#they calm each other down through hard times

[damselflyvids]

@captaincaptainfisher and many others asked if there’s anything they can do without money, and the answer is absolutely yes! real change never happens because of donations, although money is certainly helpful at times. there are so, so many more ways to keep each other alive and lay the foundations for a better world. which ones you choose will depend on what skills you have or want to build.for example, I’m good with data so I’m coordinating the massive data entry and behind-the-scenes spreadsheets for a ballot referendum that, if passed, would divest a major American city from Israel.

you’re calm and collected? you could be a great abortion clinic escort or a legal observer at protests (in my state at least, becoming an LO requires no legal background, you just take one training and then you’re ready to document police brutality).

you ride a bike? protests always need corkers to keep people safe from traffic!

you’d drive a car? out of state abortion seekers need rides.

you’re a good cook? Food Not Bombs and other mutual aid groups would love to bring you a big load of groceries every week so you can make hot meals and distribute them to the homeless! or maybe you work at a bakery and can get them leftover bread.

you were good in high school chemistry, or you’re going through menopause? you can make or get estrogen

you’re a trans woman who already has safe access to estrogen? cool, you can pretty easily lie to doctors to get prescribed testosterone for your trans brothers.

@thefloralmenace and others will have many, many more ideas, these are just some of the things I see happening in my own communities.

here’s the key: to get started, you’re going to have to show up and talk to someone. I know that’s hard for some of us. I get it, I have social anxiety! but once you show up, you’ll realize it actually feels really good to be doing something. and the more you show up, the more you will grow your network and your skills, until one day things that were unthinkable feel easy.

I’ll end with a story to show how this can work. I used to work out in the woods, so I have more first aid training than the average bear. at the first protest after Dobbs, when I knew maybe two people in my big scary new city, I went up to a medic and asked how I could do what she was doing. two years later I’ve medicked more actions than I can count and built even more connections with people I respect and love (including an unbelievably hot and sweet girlfriend, lesbians take note). I am currently organizing a training to get new folks equipped with the same skills. and after one of the latest string of natural disasters, that medic collective decided to expand into going into the areas FEMA won’t (the hollers, the poor Black communities) with community mutual aid and medical supplies. so next month I’ll be learning how to use a chainsaw to clear downed trees to prepare for another support run to Western NC, where I’ll meet and learn from even more people.

that’s how much you can change your life, just by showing up once asking how to help. no donations required.

if you're feeling powerless right now—and god knows I am—here's a reminder you can donate to the National Network of Abortion Funds, the Trans Law Center, Gaza Soup Kitchen, the Palestine Children's Relief Fund, and hundreds of other charities that will work to mitigate the damage that has been and will continue to be inflicted

life continues. we still have the capacity to do good, important work. that matters

[princesssmars]

home sweet home

a vi x reader.

the war between the silco and the firelights has gotten tense, and all you want is a day off to rest. but when an old flame returns from the dead you find the energy to give her a welcome home present she won’t forget.

wc: 4.491

contains : fluff, adoptive brother ekko and firelight reader. mentions of vi's abuse in prison :c smut. dry humping and tribbing yippee.

a/n : idk something about being separated for years and celebrating the reunion with rough and/or desperate sex does it for me bro 💔 started this beforeeee everything and hopefully this gets posted the morning of act ones drop <3 update i love vi but i need to kick her ass yayyy enjoy.

-

for lack of a better word, your day was getting really fucking weird.

you woke up with a weird feeling in your stomach, an ache strong enough to rouse you from your sleep and out of your bed. you chalked it up to hunger, having skipped another meal last night to stay up looking over some of the injured firelight’s and new schematics for tools and weapons.

but once you got a good meal into your stomach, staring up at the giant tree you called your home, you realized the feeling wasn’t from neglecting your appetite. it was that feeing you got when something big was about to happen.

you felt it when the breakthroughs were made on some of the bigger inventions like the hoverboards, when the firelights found this impossible and beautiful grove and made it their home, on that day years ago where your life crumbled around you in the space of a few days.

so it was only up to fate if something bad or good would happen today. and you didn’t feel like waiting to find out.

quickly making your way up the tree, you rapidly do your special knock on ekko’s door, only to be met with silence. you try again and silence still. trying and slightly failing to keep yourself calm, you head back down and start asking others if they’ve seen him, the ache in your stomach growing at some of the awkward and shifty responses you get.

for six years you and ekko have been inseparable. both traumatized by the trials of growing up in the undercity, getting taken in by benzo, and then the sudden and bloody death of your friends, you had no one else to depend on except for each other. it was hard to put it lightly, navigating a rapidly changing undercity and taking care of your little adoptive brother while trying to deal with your own trauma. even as you met others and formed this group you now call family, you made a promise to each other to stick side by side no matter what.

and that included not running off and doing god knows what in the early morning while the other was sleeping.

you’re halfway through pulling on your coat and mask when you hear the sound of the main door opening and a small commotion, running as fast as you can to get down the tree again before a tall figure stops you.

he tries to be funny, throwing out a 'hey hey hey, slow down! your running like there’s a fire-ow!' before he holds a gloved hand to the side of his arm, cradling the spot where you punched him. you get a solid minute of berating and cussing him out before the look on his face tells you he's being serious, conflict clear in his brown eyes.

you have about a million questions running in your head as he leads you to one of the stock rooms, his breath inhaling multiple times to explain before he lets it out in frustration.

“just…promise you won’t freak out, ok?”

you nod before he pushes you inside and closes the door behind you.

you scoff, calling his name and knocking on the hard material for him to let you out. you weren’t in the mood today to entertain his hidden playful nature, most of the time you indulged him but you were too worried at the moment. you’re seconds away from cursing him out again when a soft voice calls out your name from the darkness behind you behind you.

no. it’s not possible. it’s deeper, more rugged then you remember, but you wouldn’t, couldn’t forget that voice. you heard it in your dreams for years, pushing you to keep going for yourself when you felt like giving up, reminding you she was always there by your side when you felt so alone.

you slowly turn your body, unconsciously trying to protect yourself from the possibility of this being a farce when two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a sturdy torso. at the slightest glimpse of hit pink hair your eyes start to water and your chest is heaving with long building gasps, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and digging your face into her neck.

for years you’d daydream about this moment, what you’d say if you were reunited with the girl who was your best friend and likely the love of your life. you’d imagine the rushed out words and apologies, the shared wails as you assured the other you’d never leave their side again. but this silence just feels so right, makes so much sense for all the emotions you’ve been letting sit in your heart without any kind of resolution or closure.

she pulls away from you slightly and you hope she ignores the subtle whine that leaves your throat as she does. her large, and you mean really large, palms come up to cup your cheek as she stares at your face, blue eyes flitting across your features like she’s trying to commit every piece of you to memory. you don’t mind, you remember how she liked when you let her observe things so she could take in things as much as possible lest they be gone in a second. it just gives you an excuse to stare at her, too.

and gods above are you staring. obviously a large part of you is sentimental and sad as you see how much she’s changed over the years; the longer jagged shapes of her jaw, her nose. your heart pangs seeing the cuts in her brow and lip that you unconsciously bring a finger up to rub at. but it takes an embarrassing amount of strength not to pay attention just to her lips as you feel over the scar, how her bright eyes go wide and unblinking as she stands and lets you do whatever it is you’re doing.

you want to do anything to break the tension and you’re given the opportunity when your eyesight drifts slightly to the right and catches onto the tattoo on her upper cheek.

“did you…tattoo your name on your face?”

you’re still so close you can feel her laugh rather than hear it, her chest pressing into your when she huffs through her nose.

“wanted to make sure the guys in there knew who was kicking their asses without the need for introductions.”

“still punching first yelling insults later?”

“nothing anybody in there didn’t deserve.”

gods does your heart hurt for her. you knew it was likely other people like her were probably in stillwater, disposed of to cover someone’s ass or see as thrash just for where they were born. but you knew despite that she would have faced so much being thrown in there at such a young age that you not anyone else could understand, the way they must have treated her…

even after all these years it’s like she can ready your body language like a book, able to know your fingers stalling in their exploration means your mind is wandering, and given the previous subject matter she knows it can’t be good. her bandaged fingers gently wrap around yours and rub over your knuckles until your attention is back on her.

“hey, stay with me for now. we’ll have time to go over all that stuff later. right now just stay with me, alright?”

like you could ever say no to her.

you figure the best way to make progress until your much needed conversation is yo acquaint her with where your sure she’ll be staying until she gets back on her feet, however she chooses to do so. at first she seems uncomfortable with the idea of staying at the base, like she doesn’t want to intrude on the home you and others had built from the ground up.

“obviously i’ll help with anything you guys ask but are you sure everyone would be alright with me staying here? i kind of punched the shit out of that scar guy.”

“he’ll get over it just like everyone else. you’re a legend here, vi, you’re up on that mural for a reason.”

the whole time you show vi around you feel a warm mess in your chest. you forgot just how nice it was to spend time with her, thinking back on fond memories of the two of you sneaking away when the others were busy to spend time together on the safer and quieter parts of the undercity. your feelings aren’t helped with how close vi insists on being, hand never leaving your grasp as you tug her around and occasionally bumping her shoulder into yours when your mind wanders.

you’re recounting the story of how one of the hoverboards went haywire and crashed into one of the bases walls when a low rumble from the side of you cuts you off, footsteps halting you in place. when you turn to vi she has that same cute embarrassed look she used to have when you were younger, eyes wide and body still like if she didn’t move you wouldn’t acknowledge what just happened.

she knows better than to argue with you as you drag her pliant body somewhere, most likely to get her something to eat after only having some scarfed down jerichos a few hours ago. you bc lead her to some small communal dining area before not so gently guiding her to sit, eyes on her form for a few seconds to make sure she won’t be stubborn and refuse to let you grab some food for her.

and why would she even think of resisting when she can sit here and finally get a few minutes to just relax. ever since cait somehow managed to get her out of prison her body had been on, sheer stubbornness and willpower keeping her going until she found what she was looking for. a part of her knew she wouldn’t stop searching, wouldn’t stop hoping to see you and her sister again.

but as she watches you across the room pick and prod over a meal a vastayan is helping to out on your plate her shoulders unclench and the muscles in her legs ease. nothing felt better than when you’d dote over her. she remembers one time she caught a flu and had to stay inside and distant from everyone, ready to be miserable in solitude until you burst in with vander hot on your heels and insisted you wouldn’t leave her side until she was better, that she’d do the same for you.

which she did have to wind up doing as you caught the sickness from her after only three days. she never once complained.

when you finish her plate you look back to her with a sweet smile and start to walk back over to her. she writhes in her seat a bit under your gaze, suddenly feeling a little too warm when you sit the plate in from of her and tell her to eat up. she tries her best not to scarf this down as well, but when you give her a look that says you know how hungry she she is and won’t mind she can’t help herself.

she spends the rest of the day by your side, never leaving your sight as you introduce her to some of your fellow firelights and some of the younger kids who’d heard stories about her and vander. you can tell it still prods at an unhealed wound to talk about him in past tense, but that she still looks back on those fond memories with happiness. you’re more than happy to join in and help narrate the tale of one of your more adventurous and dangerous trips through the old undercity.

eventually the sun starts to set and the lights of the tree turn from a dazzling green to a soft collection of oranges and yellow, a signal to everyone that it’s time to wind down and end the day. the two of you meet back of with ekko who tells you he had already shown cait to an extra room she could use for the next few days.

“cupcake didn’t put up too much of hassle today, did she? don’t think she’s ever spent this much time past the promenade.”

“she was alright. uptight but i can tell she means well. you can talk to her in the morning, her room is right across from yours.”

you’re paying too much attention to just being in the space of two of your favorite people again that you don’t even notice how vi has turned her head to look at you, silently asking you to ask her for what she hopes you both want. by the time you realize and turn back to ekko he has that dumb little grin on his face that he used to wear all the time he’d catch the two of you getting a little too close for comfort.

“don’t even start, ekko.”

“i didn’t say anything! i’ll catch up with you two tomorrow. try not to be so loud, some of us need a good nights sleep tonight-“

you quickly reach over and swat at the young boys arm as he laughs and hurries away from the two of you, voice carrying as he leaves to head off to sleep.

it’s surreal as you take vi’s hand into yours and start the brisk walk to your personal quarters. you don’t have any expectations about tonight but you can’t lie and say a deep part of yourself isn’t hoping to get more than close with her tonight.

once you reach your bedroom you start shuffling for some clothes for the both of you to wear while she prods and examines all of your things. you watch her for a moment, nearly giving yourself away with a laugh when she nearly breaks the dusty antique snow globe you’d found abandoned on a scrap run.

“it’s crazy, right? how they’ll just abandon things without even thinking about their worth.” you speak offhandedly as you settle yourself on to your bed and start to remove your boots and holsters.

“yeah, no offense but i just. really don’t wanna talk about abandoning things right now.” her tone is malicious enough to make you sit your movements, eyes softening at the broken and tired woman in front of you.

“i’m sorry, i just-“

“no, no, it’s okay. i understand,” you gently reach out your hand to hold hers, locked in that tight fist she does when she’s bottling up her anger. “can you talk to me about it? whatever you want to say, just say it.”

she rolls her shoulder before setting down the globe and sitting on the bed, her tensed back facing you. you gently pass the spare clothes you have for her and watch as she takes them and sets them on her lap.

“every night for the first year i was in there i’d have these nightmares. about what happened. first it was just, replaying what happened on this endless loop. then it was wondering what i could’ve done different, if i could’ve been smarter-“

“vi dont do that,” you crawled over to sit right behind her body placed your hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing them across and down to her forearms. trying to look her in the eye proves useless. “what happened was…tragic, and blaming yourself is pointless. you did what you could, i know you did.”

“how? how could you possibly know?” she finally turns her head to you and the look in her eyes does nothing to help the sick feeling you have building up in your throat and stomach. “i told you to stay with ekko, you weren’t there. how could you not be even a little angry at me, for not being here for powder, for ekko and the firelights, for you?”

you can hear the lump in her throat and see the tears building in her eyes when you bring your hands up to cup her face. a stray tear runs down her face and you brush it away with your thumb.

“i could never be angry at you, vi. not for this. the girl i know always kept fighting for her family, and if she didn’t come back to us it was because she couldn’t. she’d never abandon us, you wouldn’t abandon us.”

she gently nods her head and nuzzles her face into your hands. you give her a minute to calm down, continuing to softly brush her cheeks and her crazy hair out of her eye.

“what is going on with your hair?” you whisper as you struggle to push a strand away and out of her face, giving up once it falls back into place for the tenth time.

her eyebrows scrunch. "what, you dont like it? its cool."

"its covering half of your face, its horrible."

"you'll get used to it." she shakes her head with a small smile before softly resting her hand on your lower waist.

"maybe, but im definitely not going to brush over you tattooing your name on your face. please tell me you didnt make any other rash b ody adjustments in there."

the growing smile on her simultaneously puts butterflies in your stomach and makes you very nervous. its not helped when she turns her back to you again and starts to shrug off her jacket, revealing the previous glimpse of her neck tattoo you'd seen goes further down. way further down.

"wow. that's...wow." you want to bury your head into your hands and leave the room. 'wow just wow?' really smooth. "can i touch?"

"uhhh yeah, no problem."

after she gives her consent your fingertips lightly hover and brush over the interlapping lines of curves inked into her skin. you feel a small thrill seeing the goosebumps rise on her arms when your hands glide down them, taking pride in knowing you can still bring out a physical reaction in her with your touch.

"this is really nice, vi. did you get someone in there to do it for you?"

"nope, did 'em both myself. wasn't exactly the best environment to ask people to have access to your body with a needle for hours at a time."

you hum in response while continuing to observe the tattoo. you can see it goes further down her back and decide to speak without thinking too much about what you're saying.

"can i see the rest of it?"

you're a bit scared at how still she goes, wondering if maybe you crossed a boundary before her hands slowly reach behind her and start to lift the white fabric of her shirt until its full taken off of her body.

you make sure to continue the gentle touches as your hands run down the muscles and planes of her back, continuing to admire the clouds and gears that make up the design. you feel a little pang in your heart when you see the initials of mylo and claggor at the bottom of the tattoo, along with the number of welts and scars on her skin.

"its beautiful, vi." you whisper. her body subtly scooches back on the bed to get closer to your touch. the moment is just shy of overwhelming, which is probably why you leave a small kiss on her shoulder, right where one of the scars starts before trailing down her back a few inches. she lets out a muffled noise and you start to pull away before the strong grip of her palm clasps down on your leg, holding you in place.

you leave more kisses and pecks over the length of her tattoo as your legs start to wrap around her from behind, both of her hands grasping your thighs as she relaxes into the affection. you test the waters when you come back up to her neck, lightly sinking your teeth into her skin.

"oh fuck-" her strained voice hits your ears right before she abruptly pulls out of your arms and tugs you by the arm and leg until your reversed, sitting in her lap with her hands gripping at your hips.

you continue to drag yours up and down her arms, reveling in the fact that you can now see her facial expressions, how her eyes droop and lips part as you slightly scratch at her skin.

you adjust your hips to sit closer to her at the same time she lifts hers up, the friction causing small noises to escape both of your throats. her eyes open up and she stares up at you with those big light blues.

your hand travels up to her hair, running through it as you keep looking at her. "are you sure? i dont wanna push you,"

"you wont, i do. please, just wanna be close to you."

you give in, wrapping your arms around her neck and bringing her into a sweet kiss, reveling in the feel of her arms coming up to grip on your back. its slow and languid as you get used to each other before she adds her tongue to the mix, pulling a moan from your throat as you try to bury yourself even closer into her hold.

you move your focus onto her neck, trailing kisses and bites down and across her throat, as she rocks your bodies together and claws at your back.

"used to dream about this, about you, missed you so much," her voice has a slight rasp to it already that drives you nuts, instantly darting back up to bring her into a messy kiss. she adjusts her knee to rest in between your legs and lifts it up into your core, pulling away to look at you as you moan at the friction.

"jeez, what'd they teach you in there?" you let out a breathy chuckle while you grind down into her knee. your eyes drift close before her gentle kiss to her cheek drags your gaze back to her, unblinking as she watches you come undone for her. her stare along with the hazy smile on her face yanks you to the edge, gasping and moaning as you come in her arms.

you feel almost drunk as you come down from your orgasm, nuzzling into her neck while she presses gentle kisses to your shoulder and the side of your neck. she starts to place your body on the bed before you tug her back on top of you.

"what, aren't you tired?"

"maybe, but not tired enough to stop now. take off your pants."

she grins like she'd just been offered free sweets from a piltovian candy shop for the rest of her life. you try not to giggle as she stumbles off the bed and tugs her pants off before settling her body back on top of yours. she resumes her barrage of kisses and bites into your skin, finally paying some attention to your chest while you bring your hands up to thumb at her nipples, biting your lip at how sensitive she is to the touch.

she wastes no time spreading your legs beneath you and getting your silent agreement before moving her lips to rest over yours, taking a second to drag her fingers through your cunt and stuffing them inside her mouth.

"vi!"

"sorry, was just curious." she leans down to kiss you sweetly before resting her self on you, legs draped over the curves of her arms as she oh so slowly starts to drag herself back and forth over you.

you slightly wish you had done this first as the overstimulation makes it oh so intense for you, the feeling of her hair and clit rubbing over yours nearly sending you into a frenzy. your eyes roll back into your head once she starts to speed up her movements, her soft whines and grunts into your neck only adding to the physical stimulation you're feeling.

your core feels like its on fire when you start to hear the subtle whispers she's letting out into your neck, curses of 'fuck, fuck oh-fuck,' and grunts of your name mix together to create a desperate harmony.

"vi, feels too- oh my god i-"

"i know, baby, i know," she moans, pressing a harsh bite into the underside of your neck. you can feel her smile into it when you involuntarily let out a squeal at the action. "never gonna leave you, pretty. could never leave you, leave this."

you never fancied yourself the possessive type, but the reaction you have to her words definitely proves there's something there as you wrap your hands around her shoulder and squish her down into you again, moaning just a little too loud at the lack of closeness and feeling of her chest rubbing against yours.

you can feel your next orgasm building quick and fast, thighs trembling as you desperately grind your hips into her even harder. you can tell she's close too, hips losing their rhythm as her panting gets even louder. you nudge your face to the side and rub your cheek against hers, thankful she gets the hint to smother both of your noises with an intense kiss.

"fuck, vi, missed you s'much, love this, love you-"

you're grateful that you have some semblance of brain activity left to drag her head down to your neck to bit down as she cums, her groan loud and long as she keeps moving her hips until you cum only a few seconds after she does. you can feel a tear or two escape your eyes, overstimulation so intense you think you see janna for a moment.

both of your chests are rapidly panting as you catch your breaths, dragging your hand through her sweaty hair while she presses gentle kisses over the marks she no doubt left over your chest. now you'll have to wear more layers for a while, but at the moment you cant find it in you to care.

"you have no idea how glad i am that i still have you," you almost dont pick up on the silent whisper she says, muffled by the current kisses. you lazily drag your fingers to lift her up by the chin until she's looking at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and affection.

"you're always gonna have me vi, i promise."

you can tell she has her doubts, you do as well. but she lets herself relax into your hand yet again and wears the tiniest smile while she starts to fall asleep in your embrace.

you gently pull the covers over both of your bodies and follow her into the lull of sleep, falling asleep in vi's arms again for the first time in years.

you have the nicest dreams you've had in years.

[patrywoso]

21. Lena Oberdorf

+18 smut

Warnings: Oral Sex. Finger fucking. Praise Kink. Biting. Squirting.

As always thanks to @ljs-woso-vibez for being the best proofreader out there and for the lovely anon that request it cause the idea was so good and I'm honored that you letted me write it.

It was cold and bitter in the early hours of the morning, as you walked the short distance from the hotel to the private gym that Germany rented. You clutched your gym bag closely to your body as you started up your hype playlist, checking your watch to see that it was close to 2 AM, a time in which you were sure all the other players were getting a much-needed rest.

You walked into the lobby and gave the sluggish employee an empathetic nod before making your way to the locker room. After a quick change of clothes from your coat and joggers into your workout clothes. You emerged into the training area and immediately bolted to the treadmill, hoping to get some life into your limbs with a quick start-up jog. You only made it a few minutes into said workout when a sudden grunt shook you from your morning thoughts and blaring music. Another one caused you to slow the treadmill to a stop, step off and go investigate. With a curious look and a quick wander, you found your teammate Lena dressed in her workout clothes, punching a boxing bag with wrapped wrists.

With a relieved smile, you took out your headphones and placed them back in the charging dock before approaching her. “Phew! You scared me I thought I was the only one here.” You admitted, walking close enough to seem interested in interacting but not enough to interrupt her space.

“Yeah, been a bit of a rough night so I thought I'd blow off some steam.” She explained between punches. 

“I’m sorry Lena.” You replied honestly, sighing as you leaned against a stand of dumbbells.

Lena stopped punching, shaking out her relaxed yet incredibly toned arms with a sigh, her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at the floor. “Yeah...” Is all she answered, her voice trailing off into silence as she took the wraps off her hands.

You get up and with a soft smile put your hand on her warm, sweat-coated back. Her muscles were extremely hard to the touch, and you had to consciously hold yourself back from getting any more intimate than the friendly gesture you started with. “Look, let me help you cool off some steam, join me and we’ll have a casual workout together. I know what you’re going through and I wish someone had done this for me, come on.” You encouraged, your nerves dying down when she flashed her infamous cheeky smile and followed you over to the cycling machines.

Soon the pair of you were making casual conversation and cracking a few jokes here and there until you both fell into a comfortable silence. You couldn’t help noticing that out of the corner of your eye, Lena kept tracing her eyes over your body, it brought a blush to your already hot cheeks and forced you to bite back the shy smile threatening to stretch across your lips.

“Listen.” Lena started with a breathy laugh, “I dunno when we will next see each other but I figured I might as well let you know cuz what the hell.” Your heartbeat picked up at the words, you didn’t know what was to follow but you kept your exterior falsely calm as your interior was going crazy. “But I’ve always admired your style, attitude and just everything!”

Your heart sort of sat there, still, mimicking a reaction similar to ‘Is that all?’ But you still forced yourself to let out a polite yet still flustered chuckle. “Well, thank you I have been working hard to get a call from the national team.” 

“Plus, your ass always looks good in those tight little shorts you always wear,” Lena said under her breath. Intentionally loud enough for you to just about hear over the whirring of the machines. Your cheeks heated up once again, this time considerably more than the rest of your flustered workout face. A small chuckle next to you informed you that she noticed your reaction, and she liked it.

“The same can be said for you plus also your abs” You flirted back, a risky move which seemed to pay off when she smiled and shook her head before leaning onto the handlebars to do a last 2-minute sprint to finish off your round of cycling.

You joined her, stepping off the seat with wobbly legs before taking a sip of water. “Listen, I'm gonna do a couple of deadlifts. Wanna join me?” You asked, walking back over to the dumbbells after she gave you a nod of approval while drinking from her bottle. You picked up a dumbbell in each hand and started bending at the waist, blushing when she joined you at your side.

After a few reps, Lena put her weights down and stood back, taking a swig from her water bottle again. In the mirror you could see Lena inspecting your body, more specifically, inspecting your legs and ass before stepping closer to you. “Here try this, your form is a little off.” She commented, placing a toned hand on your back to straighten it. After she adjusted you, her palm slowly slid down to rest on your ass. “Feel better?” She asked, catching your eyes in the mirror.

“Mhm, yeah.” You replied, flustered, Lena was right, it did feel more comfortable, but you were way more concentrated on the placement of her hand rather than the burn in your glutes.

“Okay now hold that pose for a few seconds,” Lena added, referring to when you’re bent at the waist, torso parallel to the floor and ass stuck out in the air. You did as you were told and almost dropped a dumbbell when you felt her palm travel from your ass cheek to the space between your legs, cupping your hot, moist pussy through your shorts. “Careful there.” Lena teased, tracing your face in the mirror with her now lustful eyes. You closed yours tightly to help you maintain concentration, but you wobbled again when a single digit traced along the hem of your shorts, which was pressed firmly between your lips, and more specifically, against your swelling clit.

“Lena….” You gasped, your legs starting to tremble from the position, begging for a rest. Lena removed her hand, and you took that as your invitation to drop the dumbbells and stand up straight, as you did that you felt two hands on your waist, holding you up steadily.

“I probably should’ve asked but I just couldn’t help it, your little pussy all swollen and bulging through your shorts... fuck.” Lena trailed off, dipping her tongue out to quickly lick her lips as she still held you up. You bit your lip at the words trying to hold back a soft moan before lifting your hands to rest on her sculpted shoulders.

“I could probably help you let off some steam another way...” You teased, taking the risk to lean in and kiss her neck up to her jaw, which earned you a breathy moan from the taller woman. “It’s a lot more effective than working out.” You added, luring Lena in even more.

“Oh really?” With a soft ‘mhm’ you confirmed, before pulling away from Lena. Without another word said, you slowly walk towards the locker room, temptingly swaying your hips. With a quick yet seductive look back, you could see Lena following after you, giving you the heads up to confidently walk past the now-sleeping employee and into the locker room.

You took a seat on the benches in the centre of the room and watched Lena lock the door, meaning no one else could get in and that you were right in your suspicions of what was about to happen. When Lena turned around, she smirked at the sight of you. “Very cute.” She teased before picking you up from under your thighs and moving you over to sit on the counter. Now face to face, the air between you felt thick in the few milliseconds it took for Lena to close the gap and lock your lips together, deeply kissing you. Her hands crept up your thighs and closer to that sweet spot between your legs. Moans and heavy breaths left and entered each of your mouths for the long minutes of passion between you two, Lena’s fingers squeezed and traced your thighs while yours tangled in the hair at the back of her head.

“Fuck the number of times I’ve thought about this while watching you play is insane.” Lena moaned as she pulled away, moving to kiss down your neck to your shoulders. Her hands left your thighs and moved to take off your sports bra, leaving your perky tits exposed. She wasted no time to start kissing around your quickly hardening nipples while her large hands moved to cup the sides of your waist.

“Fuck I have been watching you in the dressing rooms.” You admitted embarrassingly, in that moment however you didn’t care. Lena had you in a hold where you’d admit anything to her, hell, you’d worship the ground she walked on.

“Oh yeah?” She pried, taking both your solid pink buds between her index fingers and thumbs, causing you to whimper at the sensation. “You watched me get undressed?” She asked, almost humiliating you as she took one of your hardened nipples into her mouth.

You nod desperately, cheeks heating up as you remember all the times you thought Lena had caught you staring but mindlessly disregarded it, if only you knew. “Fuck... YES!” You cry out as she flicks the bud that has yet to be pleasured by her extremely skilled tongue.

Soon she pulls away, leaving you to whine in protest until she slips her fingers into your waistband and removes your shorts along with your gym shoes, “I wonder, do you look at any of the other girls? Or just me?” Lena teased, her dominance oozing out through her tone, she had complete control of you now and if it wasn’t evident from her voice it was evident from the fact that she had your cunt on full display for her; legs far apart and clit swollen, pink and throbbing to be touched.

“Just you.” You admit breathily, pushing your hair out of your blushing face as her eyes scanned down your body before landing on your desperate little hole. “Please Lena” You beg, spreading your legs further as a way to invite her to touch you, show her that you belong to her and that you’ll do anything for her at that moment.

“I know I know, just let me take you in. Take in how gorgeous your body is, how perfect your tits are, how pretty and pink your little cunt is.” Lena spoke almost as if she was reciting a poem, her eyes were attached to you and all the juices coating your lips and the counter.

Soon enough Lena was close to you again, your once-neglected nipple was in her mouth and her fingers were slowly tracing up and down your slit; barely teasing your clit with every pass. You tilt your head back against the mirror and close your eyes, not wanting anything to distract you from the sensations of such a beautiful woman touching you in your most intimate places. Lena kissed down your toned stomach and thighs until she was in a squat position, before prying your pussy apart to expose your clit even more than before. With a hungry moan vibrating in the back of her throat, Lena closes her eyes and dips her head in to start flicking her tongue along the red bud. You moan from your gut and tip your head back as you start rocking your hips against her mouth, moans tumble from her tongue and vibrate against your cunt.

“Lena if you keep this up, I’m gonna cum” You whine as she starts suckling on the tender nerve, gripping your thighs hard enough to leave white marks on your skin. Moans and heavy breaths leave your lips as your hips continue to rock, your movement beginning to stutter and become frantic as you start chasing your high. The warmth in your stomach starts to twist and turn, becoming more intense in waves with each suck.

Soon it became almost impossible to hold yourself back, your hands had found her hair once again and you gripped it tight to ensure she wasn’t going anywhere while you rode out your high. “Fu-Fuck! Fuck! I’m cumming! I- “Is all you could muster to the taller woman before freezing, rolling your eyes back and tipping over the edge. Your body shook, clear, sweet liquid trickled from your pussy and into Lena’s mouth, making her moan and lap it up.

Once you come down, you open your eyes to see Lena wiping her face with a grin. “Enjoy that?” She asked getting up from the squat to once again kiss your neck and rest her hand on your shaky, sweat-coated thigh.

“Uh… uh-huh.” Was all you could let out, she chuckled and pushed a few stray strands of hair out of your flustered face. “Well good, because we’re not done yet.” She added, the comment made your pussy throb, and a small whine escaped from your lips.

Lena got up and helped you off of the counter before turning you to face the mirror, bending you at the waist and leaning your top half on the surface. You became heated at the new position, suddenly going shy from how exposed both your holes were to the woman you’ve fantasized about for countless months since joining the national team. A small moan left your lips as you swayed your ass from side to side to tempt her before resting your head on your crossed arms that lay on the cold marble counter.

Lena stayed standing and just took in the sight of you, once again, dripping pussy. She placed one hand on your lower back to steady the both of you before teasing your hole with the middle digit on the other hand. You couldn’t help but let a low breathy moan escape from your mouth, which turned into a loud, high gasp when she pushed in. Your soaking pussy swallowed her digit whole with ease, throbbing as a way to try and have her fill you up even more.

An “Oh fuck” came out of her mouth as a shocked whisper when Lena witnessed how easily you took her, let alone how tight you were around her finger. She started pumping, trying to be slow at first but your slick, warm hole made her cave, and she soon sped up her thrusts making you slap your palm over your mouth to contain the loud moan threatening to escape.

You cracked your eyes open and saw the most intoxicating scene before you: there stood Lena, a thin layer of sweat coating her skin, her lids heavy, jaw hanging open, her eyes locked to her fingers that were pumping in and out of you and covered in a thick dripping layer of your slick. Your favourite sight of all was her other hand, however, the one that you just assumed was just resting on the counter, was really under her waistband; teasing and pleasuring her slit. This sent you spiralling, your head became foggy and tipped back while you allowed whatever sounds your body could conjure up to spill out and echo along the walls of the empty room.

The second Lena easily slipped in 2 more fingers, you lost it and submitted to the second orgasm that forced itself throughout your body. Every muscle tensed, with your back arching and eyes rolling, a loud whine was ripped from your throat. A second round of squirt splashed on Lena’s hand as well as the floor, stopping and starting as she refused to cease her pumping until you had come down from such a heavenly experience. The only thing that brought you back to reality was the strained moans quietly coming from Lena’s lips as she continued to touch herself. She had pulled her drenched fingers from your entrance and leaned her hand onto the counter next to you, barely holding herself up with shaky muscles. You raised your limp body from up against the mirror, with the last bit of strength you could muster, and tilted her face up with gentle fingers so she was looking into eyes once again. In that moment you locked your lips with hers; determined to bring her to orgasm and satisfy her every desire.

“Please Lena, cum on your fingers for me.” You begged between kisses, knowing it would do something to that knot building in her stomach, which was confirmed by the quiet “fuck” she let out alongside short heavy huffs. You knew she was getting closer when her arm buckled under her weight. Luckily, she was able to catch herself, but it gave you the hint that she needed one last thing to send her over the edge; just something to push her into pure bliss. You leaned in and attached your mouth to her neck before biting down, you aimed to surprise her and, boy, did you do just that. Her eyes flew open and before you knew it her head flew back, a long string of profanity leaving her mouth as she shook from the inside out. Her legs struggled to keep her up and her knuckles were turning white from gripping the counter so hard as waves and waves of pleasure racked through her bones.

You were hypnotized by the sight laid out before you. You’d had fantasies before, sure, but the pleasure of seeing Lena orgasm in front of you, BECAUSE OF YOU, was out of this world. When Lena came down, she looked completely fucked out: flustered, sweaty and dazed yet still the most attractive woman you’d ever seen.

Lena placed both hands on the counter to support her powerhouse of a body and let her head drop in exhaustion. After a minute of resting, she let you lift her chin and push her damp fringe out of her face before giving you a soft peck on the cheek. “Thanks for that doll.” She slurred through a lazy smile.

“No problem, you feeling better now?” You asked, risking the question in case she got upset again. She nodded, however, still adorning her lazy post-sex smile while she helped you off of the counter.

“Come on you, get in that shower, we’ll unlock the door when we’re more presentable.” She chuckled, following you into the hot stream of fresh water.

[claudiafrankie]

Pick a Card: How They See You

DISCLAIMER: TAROT IS NOT AN EVIDENCE-BASED PRACTICE. YOU ARE IN CHARGE OF MAKING YOUR OWN DECISIONS.

Pile 1: The Dog

This person sees you as having mastered the earth element. I think you are pretty detached with the way you approach your goals and it like doesn't compute in this person's brain that this is how you get the things that you want and build the world around you that you have.

They see you as someone who revels in the simple pleasures in life - sitting in the grass on a sunny day, stretching your body in the morning, a delicious seasonal coffee creamer. You are rich in the ways that count pile 1. You take good care of yourself and because of this you kind of exude a nurturing quality to those around you. Whether you intend to or not, you help other people get to where they want to go. You build people up and show them that they are capable of achieving their goals. I think you have a good eye for material goods and know what to splurge on and what to buy generic brand. Maybe you invest in nice cookware and knives because you know you'll use those for years to come, or in a high-quality bed spread or mattress. You take care of your body and appearance, you understand this to be an art form. But you also know that it's not everything. And this down-to-earth quality of taking good care of yourself but also not taking it too seriously or to extremes is really sexy to a lot of people. I think this person thinks that other people see you as husband/wife material. If you're single they're scratching their head like "how the hell are they not wifed up yet"

I think they see you as someone who doesn't stay in people's lives for very long, and they are worried that this is going to be the case for your relationship with them as well. They think you are in tune with the rhythms of nature and aren't afraid to let go and move on. You enjoy the good times when they come knowing they won't last forever, and you don't let the hard times beat you down when they come because you know they will pass.

I think they see you as someone who has learned all this the hard way. As someone who has been through many highs and lows, someone flexible in the circumstances you can thrive and survive in. You know when a tree lifts up the concrete of a sidewalk? That's you. Pavement be damned, you are going to keep growing and growing. You understand setbacks are part of progress. You don't let the hiccups hangups and obstacles sway you from steady movement forward.

I think they think that you are very loyal to those you care about, perhaps to your own detriment at times. I think this person sees you as someone who feels easily caged and needs a lot of space to try new things and be your own person. They see these two sides of you being at odds with each other at times, whether that is true or not.

This person sees you as being perhaps at times unwilling to open up emotionally. I think they respect you for your stoic disposition, but they think that sometimes you take this position/approach when it isn't necessary and that you actually hold yourself back a little bit in this way. Like you are a little blocked in your self-expression. Again, this is how they see you. It doesn't mean that this is actually who you are.

Pile 2: The Moon

This person thinks that you are in an incredible amount of pain underneath a calm surface. The card you picked, I just really tried to sense what it would be like to be there. Sitting next to a lake on a cloudy night. You have that smell of the freshwater and grass, and the sound of maybe a frog or two. Some light wind ruffling the surface of the lake... sitting in that setting depicted on the card it has the vibe of "something happened here and there's this weight hanging over the whole place." Like the trees are clinging to the ground so tightly because they are afraid of a strong wind knocking them down, and maybe there's a dock with a small boat that has rusted over from getting no use anymore and with no one around to take care of it or store it properly.

That's how they see you, as someone who has been through something, or maybe a series of things, that have deeply impacted you. And it's like you're still processing and aren't quite sure what the you that comes out the other side of all this processing is going to look like yet. This goes beyond sadness, this person sees you as grieving. Who or what I don't know, but they see you as dealing with some kind of loss. I think it could have to do with your family. Maybe you have been dealing with family troubles or grieving the loss of a family member or a family friend. Or, if it's not a literal death that you are processing, it could be that you are beginning to understand your family in a different way, a deeper way. Maybe your perspective on your family is expanding, you are understanding the pain and wounding that they have been through, and you're angry. You could be reconciling feelings of bitterness or anger towards your family with feelings of sympathy for the difficulties they have faced in their own lives.

I think this person sees that you are holding on to this pain and struggling to let it go. Maybe they sense a despondency in you, a subtle hopelessness. Not detachment so much as fear of encountering the same lessons with different people, of being hurt in the same ways again. They can feel a deep anger in you, seeing you as someone who is looking for their place in the world, wanting more than anything to feel like you belong.

This is really sad pile 2. You are so strong and this person wants to help you but they know that you have to want to get better, and they think that you don't even see the sadness, anger, and longing in yourself. They won't offer unsolicited advice, so for the time being I think they are taking the role of being a supportive friend and willing to give advice should you go to them for it.

There is some judgment coming from them. Like "why can't they just get over it" or "they are so stuck and don't even realize." It's weird, they want to help you, but they do kind of want you to lean on them as some sort of savior/hero/rescuer figure. I think they believe that you really want someone like this to come along and sort of take care of you. I'll say it again, this is how this person sees you not necessarily who you actually are, so don't get too fixated on their perspective - especially if it is not accurate. You know yourself best.

I think this person is equally invested in making you feel better as they are making themselves feel better. Maybe they think that your well-being is what they're concerned about, or this is what they're telling themselves, but really they are dealing with their own insecurities and need to feel like the hero to be worthy of love. Maybe this person is an overachiever, or highly successful for their age. They could come from a family where this was expected of them - to win.

So yeah they see you as a little bit of a damsel in distress pile 2. I don't think you need anyone to save you or are trying to signal this to people, but I do think that this person thinking that you deep down want someone to come along and sweep you off your feet has some truth to it. And I feel like I should tell you that wanting to be saved and taken care of is totally normal and human. We live in a world where it's difficult just to be a person. Dealing with deeply rooted pain while navigating the mayhem of daily living is incredibly difficult. You are doing a good job, pile 2. Maybe no one has said that to you in awhile. Keep up the good work. And, while there's nothing wrong with wishing for a knight in shining armor, remember who it is that has been saving your ass this whole time in their absence. ;)

Pile 3: The Broom and Whip

Hey pile 3! Lets get into it

This feels like someone that you had or have a romantic connection with but there was a falling out. They see you as someone who is defensive and in a lot of pain. They know that you are not the type of person to lash out and take your hurt out on other people, but they almost wish that the two of you could have it out - I just don't think that you are expressing your anger to this person. I think they could be concerned that this is eroding you mentally and emotionally, that you aren't expressing to them how you really feel.

I think you guys aren't talking right now and they are feeling this separation big time. They really want to work this out and come back together. You literally got the Lovers and the Two of Cups side by side - whoever you are asking about sees you as a soulmate, as their endgame. They are worried that this won't work out and they are trying to plan how to fix things with you, possibly asking about you to their friends or asking their own friends for advice on the situation.

This person sees how naturally cooperative you are with the people around you, how you are so willing to work with others and put your own interests aside if it benefits the majority - it's like this is just how you operate, you don't even have to think about it. They could see you as working on some kind of skill and gaining notoriety for it, gathering some attention for your diligence, attention to detail, and team-oriented attitude.

Yeah dude this person just thinks that you're it for them. The Lovers and the Two of Cups??? Come on. I think that even though this person is upset they see whatever upset is currently going on is temporary. It's like they aren't even entertaining the option or possibility that things are over over between the two of you. It will not compute in their brain.

I think this person thinks that you're pushing them away. They think that you are retreating into yourself where it's safe and keeping them at arms-reach. I think the way you are interacting with them now compared to the way you used to interact with them is very different - I think right now you are giving them friendly, polite energy but it's just a way to maneuver around them so you can keep them away. You are relying heavily on your manners to protect yourself in this situation and they can tell. They hate that you used to have so much vivaciousness when you used to talk to them and now they don't get that side of you anymore.

I do think that there is part of this person that enjoys the suspense and tortured waiting of what's going on. I think that they want to comfort and soothe you, to coax you into their arms and hold you while you hang onto them. I think this is part of a sexual fantasy of theirs as well, where they are the one to console you and then fuck the sadness out of you. They could be into BDSM type stuff, or if it's not that heavy/intense, they just want to test your limits a little bit. They like the idea of being the one to inflict some pain on you and then show you that they can make it better, that they can make you feel even better than you did before the pain even occurred.

It's hard to explain but it's not really an exotic fantasy or unusual I don't think, I'm just having a hard time putting it into words. They want to like........ stretch you? LMAO Like yeah just see... what you can take. And when they're done having their way with you, being the one who you collapse into. They want to be the person with the power to harm and to heal you. Not sure if that's your vibe but that is what I'm getting from this person. Very intense and steamy, if this is your situation then please write smut about it or something so the rest of us can live vicariously through you lol.

Take care pile 3 :)

[mushygreybrainmatter]

After finishing Turnabout Succession last night, one of the things I just can't get over is the way Klavier looked across the courtroom, saw Apollo standing there, calm and composed while Klavier was falling into hysterics, and Klavier asked Apollo point-blank to rip off the bandaid, to prove that Kristoph was the one behind it all, who gave the Vera the nail polish, gave Drew the poisoned stamp, commissioned the forged diary page. And then! After Apollo does everything short of provided hard, decisive evidence! Klavier looks at Kristoph and he starts, as he puts it, cleaning out the family closet.

Klavier starts explaining the ways in which Kristoph manipulated that trial, Zak Gramarye's trial, and he declares in front of his brother, the Judge, and the jury, that Kristoph told Klavier about the forged evidence, that Kristoph was the one Klavier was supposed to face in court that day, and when he finishes. It's quiet. And we get a new sprite for Klavier, and he's looking up at the ceiling, back straight, chin up, for the first time! For the first time in four cases, we see Klavier without that weight on his shoulders, dragging him down, shoulders hunched and head hung low.

It's over. And Klavier is free of a burden he's carried far longer than seven years. It's one he's carried his whole life.

Klavier and Apollo are both squirming out from under the thumb of an abuser, and they do it together. They help each other through it. As soon as this is over, it's Apollo's turn to sweat. Kristoph looks at Apollo and says Vera's poisoning is because of him! Apollo pressed Vera too hard. That's why she was biting her nails in the first place. Is Apollo then not just as guilty as Kristoph, if Kristoph is guilty at all? And Kristoph says, not in so many words, don't you see that you cannot prove it? There is no decisive evidence. And Klavier pulls them out. This trial is being decided by a jury, not a judge, and what matters is that the people are convinced, decisive evidence or no.

And you, the player, get to decide. Guilty, or not guilty? Did Vera Misham kill her father? Or was she as much a victim as he? And you have to move your cursor twice. You select your choice. Then you have to confirm. The weight of it hits you.

Vera is not guilty. You decided that. You looked into the eyes of the most despicable character in the franchise this far, and you decided that evidence it not, in fact, everything. The law is not absolute. The law, meant to govern the people, is derived from the people, and by declaring Vera Misham Not Guilty, you assert that Kristoph Gavin undeniably is.

It's catharsis, not only for the player, but for Klavier, for Apollo, for Phoenix, for Thalassa Gramarye, for Trucy, and for the legal system at large. This is the start of a new age, and you're ringing it in not with thunderous applause and confetti, but with silent relief.

[littlereddream]

Of Whiskey and Venom

A/n: cowboy Jason Todd x Reader, f!reader, there will be multiple parts to this because I can’t help myself.

Owing debts to outlaws means playing dangerous games. You know that, well and true. When Carmine Falcone finds out that you don’t have the money to pay him back, he offers you one final method of payment. Your debt would be forgiven in its entirety, so long as you walk yourself to the notorious Red Hood’s camp and surrender yourself with the claim that you’re part of the Falcone’s.

In Gotham, big of a town as it is, word gets around to people fast. Whether it was through gossip or the newspaper boys hard at work, most things never stayed secret.

Usually, it was annoying. Last year, some nosy neighbor had discovered that you’d managed to get your hands on some quality eggs, courtesy of a friend of yours down South. Within the week, almost half of your neighbors had collected at your door at some point or another to ask for some. Would be a shame not to share, they’d said.

Usually, the knowledge of any of your personal business getting out would set you on edge. It’s never been any good to you, only ever causing trouble.

Today, you find cause to be grateful for the quickly spread word. If not for Gotham’s tendency to whisper in each other’s ears, your neighbor would never have come to knock on your front door that morning, all out of breath with urgency all over her.

“You’ve gotta get out of here,” she’d panted. “Run. Run and don’t come back!”

You’d quickly invited her inside, checking outside left and right before shutting the door.

“Mary, the hell’s gotten into you?”

But all she’d done is deliver a soft smack across your shoulder.

“Take this seriously! Darlin, it’s Falcone.” You still remember the ice that had trailed its way down your spine. “My husband, Rupert, told me that he’d overheard some of his boys talking about it. He’s lookin for you.”

You forced yourself to shake your head, pushing back the instinct to freeze up entirely.

“Mary, it just ain’t possible. Falcone and I, we- all of my business with him has been settled.”

“Yes, well, he doesn’t seem to agree. Now, go on! Pack your things. I’ve taken a horse from the stable for you. She’s a fast girl, just old. Won’t nobody come looking for either of you.”

In the end, you’d had enough sense to listen to her, but there was no packing your bags fast enough to escape Falcone. Midway through packing food for your trip, long after Mary had left, you’d heard a different kind of knock at your door. Demanding. Angry.

That whole interaction felt like ages ago to you now, including the conversation you’d had with the man. He’d explained it to you simply, tone so light you’d hardly believe the weight of the words he cracked into your skin, like a cane to a horse.

Apparently, all that time ago when you’d paid back your debt to the man who’d come to collect it from you, there had been a breach in loyalty within Falcone’s gang. Your debt collector had taken the liberty of deciding his own pay, stealing nearly half of the money you’d paid for himself rather than handing over the full amount.

Despite it being an error within his own system, Falcone refused to hear your bargaining. You’d even gone so far as to promise him that money again, all you’d need was a month.

He’d shut you down quicker than you could finish making the offer.

Instead, Falcone offered you a counter proposal.

It’s that counter proposal that has you currently making the solo hike to the Red Hood camp, handcuffs digging uncomfortably into your wrists set in front of you.

What Falcone offered to you went as such: After one of Falcone’s newer men went out and shot a man from the Red Hoods, Hood demanded to be delivered one of Falcone’s own as a leveling of justice and show of goodwill. A gesture to calm the waters between them, since the last thing anybody in town wanted was for the two most dangerous gangs to have it out for each other.

Your job is to be that token of goodwill, to march your way into that camp and declare yourself as a surrender member of the Falcone’s to fulfill their demands.

Do so, and he’d make the kind decision not to take the life of the neighbors that tried to aid in your attempted escape.

The camp is far into the woods, well outside Gotham itself, causing your dress to catch in every grown out bush and twig. Your feet ache from walking so long in the wrong shoes, while your hands haven’t stopped shaking since you were forced to leave home.

There is no getting out of this, you know that. If you run away now, if Falcone finds out that you didn’t settle this debt for him, there would be no corner of the earth far enough for you to hide. It’s either he kills you, or you take your chances with a gang so successfully underground, not even law enforcement knows the real name of its leader. Doesn’t mean they’re any less brutal, though.

You’re going to die, all because Falcone’s men can’t do their jobs, whether that be collecting debts or not shooting the wrong damn people.

There’s a point where the path you walk narrows out, becomes thin and difficult to follow. At some point, you can hardly tell which direction you’re supposed to head, saved only by the spots of recent horseshoe markings in the dirt.

It feels like any second, you’ll be surrounded by people with rifles pointed right at your head. With each step, your breathing further shallows into something unintentionally quieter. A bush rustles to your right, and you feel like an idiot for flinching back when a rabbit runs right out and past you.

After so long walking, you’re starting to think that Falcone could’ve been wrong about the location of the camp. After all, this part of the woods look completely wild, utterly untouched if not for the occasional broken twig or trail marking.

“Who’s there?” A voice shouts out.

Then there’s a gun being pointed to the side of your head. Well, at least you know that if there’s ever an award for jinxing yourself, you’d win it. Or maybe not, considering you’re very likely to be killed within the next few minutes.

“Carmine Falcone’s debt,” you say simply, proud that you’d managed to keep the waiver out of your voice.

There’s a pause in the air, before you can see the man’s mouth pull into a grimace out of the corner of your eye. “That so?” He mutters. “Right. Well, you’re going the wrong way. Come on.”

The redhead, whoever he is, takes great care not to spook you. His rifle, attached to a belt over his shoulder, is exchanged for a single handgun, one just within reach tucked into a holster. The hold he has on your forearm is surprisingly careful, less there to keep you from running and more to guide you through the confusing twists and turns of the woods.

“Watch your step,” he warns. “Hood is gonna be pissed.”

“Why?” You risk asking.

So long as the debt is settled, it seems to you that Hood would be getting everything he specified in his deal. You’re the one being screwed over here.

“Cause, it looks to me like Falcone sent over somebody he doesn’t mind losing instead of an honorable trade.”

You raise a brow. “Who says I ain’t a high value exchange?”

The redhead snorts. “Are you kiddin? You don’t got a single gun-wielding callus on you. We lost one of our best that day, and Falcone sent us you.”

A pause.

“No offense.”

“None taken,” you grumble, bitter for reasons you don’t even know yourself. Maybe it’s because you’re being completely screwed over here, but who’s to say?

It’s not long before the overgrown woods level out into a large clearing, the man weaving you past hitched horses to reveal a large camp. It’s nothing like what you’d expected, hearing what you have about the Red Hoods. Vile, vicious, and mean.

Come to find out their camp looks like an isolated meadow, sun shining down on their colorful tents. From where you’re standing, you can see a young child playing with an even younger puppy. Just past that, there’s a table of people gathered around two women who look to be playing five finger fillet.

The redhead calls out to an older woman to your left who you hadn’t even noticed, sitting quietly as she polished a hunting knife on her pants. What you’d do to be wearing pants instead of a dress right now.

“Ma Gunn,” he greets. “Got a moment?”

“Depends, Roy. More of your trouble?” She says pointedly, but Roy only laughs.

“Not this time. Just got some business to discuss with Hood. Mind keeping the young lady here some company?”

Ma Gunn waves Roy off with a free hand, sheathing the knife and standing.

“Go.”

And then you’re alone with her. Ma Gunn’s eyes are fixed on the metal binding your hands together.

“In some trouble with the law, dear?” She raises a brow. You’re not quite sure what to say to deny it, but some part of your face must look panicked because she breaks out into a quiet laugh. “Relax. We’re hardly the kind of people to judge you for having lawmen after you, not that we’d have any right to.”

Right. Outlaws.

“Besides, you don’t seem like the gunslinging type.”

“Roy said the same,” you tell her.

She snorts. “Course he did. How’d you end up here anyway? Tell me you’re not thinking of joining in. I’m telling you, it might seem nice at first, but it’s nothin worth putting up with Bizarro’s cooking.”

“No, not joining in. I’ve got a debt to settle between Mr. Falcone and Hood.”

It’s within an instant that the woman’s face changes, much more grim than just a moment ago. She looks at you like you’ve already been damned, no shot at survival left to you.

Roy’s back already, tipping his hat in thanks towards Ma Gunn, whose eyes still haven’t left your cuffed wrists.

“Hood wants to see you. Come on, I’ll take you over.” Roy doesn’t touch you this time, just hovers his hand over his lower back like he can force you to move telepathically. You do.

Together, you’re approaching one of the biggest tents in the camp, far in the back. Entirely red, though what else did you expect?

You stop in front of the fabric curtains.

“I think it’s best if you head in alone. Good luck.”

Right. With a final deep breath, you duck into the tent. It feels like stepping into your own casket.

You find that the inside looks bigger than the outside, complete with a large cot, a table surrounded by chairs, and a small bookshelf. At the table sits a man you can only assume is Hood himself, feet resting on the wood as he leans back in his seat. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, gambler hat set on the edge of the table just by his boots.

He’s surprisingly handsome, sharply contrasting all the stories people tend to spread about him. When he’s not wearing a bandana, he’s said to be grotesquely scarred, some even say to the point of deformity. The man is front of you is very much not that, all sharp features with the only visible scars on his face being one over his lower lip and the other down across his brow.

You step forward into the tent, and the wood beneath your feet creaks. Quick as gunfire, narrowed green eyes level with yours. There’s a hint of disbelief in them, like he can’t quite believe his eyes.

“By Gotham, that fool was telling the truth.” You hear him say, gruff and mumbled.

It takes more effort than you’d ever admit to speak without breaking down right there. You’re practically speaking to your executioner right now.

“Hood, right? Carmine Falcone sent me to-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know why he sent you.” Hood drags a hand down his face. “Well, isn’t this just a mess.”

With a tired sigh, Hood calls you forward with a beck of his fingers. Once you’re at the other end of the table, he motions for you to take a seat. You do, albeit on unstable legs. It’s a miracle your knees don’t just buckle when you move to sit.

“So, tell me. This Carmine’s idea of a joke?”

“No, I-“

“He think it’s funny to send me a girl he picked up from who knows where? Send her to her death just to get off clean?”

“If you’d just-“

“Come on, doll. I wanna know. Why the hell is Falcone sending me you instead of what I asked for?”

Hood’s eyes are cold as steel, but you’ve got the strange feeling that his anger isn’t entirely directed at you. Still, better not to assume.

“I am what you asked for. You weren’t cheated.”

Hood snorts, entirely humorless. “You? Now, forgive me for my doubts, but I’m having a hard time-“

This time, you’re cutting him off. “I am,” you insist.

Hood pauses to look at you. Really look at you. There’s an amusement settling in his posture that you don’t like, one that promises nothing good for you.

“Right. Well, who am I to tell you what you are or aren’t? Far be it from me.”

He’s reaching for his hip, unholstering the revolver strapped there and setting it down on the table. You watch the motion as he does it, staring down the weapon between the two of you like it could shoot you without its handler ever touching it.

“This gun here? This is one of my most prized possessions. If this whole tent were to catch fire right now, everything I hold dear tucked inside, this gun would be the only thing I’d bother savin.”

He’s watching your reactions carefully, so you're just as careful to keep your expression back. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, so better he not find anything at all.

“Now, I personally believe actions speak much louder than words. I won’t sit here and call you a liar for telling me you’re a gunslinging outlaw straight from Falcone’s best, but I will tell you to prove it to me.”

Hood nudges the gun closer to where you’re sitting. “So go on and prove it. Take my own gun and shoot me. Eliminate any threat I pose to you within seconds, selfish and brutal.”

You can do nothing but sit there in stunned silence, hands tightly gripping the fabric over your lap. “Hood, I don’t-“

“I insist.”

Your hands shake when you bring them up with a sheepish grin. “Can’t exactly do that with cuffed hands, mister.”

Hood waves you off. “I’ve done worse things than shoot a man with my hands cuffed. Come on, Miss, prove it to me. Unless you can’t.” He tilts his head at the end.

To kill a man, to take a life. You can’t just do that. As is sensing your inner turmoil, Hood offers you a sarcastic pout.

“Weighing on your conscience, is it? Well, if it helps you any, it wouldn’t be a good man you’re killing. I’ve committed too many crimes to be clean of anything. All you’ve gotta do is put a bullet between the eyes of a man who might just kill you unless you do. Not so much of a choice, is there. I sure know what I’d do, if I was you.”

Hood is egging you on, pushing you to prove him wrong. He wants you to do this, wants you to pick up that gun and send a bullet straight through him. He wants you to because he knows you won’t.

The worst part is that he’s right.

You turn your head away from the gun, away from him. It’s answer enough.

You see Hood nod slowly out of the corner of your eye, reaching for his gun to holster it with a rustle and a click. He sets his feet back down to the ground, crossing his arms over the table to lean forward.

“Alright. So tell me again now. Why did Falcone send you?”

The change in tone has you thrown for a loop. Within seconds, the pressing intimidation from before is gone, now much softer in comparison.

So you tell him everything. From your neighbor at your door, from your debt to Falcone, the threats he’d made, all the way to the present moment. This time, Hood doesn’t interrupt you once. He listens carefully, nodding at all of the right places to each relevant point. When you finish, he simply asks you if there’s anything else worth mentioning. At the shake of your head, Hood stands.

“I’ll have someone let Falcone know that his exchange has been well received. So long as he thinks you’re with us now, no one you know will be bothered. As for you, you’ll be free to do whatever you want with your days, just as long as you’re here during the nights. How’s that work for you?”

For a moment, all you can do is stare. Then, ever so cautiously, you dare to ask, “you’re not gonna kill me?”

Hood shrugs. “I have no reason to. This way, you’ll be safe and I won't be bothered by Falcone trying to buy back my truce.”

“But what about your whole…you know.”

Hood raises a brow at you, urging you to continue.

“You know. The whole ‘eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth’ thing.”

Hood grins, toothy and predatory. “Trust me, doll, I’ll still be getting something back from Falcone. I tend not to forgive easy. Hands out for me.”

Quicker than you can process his intentions past putting out your hands, Jason is drawing out his revolver and shooting the chain between your cuffs quicker than you can flinch. He ignores your stunned expression, clipping his weapon back to himself.

“I’ll ask the girls to get you some decent clothes and set you up a tent. Pleasure meeting you.”

Without another word, he’s exiting the tent and leaving you to stare at the chain that used to link your wrists, now scattered into tiny pieces of metal across wood.

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

The idea of Heatwave being a Wavewave sparkling but mainly from Soundwave tears me up. So I'll submit you all to my PAIN!!!

The idea of Soundwave growing up in the pits, fighting for his life, becoming a top gladiator but still being seen as the lowest of the lowest, but then, this Sparkling appears in his life. A little red bot who seemingly was abandoned or was not picked when it emerged from the All Spark.

That being their first meeting, Soundwave was not yet the Soundwave we know so he didn't know what to do. His best hope was that the little bot would end just like him, surviving on its own... or just die with no pain. After all, there was no one else but him, just him, and Ravage too ofc but really no one else...

So, imagine how stupid must he have felt as he took the sparkling from the ground and was unable to put it down. Ravage in the background wheezing as she realizes what has happened ¨Oh yea, that's how I adopted you too HAHAHAHAH¨

And things well get hard. Why did he do it? Was it some left kindness on him? Did he lose his mind? or maybe, he just compasioned...?

Time passes, he keeps fighting, Ravage keeps being annoying but is still there for him, and the Sparkling now going by the name Heatwave, was there too looking from afar. Soundwave had decided that the little Bot would not participate in the arena, he would just watch and learn.

Heatwave was amazed at the way his ¨creator¨ fought other bots who were bigger than him and much more robust in comparison. Tho he didn't wish to become a gladiator just like his creator, but he still wanted to show how strong he was helping others.

Time passes, they're a small ¨family¨ for all they can say, but they are very strong and united. In every fight, Soundwave participates in the entertainment of the upper classes, he kept in reserve credits so that one day Heatwave can leave the pits and form a real life outside the misery. It would of course be a slow process, but Soundwave knew that he could do it.

A big surprise was when Heatwave shared with him that he wanted to become a Rescue Bot, a particular job that didn't really fit in any of the class rankings that Cybertron had been using... it was a job that came with intense training that if failed, all the blame would go to the bot who failed and not to the institution who trained them. A job that was more chosen to do for the pure of one spark than the want to win something. Such was that it was known that the High Council would prefer losing 5 Rescue Bot units than one Council member.

The job was clearly going to be a dead sentence, but after a long discussion, there were not many options like the Rescue recruit institutions offered to give a semi-normal life to low-class citizens... at least, for the time Heatwave would be trained he would have a home with basic needs, and once out of training and to the practice, the payment would be enough to even feed Ravage.

Soundwave still didn't want to say yes. to give Heatwave permission, but, Heatwave was just hotheaded, he was promising that with this he would be able to give Soundwave the life he could not grow up with... the life he gave to Heatwave...

Soundwave still saved credits as he kept participating in the arena, just in case.

Time seemed to fly through this change. Heatwave met his assigned team and close friends, Soundwave met new bots too, aspiring and strong allies for both of them. Yet, their ideals seemed to change as their lives grow appart.

They still saw each other, they kept communicating, and Ravage always reminded one or the other to call. But things just can't stay calm forever. The pits and many parts of Cybertron considered for the lower cast were being destroyed, homes and families being displeased so the upper class could take those areas. Slowly, a revolution was being armed with strong bots taking the lead. One in particular, Megatronus, wanted Soundwave as his second in command as he saw potential in him.

Soundwave wanted to decline at first. This could endanger Heatwave in many levels if it was known that they both were family. Megatronus seemed to understand, and it seemed that someone else would take Soundwave's place as SIC... is it wasn't for that one call...

The call that changed forever Soundwave's perspective on life and on his own decisions. It was from the Rescue recruitment system that chose Heatwave informing him of... the red bot dead, with the rest of his team...

Rescue Sigma-17 had been deployed to help another unit very far away, and as it seemed that the job was being completed, the communication began to cut. In short, all signals were lost and no vital was detected. Both units had been gone enough time to be declared deceased...

There was not going to be any effort on further location or send a 3 unit with more equipment to help or to at least know what happened. There was not going to be any effort on finding Heatwave's body for a proper funeral, his stuff as the stuff of his team would be tossed or given to their creators. That being said, Soundwave and Ravage received nothing but a big box full of credits, enough to live a luxurious life in the middle class...

It had a note from Heatwave. Just like Soundwave was saving for an emergency, Heatwave had been doing the same. Probably not eating or working extra to have this amount of credits...

... Soundwave tossed all that in their faces not accepting a damn. As fast as he could he went to Megatronus and began their plan to attack...

...

...

...

At light years far away, after more tragedy had occurred. A small ship floating in the middle of nothing received a message that redirected t it to a planet called Earth.

Landing, four bots from stasis had awakened to see the beauty of an organic planet and to encounter a figure not many would be able to talk to, Optimus Prime.

[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

Blurb ideas for joel/dieter + reader— sharing a joint/go out dancing and fucking in the bathroom/going front row in the ga pit to a concert/going on a walk at night to enjoy the stars/staying in a forested cabin with massive windows- fucking at night while it rains HARD (maybe eventually going outside to continue in the rain)/getting finger fucked discretely in public bc joel/dieter just can’t wait

(Feel free to skip/squick out on all these!!)

Thank you for your request! I kind of ran with the blunt sharing and rain idea .... this is what it turned into. I hope you like it 🫶🏻😚

Smoke and Storms

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x reader

Words: >1k

Vibes: sexual tension & smut

Warnings: PinV, smoking, teeny bit of choking/spitting/degradation

———

The sound of the engine purring kept you company as you cruised down the empty streets, the night air cool against your skin. Dieter Bravo sat beside you, his long fingers drumming rhythmically against his thigh, with the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

You didn’t speak much at first. Neither of you needed to. The hum of the car, the occasional flicker of the streetlights as you passed them, there was something almost hypnotic about the whole atmosphere. Beyond that was a low rumble of thunder as storm clouds rolled in, further darkening the sky.

"Where to?" you asked.

"I dunno," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Somewhere quiet." His eyes met yours, flicking to your lips for a split second before he looked back out the window.

"Quiet, huh?" you murmured, your heart suddenly picking up speed. When he’d texted just past midnight for a late-night drive and smoke session, you hadn’t been prepared for the tension in the air to feel so thick. The two of you had been dancing around each other since you met, and tonight, it seems he’s finally making his move.

A few minutes later, he pulled into an abandoned parking lot, the kind of place that smelled faintly of gasoline and old asphalt, completely deserted except for the occasional stray cat or reckless juveniles looking for a place to loiter.

Dieter didn’t hesitate as he parked, rolling down the windows for fresh air then reaching into the glove compartment to pull out a joint and a lighter.

You settled into your seat and watched as he lit the blunt, taking a lazy inhale between his lips then exhaling before passing it to you. You mirrored him, inhaling deeply, eager for the warm calm to wash over you and settle your nerves. Tipping your head back you blew the smoke out between your lips and basked in the warmth blooming under your skin.

Rain began falling lightly at first, misting the windshield, but now it was pouring, the sound of droplets hitting the roof of the car loud enough to drown out any other noise. The world felt closed in, just you and him, the storm raging around you, the occasional flash of distant lightning illuminating his face in sharp, fleeting detail.

"Fuck, it’s coming down hard," you said, after another drag.

Dieter rolled up the windows to shield the interior from the onslaught of rain. His gaze focused on the way the rain was streaking down the windshield. The glow from the dashboard lights softened the sharp angles of his face, giving him a kind of ethereal look—one that made him seem distractingly gorgeous and impossibly close. His eyes flicked to you, dark with a kind of quiet intensity, like he could read your thoughts.

"Yeah," he said, his voice husky, as he took the joint and inhaled deeply, his lips curling around it with a sort of careless elegance. “The rain’s... nice.”

You nodded, not sure whether he meant the rain or something else entirely. The tension in the air was thickening with each passing second, the closeness of the car, the intimacy of the night, the way his body shifted ever so slightly toward yours. You could almost feel the heat radiating off him, even through the humid and smoke filled air.

For a moment, it felt like time slowed. The storm raged on around you, but in that small space between you, it was quiet, expectant, like the calm before something inevitable. Your heart began pounding in your ears as he leaned toward you, closing the distance.

“You ever think about… what it would be like?” he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper, the words hanging in the wet air between you.

You didn’t need him to finish. You knew exactly what he meant. The sexual tension, thick as the storm clouds above, had been there from the very beginning.

“I think about it all the time,” you whispered back, your breath catching as you looked up at him.

Dieter’s eyes darkened, his lips slightly parted as if he were about to speak, but he didn’t. Instead he stamped out the butt of the blunt on the tiny ash tray in his cup holder. Then, he finally came for you.

He leaned across the center console and reached for you, his hand cupping the back of your head and tangling in your hair as the other found your waist. His lips hovered near yours, his breath mingling with yours, before he whispered, “I’ve wanted to taste these pretty little lips for so fuckin’ long,” he growls.

And then, just as his mouth crashed into yours, the rain hit harder, pelting down in sheets, lightning flashed and thunder rumble but the two of you barely noticed.

His hands roamed to your back, pulling you even closer, and you whimpered into his open mouth, making space for his tongue to slip in and tangle with yours.

The rain kept coming down in torrents, so loud now that it felt like you were trapped in your own little world, everything else washed away. His hands slid to your waist, then lower, kneading against your flesh as he slipped his hands beneath your shirt.

Everything about him, his, breath, his scent—smoke and something deeper—surrounding you as you lost yourself in the kiss, in the moment, in the storm, and in him.

Before long the two of you scramble into the back seat, desperate to finally give in to your body’s desires.

Your clothes fly off quickly, his hand expertly unhooking your bra and tossing it away as you fumble to untie his sweatpants, eager to free the huge bulge you can see from its confines.

“Fuckin hell” he swears, “knew those tits would be perfect for me.” Beneath his hungry gaze and exposed to the night, your nipples peak with anticipation.

His mouth finds them, sucking one into his warmth between his lips and swirls around it with his tongue as he tweaks the other one gently between his fingers.

A gasp of pleasure escapes your mouth.

As he kisses up and down your body you admire and explore his naked body as well. You reach for his already dripping cock, wrapping your hands around it and pumping it eagerly.

Both of you high on lust make quick time of lying back against the seats, with him on top of you. Dieter slides his cock between your folds, rocking back and forth, slipping his length across you, bumping into your bundle of nerves at the top and covering himself in your slick.

“Now” you beg, “please.”

“Please what” he tuts, slapping the head of his cock against your entrance, sending a jolt through your body.

“Fuck” you groan, and rake your nails down his back, sending shivers down his spine. “fill me up already goddmanit.”

Dieter growls, he doesn’t need to be told twice. He plunges into your wet heat, all the way to the hilt in the first go.

He sets a steady, brutal pace, shaking the car back and forth as he pounds into you. Your bodies slicken with sweat and the heat radiating off of them and the warmth of your breaths fog the windows of the car.

“Open up” he commands with a hand around your throat, caressing your jaw with his thumb.

Grateful for the cover of night and curtain of rain shielding the world of your depravity, you open your mouth, and he spits onto your tongue.

You swallow it gladly.

“Atta girl”, he praises.

Lost in the haze of your high and between each other’s bodies you aren’t sure how long it’s been before pleasure builds to a crescendo. Your legs begin to shake and muscles pull taught as Dieter slips a thumb between you, rubbing at your clit as he thrusts.

“Let me have it baby” he grunts, “come on, cum all over my cock.”

Ecstasy explodes, your body convulses around his as you cum, pulling him into his own orgasm. He pulls out quickly, his chest heaving with staggered breath as he pumps his spend onto your stomach.

After you both come down from the moment and catch your breath, you settle beside each other, sprawled out in the backseat. Through the windows you see the rain begin to thin, now sprinkling lightly against the car and pavement outside before quitting completely. Dieter cracks the windows, allowing a cool breeze to flutter through, cooling your sweat soaked skin and airing out the car.

You snuggle into the crook of his arm, content with the world, and the two of you ride out your high together, watching as the skies clear and stars twinkle in the night sky.

[qin-qin16]

[Xcutioner, Cross x Dust, puppy love (from Cross), there is nudity but with no suggestive content (is all bones), there is something weird between them…]

"Y'know something? I think that all Dusty needs is a good bath!" Cross couldn't tell if Killer was just humming another one of his lame jokes or if it was an order disguised as casual conversation. "Why don't you help him out? Maybe he needs someone to lick his wounds clean."

Once again, his superior's face was adorned with a blank expression, an open grin and eyes so wide they looked like they might open up through his skull.

Killer didn't need to say anything else. Even though Cross' spine trembled as he swallowed a growl, all he did was follow his superior's advice, even though his shoulders tensed just hearing that half-choked chuckle — he knew Killer was laughing at his blind, obedient steps.

[...]

The anatomy of a skeleton was nothing new to Cross; not only were they all similar to each other, but it was even less surprising when everyone around him matches his bones and scars.

Still, despite what his mind tried to convince him, Cross couldn’t stop his little white dots skittering over Dust’s bones, the eyelights growing brighter with every piece of clothing that hit the floor. The only item neatly folded was his scarf, resting on top of the toilet lid.

Dust’s bones were pale, thin — maybe even malnourished — with dark stains scattered across his body. What were they? Cross didn’t know, and he didn’t have the intimacy (or the courage) to ask. But one thing was certain: the ash hiding in the cavities of his body didn’t come from cigarettes.

His bones gave a slight rattle as the silence between them broke. Along with the sound of crumpled clothes and bare feet slapping against the bathroom floor, Dust let out a low groan — so deep that Cross almost believed Dust’s soul itself had sighed. He was hunched over, hands trembling at the edge of his shorts. For moaning you make sounds, uh? Horror’s voice echoed in his mind, as scornful as the memory.

"Let me do it." The words slipped out before he could stop them, a violet flush spreading across his skull as those two glowing eyes shifted to meet his.

The light in his eyes was stronger than the flickering bathroom bulb, and Cross couldn’t help but swallow hard — the silence between them heavier than before, making Cross’s thoughts grow louder. He shouldn’t have said something so stupid! All he had to do was keep an eye on Dust so he wouldn’t screw up like last time!

Before Cross could get lost again in a whirlwind of doubts, the sound of bones scraping against the floor snapped his attention back. Dust was facing him now, his ribs marked with those same dark, mysterious patches — the darkest ones at the center of his sternum, near where his soul should be.

Cross swallowed hard as his gaze rose once more, locking onto Dust’s serene and unreadable stare. Those eyes, always so aggressive and violent — a sea of turquoise blood — now held an unexpected calm. His face, clear of any shadow, was laid bare for the soldier’s trembling eyes.

And as countless thoughts raced through Cross's mind, voices clashing with each other — some screaming for him to just turn around and go back to his room, others pleading that he had to help—

"Sit." The harsh command cut through all of Cross's thoughts, and without hesitation, he obeyed, just before Dust clicked his tongue in disappointment.

His knees hit the carpet with a soft bump; the tips of his fingers gently brushed the fabric of Dust’ shorts, feeling it damp, sticky, stained with both magical and human blood. Still uncertain, Cross glanced at the other’s face one last time, searching for any sign, any instruction, anything.

But all Cross found was a smile full of disdain, a malicious gleam in Dust’s eyes as his hands stayed far from his own shorts — waiting for Cross to do the work. His fingers slid to Dust’s hips before the tips of his fingers finally began to pull the shorts down slowly, as if afraid that any more forceful movement might make Dust collapse.

With one more gentle pull, his hands dropped along with the garment to the floor. There was no surprise, only paler bones and a thin pelvis, dark stains marking his femurs just like the rest of his skeleton.

Even though there was no flesh in front of him, Cross couldn’t help but lower his gaze, his hands instinctively resting on his knees.

"Well... the bathtub should be good by now, I think…” He murmured after a moment, his bone cheeks flushed with a faint lavender tint.

However, his eyelights dilated as his attention snapped back to Dust, his skull being gently fondled by a bare hand — a heavy, slow touch, sliding down to his neck beneath the shirt’s collar.

"Good boy, you can go now." Cross was already standing before Dust had even finished speaking, almost tripping over the folds of the rug as he rushed through the door — slamming it shut behind him, the loud “bam!” echoing through the suite.

His final memory was Dust's laughter on the other side, muffled and hoarse — taking pleasure in his nervousness and bones tinged with purple.

@what-have-i-unleashed (bc your muse is here) and @ciphmoomew since you want to read it :3c

[kpoperotics]

A night with Yuna x male reader

Yuna, your affectionate girlfriend. She enjoys you in a way she can't even describe, it's just that it's her first time and she's a little insecure.

Yuna, your needy yet insecure girlfriend is cooking for you, cooking is one of her hobbies she loves the most. She's making dinner for you, a simple one, nothing fancy; yet she pours her heart in what she does.

You're in the bedroom, chilling out on your phone when you hear sounds coming from the kitchen, so you decide to get up and go to help her if she needed. Once you're in the kitchen you see her walking around the kitchen, grabbing whatever she needs to prepare the food while she sings softly.

"Hey, do you need help?" you ask

"OH!" she gasps suddenly

oh, my god y/n, you scared me.. please don't do it anymore..!

She sighs

"and yeah... I'd appreciate if you could help me my love"

You giggle, helping her cooking.

"you're kind for helping me.." she whispers softly

"just doing what I like, I like helping you sweetheart"

You both make food together, enjoying each other's company. Then, once the dinner is made you sit and eat. You two have quite a conversation that evening

"so, Yuna, have you done what I told you today?" you know already that she hasn't done anything you told her, but not common things like buying the milk.

"eum... I-I.. well.." she stammers "I-I..."

"you didn't, mh?" you say

She looks down. Feeling ashamed "no.. I didn't.." she whispers softly, her voice trembling and insecure

"I told you... everyday you wake up, you have to look in the mirror, stare directly into your eyes and repeat to yourself that you're worth everything, that you're loved and that you're making it through everything"

Yuna looks down in shame and sadness

"sorry.." she whispers

"don't say that" You decide to go next to her, you know how hard it is for her to do something like that and you're not going to give up on her that easily

"b-but I'm a disaster.. I can't even say a simple phrase"

You look directly in her eyes, yet your stare is soft and understanding. "Yuna..." You envelop her in your arms, a few tears roll down her cheeks

"No Yuna.. don't cry" you wipe away her tears with your thumb. "Here come with me" you grab her in your arms and carry her to the couch, you sit and she stays on top of you, sitting on your lap; with your arms wrapped around her.

She's not crying her heart out, she's just letting some tears go, the weight of her actual mental health weighing on her. "Yuna, you need to believe in yourself, just like I do, I do believe in you and you know it"

You kiss the top of her head softly, then, you look directly into her eyes. Her eyes are wet and a little swollen, making her look cuter than she usually looks

"look at this girl, it's so impossible to hate her"

She looks at you, then she looks away. She leans her ear on your heart, listening to your heartbeat. The sound soothes her aching soul as she sinks into a full state of calmness and relax

You let her hear your heart beating, knowing how much this affects her positively

"Can I ask you something, Yuna?"

"yes..?" she answers

"Have you ever thought about us?" you ask

"about... about us..? well yes, I did sometimes... why you ask?"

"just to know, you know that I often think about us, about you"

"and that's why I love you.." she say softly, leaning in, capturing your lips in a soft delicate peck

You cup her head kindly with your hands, holding her in place as you slowly deepen the kiss. In short time, the kiss is deepened, you both pouring your heart in it

Yuna snuggles her body into yours as you hold her head in such a loving way. The kiss keeps going, just that way, not deeper but not shallower. The love in the air is palpable, the affection you pour in her soul every single second of your existence healing her from inside. You softly break the kiss, looking at her, beautiful like always.

"I'm so in love with you.." she says

"and so am I, my love" you answer

It's like the time has stopped, you two look into each other's eyes while you're also holding her tiny form in your arms. But then you decide to act a little bolder and ask her "Yuna, what do you think.. are you ready to make love?"

She blushes furiously, not knowing what to say at first "n-now?"

"yea, now" you answer, caressing her hair

She looks at you, the most insecure, scared yet trustful gaze. She doesn't know what to say, if yes or no. She's never had it before. She's virgin, and the idea of having sex with you now scares her

"you're safe here, you know that? I'm not going to hurt you I know it's your first time".

She looks at you, insecure. She thinks for a while as you keep caressing her and hold her close to you, then she says "okay, I-I think I can do it.."

Her hands are shaking, you hold them and bring them to your chest, tranquilizing her.

"you're sure, mh?"

She nods softly, snuggling into you. She trusts you but she's scared "will it hurt?" she asks, "it may hurt at the first penetration"

She sighs softly in anxiety "it's okay, I'm ready to have this with you"

So after only a few seconds, you start taking off her clothes, slowly removing her bra with just a hand, allowing you to admire her tiny perfect breast.

"I'm starting, okay?"

"o-okay.." she trembles, but she knows you're not going to hurt her

You lean in and start kissing around her breast, your kisses are soft and delicate. She trembles more and she holds you tighter, she feels hot flashes as her traumas, insecurities and fears kicks in, but she doesn't want you to stop, she wants to overcome everything she's endured.

You keep going, now licking her nipples carefully. You feel her trembling and breathing quite heavily, but you keep going knowing she's fighting so good.

"You're doing so good Yuna" you say, she smiles at you.

"Keep.. I kinda like it though" she answer, and so you keep going. You lick her breast a little more, while your hands are starting to roam lower on her body.

She starts to breathe slightly heavier than usual, letting few really soft moans as you keep. She wraps her arms around your neck to pull you closer, you can tell she's quite liking this.

"I think I'm ready for more" Yuna says, her voice just above a whisper.

"Are you?" you answer.

"Yes, I am.." She says. So after she confirmed, you lie her down on the bed, making sure she's comfortable with you. You take your space between her legs, lying down on your belly and covering her thighs with your arms. You slowly and kindly start licking her folds and as you do that Yuna can't help but let out a surprised and aroused gasp. She's still where she is, too shy and embarrassed to do anything.

You take her hands in yours, making sure she feels safe besides the pleasure you know she's feeling. You keep licking her folds carefully and expertly, knowing well how to move since this isn't your first time.

Yuna moans and she tightens her grip on your hands while you give her all that pleasure. "Oh my goodness I feel something.." she whimpers, you know what she's feeling even if she doesn't

"You're coming Yuna, it's alright. You're cumming"

She looks at you, even if she can't focus at all and tries to speak something "a-am.. I.. am I what..?"

She doesn't even get to finish her sentence that her juices are all already on your tongue.

She trembles hardly and almost screams as she comes, it's the first time she feels so good, this good. She's amazed from her orgasm.

She looks at you amazed "W-wow.." you look back at her, "you liked it?"

"I loved it" she answers.

"c-can I try to... to suck your dick...?" she asks with a slight trembling voice

You chuckle and caress her softly "of course you can sweetheart".

So as you allow her, she shyly kneels down in front of you, taking off your pants with your underwear. You would have never said she was shy and bold in the same time.

She looks at it in awe, it's big and hard and even if it's her first time, she knows it's because of her. She gets closer to your shaft, looking at you with her soft eyes. "Don't be afraid, do it" you say, while stroking her head gently.

So after few seconds of her staring at it in awe, she parts her lips and takes it in her mouth, slowly, only the head first.

You watch her doing her best, and considering it's her first time, she's doing an esteemed job. She keeps going, slowly and taking more of you in her mouth. Taking her time, taking things slow; and you let her, you won't force anything.

Little by little she sucks you completely. She's now doing an admirable job, taking you deeper in her mouth. She bobs her head up and down on your shaft, making you let out a soft moan of pleasure. She's happy she's doing a great job on her first time, taking a little more of you with each bob.

"Yuna you're an absolute goddess, how can you be so talented and it's only your first time.." You moan, while she doesn't pull away from your cock, too content to do a blowjob to you like this. She bobs her head slightly faster now, her confidence growing more and more with each bob and second passing.

"Oh Yuna, yes so good.. keep going" you say, caressing her head and encouraging her to do more again. She takes a short break, maybe a second or 2 before getting back on your length.

As she resumes her blowjob, she goes a little deeper, not much, but enough to almost push you over the edge.

"Yuna, I'm close, get ready for it.." you whimper.

Yuna closes her eyes again, not knowing what she's going to have. Excited to find out, she keeps going, her eyes closed, her lips running on your cock.. and then the moment comes. You come in her mouth. Her eyes open wide and she stops there where she is, her lips on the head of your cock.. trying to pull out every last drop of your cum from your balls.

"Wow Yuna.. you certainly have a talent here.." you say, amazed from her skills.

She smiles at you shyly "T-thank you y/n" she looks at you happily "I'm glad I was good"

You smile at her back. "next time, we'll go ahead.."

She gets up and leans on you "okay" she says, happily.

...After that, you're both on the couch in each other's arms watching a movie together.

[jjonglemons]

all my works can be found here

Don't Speak

part one

song for chapter link - here is part two of my dream inspired story!

Summary: you’ve been friends with mingi for a while now. finally, you’ve confessed your feelings and it seems like he feels the same… but not without complications.

WC: 2.3k

Tags: smut, fratboy!mingi, fem!reader, angst, some fluff, car sex, praise, oral, come eating

It was driving you crazy not hearing from Mingi. By the third day of being ghosted, you should have given up. But you didn’t. Maybe it was a trauma response from your past, having always ended up in codependent situations, or maybe there was just something deeper and logical as to why he was avoiding you that you didn’t know of yet and could sense. Maybe it was both. Even Hongjoong took notice, trying extra hard to distract you from your distress, which helped momentarily, but not enough. 

In a moment of frustration, you pulled out your phone and recorded a voice message for Mingi. “Fuck you,” you seethed into the microphone, “you’re such a dick, Mingi. I hope you know that,” you swore. “Ugh! Quit avoiding me already!” 

You meant to delete it, but instead you accidentally hit send. “Oh, fuck,” you groaned, burrying your head into the couch pillow. “This is wonderful,” your voice dripped with sarcasm. You decided to read a book to distract yourself from your horrible error, hoping that Mingi would somehow not receive the message.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong sighed, plopping down on the couch beside you a few minutes later. “I know you’ve been coming here every night in hopes of running into Mingi…”

“And what about it?” You snapped, glancing up from your book. Hongjoong winced slightly at your sharp tone, and you immediately felt remorseful. “Sorry,” you apologised, “I just… I don’t know, Joongie. I know he does this to a lot of people he fucks, and I’m fucking pissed, obviously. But it just feels like there’s a reason beyond him just being an ass as to why he does it.”

“He is an ass.”

“Joong,” you whined, “then why the hell are you friends with him!?”

“Fair enough,” he said, “he’s actually a great guy, he’s just going through a lot.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s not my place to tell you,” Hongjoong responded, standing up from the couch.

“W-wait!” You tried to call after him, but he kept walking towards his bedroom. “Dammit,” you hissed. Now you really had to find him so you could talk.

It’s not like you and Mingi were the best of friends, but the number of your interactions with each other certainly amounted to a level of friendship, and one high enough to take interest in him on a deeper level.

Deciding you felt too claustrophobic inside of the house, you settled on going for a walk outside. You knew of a nice spot nearby that overlooked the town with a mountainous backdrop. It was where you’d often go to think when times were rough. 

“Later, Joongie,” you shouted before exiting the house and slamming the door shut behind you.

Once at the clearing, you sat against a tree stump. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply for a few moments to create a sense of calm. It was short lived, because you heard distant chatter that began to increase in volume with each passing moment.

“I told you, I’m fucking done!” The lower voice hissed. It sounded oddly familiar…

“Shut up, we’re not done until I say we are,” the second voice, more higher pitched, threatened.

“Why the fuck did you follow me all the way here, Violet?” The first voice seethed, “don’t you know how boundaries fucking work?”

Then it hit you. It was Mingi talking, to whomever this Violet person was. You peered up from your spot on the stump, careful not to make your presence known. You were far enough away and blocked well by your position against the tree that they would have to look extra hard to notice you. When you saw the two figures, you took note of the woman that was beside Mingi. You’d seen her around campus before, but never around Mingi. Is she his girlfriend? You questioned, watching the scene before you. She was trying to latch onto him, but he kept refusing.

“Please,” Mingi sighed, feeling defeated, “just go home.”

“Mingi,” Violet whined, “c’mon, don’t be like that! We can work this out.”

“I said no!” Mingi responded, with as much force as he could muster.

There was a long pause before Violet spoke again. “Okay.” It seemed like she finally got the memo. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“No the fuck you won’t.”

Violet laughed loudly, “Why haven’t you reported me already if you hate me so much?”

“You know damn well you’d find a way to get to me regardless, so why the fuck would I bother?”

An almost sinister smile spread across Violet’s lips before she turned from Mingi and began to walk away. “Later, Ming.” She sang.

Once Violet drove away, Mingi let out a long, deep exhale. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, kicking the rocks angrily at his feet. He took a seat on the nearby bench, burying his face into his hands out of frustration.

Slowly, you emerged from your spot, quietly stepping towards him. “Mingi?” You whispered softly, being careful not to scare him.

He jumped slightly, looking up at you who was now standing in front of him. “Y/N?” He asked, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just relaxing over there,” you pointed at the tree stump a few feet away, “then I heard you and that girl talking, I think you said her name was Violet?”

His face paled, a frown forming at his lips. “Yeah. Violet.” 

“Are you okay?” you questioned, taking a seat beside him, “the conversation seemed… intense.”

He sighed. “I will be. She just won’t leave me alone and I don’t know what to do. She always finds a way to insert herself back into my life.”

“May I ask who she is?” 

“She’s my ex.”

“Oh.” You both fell quiet, the only sound coming from the rustling leaves of the trees surrounding you. After a few moments, you spoke again. “Is she why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Yeah,” Mingi nodded, sprawling himself out across the bench with a loud exhale, “but it’s not for the reason you’re probably thinking.”

Admittedly, you were thinking he had been cheating on her this whole time. But after seeing how they interacted, it definitely seemed like that wasn’t the reason.

“What’s the reason, then?”

“Since we broke up last year, every time I’ve tried to be with someone else, she pries and manipulates so they’ll leave,” he spat. “She’s always trying to control me, refusing to believe that we’re no longer together.”

You frowned, taking in his words with concern. “That sounds awful,” you said empathetically.

“It is,” Mingi groaned. “No one has ever given me the chance to explain the situation. They just take her words at face value and never come back.”

Ah. So Mingi wasn’t the ghoster in those past situations. Though, you were starting to wonder why he decided to do that with you this time around.

“So this is what Hongjoong meant,” you blurted.

Mingi furrowed his brows. “Hongjoong?” 

“He insisted you were a great guy, just going through a lot.”

“How much did he tell you?”

“That’s it. He said it wasn’t his place to share.”

Mingi let out a sigh of relief. “Good to know he’s trustworthy, unlike some people,” he rolled his eyes, making a clear jab at his ex. “I appreciate him keeping his mouth shut.”

“Then,” you started, “how come you ghosted me these past few days?” Mingi looked at you. “You’re telling me these past lovers of yours left you, so that doesn’t explain why you left me.”

Mingi looked slightly panicked, but only for a moment. He exhaled, pulling at his jeans bunched up on his knees. “I-I was afraid,” he admitted, “I really, really like you, and I was scared you’d just leave me like everyone else once I told you the truth. Or that she’d get to you first. I freaked out,” his eyes met yours, glistening apologetically. “So, I thought I’d just leave first. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.”

“I see,” you said, smiling gently. You reached over and rested your palm over his, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles comfortingly. “I understand now.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “It was extremely fucked up for me to do that to you.”

“It was,” you agreed, “but I understand why you did it. I’d probably done the same if I were you.”

“I really want to be with you, Y/N, I do,” he paused, “but I don’t know if it’s going to work as long as Violet’s around. She’ll do anything to get what she wants.”

You shook your head. “I’m willing to stick by you, Mingi. It would take a lot more than her games to keep me from you.”

Mingi smiled, relief rushing over his features. “Do you really mean that?”

You nodded. “I do.”

“Then, let’s have a do-over?”

“Sure,” you grinned, “Can we start it by kissing here on this bench? The sunset is so pretty, I feel like I’m in a romcom,” you joked.

Mingi quickly pulled you onto his lap, pressing his lips gently to your chin, then cheeks, and finally landing on your lips. You giggled into the kiss, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck to pull him deeper into it.

You pushed your hips down harder against him, feeling a rush from his tongue suddenly swiping across your lips. You let out a soft moan, moving your hands from his neck to run your fingers through his hair. 

“You know people could see us, right?” Mingi said between kisses.

“Car?” You suggested.

He picked you up and carried you over to his SUV, popping the trunk so the two of you could crawl in. He shut the door behind him. Thankfully, no one else was at clearing, so it made it a lot easier for the two of you to have sex, but at least you had some protection from his car if someone did decide to show up.

You hovered over him, caressing his hair as you nipped at his neck. He hissed and gripped your hips, pulling you on to him as you grinded against his clothed, hard cock.

“Let me please you, baby,” you cooed, sucking at his neck, “you deserve it.”

“I want you to feel good, too,” he frowned.

“Oh, I will,” you smirked, “and besides, you gave me the best fuck of my life a few days ago. Now it’s my turn to show you what I can do.” With that, you helped him pull down his pants and boxers, allowing his cock to spring free. 

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You nodded. “Pleasing you brings me lots of pleasure, too.” You leaned down and kissed his tip. “Sit back and relax for me.”

Mingi softly groaned as you took all of him into your mouth, bobbing up and down his shaft at alternating paces. When you felt him begin to sputter beneath you, you slowed down immensely to keep him edged.

“Fuuuuuck,” he whined, “don’t tease me, please.” You giggled, the vibrations on his cock causing him to throw his head back against the side of the car. “You’re so good at this, baby, holy fuck.” As Mingi grew closer to the edge, you reached a steady pace as you continued to lick and suck on his cock. “I’m gonna-” 

Before he could even finish the sentence, he let go, come dripping down your throat and the excess onto your chin. You released him with a pop, swallowing his load and licking the rest off of your chin. 

“Please, ride my cock,” he begged, reaching to grab your hips so he could pull you towards him. You obliged, wiggling yourself out of your leggings before hovering your sopping core over his tip. You brushed it against your wet clit a few times, an ungodly groan erupting from him. “Please, I need to be inside of you, baby.”

You slowly fit yourself over him, humming in ecstasy as you begin to hop up and down on his cock. 

“Just like that,” he mewled, holding your hips to help guide on you, “fucking just like that.”

“Yeah?” you teased. “Is this how you like it?” you moaned, picking up the pace.

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

Your moans began to match each other’s, your cunt growing slicker with each thrust. Mingi couldn’t help himself when he felt you begin to squirt on his cock.

“Fuck, I-”

“Inside, Mingi, please,” you screamed, pulling at his hair hard as you continued to grind on him. “Shit, I’m coming!”

You released your orgasm, your juices covering every inch on Mingi’s cock. He wasn’t far behind. His legs began shaking as he pounded his final thrust into you hard. “Holy fuck,” he yelled, still pushing himself up inside you as he road out his high.

You collapsed into his lap, pressing a few light kisses to his neck as you laid there for a few minutes. Mingi was still inside of you, but neither of you seemed to mind. It felt nice to be close like this, to be intertwined to that extent.

Suddenly, you were reminded of that voicemail you had sent to him earlier that day. “Hey, Mingi?” You said, catching his attention. You pulled back so you could look at him.

“What’s up?” He asked. 

“Just… ignore that voice message I sent you earlier.”

He laughed. “I kind of already listened to it.”

You groaned, “I’m sorry, I was just so mad. I didn’t mean to actually send it.”

“I deserved it, it’s alright.”

You shrugged, then leaned down to kiss him. “Maybe you did.” you joked.

“Maybe I should get you mad again, huh?” Mingi teased, “if it means you’ll fuck me like you just did.”

“Hey!” You chuckled, slapping his shoulder playfully.

He wrapped his arm around your hips, flipping you over so you were now pinned beneath him. He dipped down towards your still dripping cunt. “Shall I start now?”

[lilac-hecox]

honestly just more damangela would be amazing, but if you do hurt/comfort type fics could you do one about anxiety around going public about their relationship maybe? i need a really well written one like that for my soul

also i think it’s so cool you’re doing this. voting is important!

Damien/Angela - Hard Launch

--

“So, is it awful?” Angela asks, peeking at Damien through her fingers.

The nerves are swarming inside her, making Angela feel like she’s shaking even though her body is perfectly still. This is sort of how she felt when she first started performing. Her first few times on stage were fun, exhilarating, but she shook with nerves the entire time.

Before Damien answers, his hand finds hers. He covers the hand she has spread out on the table with his own. Damien’s hand is warm, a comforting weight. Angela lets out a nervous little sigh.

“It’s social media. It’s a mixed bag, as usual.”

Angela groans softly and hides her face. Damien’s thumb rubs over the back of her hand.

“Hey, I mean I see lots of support, but also people saying they knew it, and people assuming we’re pulling a prank.”

“I’m gonna kill Shayne and Courtney,” Angela mutters. “They’ve ruined the art of a hard launch.”

Damien laughs.

“So, no one is mad?”

“Not really. Not at us, at least. More so they’re fighting with each other. Which is common in fandoms.”

Angela finally lets her hand drop from her face and she watches as Damien locks his phone, setting it down on the top of the cafeteria table they are sitting at. It’s a break between shoots and the cast and crew roams the building. They don’t really need to be careful here because Smosh has known about them, has been aware. Angela is pretty sure Nate wanted to cry when she and Damien let him know they were in a relationship. Ian had kept a tally board on his office’s whiteboard attached to the wall until Anthony told him it was probably a bad idea to even jokingly track their employees who have started dating or got married.

“No regrets?” Damien asks, his voice is smooth and calm, but when Angela looks at him, she can see where his features flicker with the hint of nerves. His eyes watch her face, searching for a cue, something he admittedly already struggles with.

Angela takes Damien’s free hand -the one he had been using to hold the phone- in her own. Her palm set in his and her fingers curling around his wrist.

“None. I’m nervous, but I don’t regret it. I don’t like the idea of hiding us.”

“Think of it more like we were keeping us safe, guarding something precious, like a jewel or something, you know?”

Angela smiles fondly at Damien. “More nerd shit.”

“Hey, you’ve been my girlfriend for a year now. You know I like my nerd shit.”

“Yeah,” she says, “and I like that about you. I like a lot about you.”

Damien brings her hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of it.

Angela lets out a laugh, even as her cheeks flush just a little.

She’s happy. He makes her happy. Damien is sweet, kind, hilarious. They are both so busy that neither of them ends up feeling neglected because in ways they are both workaholics. Smosh brings them together, anchoring them back to each other, and the fact of how busy they are, when they’re together, it’s even more special, the time feeling all the more meaningful.

“Even if stuff gets bad for whatever reason,” Damien says, “I’m here for you. I always will be.”

Angela gets up, walks around the table and crouches close to Damien. She leans in quickly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his mouth. Damien hums happily, smoothing a hand over the back of her hair affectionately.

“I know that” Angela says, “And I’m right here for you too.”

[florawrites-blog]

Yunha kang core - enhypen

Enha 8th fem!member moment Im trying a new writing vibe hope you like it and not find it confusing

#Scene 1

ENHYPEN’s latest en-log vlog, shot in the bustling streets of New York City. The members are casually walking, soaking in the energy of the city. As they laugh and chat, the camera cuts to Yunha, walking slightly ahead of them, dressed in an extravagant fur ensemble, head-to-toe—strikingly confident.

Protestors (off-screen, chanting): “Stop wearing fur! It’s cruel and unethical!”

The noise grows louder as the group passes a group of animal rights protesters holding signs. The camera briefly captures the scene of passionate activists, but then quickly pans back to Yunha, who is completely unfazed. She strides down the sidewalk like it’s her runway, the fur coat flowing dramatically in the wind. Her sunglasses glint in the sunlight, and her face shows nothing but cool indifference. As if she’s the star in her own movie, she flips her hair slightly, continuing to serve looks, the protestors’ chants fading into the background.

In the next cut, the ENHYPEN members are shown looking at each other, mildly impressed with Yunha’s ability to remain unbothered, even in such an intense situation. A few of them share a knowing smirk, but Yunha keeps walking, not even acknowledging the chaos around her.

comment section:

@jay#needthat: "Yunha SERVING in the fur coat while the protestors are losing it 😂 she’s unbothered and I love it. Absolute icon energy."

@sunghoonswife: "Who else watched this moment like 10 times??? She legit slayed so hard, not even the protests could stop her 🔥"

@nikipullup: "Yunha walking through those protests like a BOSS 😩✨ The way she pays them no mind is giving 'I do what I want' vibes, queen behavior fr."

@jakelostbakery:

"Umm so we just gonna ignore how the editors didn't even bother to cut off yunha walking with fur while protests are going on LOLLL."

#Scene 2

In the latest Weverse video, Jake posts a funny moment from the group's downtime in the kitchen. The video starts with a casual shot of Yunha brewing coffee, her expression calm and focused as she moves about the kitchen. The rich aroma fills the room, and it’s clear she’s in her zone.

Cue Ni-ki, lurking in the background with a mischievous grin on his face. He sneaks up behind Yunha, clearly trying to scare her. The camera zooms in as he prepares to jump and startle her, but the moment he makes his move…

Yunha, completely unphased, calmly turns to him mid-pour and says: “Want some coffee?”

Ni-ki freezes, his attempt at scaring her falling flat. His expression quickly turns from confident to defeated as Yunha casually offers him a cup, not even batting an eye at his antics.

Ni-ki (frustrated, sighing): "Ugh, You RUINED it!"

Jake and Sunghoon, who had been watching from the side, burst into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over at how easily Yunha brushed off Ni-ki’s attempt. Their laughter echoes through the room, while Ni-ki crosses his arms, still visibly annoyed.

Ni-ki (grumbling as he sips the coffee): "high key you guys suck"

The video ends with Jake and Sunghoon still chuckling in the background, while Yunha continues making her coffee like nothing happened, embodying her trademark unbothered energy.

#Scene 3

The final day of the tour held a bittersweet atmosphere, and after 401 days of constant performances, emotions were running high. Enhypen stood under the glowing stage lights, basking in the overwhelming love from the fans one last time. As the members grew emotional, tears started to slip down their cheeks, a mix of exhaustion and gratitude catching up with them.

On the opposite side of the stage, Yunha was busy collecting plushies and gifts tossed from the crowd, her laughter ringing out as she playfully waved at fans. Her bright, carefree smile seemed oblivious to the emotional wave hitting the others. The members couldn’t help but look over at her, sharing a quiet moment of pride and affection, their hearts warming at how effortlessly Yunha could lift the mood—even if she didn’t know she was doing it.

One by one, they stole glances at her, some even cracking small smiles through their tears. It was like she carried a little light of her own, a reminder of how much they’d shared and how far they’d come together.

#Scene 4

At the Prada show for the upcoming 25 campaign, the spotlight was on Enhypen as they were interviewed about their roles and recent projects. Amid the chatter, one of Prada’s biggest ambassadors—a model known for his charm—seemed fixated on Yunha, his flirty remarks and lingering glances impossible to miss. Each Enhypen member caught on immediately, exchanging amused looks as they watched this unfold. Meanwhile, Yunha was blissfully unaware of the subtle tension, happily answering questions and laughing along.

Then, with her signature bright smile, she threw out a line that left everyone—her members, the model, and the fans—stunned: “Oh yeah, he’s my new Prada brother!” The room went silent for a beat, with her members barely stifling their laughter. As soon as the interview was published, fans erupted, laughing themselves silly over Yunha’s unintentional yet legendary move. She hadn’t just friend-zoned the guy; she’d brother-zoned him, officially sealing his fate as “Yunha’s Prada brother.” Fans couldn’t get enough of it, loving her innocent charm and completely oblivious reactions.

[void-ink-studios]

Rinse and Spit [Part 2] - A Mouthwashing AU

Chapter 2 baby!!! It's a bit of a calm before the storm type of deal. And a little bit more character interaction, for better or worse.

Check it out on Ao3 right here! And drop a comment while you're there!

Content Warning: Depictions of physical abuse.

Curly didn’t see the others much these days.  Not that he saw Swansea or Daisuke very much, even before the mysterious meeting with Anya.

But now, not even she came to see him much.  Just to redress his bandages, give him an IV for food, and keep him as clean as could be helped in such situations.  But she didn’t speak to him.  Or really look at him anymore.

Maybe she finally figured out how to hate him.  Curly figured it was only a matter of time.  Five months of taking care of someone that could be blamed for all current problems had to have taken its toll on her.  He didn’t blame her in the slightest.

She watched him through the night, just to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit.  She extended as much care as she needed to.

It’s exactly what Curly deserved.

He had no right to miss their one sided conversations.  Or her reading out loud to him some cheesy fantasy novel, or the employee handbook.  He didn’t need any of it, didn’t deserve any of it.  So it’s only right, he supposed, that she’d decide that as well.

But the other’s absence meant that it was just Curly and Jimmy in the Med Bay these days.

And Curly hasn’t had a moment’s peace yet.

Jimmy liked to stare at him.  Maybe gawk is the better descriptor.  He seemed to take some amusement or satisfaction looking at Curly’s state.

Curly had done his best not to dignify it with eye contact.  But it was hard when you felt the burning emptiness locked onto you.

He touched a lot.  No matter how many times Curly made noises to indicate it hurt, or how he moved his weak limbs, he was touched.  He was moved and turned and rotated, as if Jimmy was trying to take in every detail.  He opened and closed his mouth, sometimes hard enough to make his teeth rattle against each other.  He forcefully turned his head to make him look at random things.  He picked at bandages, staring as his ruined skin tugged on them.

I hope this hurts.

Sometimes he would just choke him.  If Curly ever made it out of this, he would remember the look on Jimmy’s face forever.  There wasn’t any light in his eyes.  Not even anger or disgust.  Just emptiness as he squeezed and pushed hard onto Curly’s neck.  Sometimes he’d rummage through a drawer and see how far he could push a tongue depressor down Curly’s throat.

Jimmy didn’t talk much during these visits.  Only when he gave him his pills did he really talk.  But dear god did Curly wish he didn’t.

“I know the way you thought of me” he started.  “I was your charity case, right?  Saving me from my struggle of a life?  Yeah, I see that, Curly.  I suppose you think I should thank you?”

Jimmy stared intensely at the pill between his fingers.

“Who should be thanking who now?  Not like you can do anything without my help anymore.  It’s you’re fault we’re in this mess.  I think you should act a bit more grateful.”

The pilot leaned in close, close enough Curly could smell his breath.

“Say thank you.”

Curly did move.  Didn’t open his mouth.  Just kept his eye locked on Jimmy’s.

“I said to say thank you.  Say thank you and I give you your pill.”

Jimmy’s hands were rough.  They always had calluses, he’d worked a number of odd jobs back on Earth, labored the softness of his skin away.  And Curly could feel all those years of struggle as his former friend started to squeeze his cheeks tightly, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“I’m busting my ass around this ship because of you.  The least you could do is be thankful for it.”

Curly’s world goes topside as Jimmy shook his head back and forth.  Black spots filled his vision, and he could hear the blood rushing in his head and ear.  And the grip just kept getting tighter.

“Say it.”

Curly forced his throat to make sounds.  Some kind of approximation of “Thank you.”  Anything to get Jimmy to leave faster.

“There.  Wasn’t so hard to just show a little appreciation, right Captain?”

Curly had learned to mostly escape his own body when Jimmy shoved his fingers down his throat.  That’s been a skill he’s gotten really good at.  He could carry his mind away, to other places and times, far far away from the Tulpar.

But he could never escape for very long.  Jimmy patted his cheek like he was a misbehaving child finally deciding to cooperate.

“You know.  If we had the supplies and Swansea could let go of a bottle of mouthwash for long enough, I bet we could put together a little button wall for you.  You know, like those videos of the talking dogs Daisuke was showing you?  Then you can tell us when you need your pills instead of making those fucking noises all the time.  Look at me.  Still fixing things.”

Jimmy laughed.  Curly didn’t.

He had hoped that would be the end of it.  But he was hardly so lucky these days.

“Stop staring at me.”

Curly flicked his gaze up at the ceiling, his eye tracing the patterns of the seams in the ceiling.  He could still see Jimmy, out in his peripheral.  Staring at him.

“Why’d you have to give Swansea the ax, hm?  Old bastard won’t hand it over.  Kept saying how you entrusted him with it.  Even before the crash.”

Curly wasn’t sure where he was going with this.  What was he meant to do?  Answer?  He’s not even sure why.

But there was something in Jimmy’s expression that makes him glad he did.

“...This really was all your fault, huh?  If you had just… Well, we wouldn’t be here.  And now look at you.  You’re too useless to be angry at.  Managed to dodge any responsibility and get to lay here.  You don’t have to do anything.  Must be paradise, right?”

And then Curly was alone again.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, just trying to breathe and let the pill’s effects take hold.  He didn’t even like how the pills felt.  He felt clouded.  Muffled.  Not even in a way that could let him relax or distract him from the pain.  It’s just now he can’t do anything to express that discomfort.  He can’t even make “those fucking noises” when they take effect.

Best he could hope for is them making him too tired to do anything else but sleep.

He didn’t know if Anya knows that.  Does she think they’re helping?  Does she know that Pony Express paid for the cheapest possible painkillers and called it a day?

He didn’t know which answer would be worse.

“...Captain?”

Curly jumped a little.  Couldn’t be…

Daisuke seemed lost.  He always looked a little lost, but this time he really looked out of place.  He’d been to the Med Bay a few times, as far as Curly remembers.  A few bumps and bruises that Anya had to clear, especially after the foam wall mishap.

“Uh, hi Captain.  It’s been a while.”

Curly made a soft noise as Daisuke inched into the room a bit further.  He turned his head, unable to look at the intern.

The kid shouldn’t be here.

Take Responsibility

It was Curly’s fault this kid was here.  He remembered the memo from Pony Express, that they assigned an intern to the voyage.  He remembered getting frustrated, but letting it go and informing Swansea he’d be training a new crew mate.  He remembered how excited Daisuke was when he boarded the ship, immediately tripping over the last step before the captain could warn him about it.

Curly thought bitterly about Pony Express.  Why bother hiring an intern if they knew they were going under?

God, what are his parents thinking right now?  Did they know?  Did anyone on Earth know they’re stuck out here?  When would they figure it out?  Long after they’re all mummified in this metal tomb, that’s for certain.  If they even get that far.

“Are you feeling any better?”  Daisuke sat on the chair right next to his bed, where Anya usually sat.  He turned his head to look at the kid.  “Right… Dumb question, sorry.”

He pulled something out of his pocket.  Oh… His game system… Swansea had complained when he first saw it, called it a waste of batteries.  And maybe it was.  But Curly let him keep it anyway.  What harm could two missing batteries cause, after all?

Curly remembered Daisuke showing him the game he was playing, months ago.  Some platformer, a difficult one, one Daisuke himself said he was kinda bad at.  Yet he kept playing.  Curly couldn’t recall a time he’s seen the intern not smiling while playing.

Unconsciously, Curly makes a noise, a motion towards Daisuke, who had begun playing.

“Oh!  You wanna see?”

Curly hesitated for a second before nodding.

“Awesome.  So, I’m on this level with a bunch of explosive mushrooms, the explosions are huge and hard to dodge.  Never made it past this level.”

Curly watched the gameplay, the tiny character trying to dodge and weave between fungal bombs.

He felt himself move before he consciously realized he was doing it.  But he found himself now on his side, watching the game.  It was the most movement Curly’s had in days, at least movement that he initiated.

“Swansea’s not interested, Anya’s busy, and Jimmy… well, nobody seems to really have time for anything other than stress right now.  A-And I don’t blame them, this situation sucks.  Maybe we’ll get famous for it later, but right now… Things are pretty dicey, Captain.  I know I should probably be doing something more useful right now but… I don’t know.  I just don’t want to make things worse.”

Daisuke looked at Curly, a little surprised to see the captain’s change in position.

“Oh, woah.  Anya said you haven’t moved in ages.  Heh, glad my game’s so interesting, Captain.  Makes me play better, I bet.  Be my good luck charm?”

Curly didn’t make a noise, just a shallow little nod.  If he could smile, he would.  It was the first in a long time that the captain felt he was being treated like a human.

Not that you deserve it.

“Anya and Swansea have been acting weird lately.  They have little meetings in Utility.  I don’t think they know I’ve noticed.  I thought Swansea said Utility was walled up with foam.  Guess he cleared it out.”

Daisuke made a little triumphant noise as he defeats what Curly believes to be a miniboss.

“They don’t talk about you anymore.  I tried to ask Anya if you were doing any better and she just kinda looked away.  I thought you had died or something. Swansea just told me to not worry about it.  Maybe that’s why I wandered over here.”

Curly made a wounded noise at that.  He figured he was probably a lost cause anyway, but… Well it didn’t make hearing it hurt any less.

“Jimmy’s been weird too.  Or, I guess he’s always been a bit weird.  But now he’s acting really weird.  He keeps telling me that Swansea’s up to something, but… I dunno.”

Daisuke shook his head, his expression turning a little embarrassed.  “Sorry Cap.  Didn’t mean to talk your ear off like that.  Or, uh, wait… Nevermind.  I can go if you, uh, want.”

Curly groaned.  He couldn’t grab, couldn’t reach out very far without the bandages tugging on his back and arms painfully, but he tried his best.

“Oh.  Cool.  I guess I’ll keep playing here then.  It’s quiet here.”

The two stayed like that for a long while, with the only noise being the little sound effects and music coming from Daisuke’s game.  Even the fluorescent buzzing and crackling of the window screen seemed quieter than before.

“I get why Anya sleeps here instead of the Lounge.  Gotta be nice to get away from Swansea’s snoring, right?”

Curly chuffed a weak laugh, surprising even himself.

He wished he could tell Daisuke stories.  He had wanted to ever since the intern first introduced himself after take off.  Wanted to let him know they’ve all been in his position.  And that he’d find his place soon, just like they all did.  But Curly was always too busy or distracted.

Take responsibility

It all seemed so pointless now.  What place was Daisuke meant to find if he lost his job before he even finished his first trip?

“Hey Captain…?”

Curly snapped out of his thoughts, turning to look more directly at Daisuke.

“When we get back, you’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

Curly was confused at that.  Keep in touch?  It’s a miracle every second he’s still breathing, how is he meant to last long enough until they get to a proper hospital?

But then he saw the look in Daisuke’s eyes.  He was always such a happy kid.  Smiling even when Anya lost her mind at his luck in dice games.  Laughing even as Swansea scolded him for doing something foolish.  Joking even in the face of what’s certain death to everyone else.

But… Well, Daisuke probably knows that too.  He knows the chances of them ever seeing Earth again are slim enough to cut air.  He knows as much as everyone else.

Do you see the dead pixel?

Curly nodded, making his best effort at a positive noise.

“Awesome.  I gotta tell Mom and Dad what a cool boss you are.”

Take responsibility

The door slid open, breaking whatever spell was cast over the Med Bay.  The buzzing and crackling filled Curly’s head again, the pill’s effects finally enveloping his head.  He spotted Anya, who looked a little startled.  Both at Daisuke’s presence and Curly’s new position.

“Daisuke.  Did you need anything?  Another new bruise?”

“No Ms Volkov.  Just chatting with the Captain.”

Anya looked between Curly and Daisuke.  Curly had the impression like she was inspecting him.  Whether it was like an insect or like a wound, he couldn’t tell.  He wordlessly rolled back over onto his back.

“...Swansea was looking for you.  You might want to meet him in the lounge before he blows a gasket.”

“Yes ma’am” the intern said with a silly little salute.  He turned to look at Curly one more time.  “I’ll talk to you later, Captain.  You’re my new good luck charm with my games.”

And with that, it was just him and Anya once again.

The two stared at each other for the longest time.  Curly hoped that maybe she would finally speak to him again.  His selfish heart still ached for her company.

I hope this hurts.

“...Goodnight Captain.”

And Curly was alone again.

[caps-cursed]

Steve Rogers x Criminal! Reader

When Steve Rogers recruits/blackmails you—a morally grey criminal with a dangerous past—to help track down Bucky, the tension is immediate. As you battle HYDRA, miscommunication leads to a deadly mistake, leaving you injured and bitter. Trapped in a remote cabin, the cold, pain, and unresolved animosity force you both into a fragile truce—until the heat between you burns too hot to ignore.

WC: 2545

Warnings: Mention of blood/stitches/wounds

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A gust of biting wind cuts through the night as you and Steve stumble into the dimly lit hallway of a backwater inn, tracking snow and exhaustion behind you. The mission had unraveled like cheap thread, a disaster at every turn, each of you casting silent blame toward the other. Your leg throbs, blood soaking through torn tactical gear, and each step sends a jolt of pain up to your hip. Still, you refuse to let him see you falter, even as the ache burns hotter and more vicious with every step.

“Just let me help you walk,” he says, his hand already reaching toward you. His voice is calm, frustratingly so, like he’s talking down a child.

“I don’t need your help,” you snap back, waving him off and pushing forward despite your limp. You feel his eyes on you, heavy and unyielding, but you don’t care. He didn’t listen to you back there, and now you’re both paying the price. You’d rather drag yourself down this endless hallway than admit you need him.

Steve sighs, clearly losing patience. “You’re bleeding all over the floor. If you don’t let me help, you’re just—”

“Enough, Rogers,” you cut him off, voice sharp with anger and exhaustion. His mouth presses into a hard line, but he doesn’t argue this time. Good. You’re barely holding it together as it is. No way are you letting him get the last word in after that train wreck of a mission.

You reach the end of the hallway and push open the door to your room, wincing as you lean on the knob for support. It’s a cramped, musty space—two twin beds with scratchy-looking covers, a single wooden nightstand in between, and a radiator that hums uselessly in the corner. The wallpaper is peeling, and the whole room reeks faintly of mildew, like it hasn’t seen a real guest in years.

The cold digs deeper into your bones as you limp inside, your wet clothes weighing heavy on your frame. You don’t even spare Steve a glance before beelining to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you with a little more force than necessary. The lock clicks, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

In the mirror, you see the toll the mission took on you: dirt smudged on your cheek, dried blood on your temple, and, worst of all, the brutal wound on your thigh that’s seeping through your pants. The burn around it stings like hell, the skin angry and raw, red-rimmed around the edges where the fabric of your gear melted into it. Grimacing, you start peeling off layers, biting back curses as each movement tugs at the gash.

The shower’s old and rust-stained, but the water is hot. You let it run over your skin, the heat mixing with the pain, making you grit your teeth. The steam fills the cramped bathroom, wrapping around you like a blanket, and you close your eyes for just a moment, letting the sound drown out everything else.

When you finally step out, you’re exhausted, and the pain in your leg has dulled to a pulsing ache. You wrap yourself in the worn, scratchy robe hanging on the door, and wring out your clothes in the sink before draping them over the radiator to dry. The room is eerily quiet as you limp back out, almost hoping Steve took the hint and left. But you barely make it to the bed before the door swings open, and there he is, carrying two plastic bags in each hand.

He closes the door quietly, his eyes settling on you with that infuriatingly unreadable expression of his. You hate that he looks completely fine, like the night didn’t even touch him. It’s as if he walked in from a stroll, not the same hell you just went through.

He doesn’t say a word, just sets the bags on the nightstand between your beds. You watch as he starts unloading them, his movements careful and deliberate. A first-aid kit. Painkillers. Bottled water. A Snickers bar. The sight of it, familiar and somehow absurd in this dingy little room, makes you snatch it up before he even puts it down.

“With what money?” you mutter, the words slipping out without a shred of gratitude.

Steve just shrugs, a flicker of a smirk passing over his face. “Being Captain America has its perks.” He reaches back into the bag, pulling out four TV dinners, a family-size bag of chips, and more bottled water. He lines them up on the nightstand, wordlessly dividing everything between you.

The Snickers is halfway gone before he even finishes unpacking. You’re starving, and the sugar hits you like a shot of adrenaline, momentarily drowning out the pain.

Steve grabs one of the microwavable dinners and heads to the small kitchenette in the corner. As he waits for it to heat up, he glances at your leg, his brows drawing together as he sees the gash.

“You need stitches,” he says, voice low but firm.

You stiffen, hating the way he’s looking at you. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Right,” he says dryly, crossing his arms. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? You don’t have half the supplies you need.” His gaze is steady, unyielding, and you’re too tired to argue.

After a long pause, you finally mutter, “Fine.”

He moves to the nightstand, grabbing the first-aid kit and the clean towel he brought. His hands are steady as he sits on the edge of the bed, rolling up the sleeves of his undershirt to expose muscular forearms. You watch him with wary eyes, your guard up, but the exhaustion weighing you down.

When he first touches the wound, you flinch. The antiseptic burns, and you can’t hold back a hiss of pain. Steve’s hand presses lightly on your knee, grounding you. “You’re going to have to sit still for this.”

You glare at him, fists clenching. “I am sitting still.”

He meets your gaze, his eyes narrowing. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The stitching process is slow, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. He pushes the fabric of the robe a little higher up your thigh to properly tend it. Each prick of the needle feels like fire, and you grit your teeth, trying to hold back any reaction. Steve’s hand is surprisingly gentle as he works, his touch careful as he pulls the needle through your skin.

The silence stretches out, punctuated only by your harsh breaths and the faint hum of the radiator. You can feel his focus, see the slight crease in his brow as he works, his eyes locked on the task at hand. For a moment, you wonder if he’s being this careful for your sake or just out of his own sense of duty.

“You didn’t listen to me back there,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper. “If you had just stuck to the plan—”

“Oh, don’t even start with that,” you snap, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If you’d listened to me for once, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

His jaw tightens, and he pulls the thread a bit tighter than necessary, making you wince. “This isn’t a game. People’s lives are at stake.”

“Yeah? And whose fault is it that one of them got away?” The words slip out before you can stop them, sharp and bitter. You see the flash of hurt in his eyes, gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

He takes a deep breath, his hands steadying as he finishes the final stitch. “We’re supposed to be on the same side.”

“Funny,” you say, voice cold, “because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Steve doesn’t reply, just cuts the thread and starts applying ointment to the burn around the wound. His touch is softer now, and you hate the way it makes you feel—vulnerable, exposed. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure.

At one point, the pain flares up so sharply that you instinctively grab his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. You’re too tired to care about the way his muscles tense under your grip, or the way his gaze shifts to where your hand is holding him.

“Just… give me a second,” you manage, voice strained.

He nods, his expression softening for a brief moment. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”

The words hang in the air, quiet and unassuming. They make you feel something you can’t quite name, something that makes you want to pull away and lean closer all at once.

After a moment, he continues, his hands steady as he finishes up, gently bandaging the wound. You let out a shaky breath, feeling a strange sense of relief settle over you.

The silence between you is different now, not quite as hostile. You’re still exhausted, still angry, but there’s a quiet understanding, a grudging respect that neither of you will admit to.

Steve stands up, tossing the bloodied gauze into the trash and washing his hands at the small sink. He’s quiet, his expression unreadable, and you can’t help but watch him, something strange and unfamiliar twisting in your chest.

When he’s finished, he grabs one of the TV dinners and hands it to you, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he looks away.

“Eat,” he says simply, his tone softer than before.

You take the TV dinner from his outstretched hand, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as he lets it go. He’s still watching, his eyes assessing, like he’s waiting for you to crack or show some weakness. It’s irritating, but you’re too tired to start another fight. The smell of lukewarm pasta wafts up as you peel back the plastic cover, your stomach growling loud enough for both of you to hear.

“Starving, huh?” he mutters, his mouth twitching just enough that you can tell he’s holding back a smirk.

You narrow your eyes, breaking a plastic fork off the edge of the tray. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be if someone had listened to me back there.”

He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he digs into his own dinner. “If I’d listened to you, we’d probably be halfway to Siberia right now, freezing to death because you had another brilliant plan to ‘outsmart’ HYDRA.”

“Oh, please.” You take a bite of the pasta, ignoring how bland it tastes. “You’re just mad because for once, you didn’t get to play the hero. Not everyone needs to see you swoop in and save the day, you know.”

Steve laughs, a dry, humorless sound that grates against your nerves. “Trust me, saving you wasn’t the highlight of my week either.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you shove another forkful of pasta into your mouth to stop yourself from saying something you’ll regret. You glance over at him, and he’s already focusing on his own dinner, face set in that annoyingly stoic mask he always seems to wear. You don’t trust him—haven’t since the day you agreed to this shaky partnership. He’s Captain America, the shining star-spangled soldier who believes in duty and honor, and you… well, let’s just say your list of priorities has never aligned with his.

You’re both quiet for a while, the only sounds being the crunch of plastic forks and the hum of the radiator. As much as you hate the silence, you hate the idea of breaking it even more. The food is slowly warming you up, the ache in your leg dulled just enough that you can almost ignore it. Almost.

You clear your throat, trying to distract yourself from the pain. “So, how’d you even find this place?” You glance around the tiny, dingy room, half-expecting some quip about a soldier’s resourcefulness.

He shrugs, barely looking up. “Turns out, HYDRA’s latest intel stash was right next to the world’s worst roadside motel. I figured you’d appreciate the scenic view.”

“Oh, trust me, this place has character,” you reply dryly, gesturing around the room with a fork. “All it’s missing is a couple of bearskin rugs and maybe a half-dead moose in the parking lot.”

To your surprise, he seems a bit amused, shaking his head. “Don’t tempt me. Alaska has a way of surprising people.”

You can’t help the tiny smile that creeps onto your face. It vanishes quickly when you notice him looking at you, like he’s waiting for you to let your guard down. You roll your eyes and focus on your food instead, pointedly ignoring him.

Minutes pass, and finally, Steve breaks the silence. “So, where’d you learn to fight like that? HYDRA teach you, or did you pick it up somewhere else?”

The question catches you off-guard, and your defenses go up instantly. “Why? So you can judge me for that too?”

His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t look angry, just… curious. “I’m just asking. We’re supposed to be working together, remember?”

“Look, just because we’re on the same team doesn’t mean you get to know my life story,” you say, feeling your shoulders tense. “I’m here because it benefits me. That’s it. I don’t owe you any explanations.”

He watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he just nods, going back to his food without another word. You’d think he’d argue, press the issue, but he doesn’t. He lets it go, and somehow that feels worse than if he’d kept pushing. It makes you feel… seen, in a way you’re not used to.

Once you finish eating, you set the empty tray on the nightstand and pull the scratchy blanket over yourself, settling back against the thin pillow. The exhaustion is creeping back in, heavier now that your stomach’s full and your leg is starting to throb again. You close your eyes, hoping sleep will come quick, and try not to think about the fact that Steve is only a few feet away, his breathing steady in the silence.

Just as you’re starting to drift off, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know… you don’t have to do this alone.”

You open one eye, glancing over at him with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I mean… maybe it wouldn’t kill you to let someone else help. To trust someone.”

You scoff, shifting uncomfortably. “Trust? In this line of work? That’s a quick way to get yourself killed, Rogers. And besides,” you add, voice colder than you mean it to be, “why would I ever trust you?”

He doesn’t answer, just looks at you with that infuriatingly steady gaze, like he can see straight through you. It makes your skin prickle, and you turn away, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“Goodnight, Rogers,” you mutter, more of a dismissal than anything else.

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice soft.

You close your eyes, trying to will yourself to sleep, but his words echo in your mind, mingling with the quiet crackle of the radiator and the faint creak of the old wooden bed frame.

═════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════════

[korkietism]

Red and Mei bathing together after a harsh battle. It starts awkward but then mei is her playful silly self and she wants to be able to touch reds hair. Though he insists on washing her hair first (set the playing field) and she loves it. It’s a tender moment and is safe and loving. They care each other.