin could barely follow it. He battled his way across the metal bridge of the tower, into the stairwell beyond. Like he'd fight his way down the ramps and onto the battlefield itself. Below, a boom began. Morath had brought in their battering ram.

Aelin smiled grimly. She'd bring them all down. Then Erawan. And then she'd unleash herself upon Maeve.

At the opposite end of the field, the khagan's army pushed, gaining the field step by step.

Not helpless. Not contained. Never again.

Death became a melody in her blood, every movement a dance as the tide of soldiers pouring from the tower slowed. As if Lorcan was indeed forcing his way down the interior.

Those who got past him met her blade, or Rowan's. A flash of gold, and Gavriel had slaughtered his way into the siege tower as well, twin blades a whirlwind.

What Lorcan and the Lion would do upon reaching the bottom, how they'd dislodge the tower, she didn't know. Didn't think about it.

Not from this place of killing and movement, of breath and blood. Of freedom.

Death had been her curse and her gift and her friend for these long, long years. She was happy to greet it again under the golden morning sun.

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[darnell-la]

how about old!logan with the filthiest mouth one could ever speak, full with nasty and degrading pet names. just rough and mean logan treating the reader 🫠🫠

note: this takes place in the Honda Odyssey… we can make the man filthier by the way…

———

“Well, you guys are fucking stupid, so, it’s not a surprise we’re lost,” y/n crossed her arms in the back seat as Wade drove through the woods, trying to get to the place Nicepool had me roomed for them to form a team.

“You ain’t the smartest sheep either. Batting your fuckin’ eyelids at Jonny,” Logan scoffed next to her before leaning back in his to rest.

After Wade had told him that there might not be a way to save his world, he’s been in a bad mood. Ever since she met him, he’s been in a bad mood.

“Yeah, but sadly he’s not here with us, right Wade?” Y/n sarcastically asked, making Wade sigh loudly. “He should have said those things about her!” Wade shouted.

“This whole trip is fucking ridiculous. Like seriously, Wade. Why the fuck did you bring me along to save this drunk fuck!?” Y/n complained, making Logan chuckle.

“To save your shitty world,” Logan said under his breath. “Hey! That’s my world too!” Wade argued. “Yeah — That’s why I said that shit,”

“Not like yours is better,” y/n mumbled, making Logan snap his head towards her. Y/n continued looking out of the window, not caring how he felt about her words.

“The fuck you say?” The man asked in a clearly angry tone. “Alright, let’s just cool our dicks and think about a place to eat at after we get out of this shit hole, hm?” Wade asked the two, but they both ignored him.

“Nah, I wanna hear what the little bitch has to say,” Logan called the young lady out of her name, making her snap his own neck at him. “Bitch!? No wonder you could never keep a woman. In every universe!” She shot for his heart.

“That’s something you don’t have to worry about because Ian pickin’ a little brat like you,” Logan tried saying something back in an instant like her comment didn’t hurt. He knew calling her out of her name was shitty, but he’s going through it right now.

The man was pulled from his universe being told he had a chance to save it. Not even two hours later, he was told it was an educated wish.

“Not like you can get in my pants anyways limp dick,” y/n spat, making the man chuckle. He was cocky. He always has been, and his age wasn’t going to throw that away.

“You’re an easy little girl. You would even be able to handle me,” the man looked the girl up and down, giving a look that made her roll her eyes. “You fuckin’ wish,” she said before turning back to the window.

“Oh, honey bun, he does! Maybe y’all can fuck it out in here before we make it home. Got a long way to go,” Wade almost sang.

The two went silent, not declining or accepting. They were just angry, and Wade swore having a small fuck-session would help.

Y/n felt eyes on her through the silence. She told herself not to look back, but she had to. She wanted to see the man’s face, and god, was he fine. She hated admitting to it, but he was.

The way he looked at her legs, made her shift in her seat, growing nervous from the older man’s gaze.

“As I said — Little girl can’t handle it,” Logan finally looked up at the girl with a smirk, smelling the way she grew wet in seconds, and she didn’t know he could. She was clueless which made the situation funnier to him.

“I can handle more than you think. Your dick probably wouldn’t be able to stand up anyway, so stop lookin’ at me like that you perv,” y/n tried covering her legs, but there was no use.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” the man rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. “Do it yourself, coward,” y/n said under her breath. She thought she was quiet enough until his head snapped back at her and Wade gasped.

“Oh, you nasty little peanut,” Wade giggled. “Oh, you want me to fuck you?” Logan asked, giving that stupid smirk again. “What!? I never said that,” y/n lied, trying to think of something to stop this conversation.

“Oh, but you did, bub,” Logan felt like he was shifting closer, but y/n kept her eyes off of him. “Don’t go silent on me now, bub. If you need a little cock to fix that attitude, I can do it,”

The instant confidence he had, made the girl nervous. What the fuck is she going to do?

“Don’t need cock,” the girl spoke quietly. “I think you do,” the man’s hand was now on the grips thighs, gripping it a bit rough to get a reaction.

Y/n turned and swung, going to hit the man somewhere, but he got her fist and pushed it away before hovering over her body.

“You’re feisty for a girl who’s soaking wet,” the man said, confusing y/n. “You can smell her that bad!?” Wade asked, wanting to know if all. “Oh, yeah, and she smells sweet,” Logan admitted as his hands tugged on her belt.

“Let’s see if I’m right,” Logan ripped y/n’s belt off and shorts down her legs, exposing her pretty lace panties. “Logan! Fuckin’ get off!” Y/n fought back, but he knew she could do better.

“You sure? Kinda looks a little messy down here,” the man laughed at her girl as he spews her legs, seeing the dark spot grow. Before she could say another word, he ripped her panties off, making her yell at him more.

“Pretty little cunt. Maybe if you weren’t so bitchy, I’d eat it, but I have different plans for you today,” Logan wiped a finger across her lips before taking them to his mouth to suck.

“Yep — Sweeter than peach, Wade. Didn’t know you had sluts as friends,” Logan laughed again as he fumbled with his own belt. “Logan!” Y/n still shouted, kicking and slapping but he had his single hand pinning her shoulder down.

“Look on the bright side, peanut — You’ll get some dick and maybe that’ll energize you for our fight?” Wade said about anything to hide the fact he loved hearing Logan get the way he gets.

“Fuck you, Wade!” Y/n yelled at the man. “Nah uh, only I do that to you,” y/n almost forgot about Logan until she looked down, seeing his cock out in his head, stoking and leaking pre cum.

“Got me so fuckin’ hard. You know how good you look fighting? How pretty you are yappin’ that damn mouth? Could only think about you under me -- where you belong,”

Logan struggled but made his way in between her legs. “Fuck you! Fuck you, a-and Wade! You’ll last two seconds,” y/n tried laughing at the man to seem tough as usual, but he shut her right up with a hard thrust into her cunt.

“What was that? Two seconds? If I lasted a short time, it’s because this cunts so fuckin’ soaked, not because I’m old, baby,”

Y/n’s hands pushed at the man’s stomach, trying to slow him down and stop him from pushing hitting the right spot with each thrust he gave.

“S-Stop!” The girl whined already, feeling the knot in her stomach build and her breathing get spotty. He was huge and hard. Harder than she thought a man his age could be.

“Don’t think you want that, baby. No, you want me to fuck this pretty little girl till she cried and leaks on the seat,” Logan whispered in her ear as his own breath became heavy.

“God, you guys are hot. Love the play date you guys are having! Maybe give me a review after the Uber ride. Tell me if the seats felt comfy and if y’all had enough room to fuck like rabbits with rabies,” Wade seemed excited.

“Hear that, babe? Gonna tell Wade how good I fuck this pussy? C’mon, tell him. Tell him how hard your squeeze my cock,”

Y/n hated his cock voice in her ear but loved it at the same time. He knew exactly how she’d like it. Maybe by her attitude, he knew she needed someone with the same energy to pound her.

“No c-chance,” the girl stuttered through her teeth as she tried glaring at the man, but her head instantly fell back after he gave one small pound, telling her to get rid of the attitude.

“You’re gonna do it eventually. Sluts like you can’t forget a good cock,” and he was right. This was going to be the best sed she’s had ever.

“Gonna go beggin’ Wade to come get me to fuck you. Shit, since I have to stay in the bullshit you call your world, I’ll just come over to your place myself. Burry my cock in this cunt till you pass out,”

“L-Logan,” y/n dug her nails into the man’s shoulders, trying to hold tight as her orgasm felt near. “Oh, you like that? Like the thought of a dirty old man fuckin’ this so-called clean pussy, hm? Gonna let me breed this little princess whenever I want? Even if I piss you off?”

“N-No, you fucking suck at this!” Y/n breathed heavily, keeping her orgasm together so she wouldn’t give him what she wanted.

“God, she’s fuckin’ petty,” Wade said as Logan let out a little chuckle. The man shifted in the van, lifting her legs over his shoulders before punching his right claw into the roof of the van.

Y/n jumped, not used to having a mutant like him around. “Don’t worry, princess. I wouldn’t hurt a pretty girl like you. Too valuable and tight,” Logan grabbed between the back of y/n’s head and neck to lift her to, fixing her to lean into him.

“Before I fuck you ass dumb, do you want to take anything you said back?” Logan looked down at the girl whose legs rested on his shoulder and cock grazed her entrance, waiting to be squeezed again.

“You fuck like a dead pig,” y/n spat. Right after, the man took one good slam into her, watching her legs part and scream. Logan pulled her head back up, making her look into his dark eyes.

“Loudmouth for a loud screamer,” the man smirked before moving his hips, thrusting into the girl with all the strength he had. He pulled her back to life whenever she tried pushing away or leaning her head back.

“Good fuckin’ pussy — Fuck! — Maybe I’ll excuse that bitch tone of yours,” the man couldn’t deny his could she felt and sounded.

Before, y/n thought she could hold herself in, but she knew Logan would get what he wanted in this new angle and harder pounding. He knew this from the start.

“C’mon, bub — I know you wanna cum. Keep squeezing around me like I wouldn’t notice,” he laughed at her. Teasing he. “N-Not cumming,” y/n assured the man, but even Wade didn’t believe her.

“I can see how the man has you in a full-on butter-salted pretzel position. You’re cumming, peanut,” Wade said, only egging Logan on knowing anyone who looked at her right now could tell she was close.

“No, I’m not!” Y/n pathetically whined. Logan leaned down to the girl's face, slightly touching her lips as his hot breath burned her nostrils.

“Don’t cum then, bub,” Logan said as he picked up his pace. “Don’t cum, and you win. You win your little bitch fight, and we can move on with our day,” Logan kept increasing.

“Don’t cum, and you’re right about my limp old dick,” Logan now growled. “Don’t cum, and I won’t come into your little home and eat that pussy,” y/n eyes rolled back as his hands dug into the back of her neck.

“Don’t cum, and I won’t fuck you like this every day to satisfy your needs, baby. Don’t cum, and I’ll have to leave this pretty little body alone forever,”

“Can’t breed it. Can’t kiss it. Can’t pound it. Can’t do anything I want to it,” y/n whined loudly at the man’s words, finally releasing the man’s cock.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. You need me. You fuckin’ want this old dick,” Logan’s lips crashed into her, kissing her roughly as she cried at the pace he kept ducking her in.

“Goddam, she cums a lot!” Wade said with excitement, loving the animal coming out of Logan. He knew y/n needed something like this in his life. That totally isn’t the reason why he brought her along.

“So fuckin’ good, baby. Best fuckin’ cunt I’ve fucked. So damn tight and sweet. Need you after all this. Needa have you with me forever,”

Y/n didn’t plan for this to happen. She doesn’t plan to let Logan fuck her like this in the back of Nicepools Honda Odyssey. She didn’t plan for Logan to form an attachment issue with her.

“Gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill this girl up. Gonna keep you with me forever. Can’t leave. Don’t care how old I am, you belong with me. You’re made for me. Pussy’s molded to only take my cock,”

Logan’s hips bucked a few times before he pushed all the way into the young girl, spilling into her with a loud animalistic groan.

The top of the roof was ripped with how many times his claws punched in and out of it. Logan’s fingers bruised the back of y/n’s neck. Her lips even have a small scratch from the hard he kissed. She tastes so fucking good.

[jonnywaistcoat]

Jonny, I stumbled apon your blog on complete accident and it may have been the best accident of my life. I have but one burning question I must know-

What is your favourite animal?

Oof, what a question - there are some real bangers out there in the ol' animal kingdom.

As a kid I was very into tigers. Loved those big stripy fellas - my grandmother used to cut out pictures of tigers from magazines and present them to me in a manila folder when I visited. I never asked her to do this and didn't have any use for the pictures, but she gave me a lot of them.

Penguins are also up there - waddling around having a good time. Feeding time at the penguin habitat is always a highlight of any zoo visit. Sure, maybe they make houses out of their own shit, but who are you to judge?

Seals as well, especially when they're fully in orb mode. Just wobbly ocean friends!

Plus, if I'm down the aquarium anyway, I always make a beeline for the pacu fish. Big, dumb motherfuckers just swimming about like idiots - they bring me a lot of joy. Plus I recently discovered they have human-like teeth, so that's a win for team Your Nightmares.

Also sharks. Every week is Shark Week if you're not a coward.

In the end, though, if I had to pick a current favourite, the one that brings a smile to my face even in its crudest doodle rendition, why, 'tis none other than the humble crab. They come in a plethora of shapes, sizes, colours and flavours, and every one of them is just a silly little guy.

[raeofgayshine]

I love my silly Midtown Avengers/Young Avengers

[bunnys-kisses]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ angel eyes - max v., charles l., carlos s., lando n.,♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

to say that this was casual was an feeble attempt to lie to yourself. as you watched the men in front of you strip. booze and cigarettes passed around with you as the main star. you were growing desperate with time running out. your career felt like it was tethered by a thread. you had seen how easily they cut sargeant and you felt like you were next. your neck on the chopping block for some younger driver that the team could shape into a superstar. but unlike sargeant, you knew how to secure your place.

the men watched you as you got out of the clothes you wore to the track. the alpine shirt over your head, exposing your breasts to them. you could feel their hungry gaze on you. you felt more exposed than at any other point in your life. you were nothing more than meat to be groped and fucked. but their promises hung heavy in your mind as you took off your jeans.

if tonight goes well, then you'll have a seat next season.

carlos was the first to make a comment as charles poured him more wine. the two ferrari men chuckled between one another. you tried to look away, but max's domineering voice cut through, asking for your eyes forward. you weren't going to coward out. lando shifted in his seat and kept his eyes on the curves of your body. this was debauchery, this would be considered sinful across every church in europe. it was a sick affair and it let you running hot. you looked to max and he looked at you over the rim of his glass, he took a drink before he got up from the couch, he went over to you. a hand on the back of your head as he made you look up at him. his other thumb dragged across your bottom lip as he gazed down at you. he asked one you simple thing, are you going to behave tonight? and with everything you had in you. you nodded and said, yes sir. then you were put on your knees to get to work. in front of your audience.

a naked formula one driver kneeling in front of the top four on the track. if the press knew, if your teams knew, it would be a field day. there were many women who yearned for the company of at least one of them. but you had all four of them leering at you and as you were at max's feet, like a dog. their gazes hungry, the lust was heavy in the room along with sweat and a heat that not even the air conditioning could get rid of. heat lingered, just like the lust that pumped in your veins. even if this felt degrading, it was necessity.

max's cock wasn't the biggest out of the four of them, you'd refuse to say who was the biggest (you didn't need a fight). but as it rubbed up against your face, pre cum drooled onto your cheek before you turned to take it in your mouth. your mouth was so soft that it almost made max crumble. instead he gripped onto the back of your head and pushed his cock into the back of your throat. there were a few tears in your eyes as he started to work your mouth onto his cock. in front of an audience no less. you whimpered with your nose in max's pubic hair as he broke down your gag reflex. you clawed at his thighs before he told you, put those hands to work because i'm not doing your job for you. and without a second thought you started to rub your bare clit. the side of your hand rubbed harshly across your achy pussy. you were soaked and the sounds of your wetness could be heard as you played with yourself. which was a siren's call and the other men stroked their cocks painfully. max worked at your throat and it made you hot all over. the more you pleasured yourself the harder your sucked him off. his praise was mostly hot groans as he guided you up and down his length. he could feel the heat splash across his neck as he fucked your throat even harder. he said something to the other men, but your brain wasn't processing anything. most of the night the men spoke like you weren't in the room or that you were a piece of furniture in the corner. a toy. you continued to pleasure yourself and when max choked you on his cock as he finished, you came as well from the rush to your brain. words were spoken to him and you felt on another planet. when max took his cock out of your mouth, you coughed on the cum in your throat, some coming up across your chin.

before you could think straight once more, carlos had you by the arm. on shaky legs he got you back to the couch then pushed over the back of it. there was enough room for the (soon to not be) ferrari driver and his teammate to use your pussy and throat once more. you prayed that no one asked you questions come morning. carlos took your pussy while charles took your throat. while their cocks weren't impressive when you gazed at them briefly. but when they were shoved inside of you, your eyes rolled back a little. your toes curled as the two fucked you at the same pace. you choked on charles' cock because carlos' cock was up in your stomach. it felt like you were being squished between the two of them. you could hear the two of them talk, even exchanging short laughs and when you looked up at charles to be let in on what they were talking about. but instead charles tapped your nose and you obediently closed your eyes and let his cock hit against your throat some more. your noises were muffled as the two men fucked you feverishly. you could feel the hungry gaze on a sated max and a horny lando. the heavy panting, the soft noises, the creaking of the couch as you laid over it like a doll. you were at their service for the night. the doll of formula one, well rather a lamb the men supposed. soft to the touch, with meat so tender that the other driver's wanted to devour it. you whined a little bit as you clawed at the leather of the couch, it sticking to your sweaty body. everything about it was hot, but yet you were going to be achy come morning. regardless, you had a job to do. you arched your back and whimpered around the other's cock as you felt their paces stagger. you knew it was close for them. pleasure curled in your gut, as you orgasmed once more. it made everything hot all over. without thinking you accepted their cum. you were left over the couch when both men stopped and pulled out. charles' cum lingered in your throat as you gasped for air. your throat was painfully raw. you whimpered when carlos slapped your ass and laughed.

you swore once the ferrari drivers were done with you, lando would show you mercy. but out of all of them, lando wanted you the most. after all he was the one to proposition this entire thing. he was the first driver in your ear. he spun a narrative about how oscar might be jumping shift, but he wasn't too sure if your abilities would be useful at mclaren. and when lando saw you nervously bite your thumbnail, his tale only grew. oscar piastri wasn't going anywhere, but lando was more than happy to sink his cock into you. you ended up on the carpet once more, lando barely got a pillow under your ass before he was fucking you missionary position. he wanted to see every expression that crossed your face. you whimpered and whined, long ago losing most control over your ability to keep quiet. you felt outside your body from the sheer amount of orgasms that had been pulled from you. lando thrusted with such a fever that it left you gagging for more. you tried to find leverage on the carpet but instead got burns across your back and hands. lando loomed over you like a shadow as he kept you pinned to the pillow and therefore the floor by your hips. your legs kicked out as he rammed his cock up against your cervix. if it wasn't bruised, it would be purple by now. you'd be limping for the rest of the season because of it, because of how lando wrecked you. lando's mouth made more marks across your neck and collarbones. adding to the collection left by carlos. you looked towards the couch and found the other exhausted drivers on there. across it and down the sectional. naked, cock's leaky. but lando grabbed you by the jaw and glared down at you. he told you to keep your eyes on him. a head of jealousy showing in a situation where you were used like a rag. with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips, his cock bruising your insides as he finished inside of you. everything went blank in your brain for a moment. pleasure took you under the waves and you could only think about your heavy panting.

you didn't know how long you were laying out on the carpet. you blinked open your eyes and saw max looming over you. you noticed his cock was at full attention and leaky. some pre cum dripped off his cum and down his cock, but a little bit landed on your chin. you couldn't see his eyes, but you knew his gaze was stern. he said one thing, if you want a contract and less bruising. you have three seconds to get to the bed.

you don't know how you ended up in bed, but by morning everything felt sore. you took an extra long time in the shower and kept your jacket to your chin, no one would see the damage done last night. you'd get your contract, even from mclaren. but, sometimes it's not good to wish for things. because whichever team you pick, you're going to have three other hungry pairs of eyes on you. if you go to ferrari, max will find a way to get you over to red bull. go to williams and lando would be pulling a few more strings to get you in orange. and if they couldn't get their way with you on the track, then they'd simply have to make sure to claim your pussy as their own. eventually you'd have to pick one of them (not that you had much to say otherwise). you soon became a prize more important between the top drivers than the championship. because while trophies were nice, having their favourite driver prance around in their colours was even nicer. <3

[magnecalliope]

Branzy is not some innocent waif by any means, but I feel like everyone misunderstands the ways in which he matches Clown’s freak. Particularly, they want to subvert what they view as the architypical dynamic between Branzy and Clown without any real regard to how Branzy's personality actually meshes with Clown's. They recognize that Clown’s intimidation of Branzy is surface level, but don’t seem to grasp what’s going on below that to give Branzy his own edge over Clown.

Branzy is a homicidal maniac in his own right, and certainly has aspirations of being the kind of murder machine that Clown is, but he just does not have the fighting skill to back it up, nor was he a particularly skilled engineer when he first joined Lifesteal. At his core, Branzy is a coward. He gravitates towards whichever player or team he thinks is going to protect him, and he'll stroke their ego to get in their good graces. He gets by on his charisma and charm.

Clown, despite having a clear advantage over Branzy, still frequently comes across as uncomfortable with Branzy's attention, while also craving it and seeking it out. He's also a deeply reserved individual. Even when he's emoting he's still very quiet and even tempered. He plays his cards close to his chest. He's a loner. He has his reputation in part because he's unreadable and intimidating. He was coming off of a season where he hadn't died a single time. He’s an unstoppable force without an immovable object.

So here's the scenario: You're a stoic assassin. Usually you like to work alone. Other people slow you down. But you want revenge and you want to execute it in a particular manner that just happens to be outside of your wheelhouse. You have to team up with someone, and it just so happens you know someone with passable talent and a common enemy. You can tell he's afraid of you, and he should be, because he can't even beat Spepticle in a fight, how would he ever take on you?

But he's also... strangely affectionate. You box him in and he lets you, even as he's shaking with fright. You flirt and he flirts back. You're used to letting your reputation speak for itself, but here he is singing your praises to anyone who will listen. He puts all the credit for the collaboration on you, and downplays his own contribution. He sticks around even after you've exacted your revenge, and he still has nothing but good things to say about you, no matter how much you push and prod and scare and tease.

The fundamental difference between Branzy and Clown is vulnerability. Branzy has had no choice but to embrace his, while Clown has done everything in his power to excise it from himself entirely. Branzy allows himself to have big emotions and Clown barely speaks above a whisper at any given moment. When it comes to a fight, of course there isn’t much that can scare Minecraft’s Deadliest Assassin. But Clown has no idea how to navigate emotions, while emotions are Branzy’s greatest asset. People relate to Branzy, they trust him, and he uses it to manipulate them right into their traps. He can trick others’ emotionally as easily as Clown can cut them down with his sword. His relationship with Clown was made on the foundation of betrayal; he sacrificed his alliance with Vitalasy for Clown's protection. It was more important to him to stay on Clown's good side than remain loyal to his previous team, and this is because he felt, with 100% certainty, that Clown offered him more than Vitalasy did. And Vitalasy never saw it coming. 

That’s what makes Branzy so terrifying to Clown. Because he trusts Branzy. He lets his guard down around Branzy. He lets himself be vulnerable with Branzy. What if Branzy’s just manipulating him too? Or worse. 

What if he’s not?

[traveler-at-heart]

Miss Communication

Summary: Natasha is avoiding the feelings talk so you use the only thing that seems to be working: jealousy.

A/N: This request and entire plot is from @happychopshoppenguin so all credit really goes to them. I just put into a few more words.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Stealthy, precise, lethal.

Well, what a load of crap. All Natasha Romanoff is, is a coward. There.

You’re so pissed off, all you want to do is open up her file and write “committment issues” under weaknesses.

But that’s not your job.

No, your job is intelligence and data analysis. Go over information, read endless reports and make a summary that the Avengers can understand, because they don’t have the time to sit around and do it themselves.

And now, you’re here, talking about a new terrorist organization with Steve. Natasha should be here, as second in command, but for reasons unknown to you and Captain America, she has failed to show up.

Again, coward.

Fine, if she doesn’t answer your texts you’ll find her anywhere she’s hiding in this big ass building.

“Hey, Y/N” Sam greets as you walk down the hall.

“Damn. Is it allowed to have guns in the kitchen area?” you smile mischiveously, used to flirting around with the team. He looks around, clearly confused and you reach out to touch his bicep. “I mean, what are they feeding you, Wilson? You’re as buff as Steve”

“Hell, yeah” he smiles, flexing and putting on a little show. You’re laughing and making small talk when someone magically appears, glaring.

Natasha is fuming and you don’t know if the anger is directed at you or Sam. Looking directly at her, you laugh and place a strand of hair behind your ear, as if Sam just said the funniest thing ever.

She can’t answer a fucking text but feels jealous? Well, good. At least you know she cares.

“You’re annoying her, Wilson” Bucky joins you, leaning against the kitchen island and giving you a crooked smile. “Hey, doll”

“Hi, handsome” you place your hands on each side of his face. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah” he says, practically drooling.

“I think you’d look really good if you cut your hair”

“I’ll think about it” he promises.

“Move aside, I’m taking Y/N out for lunch” Sam says, pushing Bucky.

“Oh, sweetheart. You can’t handle all of this” you tease. “But I won’t say no to lunch”

“That’s good enough for me” he agrees, offering his arm. You take it, winking at Bucky and walking away.

Natasha is already planning six different ways to make Wilson disappear, and Bucky goes to his room.

“Gotta get a haircut” he mumbles.

Oh, like hell.

Neither one of them can touch what’s hers.

—

Natasha: How was lunch?

Y/N: Oh, NOW you text me?

Y/N: We need to talk. Call me.

—

Natasha throws the phone across the room, feeling like screaming into her pillow. It still smells like you, which makes her heart ache.

If only she hadn’t been so stupid to ruin whatever it is you two had.

You were on top of her, riding her strap, as you had done so many times since you started your situationship. Hands on Natasha’s abdomen, feeling how her muscles worked to pump in and out of you.

“I love your tits” Natasha said, breathless. You nodded, bouncing harder, moaning desperately. “I love your pussy, it’s perfect for my cock”

“Baby, I’m so close” you whined, so desperate you barely registered her next words.

“I love you”

Eyes wide open, your movements stopped for a second. Before you could answer, Natasha flipped you and you were face down, ass in the air as she entered, pounding harder.

And you really wanted to ask what the fuck and if she really meant what she said, but you were so close that all you could do was moan her name and come hard around the strap.

You barely registered when Natasha pulled out. You felt empty and confused and so stretched.

“Nat? Babe, wait”

“I have to… I forgot a mission report, I’m sorry” she muttered, putting her clothes on and leaving in a hurry. She ran out of her own fucking room before owning what she said.

And now, she couldn’t even look at you. She couldn’t stand the idea that you would reject her.

The little hope that lingered in the back of her mind was the most painful feeling of all.

All she wanted was to be loved by you.

—

Call me means fucking call me.

It means don’t pretend nothing happened.

God, she’s so infuriating. And hot. And good at sex.

But mostly infuriating.

Now you’re back in the Compound, determined to get her to talk to you. Which is why you decided to wear your low cut dress and push up bra.

She said she loves your breasts, right? Well, here they fucking are.

You carry a bunch of binders that need filing, and they help cover your boobs as you enter the living room. Natasha is sitting, and you think she is almost ready to approach you when Sam beats her to it.

“Here, let me help you” Sam offers. The minute your cleavage comes to view, his eyes widen.

“Hey, doll” Bucky greets and you turn around. His mouth flails open, but all you can do is admire his new look.

“Buck, oh my God! You actually listened to me?” you run your hands through his hair, making it impossible for him to look away from your chest. “You look absolutely stunning. Good boy”

“Yeah, uh… I…”

The interaction annoys Natasha, but she knows you won’t even entertain the idea of doing anything with those two.

Her mood quickly changes when Carol appraches you. She's a whole different story.

“Carol, it’s been ages since you’ve been here! All I read are your mission briefings” you say, hugging her tight.

“Well, how bout I tell you everything I’ve been up to over dinner?” she offers with a smile.

“Y/N” Natasha finally snaps. “I missed this week’s report. Mind filling me in?”

“Sure thing” you pull away, reluctantly. “Be right back, Danvers”

Natasha leads you to the conference room and pushes you against the door as soon as you enter.

“Why must you be such a brat?” she whispers against your ear, biting down your earlobe.

“It's the only way to get your attention, Natasha” you protest, trying to sound upset.

You’re torn between lust and anger, but she’s such a good kisser that her lips make you forget everything that’s happened in the last few days.

“I should punish you” she threatens, going down your body and pulling the dress up. Who is she kidding? Her mouth is watering at the thought of tasting you. “Bet you’d love that”

Love.

The word pulls you out of your trance. Natasha is about to take your panties off when you stop her, pulling her away by her hair.

“We’re going to talk”

“You don’t make the calls here”

“Natasha, stop it. I’m serious”

You really don’t want her to stop, but you can’t keep wondering if she meant it.

You want her to mean it.

“Are you seriously gonna make a big deal about it?”

“Ugh, you drive me insane, Natasha. Why can’t you just admit what you said and whether or not you meant it? Do you even care about what I want?”

She stays silent and you groan, pulling up your dress and fixing your clothes.

“I really wanted to be more than just fuck buddies” you admit before going out. “But if the thought of loving me is so embarassing for you, then forget about it. I won’t force the feeling out of you”

Natasha stays behind, wondering how she got it all wrong.

You wanted her.

By the time she comes to her senses, you’re long gone. But Carol does meet her in the hallway, smiling.

“Hey, do you mind telling Cap I’m skipping our meeting? Y/N and I are having dinner”

“Sure” Natasha nods, feeling her stomach drop.

Now it’s too late and she lost you.

—

The second anniversary of the Sokovian Accords comes and goes in a flash. Natasha really wanted to skip it, go find you and apologize.

And yet, here she is, in the Quinjet, flying back to the Compound after two days of exhausting diplomacy.

“Why couldn’t we stay a few days in Paris?” Sam laments for the third time.

“New recruits are in the middle of their training” Barton says from the pilot seat. “At least they got a break these last couple of days”

 “No, they didn’t” Wanda says. “Y/N is training them. Maria asked her to do it before we left”

“Y/N?” everyone says, looking at each other.

“But she’s a data analyst, not a field agent” Sam says.

“And the sweetest person ever” Bucky adds. He holds Natasha’s glare and smiles. Oh, he knows what’s up.

“Well, let’s make sure we put them back into shape when we get there” Steve slaps Bucky’s arm.

Boy, are they all wrong. When the team goes back to the Compound, you’re in the middle of a training session. A guy runs out of the gym, his shoulder crashing against Sam’s as he bolts for the exit.

“She’s fucking crazy, man” he says to himself, looking terrified.

“What the hell?”

Steve pushes the door to the gym. And there you are, in the middle of sparring. With one swift motion you kick the guy to the floor, and he puts his hands up, as if begging for mercy.

“Oh, we have company” you taunt, walking confidently around the students. “Anyone want to fight the Avengers? I promise you they’re not as hard to beat”

“Who is she and what has she done to Y/N?” Barton whispers.

Natasha has to hold back a moan. You look cold and deathly, having kicked all of their asses without breaking a sweat. That also explains why you’re so… bendy.

“Fine. Since none of you could even land a hit on me, you’re running ten laps. Don’t come back here unless you’ve thrown up or cried once”

All the recruits scramble to their feet, relieved now that they can get away from you. You turn around, giving the Avengers a challenging look.

“What? Wanna give it a try? I’ll go easy on you” you say. “Maybe not on Natasha, though. She hasn’t been a good girl”

“Ew” Wanda says, leaving the room. Between that and Natasha��s bendy thought, that was so loud she might as well have screamed it in the middle of the gym, she’s had enough.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got” Barton is the only one that steps up. You nod, evaluating his approach. He throws the first punch but it never lands. You move out of his way at record speed, keeping the contact at minimum while you kick the back of his legs, making him fall on his knees. Another three blows and Clint is face down on the mat.

“Pass” Sam says when you turn around to see who’s next.

“I’ll take my chances” Natasha says, stepping up. You smile in a way that makes a chill run down her spine.

Natasha thinks you can never go wrong with a classic move, so she throws her legs around your neck. But you block the movement and make her land on her back, hands pinned abover her head.

It happens at least three different times, each position becoming more sexual.

“I think we should leave” Bucky says.

“In a minute”

“Come on, Wilson” he forces him out the door, closing it for good measure and hoping you keep your clothes on before the recruits come back.

If they even come back.

“I promise you, you’re not gonna win this time, Natasha” you say, out of breath for the first time. Her eyes travel to your lips and you lean forward, stopping inches away from her mouth. “And I sure as hell ain’t letting you go without talking about that thing you said the other day”

“Please…”

“Now you’re polite. Now you say please. I’ve been chasing you for a fucking week to know if you like me for more than my tits and ass” you finally give in, kissing her for a few seconds. She whines against your mouth, trying to create friction. But your hold is too strong and she can’t move an inch without your permission.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. I was scared you’d reject me and then everything would be ruined forever between us. I love you, so damn much it scares me” Natasha finally breaks, surprising herself with the way she’s pouring her heart out to you.

But that’s how much she loves you and how much she needs you.

Her words leave you breathless and you smile, going back to being your usual self.

“Natasha, I love you so damn much, it drives me crazy. Please don’t ever doubt that, sweetheart”

She nods, her nose rubbing against yours and you finally do what you’ve been craving all week. You kiss her, gently at first, and then more passionately, your hands dropping from hers to let her hug you.

You moan against her mouth, Natasha’s tongue slipping inside.

“Fuck, baby, I need you” you moan, going back to being submissive for the redhead.

“What does my pretty girl want? My mouth or my fingers?”

“Just you, anything, please”

Thinking back to the last time she almost had you, her mouth waters and she decides to flip you on your back and travel down your body, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses and pulling down your shorts and underwear.

“All of this for me?” she asks, running her fingers up and down your slit, collecting your juices and sucking on her digit. “I missed your taste, princess”

“Nat, please” you cant your hips up, hoping she takes the hint. You’re too far gone to form a coherent sentence.

Natasha darts her tongue out. She moans at the taste, and snakes her arms around your thighs to keep you in place. Her tongue goes up and down, then deep inside you and you shudder.

You would almost feel embarrassed for lasting so little, but it’s not your fucking fault she was hiding for a week.

When you remember that, your hands go to her hair and you pull her closer. Natasha enjoys the roughness, her movements speeding up and pushing you over the edge.

You come, crying out her name and trembling. As you struggle to catch your breath, Natasha moves up, letting you taste yourself in her mouth.

“Hey, baby”

“Hey” you say, smiling.

“Can I take you out to dinner tonight? I’d like to make it up to you”

“Yes to dinner. And give me a couple more of those orgasms and we’ll call it even”

“That sounds like a deal” she smiles against your lips, eager to make up for the lost time.

[iichfilwypj]

his dreamy girl | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: i mention a hit? this is pure fluff to me im very bad at this. Also i was falling asleep and i thought of these so it might suck <3 ღ wc: 685 pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7

“And then he tried to steal my sword! The one that literally comes back to me! How stupid can you be?” his rambles echoed through Cabin 3 that hot, dark night. Some hours earlier, the blue team had won Capture the Flag, and Percy was especially excited to share all the details with her. 

Like every other time, she hadn’t attended; not because she wasn’t skilled with weapons, but because no one had managed to wake her from her nap. When Grover tried, he received a slap and a mumbled, “The horses are hungry”, in response.

So there she was, lying on Percy’s bed in her pajamas with a face mask on, listening to him recount how he had hit Clarisse on the nose, how he had nearly eaten dirt, and how Annabeth had, once again, shoved him into the lake. His voice was extremely high-pitched, and she was on the verge of bursting into tears.

That was something she hated about being a daughter of Hypnos. Although her father had blessed her with the divine power to control her dreams –and believe me, being a demigod, that was very, very nice–, he also gifted her with a constant sense of fatigue. At breakfast? She was tired. Lunch? She was tired. Oh, she just woke up from a five-hour nap? So what, she was still tired. She couldn’t help it, no matter how hard she tried. 

When she met Percy, she quickly became friends with the boy who, instead of ignoring her for hours until she apologized for something she couldn’t control, set up a cozy little corner for her in his cabin, with pillows, stuffed animals, candles, and even tea bags. Come on, that boy was willing to challenge his dyslexia just to read something for her before bed.

“And then Annabeth goes, Well, you should run faster. Like, what!? I run very fast, sorry–” Percy’s shout jolted his friend out of her daydream, having closed her eyes as thoughts raced through her mind. She looked at him, watching as he fiddled with the sheets, and decided she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey, ocean breath” she murmured, and to him, her voice sounded like a fucking angel’s. Seeing her there, in his bed made him feel like an idiot and a coward. 

He looked at her with curiosity, quickly recalling what he was about to share and feeling excited to tell about it. “What? I was about to tell you how she crashed into the tree,” but as her eyes slowly rolled back, Percy realized what was happening. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “Oh, Zeus, don’t tell me you’re tired!”

He moved closer to her, resting his head on his pillow and basically lying down on top of her. By the way her head was tilting to the side, he knew he only had a few minutes left before she fell completely asleep. 

And yes, he totally chose those last minutes to tease her.

“Oh god, you’re like a baby! No, like a puppy. Wait, was it cats that slept like sixteen hours a day?” the girl tried to push him away with the little strength she had left, but Percy knew that deep down, she enjoyed this. Well, maybe not being squished by him, but knowing that he didn’t see her sleep as a bad thing.

She would never know, but Percy's favorite pastime was admiring her while she slept –oh my god, of course he couldn’t tell her that, it sounded really creepy. He cherished every detail about her, and if she was happy sleeping, he would make the whole world fall into an eternal slumber just to please her.

“Go to sleep, dreamy,” he said, gently flipping them both so she was on top of him. After turning off the little lamp beside the bed, his hands found their way to her back, stroking it softly. She buried her face in his neck and sighed. He dared to say “I love you”

But she was already lost in her dreams, and he was completely head over heels.

again, i am slut for fluff!!!! <3

[natalievoncatte]

Lena was waking up, and not in her own bed. She was somewhere warm, swaddled in a heavy blanket. Her head was pounding and she didn’t want to open her eyes. A soft mewling sound tumbled from her lips, and she made as if to blink. Her eyes felt gummy and stuck shut.

“Shhhh,” a small, soft voice murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

“Wuh?”

“Just rest,” Kara said.

It was easy to rest. He head fell against the wall of muscle that was Kara’s chest and pillowed on her breast and Lena let out a soft sigh, shifting a bit as she came around and grew more wakeful. She was sitting in Kara’s lap as Kara leaned back against a wall, and Kara had unclasped her cape and wrapped it around her in an impenetrable blanket.

As Lena opened her eyes, she saw that Kara was carding her fingers through Lena’s hair, so gently she barely felt it.

“Your hair is really pretty.”

“Thanks,” said Lena.

A kind of confusion swept through her. Weren’t they fighting? Lena was mad. She was furious. She was world-endingly, life-burn-downingly mad at the woman in whose lap she currently sat. Kara had lied to her about the fundamental nature of who she was and… and…

Lena didn’t feel mad.

“They gave you some pretty heavy drugs when they kidnapped you.”

“Kidnapped me?”

Kara let out a little snort. “You probably don’t remember. These were the lamest kidnappers, Lena. They nabbed you and immediately called me out. I found you and bagged them before you even came around from the drugs.”

“Thanks.”

“You probably won’t remember any of this later,” Kara sighed. “I just want to tell you I’m sorry again. I’m sorry I lied. It was wrong and you deserved better. I should have given you my trust the way you gave it to me.”

Lena blinked a few times but said nothing.

“I’ll never stop saving you. I will always protect you. Even if you never forgive me.”

Lena shifted slightly, pressing a little into Kara, who was now lightly teasing the tips of her fingers across Lena’s scalp, sending light tingles through her sleepy body. Kara yawned and shrugged.

“You okay? You warm enough?”

Lena nodded.

“Alex is coming with a team, she’ll make sure you’re all right. Go back to sleep, baby.”

Baby. That word sent a shockwave through her.

Lena’s eyes drifted shut. She was very tired and it made sense to sleep, to just let it all go. She was safe in Kara’s arms.

As she tumbled towards the dark, she felt the soft press of warm lips to her forehead.

“There’s still so much I want to tell you.”

Lena sighed and nuzzled into Kara’s shoulder. She was soft and warm and smelled heavenly, not just her lavender perfume but the soft smell of her. Lena never told Kara that she wanted to smell her armpits after spin class.

“You want to smell my armpits?!” Kara choked out.

Oh. That was supposed to be inside voice.

“Mmmhmm,” said Lena.

“Can I tell you something, since you probably won’t remember this later?”

“Sure.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Lena started, jolting a little more awake.

“No, shhh,” Kara said, pulling her into a tighter hug. “I know it doesn’t change anything. You don’t owe me anything. I’m just scared. I need you to know of something happens, if…” her breath caught. “If not fast enough.”

“Kara,” said Lena.

“Shh,” Kara murmured, touching a soft kiss to her forehead again that sent a jolt rippling through her.

“I don’t even know if you like girls. It’s just that was the real reason why I was so shitty and hid who I was. I was scared you’d leave if I told you and… and it happened anyway. I’m so sorry.”

Kara sighed.

“Sometimes I wish I could be human so there’d be no secret. I don’t know of Human Kara would have been brave enough to say anything to you but I’m a coward. It would be so easy if there was no lie.”

Lena opened her eyes and looked up. Hot tears glittered on Kara’s cheeks.

“And you know, if you lived with me, and not in that big fancy penthouse, nobody would kidnap you. I’d keep you safe and get you breakfast and make sure you eat before work and take care of you because you don’t take care of yourself.”

“Mmhm, and what do you get out of this arrangement?”

“Well,” said Kara, “I’d get to kiss the prettiest girl in the world.”

“Is that all?”

Kara’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Well. I could do more than kiss. I never have with another woman so I’m not sure how… but I want to…”

She brushed bright scarlet.

“I could teach you,” Lena whispered.

“Don’t do that,” said Kara. “Don’t dangle that in front of me, if there’s no chance.”

“Kara,” Lena murmured, her drugged brain grinding its gears a little, “you don’t fill someone’s office with flowers as a friendly gesture. One does not buy an entire billion dollar media empire to hang out with one person as a platonic exercise.”

“Oh,” said Kara.

“I thought you were straight,” said Lena. “It boggles my mind that you thought I was. Me? Really? Have you seen me?”

“Yes,” Kara was looking at her intently now. “I have seen you since the first day. When I saw you for the first time I felt something I’ve never felt before or since.”

“This fight we’re having,” said Lena. “It doesn’t really feel important right now.”

“I know, but you’re on drugs.”

“Will you kiss me?”

“No.”

Kara’s lips were trembling. She dipped slightly as if she’d changed her mind, then pulled back and pursed her lips, pressing her eyes tightly closed.

“You might not feel this way later. It would be wrong.”

Alex chose that exact moment to kick the door in, sending a shower of splinters across the room. Kara pivoted in anticipation, shielding Lena but twisting around so they were even closer, Kara’s stunning blue eyes filling Lena’s vision.

“If you still feel this way later, call me.”

From then it became a blur. Kara placed Lena gently on a stretcher and reclaimed her cap, then trudged a safe distance away and flew off.

Alex was curt and short with her as usual, fussing over unnecessary risks and complaining sharply that Lena got into too much trouble, before sharply cutting off the conversation when it got too friendly and storming off.

Lena ended up back in her penthouse by six, all in all a fairly convenient kidnapping and rescue. She trundled inside and sat down on the couch, staring straight ahead for a while before she went to pour a glass of scotch, then thought better of it.

The night was chilly. National City never really got cold, but on a January night it could be brisk. Lena leaned on her railing and stared out at the bright lights of the city, the flow of traffic beneath and the distant sounds of life and joy.

Suddenly she felt very cold.

“Kara,” she sighed.

In an instant she was there, appearing in a faint gust. Her cape billowed out majestically behind her, hair aloft on the wind currents like clouds of spun gold. Kara didn’t look like an angel; angels looked like Kara.

“Come inside.”

Lena turned and walked back into the warmer confines, hearing the gentle thud of Kara’s boots on the balcony and her soft footsteps walking over.

“Haven’t been here in a while.”

“I used to dream of you moving in with me,” Lena admitted.

Kara stood silently behind her, shifting on her feet.

“I used to think about pampering you every time you mentioned that your rent was high or joked about a reporter’s salary. I wanted to take care of you, treat you, give you fine things.”

“You don’t have to give me anything.”

Lena turned around and crossed the distance between them. With Lena barefoot and Kara in heels, she towered over her. Lena stepped aggressively into her space and Kara didn’t flinch as Lena curled her fingers in the collar of her suit and pulled her down.

She didn’t hesitate. She gently bracketed Lena’s hips in her hands and pulled her in, bending over her to bring their lips together, Kara’s every move soft and gentle, the utmost care in every tiny gesture.

Kara was a good kisser. Lena let it deepen, feeling the heat flush in her chest and elsewhere, as Kara swept her cape around the both of them in a grand, silly, absurdly romantic gesture that made Lena’s knees go all wobbly and her belly flare with warmth.

“I could give you another chance,” Lena whispered into Kara’s lips.

“I’d like that.”

“Want to fly me home?”

“You are home,” said Kara, sounding a little confused.

Lena looked around the apartment, then rested her head on Kara’s chest. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh,” said Lena.

“Take me back to your loft. We can kiss and do the other things and then you can go get me breakfast.”

Kara slid her arm under Lena’s legs and back and picked her up, tucking Lena gently against her chest, stepped up onto the balcony railing and then off, into space. Lena’s breath caught and she tensed as she always did. She really didn’t like heights.

“I won’t drop you.”

Flying back through Kara’s window was a little awkward with the two of them, but they managed. Inside, Kara deposited her on the couch and the fussing began.

First, she made Lena put on a hoodie at the first sign of a shiver. It was old and threadbare and smelled like Kara, and when she wasn’t looking Lena buried her face in the sleeve and breathed it in.

Kara placed an order at a local restaurant and rather than wait for delivery, zipped out and got it herself.

“Do the people at the potsticker place not freak out when Supergirl pops in?”

“Actually, they give me a discount.”

She put the food in front of Lena and disappeared briefly, emerging in a tank top and running shorts, and Lena almost dropped the potsticker she was about to bite into.

Kara sat down beside her, and Lena stared at her. She wasn’t wearing her glasses and her hair was in a loose ponytail, leaving her in a kind of halfway state between Kara and Supergirl. Despite the display of her blocky shoulders and the ribbed fabric tight on her bunching abs, she looked so warm and soft.

Kara speared the potsticker and popped it into her own mouth.

“Hey!” Lena chirped.

“You were just staring at it.”

“Kara!”

“Fine, here.”

Kara gently took another dumpling in her chopsticks and offered it. Lena looked at her askance, then leaned forward and took it in her mouth, eyes never leaving Kara.

Slowly, they shifted together until they were side by side on the sofa, Lena sort of falling onto Kara as she sank into the cushions. They were less eating and more feeding each other, which turned into Lena feeding Kara as they watched whatever came on the TV.

Kara slowly worked an arm around Lena’s waist and Lena turned, throwing her legs across Kara’s thighs.

“I’m tired,” said Lena.

“You’ve had a long day.”

“Want to go to bed?” Lena said. She tried to put her best husk into her voice but it cracked a little and betrayed her.

Kara said nothing. She smiled and lifted Lena up with ease and carried her to the bed.

Lena shimmied out of her leggings, letting them fall around her ankles, all while covered by the oversized hoodie, and her heart was pounding as Kara lifted the covers with an exaggerated gesture and beckoned her into the bed. Lena climbed aboard.

Kara crawled in after her and embraced her like she was trying to pull Lena inside her body.

“You must be tired,” Kara murmured. “It’s okay if you just want to sleep.”

“I am,” Lena whispered back.

Kara started to pull back, but Lena held on. “Can you hold me for a while.”

“Nothing is gonna get you.”

Lena closed her eyes and curled up against her, sighing.

Two weeks later, she put the penthouse on the market.

[kyracooneyx23]

odio amarte

Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!reader

summary: All of your Barca teammates think you and Alexia need to get together, but the two of you are 'enemies'.

(i do not speak much Spanish, so if some of my translations are wrong I apologise!)

a/n: not proof read or edited and very short

'What is wrong with you Alexia!' You exclaim when the Spanish girl spills her cup of coffee all over the table, the brown liquid smudging your notes that you had been working on forever.

She looks up to you and sends you a dirty glare. 'It's not my fault that you've taken up the whole table with your stupid homework meaning I had no where to put my cup.' She snaps back gesturing to the mess you had created everywhere.

'You could've just asked me to move some stuff.' You tell her sighing as you try to make out the messed up words. 'Or do I scare you to much?' You tease a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

'¿alguna vez te callaste?' (do you ever shut up?) she mutters walking away into the kitchen leaving you alone to try and clean up her mess.

No one really knew why you and Alexia despised each other so much, some of the fans thought it was because Alexia was scared that you would replace her on the team and others would make up crazy rumours that were definitely untrue.

You're teammates didn't have a clue and to be fair neither did you. You hated Alexia because she had always been mean to you, and you had no idea why. If you were entirely honest you didn't really hate the girl, you often found yourself enjoying the attention she gave to you whenever you two were arguing.

After a while of rewriting your notes you placed them all in a neat pile and stood up stretching your back. You're teammates had left to go to the shops about an hour ago, leaving you and Alexia home alone together. They were meant to be back soon but you still had some time to kill and decided to do one of your favourite things.

Annoying Alexia.

You wonder into the living room of your and Keira's shared apartment, sitting on the armchair next to the couch where Alexia was already sitting, her eyes glued to her phone.

The Spaniard hated it when you would bite your teeth, a nasty habit you often found yourself absentmindedly doing.

This time however, you purposely starting chewing on your nails. Pretending to stare out the window, when in reality you were staring at the blonde girl on your couch, a grin forming on your face when she noticed your actions and her jaw tensed.

Her mouth stayed shut though, not wanting to give you the reaction you clearly wanted.

Alexia had not known you for very long, but in the time you had been teammates at Barca your relationship had been rocky to say the least.

She was entirely to blame for your constant bickering, she was the one who hadn't even bothered being nice when you'd approached her on your first training session.

Alexia did feel bad for how rude she had been to you, but once she had began and you had retaliated she couldn't back down and seem like a coward in front of you.

That would be humiliating.

On your first day, Alexia was late, but you'd immediately caught her attention. You'd only been there for a few hours but you already seemed so comfortable talking with all the girls like you'd known them for ages.

You'd already had Alexia hooked and she didn't like that. She didn't like the way that her heart would race whenever you laughed or the way she'd look in the mirror to checked how she looked whenever you walked closer.

In all honesty she was scared of her feelings.

She felt like a stranger in her own body, completely foreign to all the feelings she was experiencing.

She'd never felt this way before for someone she'd only just met.

It didn't seem like it at all. But those feelings had stuck with her for almost a year and a half now.

She hid it behind every insult and eye roll. She'd blame it on her anger whenever her cheeks flushed red at something you did.

But the Spanish captain was still yet to react to your nail biting, which was unusual for her, and you're nails were beginning to bleed from biting them for too long.

Disappointed in the result, you decided not to back down just yet, starting to make clicking noises with your tongue knowing that it always drove Alexia crazy.

It only took a few seconds for her turn around and face you. 'I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work.' She snaps making you grin as your plan had worked.

'Are you sure about that?' You tease, making her roll her eyes and huff as you begin clicking your tongue even more.

'odio amarte!' (i hate that i love you) she groans hands flying up to her hair.

All of a sudden your clicking stops and your whole face burns bright red. You didn't know a lot of Spanish as you sucked at learning languages but you'd learnt quite a bit from just hanging out with the other girls.

You thought you hadn't heard her right. Surely she wouldn't say something like that right? You must've translated it all wrong.

Alexia had noticed the way you'd frozen up and how a light blush painted your cheeks.

'Alexia?' You questioned, voice weak and quiet not quite processing what she had just said. 'Why did you say that?'

Her eyes widened and all of a sudden the normally cool and composed Spanish captain felt sick. She was so used to muttering stuff in Spanish around you that she'd forgotten you actually did know a fair bit.

'Nothing.' She said but it didn't matter, you both knew exactly what she had said and now all insults were long gone, instead you sat in an awkward silence.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to take a big risk; 'Do you mean it?'

Alexia didn't know how to respond, she couldn't really say that no, but she also didn't want to confess the truth.

'I-I guess...' She stutters her cheeks permanently pink. 'I guess that I do.'

You were in shock for a while not knowing how to respond.

Alexia didn't know what to do either. She don't know what made her get up from her seat and do the one thing she never thought she'd do.

She kissed Y/N L/N...

'I keep finding new ways to stuff up don't I?' Alexia sighed when she pulled away from the kiss.

'No.' You say, putting your fingers up to her lip. 'You didn't.'

'I didn't what?' Alexia says shocked, looking at you with wide eyes. Not believing what you had just said.

'You didn't mess up.' You said sternly, placing your hand on her shoulders and looking at her in the eyes 'Not even a little bit.'

'You sure?' Alexia asks you, looking down and biting her lip in nervousness.

'I think I'm sure.' You say, a small and nervous smile on your face. 'As long as you don't regret doing it.'

'I don't' Alexia exclaimed a little too loudly causing you to move a little bit away from her due to the loudness of her voice.

'I'm sorry.' She said, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of her head.

'Don't worry about it.' You smile a small laugh also escaping from your lips.

'No really I'm sorry.' Alexia says, her mood changing to much more serious 'I'm sorry for being a dickhead for the past year, I shouldn't have been that rude to you.'

'I mean, I was rude as well, you're not the only one at fault here.' You laugh lightly.

'No, you were only like that because I didn't give you a proper chance and I'm sorry.' She says, looking genuinely sad.

_______

Meanwhile, Keira, Lucy, Ingrid and Mapi were all walking home from the shops together. Mapi slower than the others as she had been forced to carry all the bags.

'I wonder how Y/n and Alexia are?' Keira wonders, everyone knowing how much you to argue. 'Probably wasn't the best idea to leave the two of them alone together.'

'y/n/n had uni work and Alexia said she'll stay and make sure she's alright.' Lucy states 'Half the time I can't tell if they're fighting or flirting, it's kind of funny. I wonder who'll make the first move.'

'Let's just hope they're not at each others throats again. I hate when they fight.' Ingrid sighs, taking a bag of Mapi after noticing her struggling.

'I agree, when they fight they're one step away from getting together. I don't think I can handle anymore of their longing stares at each other when they think no one is looking. The two of them cause most of my stress now.' Keira sighs, shaking her head.

The English midfielder sticks her key into the lock of your shared apartment when the four footballers arrive opening the door and walking in.

They all make their way to the living room. Absolutely nothing prepared them for what they were about to see.

Sitting on the couch, Alexia Putellas and Y/N L/N were at each others throats. But not in the fighting way. Keira choked on her own saliva in shock, Lucy and Ingrid gasped and Mapi just yelled.

'¡mis ojos!' (my eyes) Mapi exclaimed, startling you and Alexia causing you to pull away from each other. Blushes covering both of your faces.

'Surprise?' You say sheepishly.

part 2?

sorry this isn't the best