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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

caught in the nets (spencer reid/reader)

Title: caught in the nets

Requested: no

Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: smut, fluff

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrive sex, unsafe sex, public sex (public bathroom), fingering, handjob, grinding, groping, heavy petting, fucking with fishnets on, tipsy sex, possessive), hand on jaw/neck (no pressure), swearing, drinking, mentions of a gun, mentions of casework, friends to lovers

Word Count: 3,944

Summary: Spencer loves what reader is wearing while out at a bar with the team

A/N: hi guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Here’s another thing i wrote. this is another thing I was super excited to write. AND I wrote it for one of my bestest friends @spencer-reid-in-a-pool for pom’s server fic swap. I wrote it in literally two days bc I had a week to write it. But it does have a prompt and a few other things she likes in it! also quick shout out to @newportonmymind for proofreading this!! i really appreciate you! I really hope you guys enjoy this piece! Thank you all so much for the love and support! I appreciate it and you! Check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

Rough cases will always be the worst. Sometimes they felt hopeless, like we weren’t able to figure out how to save a victim. In the end we were able to save the victim and arrest the unsub. But it was still rough.

So drinks were a must when it came to the end of rough cases. I know it’s a bad thing to turn to drinking in a rough time. But sometimes nothing helped more than a drink. It was easier to relax with a little liquor in your system. Well, it was easier for me to relax with a little liquor. I couldn’t say about the rest of the team.

I was the one who offered up the idea of going to a bar when we returned home. I just needed a little something to help me unwind. Luke, Penelope and Tara were the next to say they’d be coming. After some light convincing, Emily, JJ, and Matt agreed. David was quick to leave before we could get to him about it.

Which left Spencer. At first he put up a fight, arguing that he had to go home. Home to what? We have the same situation. Eventually Penelope wore him down and got him to go.

“Okay, I’ll meet you guys there. I need to change out of these clothes.” I looked down at the business attire I had worn on the plane. I really wished I had changed out of them too, and into something more comfortable.

“Sounds good, Sweetness! See you in a bit.” Penelope looked at me with a smile. I returned the smile before collecting my things from my desk, and leaving.

Part of me wanted to wear a sweatshirt and sweatpants. But I also wanted to wear jeans and a tee-shirt, just to be comfortable. I also wanted to wear something more… party like. Mostly because we’re going to a bar, where there were going to be lots of people. Mmm…

I went with the latter. My outfit ended up consisting of a plain black top, paired with short-shorts and a “comfortable” pair of heels. Under the shorts I wore one of my favorite clothing items, a pair of black fishnets. They were one of my favorite things because I always gained the attention of someone. And I usually enjoyed that attention. I just don’t know whose attention I wanted.

Once I was satisfied with how I looked, I grabbed my bag and left for the bar. I was the first to leave the BAU, but the last to show up to the bar. Even Spencer was there before me, which was a rarity.

“Hey sorry I’m late. Traffic was nuts… And I just wanted to look nice,” I laughed nervously as I looked down before sitting beside Penelope. Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I tried to avoid the feeling of the stares. At first I tried to not be self-conscious, after all I was the one who wanted to dress a little more… sexy and get the attention of others.

“What are you wearing?” Luke asked after he took a sip of his beer. I looked down at my attire and shrugged.

“Wanted someone’s attention. Figured I’d get it here.” I gestured around the room towards the many groups of people. “Already got yours, Lukey-poo,” I cooed as I looked at him. He looked back at me with a weird look in his eyes. “Where’s Spence?”

“He went to get a drink.” JJ nodded towards the bar before sipping her drink. I looked over my shoulder and towards the bar. My eyes quickly identified the lanky and awkward body of Spencer standing beside the bar as he waited for a drink.

“Has the bartender been flirting with him the whole time?” I looked back at the team with wide eyes. Tara looked over at JJ with a smug smile before nodding. “No ones gonna save him?” “Figured we’d give him a try first.” Matt shrugged as he looked back at me. I let out a mildly annoyed sigh before standing up.

“Where are you going?” Emily asked as she looked at me. I smiled as her eyes very slowly lingered down my body. There was an obvious struggle, and I liked that. I was definitely getting the attention I craved tonight. Even though it’s from my superior.

“Gonna go save boy wonder from inevitable embarrassment that he will probably succumb to.” I rested my hand on the table as I looked at the team. JJ and Emily shared a knowing glance. “And I’m getting myself a drink.” I shrugged before shoving my hands in my small pockets and walked towards the bar and Spencer.

“Hey Spence!” I exclaimed as I looked at him. He looked away from the bartender and smiled. His smile, however, quickly melted away and a hungry look took over his eyes.

“H-hey,” he mumbled before looking back at the bartender. She looked between me and Spencer before muttering a few profanities and walking away. I smirked before taking the space up beside Spencer.

“You seeing something you like, Reid?” I asked as soon as I noticed him staring at me again. I leaned over the bar beside him and smiled.

“I.. Uh, I…” He cleared his throat before looking away from me and down at the counter. Well, maybe I did know whose attention I wanted…

“Anyways, I’ve come to save you.”

“Save me?”

“The bartender…” I whispered before nodding in her direction. Spencer looked down at her and we both caught her looking between us before dropping her gaze.

“The bartender?”

“Just get your drink and come on,” I laughed before standing up and away from the counter. Spencer looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. He was obviously confused as to what I was talking about. But I’ll honestly save him the embarrassment. “Oh, wait. I want a drink too!” I exclaimed as I leaned over the counter.

Once we both had our drinks, I silently led him back to the table. I enjoyed the feeling of people’s eyes on me as I walked by them. I could even sense Spencer staring at me. To be fair, my shorts were a little on the shorter side…

Maybe the attention I was getting was from the person I wanted it from the most…

Spencer and I returned to the table, and we were quick to join into whatever conversation they were having. The entertaining stories that Matt told about his kids made everyone go into a fit of laughter.

The laughter only grew the more drinks that everyone had consumed. We weren’t exactly drunk, well some of us weren’t drunk. But when someone in the bar orders a round of drinks for the table, it’s hard to say no.

JJ, Spencer and Matt were the only ‘mostly sober’ ones. Followed by Tara and me being tipsy, but sober enough to know what was happening. Penelope, Luke and Emily had enough to drink and had left the table to go dance with each other and random people in the bar.

“I wanna dance,” I muttered as I looked down at the table. Matt cleared his throat, causing me to look up at him. He was nodding a Spencer, who was looking around the room at all the other people. A small smile grew across my lips before I jumped from my seat. Spencer and JJ both looked at me with shock on their faces.

I looked right at Spencer and smiled. “You.” I pointed at him. “Me.” Then I pointed at myself. “We’re dancing,” I spoke as I jerked my thumb behind me. Spencer’s face fell slightly as he watched me walk to stand in front of him. I smiled as his eyes lingered on my body for a brief moment before landing on my face. “Come on. Let’s leave mom and dad alone.” I lifted a hand for him to take. He looked at it for a moment before hesitantly placing his hand into mine.

Once he stood, I dragged him over to the dance floor, where we both stood still. I didn’t know what was going through his head, but I wished I did. His body wasn’t tense, in fact I could tell he liked that I was being daring and the close proximity I was in.

We, and by we I mean me, hardly danced. It was mostly just me. And my dance moves consisted of me grinding on him. Which seemed to rile him up enough to entertain me. I enjoyed it more when he rested his hands on my hips and held me in front of him.

I looked around the room at all the people, watching as they continued dancing with their friends and people. Then I looked back at Spencer before grabbing his hand. His once hazel eyes were blown out black and a look of hunger and lust was settled in them. He looked like he knew what he wanted, and he was about to do anything in his power to get it too.

I looked away from him and around the room, again, looking for a familiar face. It wasn’t that I needed someone to save me from this moment. No. I needed to make sure none of our friends saw what I was about to do next.

I turned to face Spencer again and pressed my chest to his. He placed his hands on my hips and pulled them flush against his. The breath was knocked from my lungs when I felt how hard he was through his slacks and my shorts.

I grabbed his wrist and turned away from him before dragging him out of the bar and towards the bathrooms. He didn’t say anything when I pulled him into the women’s bathroom and into a stall. I’ll forever be grateful for that too because I don’t know where else we would go to.

I pulled him into a stall and locked it before pushing him against the door. His lips quickly attached to mine, and before I knew it his teeth grazed across my lower lip. And just like before, when we were out in the bar, his hands fell back to my hips and he pulled me against him. He rolled his hips to mine, pressing his bulge into my body.

“I can’t believe you,” Spencer groaned against my mouth. I looked up at him and smirked. “Why’s that? What makes me so unbelievable?” I whispered as I pressed a hand to his front. Spencer’s body froze and a hiss came from his lips.

“You coming to this bar, dressed like that, acting like you own the place,” his voice was low as he spoke. I smiled before I looked for his belt. “Acting like you aren’t arousing every man-- and woman-- here. That’s right, I saw the way Emily looked at you,” he continued as he looked at me.

“I just wanted attention from someone. But I’m sure happy that it’s your attention that I’m getting, Spencer,” I whispered before I pressed my hips against his.

“Well… I don’t think you’ll be getting attention from anyone else other than mine from now on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re mine now, Sweetness,” he mildly mocked the pet name Penelope had given me earlier today. I stared at him, my breathing growing shallow. “And no one else’s.” Goosebumps grew like fire across my skin once I realized the honesty and reality of his words. Or, well, I should say his possessiveness. At first I wasn’t sure if I wanted or believed what he said, but a moment passed and I realized… I wanted it so bad.

We both fell into a silent stare down. My hands, however, kept busy as they looked for his belt. But then a smirk grew across my lips the second I realized he still had a hard on waiting for me.

I was quick as I tried undoing his belt buckle, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But he obviously did when I began struggling and fumbling for a moment.

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me, Reid?” I whispered as I carefully slipped my hand into his pants and briefs. My question was otherwise rhetorical. I knew for a fact it was a gun. But I also knew it wasn’t a gun.

Spencer took a deep breath of air once my hand was wrapped around his length. I smiled as I slowly moved my hand back and forth, gently applying pressure.

“It’s a gun,” Spencer returned, keeping his voice low, “But I’m more than happy to see you. Trust me.” I could tell he was trying to be sly with his words. Because when he started talking his voice was deep and a little rough, but as he continued on talking, they got a little shaky and a little bit higher. I wanted to mock him, but I knew better than to do that.

“Oh… I do,” I whispered as I quickened my pace. My lips were hovering over his. His breath fanned across my face, and I could just barely smell the gin and tonic he had drank earlier.

My heart was beating hard in my chest because I was about to fuck my co-worker in the bathroom at fucking bar. I wondered if his was doing the same thing. I wondered if his thought process was the same as mine too.

I also wondered if he felt the same way. Maybe I’ve always wanted the attention from Spencer. He was right there, and always has been, and always will be. Plus we’ve known each other for years. So what’s the harm? Maybe he felt the same?

The grip Spencer held on my hips started to tighten as I continued to stroke his length. I could feel his tension growing the longer I went. My lips slowly curled at the corners as I realized how much I was going to enjoy this.

Then it happened. Spencer flipped our positions so I was pressed against the door. Both of my wrists were in one of his hands, held above my head. His other hand was already messing with the button of my shorts.

“You think you’re the only one who can do that, Sweetness,” he whispered before pressing his lips to my neck. It was his turn to grind his hips against mine, easily taking my breath away again.

“Spence…” I gasped once his hand was finally down the front of my shorts. I tried hard to pull my hands from his hand, but his grip only tightened.

“See, two can play at this game,” he spoke softly as he swiped a finger up my slit. I bit my lips together as he gently moved his finger around the sensitive nub between my thighs. “But unlike you I’m going to let you finish.”

“I was go-oh…” I whimpered as my knees buckled down causing my hips to grind on his hand. He smiled before carefully pushing a finger into my entrance. It was suddenly hard to concentrate as he curled his fingers just right.

“That’s what I thought,” Spencer murmured against my ear before moving his mouth to the corner of my mouth, then to my neck. A small moan fell from my mouth as he sucked a spot onto the base of my neck.

I stayed silent as Spencer continued whispering dirty things in my ear. Part of me almost forgot who I was with. Not because of what was happening, but because of what he was saying. I had no clue Spencer could say such dirty things. My train of thought was all over the place, derailing the moment I would gain a coherent thought.

Once I did eventually finish on his fingers, he pulled his hand from my shorts and looked down at me. It was a silent moment of a stare down. I was quiet because I was sure of what was about to happen. I was about to fuck Spencer Reid. I was willing to bet Spencer was calculating how long the events of everything would take. I didn’t care, I just wanted it and I wanted it now.

I broke the stare down, looking down at his slacks and the bulge that was still pressing against the fabric. I silently undid the button and zipper and pushed his pants down.

Spencer stopped me before I could do anything else. I looked up at him, my eyes staying on his face as he pushed down my shorts. Then it happened. I was expecting sex to happen like normal. Half naked.

I furrowed my eyebrows when he started getting ready. My tights were still on me properly. He didn’t forget. Man has the best mind in the world. He wouldn’t forget about my tights.

“Wait,” I whispered as I went to pull my tights off, but Spencer stopped me. His hand wrapped around my wrist before he pulled it away. “I gotta take my tights off if we-Oh…”I looked up at him with wide eyes once I realized what he wanted.

“Keep them on,” he whispered so softly I almost didn’t hear him. I nodded lightly. Truth be told, I could see the appeal in it. I did wear the fishnets for a reason. And I knew how I looked in them.

“I can do that.”

Spencer hoisted one of my legs around his waist and pressed my body against the wall. I stared at him, my arms wrapped around his neck to keep me up right. He also helped keep me up by keeping his hands on my hips. Once I was steady, Spencer ripped a hole in the crotch of my tights.

My teeth bit down on my lower lip as he dragged the head of his cock down my pussy. I almost couldn’t handle the way he teased my entrance. I wondered if he could see how frustrated I was starting to get. He’s a profiler. He should just know already how much I needed this.

“I swear to-” ‘God, Spencer.’ My words were cut off with a moan as he pressed into me all at once. It was hard to keep my head up right, and I fought for a moment before finally dropping it to rest on his shoulder. I brought my hand to my mouth and bit down.

Spencer moved a hand around to rest on my bottom. My mouth fell as his hand began massaging my flesh. That, paired with the way he began moving his hips started becoming too much for me.

He looked down at me, sweat beginning to mat down his hair to his forehead. His eyebrows were furrowed together as he picked up his pace. My leg around his waist pulled him closer to me.

“Don’t stop, please, please don’t stop,” I whined as he finally moved closer to me. My body began moving up and down the door. The cloth of my tank top had started riding up, and my hot skin was instantly touching the cool steel door.

Spencer lifted a hand to my head, placing it on the backside before pulling my face to his. His lips pressed everywhere on my face, not one spot was ignored. I pulled my hands away from his neck and grasped his shirt and tie, keeping him in his spot.

“You could’ve worn anything and I still would have wanted to fuck you. Sweatpants and oversized tee-shirt, that pencil skirt you wore back in Oklahoma… But the fishnets really do take the cake.”

“I-I knew someone would like them.” I tried to keep my voice steady. But it was so hard when pressure began growing in my stomach and between my legs.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? You here, looking like this,” his voice was almost a growl. My chest began heaving with each word he said and each movement he made. “Too damn long, that’s how long.”

Spencer removed his hand from the back of my head and dropped it to between my legs, resting it high on my thigh. His thumb moved back and forth on my leg, over the material of the fishnets. The look in his eyes drove me wild, and I loved it so, so much.

“Better me than anyone else. I’m not willing to share.” Spencer actually growled as he moved his finger to the crest of my legs. He smiled when I looked up at him with a mildly panicked look in my eyes. “Do you understand why, Sweetness?”

“N-no.”

“As I told you earlier, you’re mine,” he struggled as he tried to hold back a moan.

“Fuck,” I cried as my head dropped back down to his shoulder. I pressed a hand to the wall beside me. I gasped for air as the pressure in my stomach grew to the point of exploding.

“Only I can make you feel like this. You got that, Sweetness?” Spencer groaned, which quickly caused me to nod.

It was impossible to stay quiet as the pressure built up more. The situation was pushed more as soon as Spencer started moaning more into my ear. It was so overwhelming the second he said my name.

And then it happened. I finished before him. But it wasn’t too long after that a familiar warmth spread throughout me.

Spencer dropped his head to my shoulder, and we were both left in panting, breathless messes. My eyes were stuck open as I tried recollecting myself.

“I waited a long time for that too, Spencer,” I whispered, breaking the silence after a few minutes passed. He laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Of course you do.” I shook my head and pushed his body off mine. He looked down at me with a smirk. “What… What does this mean?”

“Could mean anything. We let things happen naturally, or we pretend nothing happened at all. I’d prefer the former, if I’m going to be honest with you.” He gently lifted a hand and rested it on my face. My nose twitched as soon as I felt something rolling down my thigh. Then my eyes widened.

“N-naturally… Yeah,” I whispered, mostly to myself, as I reached for a wad of toilet paper. I quickly cleaned up the mess that was between my legs and shook my head.

“We should go. Get you properly cleaned.” Spencer spoke up once I was done cleaning myself a bit.

“Well now we gotta go out there and pretend like nothing happened,” I whispered as I looked up at him. Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “Where did this sudden cockines come from?”

“When I realized you could have any guy in the bar… And you chose me.” He smiled before wrapping an arm around my waist. I widened my eyes as we exited the bathroom and entered the crowd of people together. People stared at us as we walked by, but I couldn’t tell if it was both of us they were staring at or just me. Spencer’s grip around my waist tightened as he pulled me closer to him. “Remember, Sweetness… I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” his voice was low. My body stiffened once the reality of his words hit me. His.

“Where were you guys?” Emily looked between Spencer and I. I looked at her with wide eyes, my expression telling her (and the rest of the team) everything they needed to know. I’m sure I looked like a hot fucking mess.

“Sweetness here was outside not feeling too well. So I brought her to the bathroom and helped her out a little bit,” Spencer lied with a smile.

Even he knew the lie was useless. But I think everyone would rather believe the obvious lie than rather just know the truth. To be fair, I’d rather tell them all a useless lie rather than the truth. “She still doesn’t feel too well. So I’m going to take her home.”

“Oh! Bummer! I hope you feel better!” Penelope was the first to speak up. I was thankful too that she played along because I really couldn’t handle that embarrassment…

“I will.. Hopefully by morning… I’ve got the best doctor I know taking care of me.” I smiled softly as I looked up at Spencer. He glanced back at me with a smile.

“Have a nice rest of the night.” Spencer nodded to the team before guiding me away from the table and towards the front doors.

“My place or yours?” I looked back at him once we were finally outside and walking towards his car.

“Mine.”

if you want to be a part of a taglist (lmk if ur 18+ for smut) or have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here

taglist: @thebluetint @muffin-cup @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @spencersmagic @90spumkin @jareids @broken-stardust

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds fan fic

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yinses · 3 years

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college au! headcanons

gojo satoru, geto suguru & nanami kento

rqst: college au for nanami, geto and gojo?

a/n: so i divided it into three categories to help keep my head straight. honestly almost straight kicked gojo out of college bc i couldn’t decide on a major for him. the jjk discord server is heaven sent for my sanity. ty everyone again 🌺

last time i should have to post these. hoping everything is fine now.

gojo satoru

MAJOR

—he starts off undecided for a long time. the fact that he’s on scholarship allows him to be more flexible with his classes given that he’s not responsible for costs. he grew up with expectations from his family but university is suppose to be his opportunity to spread his own wings and grow from his experiences.

—so he tries a bit of everything- sciences, music and social studies- anything to prompt a spark. (took a business class once and made a point to sit next to nanami everyday just to annoy him) by his second year he’s getting as frustrated as his counselor because if he doesn’t decide soon he’ll be a potential 5th year senior.

—he’s overthinking it but gojo wants to invest in what he believes will make the most significant impact to his ability. his counselor takes those crumbs and runs with it.

—he gets steered towards political science and actually excels at it (that advisor gets a raise). surprises most of the class with his analytical skills because they thought he was just a pretty boy- surprise he’s beautiful and smart.

—develops a vested interest in governmental policies. might run for president one day idk. brings donuts to his early am class. doesn’t share.

SOCIAL

—he’s not the jock per say, but as the star athlete of the basketball team, the school likes to take advantage of his image to draw in sponsors.

—his face is plastered all over the auditorium whether they’re in season or not. sometimes it’s not even to promote basketball, gojo is pretty and they’re not afraid to use it. which also makes him one of the most recognizable faces on campus.

—due to his student athlete contract, he’s not allowed to sign autographs freely in the event they’re attempted to be sold as quick cash. but yikes, he can barely walk to class without someone stopping him for a picture. to the best of his ability he tries to laugh it off, poster boy image and all, but it gets pretty fucking old and annoying quickly. especially when it makes him late for his next lesson and the instructor shows no sympathy.

—his height didn’t only help him get into basketball, but its also convenient when it comes to shouldering politely through the student masses. his golden rule is don’t make eye contact. the busier the crowds the easier it is for him to pretend like he could’t possibly have heard them.

—gojo doesnt scout fraternities, fraternities scout him. but he’s not interested in the slightest. as an athlete he already gets into any social circle he wants without the additional effort. that and he doesnt think he could tolerate an alpha male trying to exert his dominance without barking back.

—loves to show up to parties but always arrives late enough to the point where they don’t think he’s coming. it helps him slip in when he wants too. he’s a connoisseur of all alcohol varieties and a master of beer bong. he’s not necessarily the life of the party but his presence is kind of hard to miss.

RELATIONSHIPS

—he gets too much attention to date casually. most potential suitors are in it more for the benefits they receive than him anyway. he’s got enough on his plate with career indecisiveness and games to try to pursue anything serious before third year.

—he’s not completely celibate though. he tries to keep the same partners as long as he can. not only to keep himself clean and safe but because he often goes into an agreement to keep it casual. sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. either way he gets coined as a ‘heartbreaker’ before the end of his freshman year. frankly the rumors obscure most of the truth and give him more freedom. people always expect that he’s with someone even when he’s not, which helps keep his invasive teammates off his back.

—gojo can easily graduate without securing something tangible but there is still a window for potential.

—you’re both his consistent classmate and occasional friends with benefits. its the former title that keeps bringing him back around. he cant exactly avoid you without subjecting himself to 8am classes. it helps that the sex is good too.

—he can text you an offer to study together for the next test and roll over after an hour and wreck you for the rest of the week. its hard to tell who gets addicted first but he does appreciate the way your skin looks when youre wearing his marks.

geto suguru

MAJOR

—he’s a STEM kid, particularly interested in bio-genetics to improve overall health. he believes that simply becoming a physician just keeps the issue at bay and his goal is to eradicate the problem at its source.

—since high school he’s been cataloging different programs across the country before deciding what he wanted and putting all his efforts into it. so it’s no surprise when he gets in.

—geto doesn’t need counselors but they’re required so he listens to them prattle on about using university as an opportunity to explore. this man came in with more college credits than most sophomores, he knows what he wants.

—always on-time to class and never misses an assignment. also that kid who goes above and beyond, even on the simple stuff. he rarely gets teased about it, not even behind his back. geto straight up scares some people even when he’s smiling.

—not afraid to correct teachers when they’re wrong. in fact he lives for it.

—he’s the one who graduated early and starts his master’s program before most of his age group declare their own majors.

SOCIAL

—he tends to frequent the same circles- handpicking his acquaintances out of class rosters, clubs and honor lists. he’s less in it for the friendship and more so to scout for potential research partners.

—met gojo in one of his science electives and literally carried him through the class. they somehow end up friends but only really hang out at each other’s places- bunch of chill movie nights and pizza.

—there is no interest in fraternities, but he does join university funded clubs that allow him to further his research. they give him unique access to labs, take him on trips to different conventions and have an alumni list a kilometer long for future collaborations.

—the man does not party but he will occasionally slip into quieter bars to ease some of his frustrations. he actually enjoys karaoke thursdays , not to sing for himself but the drunken antics of others bring him some amusement.

—smokes weed occasionally, but only his own product. it helps him relaxand fan out the stress. he never sells it but sometimes gojo nicks some of his stash. given that he gets drug tested often, geto doesn’t know how the athlete never gets caught.

RELATIONSHIPS

—not interested in seeking out relationships in the slightest. the man has a plan and he’s already married to it.

—he’s not completely immune to sexual advances though and occasionally splurges but none of the friends with benefits crap. he’ll hit it once and stay celibate for the rest of the year easily.

—you might be able to squeeze in as his fellow lab partner. remain invested in the work and not him and he’ll start noticing the little details of your company- the way you subtle perfume lingers on his lab coat hours after you’ve adorned for the day, how he knows you have to keep your hair up for safety precautions but he thinks about running his fingers through it daily and your mind, damn, he wonders what else you can come up with when he has you laid out on his sheets.

—if he’s interested, geto won’t hesitate to broach the topic. he’ll ask you out for coffee and when you try to bring up research he’ll be upfront about his attraction. ultimately if you start dating the two of you are an absolute unit- not that you weren’t before.

—you’re the one variable he didn’t plan for but he’s glad to have added you to the equation.

nanami kento

MAJOR

—he was made for the business world, brought by a CEO who raised him to inherit the company. administration major marketing minor.

—takes initiative in all his classes and is often coined as group leader for projects. mostly keeps to himself and only speaks up when prompted or disagrees with something.

—he takes the earliest sessions possible because it means less people more often than not. doesn’t really care if its in the front, middle or back but always sits near the edge.

—doesn’t really want to but it looks good on his resume so he joins the marketing team where they present mock business plans for competitions. they win a lot. nanami honestly doesn’t care. but again it looks good.

—it only took him a brief summer internship to learn that he found nothing satisfying about board meetings and macro management.

—he decides to invest in law school to handle the company from a legal standpoint instead.

SOCIAL

— sort of like geto, only wants to make friends on a need be basis.

—he would rather keep to himself but knows the benefits of socializing so he interacts with his frequent classmates when he can- through study groups or car pooling to seminars.

—he does join a fraternity, its the same one his father did (and uncles, cousins, whatnot. its a generational thing). its geared towards bettering future leaders. they focus building resumes, charity events and run the organization like a proper business. nanami gets elected president by his third year and runs two terms.

—the only parties he attends are networking events- full of wine and fancy horderves. wine is plentiful but he’s always nursing a scotch on top of his headache. if one more person squeezes their stocks into a conversation he’s going to personally take down the whole market

—zero interest in college party life. spends some of his downtime at the campus theater watching old time movies and classic plays.

—he’s the coffee shop hoe. he wakes up early sometimes just to sit by the window and read some casual literature. has his own thermo that gives him free refills to cart to class. do not talk to this man before he’s had his caffeine.

RELATIONSHIP

—he probably has a high school sweetheart that he’s still clinging too, whether on the same campus or long distance. it helps him because he can’t really see himself pursuing a relationship while focusing on school.

—he’s been with you long enough that you understand his ambitions and won’t feel bested by them. the two of you have a system- starting the day off with sweet ‘good morning’ texts before class and ending the day with long conversations as you digest the last 12 hours.

—nanami is independent but he is thankful to have you to rely on when classes start to overwhelm him. the two of try to escape briefly for the weekend when you can. often going to near by reservations just to get off campus

—other times the two of you will cuddle close on your dorm bed, his long fingers combing through your hair while he reads over some notes for class.

—sometimes you have to be the one to tell him to take a break and to enjoy life while he can. even if that means dragging him the events and concerts hosted on campus. he resists at first but you can see the tension ebbing away as the night comes to a close.

—the two of you start living together in your senior year just because you can. he insists on buying a house. not only because he can afford it because it can be rented out after graduation. always the business man.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #nanami x reader #geto suguru x reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo blessings #gojo satoru x reader #geto blessings #nanami blessings

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spencers-dria · 3 years

Text

Lost at Sea

Single Dad Spencer x fem reader

Summary: This is kind of a little Christmas-adjacent fluff peice where Spencer is a single dad, completely clueless while Christmas shopping for his daughter. Reader sees him struggling and decides to help, completely unaware of where it will lead them. I imagined him sometime after the show ended, kinda with his somewhat longer curly hair and glasses. This story is completely fluff and I make no apologies.

Well, that was about the third loud huff from the man standing down the isle from me. This one was so loud it blew his hair around a bit, making it even messier. I try to focus on the task at hand, finding the perfect gift for my best friend’s little girl.

Diana was the closest thing I had to a daughter of my own. Despite Anne’s protesting, I took every opportunity to spoil her daughter rotten. The adorable and precocious little girl had me absolutely wrapped around her finger. I have to fight the urge to buy everything I thought would put a smile on her face, my favorite sight in the world.

But now, I was repeatedly distracted by the clearly frustrated man standing next to me, eyeing the girls toy section like it was an enigma. I decide to approach him, but he’s still to lost in his thoughts to notice.

I clear my throat while giving him a light tap on the shoulder.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh I didn’t realized you worked here.”

“I don’t.” I smile sweetly at him. “You just look like you’re trying to solve the worlds most challenging puzzle over here.”

He meets my eyes with a sheepish smile, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. I try my best to ignore just how attractive this man is. He’s definitely not available.

“I guess in a way I am. I’m trying to buy a Christmas gift for my daughter. It’s safe to say that I know absolutely nothing about girls. I want it to be absolutely perfect, and I just know whatever I get won’t be half of what she deserves.”

“Well I can help with that. How old is she and what does she like?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, giving me a moment to ogle just how attractive his hands are.

“Her name is Alice, she’s 5. I know she loves Disney princesses. Ariel is her favorite I think... but even once I narrow it down to that, there is still just so much. Who knew shopping for little girls could be so overwhelming.”

I can’t help but giggle a bit at his helplessness. He starts to laugh along with me.

“I’m Spencer by the way.” I see him hesitate a moment before slowly extending a hand. I look at his extended hand with a slight feeling of guilt, knowing he’ll most likely judge me based on my response.

“Oh I’m sorry I hope you don’t think I’m rude but... I don’t really shake hands. It’s not personal it’s just all the germs. I don’t deal so well with them.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, but I can’t imagine why. Is he actually laughing at me? Seems a bit rude.

“You know I used to be the exact same way. I suppose having a kid has changed me more than I realize sometimes.”

I nod, quietly, knowing I can’t really relate.

“I’m sorry you’re probably really busy. Are you shopping for your daughter too?”

Unsure as to the reason why, I’m suddenly embarrassed to admit that I’m not actually a parent. Just a single loner in their mid-thirties, living vicariously through their best friend and their.

“Oh no, just a friend. I’m more than happy to help you out with Alice. If you want my best ideas though, I’ve got to be honest, a lot of it is online. I can show you the links real quick, I’d you’d like?”

“I feel like this would be easier if we just... Would you like to grab coffee? I know a great place just around the corner. You can show me all your ideas and hopefully we can pick out something for her together.”

Up until this point I didn’t want to make assumptions, but it’s becoming more clear that Spencer is most likely a single dad. I don’t want pry, but I can’t help but wonder what happened to her mom.

I try to hide my excitement at his offer.

“You had me at coffee. And I almost forgot, I’m Y/N!”

————————————————

Three hours and several cups of coffee later, I knew a small part of the life story belonging to Spencer Reid. He was an FBI agent, part of a team who hunts down serial killers. A profiler. Or former profiler? He used to work in the field, until he had to raise his daughter alone. He had been fallen hard and fast for someone who left him as soon as another opportunity, or person rather, had presented themselves. They left him a single dad, all alone with his 2 year old daughter, Alice.

Being a single parent, he knew he couldn’t continue a job that put him in harms way on a regular basis. He never had a problem putting his life on the line for others, but Alice had become his number one priority, without question. Switching to a desk job had allowed him to continue as a consult for the team while also teaching at the University.

As I looked over his attire, I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t quite give off professor vibes at first glance. His cozy maroon sweater and glasses, perhaps. But his curly mop of disheveled hair and goofy grin made him look more like a cuddly muppet character. The more I listen to him talk the more I notice his intelligence. I should have known, given his professions. It didn’t take long to realize he was well out of my league, but he was kind enough to give me the time of day for whatever reason.

I keep drowining in his eyes or getting pulled in by the movement of his hands as he speaks. Listening to his voice is like gently floating down like a river. I don’t even notice when he’s stopped talking.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?” I pull myself out of my daze, trying not to look as enchanted by him as I feel.

“Oh uhh, nothing to tell really.” I shrug, picking up my coffe, hoping he’ll change the subject while I sip on my caramel latte.

“I find that hard to believe. What do you do?”

“I just run a small cafe in town.”

I feel as though hearing about my life is about as interesting as watching water boil, but Spencer could have fooled me. He looks genuinely invested as I tell him about how I earned my bachelors and masters in business management, eventually opening up The Cottage. I didn’t have any experience in the food industry, but my friend Nicole had immediately been on board with the idea of coming on as my cook.

“It sounds wonderful. I’ll definitely have to stop by sometime.” He smiles at me before sipping on the last of his second cup of coffee.

“You’re welcome to bring Alice, only if you want to. And Nicole makes a killer risotto!”

“Of course! ...Oh! I knew we were forgetting something. Alice!”

“The entire reason you asked me here, just a minor detail.” I can’t help but snicker at our absent mindedness, how easy it was to be completely swept away in the tide that was Spencer Reid.

His face fades a bit, though I’m not sure why. He simply nods, folding his hands in his lap.

“Sorry if this is weird but umm... can I see a picture of her? It’s just, well, it might help me to get a better idea. You don’t have to, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh yeah!”He pulls out his wallet, unfolding a long strand of small photos, most of just his daughter, a few featuring him as well.

She was beautiful, brown eyed girl with soft, brown locks. She clearly had her fathers curly hair and soft, doe eyes. If it wasn’t obvious from the way he spoke about her, the pictures made it incredibly apparent that this girl was his whole world. Pure joy radiated from the photo of the two of them. I look up to to see the exact same look on his face, with a smile so big that his eyes crinkle.

That is the moment I knew he had me. I would follow this man anywhere, this adorable dad I had met on the toy isle only hours ago. The photos made it evident that she was just as crazy about him. It was almost too adorable for my heart to handle.

I take a deep breath before meeting his gaze, which is much closer now as we lean in over the table to look at the pictures.

“She’s beautiful.”

He looks down at the photos again with glassy eyes. “I know.”

He clears his throat and scoots back into his seat.

“So what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I have seen this online story that makes really pretty hand-made dresses that mimic the ones of each Disney Princess. Maybe a couple of her favorites? They also make knit blankets that look like mermaid tales. Or maybe a stuffed animal of one of her favorite characters? What little kid doesn’t like stuffed animals, right?”

Spencer nods along, absorbing all the suggestions I throw his way. After awhile, I help him settle on ordering a few we both like.

“I can’t wait to give these to her! She always loves Christmas morning. We open presents together and eat the cookies we made the night before while binging as many Christmas movies as possible.”

There was that smile again, the one he got when he talked about her. I wonder if she knows how lucky she is to have a dad that cares so much.

I can’t help but smile as well at the thought, which he quickly interrupted with “So what are your Christmas plans?”

I feel myself turning slightly red at the embarrassment of having to admit that I have none. Nothing much that is.

I shrug, hoping he won’t ask any more about it.

“Do you get to see your family?”

And there it was. The question I was desperately hoping to avoid. I know my inability to meet his gaze and consistent pulling at my fingers would be a dead give away of my uncertainty about speaking on the subject. I search for the best way to answer without seeming like I’m overcome with self pity. To be fair, I wasn’t. I didn’t mind spending the holidays alone. Not anymore. I had grown comfortable with the silence and comfort that comes from living alone.

The soft crackling of the fire, a fuzzy blanket, and a warm cup of hot chocolate had become my closest companions of each winter season. I spent many evenings curled up by the window, watching the snow dust the city as soft music flowed through my drafty, top floor apartment. Sometimes I’d dance and twirl around in my pajamas and socks, slipping and sliding on the wood floors. So yes, it was safe to say I truly enjoyed the time I spent getting to know myself.

“I uh, they’re not really around anymore. I was adopted by my parents when I was still a baby. They didn’t have any family but each other and then, well, me. I lost them to a car crash a few years back.”

I can tell he’s listening, but the one thing I always expect to see isn’t there. Pity. Instead I see kindness and understanding, and my heart welcomes it fully.

“Nicole is on vacation with her family for the holidays so it’s just me. I’m pretty used to it though, I make my own fun.” I give him smile to reinforce my point.

His eyes glaze over and I can tell I’ve lost him to a deep thought, as I see the gears turning in his head. He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again, and finally spouting out: “Come have dinner with us. On Christmas Eve.”

I had half expected a pity invite. A “why don’t you”. A “would you like to”. But Spencer hadn’t asked me. He had told me, in a way that left no room for arguing. I could tell he wasn’t going to budge on the matter. Whether it was the insistent but kind tone or the seriousness in his eyes, I don’t know. But I knew there was no use in fighting it. Not just the invitation, but the feelings quickly flooding my heart. Spencer Reid was like a fast approaching storm, but I didn’t want to outrun the rain. I wanted to dance in it, drenched in the downpour.

And that’s exactly what I did. As soon as I saw the look on his face when I said yes, it crashed over me like a wave, leaving me breathless and lost in the sea of my emotions.

#dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer x reader #original story #spencer reid x y/n #writing #Christmas #single dad #dad Spencer #Spencer and daughter #Spencer #Spencer Reid #spencer x y/n #Spencer x gn #Christmas shopping #fluff

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aprilsrant · 4 years

Text

When I kissed the teacher | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N) and Oliver finally accept their feelings for each other.

WORD COUNT: 2,065.

WARNINGS: a kiss, (?), a few curse words.

A/N: English is not my first language, if there are any mistakes, let me know! This part wasn’t supposed to be here so soon because I was working on the other fics, but this actually took some of my writer’s block away so here it is.

This is the final part of the mini series, but I think I’ll do some blurbs about Oliver and this particular reader in the future, like dates, life after Hogwarts, and more.

Please like, reblog or comment if you want!

PREVIOUS PARTS:

Lay all your love on me. (Part 1)

Honey Honey! (Part 2).

MASTERLIST. / WORK IN PROGRESS.

The poor Slytherin girl had been trying to hide her feelings towards Quidditch’s rising star and Gryffindor’s Team Captain, for a little more than a year and a half. It wasn’t necessarily difficult at first since they barely saw or talked to each other, only sharing a few classes and having one friend in common —that was more of an acquaintance to him, which made things easier for a few months—. But then, her friend’s conspiracy to get them together interfered with a plan of her own named “avoiding Oliver Wood for the rest of my school days”.

Many tutoring sessions followed the first one, Oliver was improving a lot faster than they had expected. “All your work, of course”, he would say with a thick, scottish accent that made (Y/N) nearly faint every time he’d utter a single word. This was actually one of the reasons why she tried to convince him of calling off their meetings, —that and the fact that it was getting harder to conceal her sweaty hands, the fidgeting, the occasional stuttering, the evident stares and, of course, that the girl was unable to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds—.

Oliver thought differently, he energetically insisted about needing her as tutor more than ever now that he was catching up with Potions and Transfiguration. And once more, incapable of saying no, she agreed, accepting to tutor him for the rest of the year ‘just in case’.

Dorian almost had her head when she talked about the conversation and her desire to stop helping Oliver. He couldn’t comprehend her reasoning, not when his friend was finally getting what she wanted for so long. Ethan and Isla didn’t take his side this time, instead, they supported (Y/N), sympathizing with her logic.

“If it’s becoming a burden for you, maybe you should tell him,” the Ravenclaw boy advised, concentrating on beating Isla on the game of Exploding Snap in front of him.

“It’s not a burden, it’s just…,” (Y/N) started, the lack of words interrupting her sentence, “I don’t know how to explain it.”

The only Gryffindor in the Multicolour Quartet —horrible name indeed and his idea— kept quiet. He wanted (Y/N) to be happy, so why was she giving up her chance to actually be happy with the boy she liked for more than a year?

No one spoke about Oliver again that Wednesday afternoon on the Courtyard, a pact to keep quiet about the subject forming silently between them.

By the group’s seventh, and last, year at Hogwarts, Oliver Wood and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) were official friends —something Dorian took full credit of and something no one in the school had foreseen, except for her friends and the Gryffindor Quidditch Team (why was their Captain, Oliver obsessive Wood, postponing practices all of a sudden?)—. Not long after she tried to end their tutoring sessions, Oliver asked her if she minded to spend some time with him outside of their “study dates”.

Since then, she and Oliver could be seeing together round Hogwarts. Sometimes (Y/N)’s friends joining them because of the boy invitating the Quartet, or rest of it at least, to Hogsmeade, making up silly excuses to leave them alone or telling Oliver all the embarrassing things (Y/N)’d succeeded to do, most of them narrated by Dorian, —how could he know so many stupid stories when he joined the group not that long ago?—, who loved laughing at the angry faces she did until her elbow hit his ribs.

While (Y/N)’s feelings kept growing without restraint, Oliver’s were blooming slowly, at first unnoticed, but strong. His heart jumping whenever he saw her smiling, or talking about a subject she was passionate about. His body going still momentarily if she was too close to him, showing him how to cut ingredients, or the order they went in, or how to move his hands to perform a spell correctly.

He realised during the fifth month of the school term. It wasn’t romantic nor beautiful. It felt like taking a Bludger to the head —believe or not, he had experience with that—, you weren’t prepared for the hit and the consequences it would bring. Ruining their friendship was the last thing Oliver wanted, so he kept quiet about his discovery and acted normal, begging no one, especially not (Y/N), would notice.

Reckless, and sometimes irresponsible, they were, but not fools. So of course the experts on the matter of ‘friends being complete idiots and denying their feelings’, Dorian, Isla and Ethan knew exactly what was going on when they noticed Oliver’s change of attitude towards their Slytherin friend. How he seemed more nervous around her; the way would look for her before a Quidditch match; how he would ask easy questions about the assignments, claiming he was going to die without her help, and how he put more effort on his appearance whenever they were going to hang out.

The three friends couldn’t believe their luck. First, (Y/N), the smartest person they knew and yet, at the same time, the most oblivious and ignorant. Then, Oliver, the boy their friend had a crush on, now seemed to reciprocate her feelings but was trying to push them aside.

“How can someone be so daft?,” Isla whispered to the boys beside her while watching (Y/N) and Oliver leave Zonko’s and starting to walk slowly towards the Three Broomsticks, “you know, we could make them smell Amortentia and admit their feelings once and for all.”

“You are actually onto something there, Islandic,” Dorian said, beginning to follow the pair in front of them. The Gryffindor snickered after Isla hit him on the head because of the recent nickname he’d given her.

“Oh no, we’re not doing that,” they heard Ethan from behind them.

“Why not?”

“Why not?,” Ethan repeated before letting out a scoff, ”because you two are going to make me brew the potion and I’m not brewing Amortentia.” Isla and Dorian gazed at each other, trying to conceal their smiles, knowing their other friend was right.

They’d started to follow (Y/N) and Oliver in silence when Dorian talked again.

“Why don’t you want to brew Amortentia?” The noise of the village almost drowning the suspicious tone in his voice. “Are you trying to evade something, maybe?”

“Shut up,” he responded, tightening the dark blue coat closer to his body, and unknowingly giving Dorian the answer he hoped for, “and come on, don’t just stand there. We’re going to lose them.”

Their continuing attempts were a failure, nothing they did made the Slytherin or the Gryffindor confess. Fortunately, these thoughts were starting to appear more frequently in the latest’s mind.

|||

It was the first Saturday after the Easter Holidays and the whole school, including the professors, was waiting impatiently for the last Quidditch match of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor for the Inter-House Quidditch Cup.

With Slytherin leading the championship with more than two hundred points, Oliver’s team needed a massive win if they wanted to get their hands on the Cup.

(Y/N) made her way up to the stands alongside her friends, all of them hoping for Gryffindor to win the match. Even as a Slytherin, she wished for him, and the whole team of course, to crush her House’s Quidditch Team. Marcus Flint was everything but kind and a fair player, his tactics consisted purely of hurting his rivals, not caring about the damage the injuries could cost. (Y/N)’d have supported her own House if they weren’t cheating bastards.

A few of the students looked at her weirdly before starting to whisper when she sat down on her seat beside Dorian, who went full on Gryffindor pride. Yes, she was wearing a green blouse —she should have accepted Dorian’s offer on using one of his red t-shirts—, but that didn’t mean anything. She was on the Gryffindor stands, so she was supporting Gryffindor, and for a good reason…

The first ten points went to the lion’s house thanks to Angelina Johnson, but the cries of joy transformed quickly into shoutings and insults directed to the Slytherin Captain for nearly knocking her off her broom after smashing into the Chaser. Fred Weasley reacted by throwing his beater’s bat at the back of Flint’s head.

The rest of the match followed pretty much the same way. Slytherin played using dirty tactics and attacking the Gryffindors, which resulted in them answering their violence with, well, more violence.

“Harry spotted the Snitch,” shouted Dorian while raising his arm, pointing towards the third year boy. Before the Gryffindor Seeker could grab the shiny, golden ball, Malfoy grabbed the end of his broom and pulled it back.

“Not the fucking Firebolt, you twat,” (Y/N) thought of hearing her best friend Isla, seating on her right side, said. Everyone started screeching insults at the Slytherin Seeker, even (Y/N) and some of the professors.

Finally, after more penalties, Harry Potter caught the Snitch, handing his House the Quidditch Cup.

Students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff roared in excitement, quickly leaving the stands and flooding the Pitch, running to congratulate the winning team.

Three of the four members of the Multicolour Quartet stayed a few feet away from the crowd, Dorian celebrating in the middle with Oliver, who was carrying the Cup, on his shoulders. Isla grabbed her arm and carried her to where the Gryffindor Captain was, a memory of Dorian doing the same thing a year ago entered her mind.

Looking up at Oliver, (Y/N) noticed his rosy cheeks and some drops of sweat forming on his forehead, but his brown eyes and smile were what captivated her the most, his enthusiasm turning contagious.

“Congratulations, I guess,” the girl said, a serious expression on her face while rolling her eyes exaggeratedly to show him she was teasing. (Y/N) extended her arm, still acting, but was taken by surprise when Oliver grabbed it and pulled her towards him, engulfing each other in a hug. She giggled near his ear and whispered, “I’m so proud of you.”

The Gryffindor glanced down at her, bodies still close to each other, neither of them wanting to let go, eyes thrilled because of his team’s victory and something more she couldn’t figure out. Slowly, his face approached her’s, staring back to the other’s eyes, asking themselves internally if this was the moment.

“Fuck it,” Oliver mumbled before closing the distance between them and planting a chaste kiss on her mouth.

They stood motionless for a couple of seconds, arms still wrapped around each other and the whole school watching them silently, waiting for her reaction. From the corner of her eye, she saw Fred Weasley giving his twin, George, some sickles, a grim look on his face for losing what she assumed was a bet on them.

(Y/N)’s attention went back to the boy in front of her, one with a desperate expression. Standing on her toes, she pulled her hands away from Oliver’s torso, directing one towards the back of his neck and the other to his cheek, caressing the skin tenderly. She smiled, unable to stop another giggle, and pressed their lips together for the second time, hoping it wouldn’t be the last one.

The crowd around the pair roared again, making them laugh between the kiss, lips separating and then reuniting. Her heart almost jumping out of her chest from how fast it was beating, her necessity to breath becoming more prominent with each second her mouth was against he’s. Ignoring it, (Y/N) continued on kissing Oliver, whose hands were now on either side of her head, trying to bring her impossibly closer. Biting her bottom lip, his tongue rushing through her mouth. The hand on his neck pressuring now with more force, bringing him down so her feet could touch the ground.

A hand on each of Oliver’s shoulders forced them apart.

“Okay, I’m really happy you two finally stopped the painful yearning for each other, but this is my best friend you’re snogging, Oliver, so try to do that privately,” a voice that could only belong to Dorian came from behind the Gryffindor boy.

(Y/N) crossed her arms, one of them pressing into Oliver’s side, and looked at her friend before speaking.

“Are you going to tell…”

“Yeah, I am,” he interrupted her mid sentence, “I bloody told you so.”

TAGLIST: @peeves-a-legend @weasleybees @acontinuationofstuff @parkeroffline @lilac-wrists

If you want me to add you to the taglist, ask me! And if you asked but you’re not here, please remind me!

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #slytherin!reader #slytherin #oliver wood x slytherin!reader #oliver wood #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood oneshot #oliver wood x reader #hp fanfic #hp imagine

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lets-steal-an-archive · 3 years

Text

'Golden Girls' Polishes Its Scripts: Daily Revisions Geared to Sharpen Story and Hone Those Laugh Lines

TRUE OR FALSE:

Actresses Bea Arthur, Estelle Getty, Rue McClanahan and Betty White write their own dialogue for "The Golden Girls." (FALSE)

Older female writers write all 25 episodes each season because no one else could understand the problems of older females. (FALSE)

In order to keep the shows consistent from week to week, one writer prepares all the episodes. (FALSE)

Ten staff writers work together to prepare a season's worth of scripts. (TRUE)

It's a Monday morning in early October and on a sound stage at the small Renmar Studios in Hollywood, the "golden girls" have gathered to read a new script. This will be episode No. 60 of the series and it will air about three weeks later — on Halloween.

Everyone in the room has heard about this week's story line: Rose writes a letter to Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev. But apart from the writers, no one has seen the final script until now. It was completed on a Saturday, photocopied 150 times on Sunday and distributed this morning to NBC; co-producer Touchstone Pictures; the show's creator, Susan Harris; the show's lawyers and researchers, and the "Golden Girls" cast and crew.

"Hopefully, they'll laugh," murmurs head writer Kathy Speer as she prepares to hear the "table reading." "If they don't, we'll be here fixing the script for a long time."

The table reading really is at tables — eight of them arranged in a rectangle. The actresses and guest actors sit on one side, facing the writers. To the actresses' left are director Terry Hughes, executive producers Paul Junger Witt and Tony Thomas and co-executive producers/head writers Speer and Terry Grossman. To the actresses' right sit NBC representatives, the show's casting director and props and wardrobe personnel.

They begin. Director Hughes reads the stage directions: Interior, kitchen — day. Sophia is seated at table. She is reading book entitled 'Magic Made Easy.' Dorothy enters.

Bea Arthur, as Dorothy, reads: "Hi, Ma."

Estelle Getty, as Sophia, reads: "Give me your watch."

Another week is under way. As the actresses go through their lines, everyone else listens intently. They laugh (or don't laugh) and take notes. By the Friday-night tapings, this script will need to play at 22 minutes. But Friday is a long way off.

As soon as the table reading ends, the writers, producers, director and an NBC program executive huddle to discuss script changes. Then, while the actresses begin rehearsals using the first draft, the writers rush off to their yellow stucco two-story building nearby to begin rewriting.

"The secret of TV half-hour comedy shows is the revisions," explains Dean Valentine, NBC director of current comedy and also the program executive on "Golden Girls." "What they start out with is 75% away from what they end up with."

"I don't think this episode is going to need much work," co-head writer Terry Grossman announces cheerfully on his way back to his office. "It got a good response at the table. We just have to cut it, smooth out transitions and clarify some story points. New jokes will be the tough thing." He anticipates a few hours' work.

"Early in the first season we were throwing out whole scenes," he recalls. "Now we know what works for each lady and what she does best. That's the advantage of being in the third year of the show. The disadvantage is that stories are harder to come by."

Grossman heads into the office he shares with his wife Speer, who is also his writing partner. They are in charge of the writing staff. "That means we are the two who get yelled at the most when something goes wrong," he jokes.

Also piling into the conference-sized room are supervising producers Barry Fanaro and Mort Nathan and producer Winifred Hervey. Despite their titles, Grossman explains, "We're all writers."

"We are the five most dull people," Nathan insists.

"We're much funnier on paper," Hervey adds.

These five, all in their 30s, met when they worked on "Benson," an earlier Witt-Thomas-Harris series. They have been with "Golden Girls" since the beginning, and every Monday they jointly rewrite the script being taped that week. They jokingly call themselves The Gang of Five.

While they start rewriting, the show's other five staff writers — Chris Lloyd, Jeff Ferro, Frederic Weiss, Robert Bruce and Martin Weiss — go back to their own offices to work on new scripts.

"To keep quality, you like as many writers as you can afford," Speer explains. "This year, we have six 'entities' (writing teams) — four sets of partners and two individuals. And we also use a few free-lance scripts each season."

Approximately 25% of the show's budget goes to the writers, executive producer Tony Thomas says. Staff writers on a comedy series earn a weekly salary plus separate payments for completed scripts. A free-lance writer who does a story outline, a first draft and a second draft can earn about $11,000. (Note: All outside script submissions must come through agents.)

"A good comedy requires a lot of teamwork, a lot of people sitting in a room working together," Thomas emphasizes. "A good team is rare, but it's not extremely rare. It's like winning the NBA title. We had it in 'Soap,' and we had it for some years in 'Benson.' Obviously this is one of the most successful staffs we’ve ever put together."

Both Witt and Thomas deal with day-to-day details on "Golden Girls." Harris, who created the series, is less involved this season because, according to Thomas, "She is working on a feature for Disney with us. But she reads all the scripts and is familiar with most of the stories."

Flashback to the previous Friday, a week when "Golden Girls" wasn't taping. Every fourth week during the season, the show shuts down, giving the actors and crew a rest and allowing the writers to catch up.

The Gang of Five is trying to explain how their writing process works. They insist on telling, rather than showing, because, as they say, they're shy. "At the beginning of the season, even having our new writers in the meeting made me a little uncomfortable," Grossman admits. "It slowed down the process."

"One of the most important things that exists with this group is that the bottom line is making the show as good as possible. It's still very difficult when your script is read for the first time and the material doesn't work. It hurts for a moment. But there's no time to take it personally. It didn't work, and the clock is ticking. You better keep moving and get it right."

Like all sitcoms, "Golden Girls" has a "bible," a book that synopsizes everything that has happened on a series. Thus, new writers don't have to watch all the previous episodes. But there is no master plan of what will happen in the future.

The idea for "Letter to Gorbachev" surfaced last May at a beginning-of-the-season meeting of the writers and producers. "It was one of 20 or 30 story notions kicked around," Barry Fanaro recalls. The obvious similarity to Samantha Smith's letter to then-Soviet leader Yuri Andropov isn't mentioned.

"Most of them didn't work,” adds Fanaro's writing partner Mort Nathan, "but this one sounded amusing. Because Rose is a childlike character, we wondered what would happen if she wrote a letter to Gorbachev about world peace. We started fleshing it out, but we couldn't think of a second act. We went round and round, and finally six weeks later we came up with a way to make the story work."

"The five of us went over it scene by scene and agreed it was workable," Fanaro continues. "Then Mort and I went off and wrote it. It took about 10 days because we were also working on other things."

Each "Golden Girls” episode is written to a formula: "the idea, the act break and the resolution," Grossman explains. "Usually there's an 'A' story and a 'B' story going. It's the natural structure."

Although Fanaro and Nathan, who won a writing Emmy last year for a "Golden Girls" episode, wrote the basic Gorbachev script, the story the audience will see has gone through the usual "Golden Girls" grinder: The Gang of Five read and dissect the first draft, adding new scenes, new lines, new jokes. "It's really a team effort," Grossman stresses.

The jokes can be the easiest part — or the hardest. "They're only hard to write when you've got one that isn't working," Grossman says. "A joke in the middle of a scene can be weak, but the 'out joke' — a snappy one-liner that ends the scene on a laugh — has to be strong."

"We may decide a scene needs a new opening," Speer explains. "There will be a long moment of silence. Then someone will ask if anybody's eaten at some new restaurant. In the course of conversation, somebody will say, 'Wait a minute. I have an idea.'"

"With five of us, at least one of us is paying attention," Hervey deadpans.

"Good writers should be able to write for men, women, old or young," Grossman says. "We all draw on other people in our lives — parents, grandparents. Part of the reason for the show's popularity is that these are very vital people. The very same story you've seen 100 times on every sitcom takes on new light with characters in this age group. That makes life easier for us.

"Also, these four actresses are sensational. To have the entire cast be able to give such high-caliber performances means you don't have to adjust your material. You write the material, and they deliver. If they can't make it work, there's something wrong with the material."

The week goes by quickly. On Tuesday morning, the "golden girls" read over the revised script and discover that one scene has changed considerably. Some lines have been cut, while others have been sharpened. There are several new jokes. A press conference scene has been shifted from a hotel room to the ladies' living room.

On Tuesday night, the Gang of Five works late. During the day's rehearsals they realized that the revised scene didn’t play well so they jettisoned it and added some new dialogue and a few more jokes.

Following Wednesday's rehearsals, they hone the script a little more. Time is pressing. By the Thursday afternoon dress rehearsal, the actresses try to be script-perfect, although they often aren't. By now, the original 52-page script has been reduced to 50 pages, and almost every page has had at least one alteration.

For instance, on Monday when Blanche accidentally spat Coca-Cola on a Soviet Embassy official, he responded by saying, "No apology necessary." Now he says, "No need to apologize. In Moscow, we have to stand in line four hours to get this."

Late Friday afternoon, the audience files into Renmar Studios to watch the first taping. The writers are standing by, just in case a last-minute problem occurs. During the 90-minute dinner break, while a new audience is arriving, the cast, writers and producers calmly discuss how to improve the second taping. A few lines are cut, the taping is completed, and it’s on to the next week.

Source: Mills, Nancy. 1987. 'Golden Girls' Polishes Its Scripts: Daily Revisions Geared to Sharpen Story and Hone Those Laugh Lines. Los Angeles Times, October 30, https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1987-10-30-ca-11702-story.html

#the golden girls #how the sausage is made #from the archives #tv writing #i just thought it was neat #long post

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

constant craving 03 | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

[other members - seokjin]

⇢ genre: drabble series, ANGST, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, the same idiocy just in a different font

⇢ word count: 4k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption (drunk jungkook makes his first and final appearance enjoy it while you can), vehicular misdemeanor (drive the speed limit kids), an all out emotional and verbal brawling, a lack of communication on one end and a communicational vomit on the other, seokjin appearance for about .02 seconds, the entirety of this is just.... angst

⇢ summary: your dates with Seokjin had become a somewhat consistent fixture in your schedule, however, jungkook's itinerary seemed to clash with yours when he called you after a night of drinking for reasons you assumed to be him helplessly pleading for a safe return home.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: whew, okay.... this was probably the most argumentative fic i have ever written so prepare yourself. i hope you all enjoy this god awfully angsty installment of the series! also, yes, jungkook is a sentimental drunk and you all know it

part three: i love you

It's true. It's always the biggest pills that are the most difficult to swallow. And if you could compare someone as elusive as Jungkook to anything, it would be the largest pill imaginable. The kind that hurts the first try, then when you drink half your body weight in water, the Jungkook-emblazoned pill forces down your esophagus no easier than the first gulp. You were still holding it in your mouth, pretending that pill wasn't about to dissolve and stain your mouth forever.

And that was the whole process, just to get over Jungkook. Because getting over him wasn't a one-step program. It was waking up everyday, training and retraining your mind not to think of him first thing in the morning. It was resisting the urge to press the send button on multiple texts and funny videos you knew would make him laugh. It was refusing his calls and every memory that would saunter in your mind and compel you to ask him to watch a movie or order takeout.

It was saying yes to Seokjin when he asked you on a date. And, it was doing your best to sever that instinct of yours to ask Jungkook for advice.

But old habits die hard, and this one still clung onto the bit of breath it wielded. That explained why your idiot of a best friend was sitting on your couch, offering half-hearted nods whenever you would walk out draped in a new outfit.

"Okay, this one?" You twirled around, as if doing so would make you any less skeptical of how you looked. And you were never one to scrutinize your appearance so closely, but this was the date. The one that might light the torch to a brighter romantic future and lead you to someone other than the man who could never be yours to begin with.

"Yeah. Cool." At this point, five outfits in, he wasn't paying any attention at all. He couldn't even bring himself to pretend, his eyes lazily fixed onto your dvd player.

"Jungkook, you didn't even look! Let me guess. You wanna play video games. Is that why you're giving fuck-me-eyes to my T.V. set?" You knew a laugh was far along, but you hoped that would get some sort of reaction out of him. Unfortunately, your words were barely registered for a good ten seconds, though, it felt much longer.

"Hm? Oh, sorry. Just tired, I guess." Jungkook said through barely parted lips. You knew when he couldn't even pronounce his words properly, something he took more seriously than others due to the hauntings of a certain speech impediment, there was definitely something wrong.

Things felt off from the moment he walked into your house. Judging from the way he avoided your hug, that alone suggested a sort of imbalance. It was a casual greeting exchanged between the two of you so often that when you lifted your arms to embrace him, it was born of reflexive association. Like Pavlov's dog, trained to hug him the moment you saw him. But the oddity of him almost discretely walking past you before any contact could be made wasn't where the tension bordered.

Following his arrival, he would have littered a few snarky remarks about how messy your kitchen was, while already scavenging through your fridge, just to get a rouse out of you. And Jungkook wouldn't call himself a connoisseur of all things fabric and fashion, but he surely would have a few thoughts consisting more than two-worded responses. But he just sat on your couch, armed with a face any poker player would commend, and gave you insincere cool's or nice's when need be.

"Okay, what's up? Is it Irene?" You sat down since taking a break to figure out what Jungkook was thinking felt better than continuing your self-absorbed fashion show.

"Kinda... We broke up. Well, she broke up with me or... I don't know. It was weird." It bothered you a bit too much that he didn't even look at you. But if he had, then you would have seen a film of red dousing his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Kook. Is there anything I can do? Anything at all? Want me to egg her house?" This time, he did laugh. You felt relieved he could at least ease slightly back into his expressive self, even if it was just a fraction of what he usually was. A fraction of Jungkook was more than enough for you.

"Nah, no need to go to jail for me. It's not like I didn't see it coming, and apparently she felt the same. Whatever." He let out a sigh that sounded trapped in for a while, then sat up. "We have more important things to worry about."

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe that. Jungkook, literally a week ago you told me she was the love of your life! And now you're just like 'yeah, whatever, I saw it coming.'" You used your notorious 'man voice', which was just yours lowered a few octaves, knowing it would crack another smile along Jungkook's lips. "Come on, I know you love her. This must hurt a lot. I wish... I wish there was something I could do."

You knew exactly what you were doing. Self-sabotage under the guise of consoling your friend. Clearly, it was selfish and regressive to use Jungkook's heartbreak as a means to avoid doing what you could never do before, what you knew deep down you probably would never be able to do: swallow that pill. And what felt even more pathetic than that was the stale, yet persisting hope that he would ask you to stay.

And that's when reality gave you the most gutting and obvious sign. Jungkook was your best friend, the man you had to lug home when he was too drunk to drive, let alone speak coherently or stand. He was the person that buys you ice cream when you're sad, but just as quick to cancel plans with you when Irene needed him. He was just a friend. You'd never be the person he chose, and it nearly made you angry at him for not seeing it all this time.

So, what he said next made everything he was most likely unaware of all too clear to you.

"No, you go have fun. I'll just... chill here?" It was his avoidant way of asking to stay the night, because you knew him to never sleep alone when he had an ache in his heart. "Maybe raid your pantry and use your Netflix account to binge some shows?"

"Fine. Only 'cause I can't say no to you when you're like this." His smile was reimbursement enough for all the food you'd have to restock and the electricity bill that would be higher than usual.

But what he did next, you could almost never forgive him for. It was so subtle, as though it could have passed as an accident or an act he was trying to perform secretly, without any intention of you even noticing. And how could you not notice? The far too temporary and entirely disarming linger of his hand on yours.

Now, you were always one to decipher his most subtle mannerisms, but this one felt beyond the reins of your perceptiveness. It could have been a small gesture of a thank you, but the gentle, and what one could even describe as sentimental, way his skin pressed against yours bore no semblance of a mere expression of gratitude. And it wasn't possible this was a caress of love, because he was already low on currency in that field, spending it completely on Irene.

So, what was it?

How would you describe the way he rested his hand on yours, as if asking you to stay without words, yet punctuating it quick enough to justify it a coincidental form of contact, that your hand just happened to be where his hand was?

"Well, I'm gonna go eat through my problems." Jungkook stood up before you could bat away the wetness in your eyes from your momentary refusal to blink, as if that would somehow help you visualize the meaning of what just happened.

"Oh- Okay. I, um... I should get going." So you did. You walked out your door, and made a decision beyond the demands of your devotion to Jungkook.

Because it probably meant nothing, and he was your best friend, after all.

---

It was easy with Seokjin. And surprisingly enough, that wasn't a bad thing.

You had come to realize everyone craves that passionate kind of love because, in the movies, that's the blueprint for what love should feel like. But that's all it is, something pretty and shiny enough to work into a film. Make believe. And it could never extend beyond the realm of silver screens, where best friends don't magically fall in love and passion awarded more broken hearts than you could count.

Besides, your heart was worn.

See, your heart is a muscle. It works itself to the bone keeping you alive, willing your lungs to breathe, administering blood to each vein and so on. To strain it for someone who was already in love was functionally inefficient. The heart, like any other muscle, grows tired. It can exhaust itself the same way your hand aches after writing for too long.

You needed a break from the gripping emotional aerobics that is and was loving Jeon Jungkook. So, it sufficed that Seokjin was easy. No more overexertion, no more aches and pains and residual soreness occupying your chest, no more of any of that. Because you knew Seokjin liked you, which was safe and easy knowing there was no point mapping out the possible meanings of every inflected word or shrug or smile. They were simply words and shrugs and smiles with him.

And yet, the thing about giving your heart a 'break' is the period succeeding it. When you were finished resting, you knew who would be waiting for you. Who you would always wait for.

"___! Hello?! I can't hear you! It's too loud!" It wasn't really that loud, your idiot of a best friend was just that drunk. You couldn't tell what concerned you more, the fact that his hearing degenerated when he was, from the sound of it, seven shots deep or that this was the third of alcohol-induced call for this week.

"Where are you?" You asked through a sigh, eyes trained on your Twitter feed and ears occupied with the urgent voice blaring through the speaker phone.

And since it was the third time this week, you were not even half-amused by the repetitive stunt he was pulling.

"I don't know... I walked out and now I'm out and I don't know." The hiccup following his messy sentence was comically textbook 'too drunk'. “Hey, we should take a trip! We should, like, go somewhere!”

“The only place you should be going is home.”

“See, I would totally do that, but I have no idea where I am. Why are these street signs so hard to read?” The end and beginning of each word blended together, rendering that sentence one long, slurred word.

By now, the step by step plan synthesized by you had been memorized. And even though you labored your brain to rewire any feelings leaving you at his beck and call, it clearly hadn't been proficient since your keys had already been gathered and his whereabouts programmed in your GPS via his location services.

"You're so annoying." It might have been rude of you to want him to feel guilty, but it was just as rude of him to interrupt your one night off, which was supposed to be spent with Seokjin, with his intoxicated antics. "I'm coming to pick you up."

"Yo- u are? I love you sooo much. You're the best friend ever, ya know that?" Overly emotional professions was your que to drive fifteen miles over the speed limit so he didn't do something stupid enough to land himself in an ICU.

"Okay, I'm almost there. I think I see you. Wave for me?"

The slumped silhouette you were squinting at began to frantically throw its arms side to side, making you both laugh and pull over so he could drag himself into your passenger seat. And, if you were being honest, he looked better as the blackened shadow of himself.

Jungkook, in all his glory, had his shirt almost fully turned backwards, hair ruffled into a mess, and face as red as the time you and him laid on the beach until your skin punished you with a second degree burn. And all those factors didn't amount to how he smelled like he bathed for hours inside a hand sanitizer bottle.

"God, you're a mess, Jungkook." You said that as jokingly as possible, but meant the sternness embedded in each word. Jungkook was a mess, physically and mentally.

"Hey! You're judging me! Stop being th-o mean, ___." Whenever he was this drunk, his lisp made more appearances in his speech than when he wasn't.

You hated how easily it reminded you of when you were in middle school and he was still navigating and rehearsing through his speech patterns. In middle school, when he was the sweet boy with his only fault being his lisp, who gave you his hoodie and a compassionate smile upon meeting you because your current bully plotted the embarrassment of a lifetime with that piece of chocolate on your seat. In middle school, when Jungkook was the only person in your grade who was kind enough to be kind and true to his word when he pledged his loyalty as your best friend. Forever.

With just one word, you were that timid little middle schooler again, helplessly and unconditionally in love with Jungkook.

Hauling Jungkook, who was more muscle than bone and flesh, over to his door was an art form you had trained, practiced, and mastered about thirty or so times before this one. He weighed about twice as much as you could normally carry, and nonetheless, he was out of your car and in his house in no time.

After you locked the door, you turned around to meet Jungkook, rendering the door frame into a crutch and effectively detaining you between his body and the solid wood behind you.

If you weren't so reminiscent in the car seconds before this, then the vodka-scented souvenir on his breath would have gagged you. However, being this close to him, feeling the warmth of his body consuming and overpowering yours, just made you want to sink into him even more and give him everything you had to offer.

His head was hung so when you looked up, you were greeted with Jungkook's lazy smile that gave his lips a boyish asymmetry and draped his eyelids halfway down his irises. And he had you spooled around him so tightly, this look just made him all the more appetizing.

"Kook, we gotta get you to bed, buddy." You tried to ward him off by weaponizing the most strictly platonic nickname you could think of, partnered with a neighborly pat on the back.

It was mostly to remind yourself that this man, who was an inch too close to your face, was your friend, and that in less than ten minutes you were expected to see Seokjin, but from the way he was looking at you, as if he reached into the depths of your heart to devour all your feelings for him and make them his own, you had to remind him of the universally accepted best friend boundaries.

No deep, romantic gazing into each other's eyes. No intimate activity that could be a precursor to anything more affectionate than a hug. No doing exactly what you two were doing as of now.

"Don't call me that." You hoped his aggression against what you said was merely his inebriated irrationally talking, and as always, his emotions were far beyond his control.

And, shamefully, you also hoped it was because he actually did feel the way you felt. What if he wanted the date that Seokjin was going to get tonight and he wanted all the hand holding and none of the back patting, a 'baby' instead of a 'buddy'?

"What? You're drunk-"

"Don't." Before you could drag him by the arm to his bed, a firm palm settled on your torso and closed the gap between you and the door while widening the gap an inch further between Jungkook and his bed, where he would fall asleep without the warmth of the only person he wanted. "___, please."

His voice was strangled with desperation and Jungkook was depleted of all resistance. He just needed to drink you up. To fill himself with the nourishments of your lips, your body, you.

"What-" He could have silenced you easily with a 'shh' or a finger to your lips. Or anything to your lips except his lips.

His lips. They were greedy and giving all at once. Making soft and intimate ministrations against yours as he kissed you before you had the chance to register what was going on. And even when you did, you let his tongue slide into your mouth. This moment was brimming with all the spontaneity you could ever be prepared for, and though it was new, there was no denying that kissing him felt like finally coming home just from the amount of times you had played this moment out in your daydreams. Plus, Jungkook seemed to ease his tongue along yours a bit too confidently for this to be the first time the idea of kissing you has ran through his mind.

You're being stupid, you told yourself and Jungkook, but that didn't matter when you were finally allowed a taste of what it felt like to be kissed and touched and possibly even loved by Jungkook.

Your shirt was bunched halfway up your torso, his body pressed to your front a reprisal for the chill of the door against your back. Jungkook was, admittedly, a phenomenal kisser even when the lens of sobriety wasn't available to him. The way he ran his hands along the bare of your back like some desperate pilgrimage to discover the undiscovered parts of your body and took your bottom lip between his teeth like it was his to begin with was nearly enough to undress you from all your defenses, from all your clothing, from every single barrier that kept you from Jungkook for the past twelve years and let him have you. And finally have him. It was nearly enough.

Your hands divorced his body from yours before your lips and heart were ready to let go. It was painful, but the heartbroken look wringing his face into a tearful frown was even more so.

"No." You pushed him away further only to walk past him and seek refuge in the open space of his living room. "You don't get to do this."

"What? What does-"

"You don't get to drunkenly kiss me, Jungkook. You don't get to hold me and kiss me like you love me. It's not fair."

"Hey-"

"Because you don't. You don't love me..." If you weren't too busy finally permissing the hot words to boil over from pure anger, then you would have felt the even hotter tears wetting the expanse of your cheek.

"Well, how the hell would you know that?" His voice drowned out the loud pumps of blood beating in your ears like a drum.

"Because it would have happened ten years ago, Jungkook! Jesus, it would have been obvious from the beginning. So if you love me, if you really love me, then it wouldn't be happening now, like this. When you were drunk out of your mind and still vulnerable from Irene."

"You don't know anything." If that were the case, then Jungkook somehow knew even less than you.

"Yeah, clearly. I didn't know you'd stoop this low. I thought I was a lot of things to you. But I never thought I'd be some rebound."

"A rebound? You think that's what this is?" Jungkook seemed upset, but to your knowledge he had absolutely no reason to be angry with you.

He was, as always, displacing the burdens he didn't feel like dealing with on you, moderating you into an emotional punching bag. But what hurt more than those scrapes and bruises, was the aftermath of letting him fuck his worries away which would have consisted of him telling you the next morning that it meant nothing, expecting you to nod demurely, maybe even console him, and act like your chest hadn't been emptied and filled with his baggage in the most murderous way.

"Fuck you."

"Wow. You're really being like this? You really wanna talk about this now?

"You know what? Yeah I wanna talk about it. I wanna talk about the years. The years, Jungkook, that I've spent loving you! I- I wanna talk about the amount of times I've spent thinking about you when you were with her, and I probably didn't even cross your mind. Or how about the fucking thousands of times I've spent crying over you because I knew I was never going to be the one you'd want to wake up next to! And I had to watch! I had to fucking watch you fall in love over and over and probably wonder why I didn't fall in love either. It was you. It was always you, Jungkook."

"___, I-"

"No." His attempt to intervene was quickly denied. You were too angry to let him speak, too tired to carry these grievances any longer. "You don't get to talk. It's all out there. I loved you. I still love you! Fuck, I'm trying to get over you. And it's like you know. It's like you can read my mind or something and strike right when I'm about to recover from the last wound."

Your breathing was as heavy as Jungkook's was shallow. He could only stand, breathlessly, only curse himself for ever being so blind and regret taking advantage of your love even if it were entirely unknowingly, just to let his heart sink deeper until it fell completely out of his chest while his tears fell just as heavily.

"I'm done, Jungkook. I'm tired of trying to outrun you in this race that you're not even competing in. I'm tired of loving you. So, I'm done."

All the words Jungkook wanted to say, the words pleading for sound, carving deep gashes in his throat and leaving him vocally impaired, could never amount to the apology you deserved. Maybe this once, he wouldn't leave you wounded. He would gather the nobility to shut up and let you move on from him. Because you wouldn't know from his lapse of silence that he was empathizing with every bit of pain he caused you, and he hated himself more than you did right now for allowing such a pain to ever fall in your hands. But, where you knew you could someday forgive him for it, he knew he would never forgive himself.

He could scrounge for a few things to respond with, pour the weight of his emotions into the scarcity of his words, but he needed to let you leave and be selfless for once in his life.

"I should go. Drink some water before bed, okay?" You mumbled to choke back your tears, though it wouldn't matter letting a few more tears escape since you were previously sob-ranting and he'd seen you cry like this a hundred times before. He was the shoulder you never thought you'd have to miss leaning on, but walking out of his door punctured a hole in you. An empty space in your heart designed for the one person who had crushed the rest of it.

If this were a movie, with star-crossed lovers and a fiery infatuation blooming into what everyone secretly wants: true love, then Jungkook would have ran out of his door and held you close, professing his undying love for you. He would have won you back, reassembled your broken heart into fullness, kissed you beneath the brilliance of the moon, and lived happily ever after.

But this wasn't a movie, and he did none of those things.

Instead, he stumbled his way into his kitchen. He poured himself that cup of water you advised. He thought about how even when you swore to him you were done, you spared a bit of compassion to remind him to take care of himself. He wondered how deserving he was of everything you are. He touched his lips, searching for the echo of yours. He fell into his queen-sized bed meant for two, alone, and whispered the words that were ever eclipsing to the space beside him where he longed for you to lay so you could hear them for yourself.

"I love you."

a/n: sorry to put you through that, but the idea was born and i am but a humble vessel to bring it to life <3 hehe thank you all so much for reading and like i said, don't worry there will be a happy ending!!! (and possibly a longer-than-drabble final chapter to this series)

#bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts writing #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook bestfriend!au #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #constant craving #rubycoast

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hotchley · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’d like to request 4 from Fluff with a platonic Hotch and literally whoever else you want, please!

I’m so happy for you for 500, congratulations!!! ❤️

Aah thank you! I went with JJ because it seemed to work. You may be wondering why this one is like this, it's because I don't want it to be the same as the Hotchley request (that I haven't started lol)

It's set... post whatever episode JJ comes back to the BAU properly. Features background Willifer because I love them <3 No proofreading as always. 1403 words.

4: "your hair is so soft!"

Trigger Warnings: mild sickness (Will and Henry have colds)

read on ao3!

JJ has always taken pride in her appearance. Even before she was media liaison, with her face constantly on the television, and a sense of professionalism essentially needed at all times, she took pride in looking nice. She liked applying her make-up and watching herself transform. Not into something better, just something different. She liked brushing her hair and choosing a stylish outfit.

Her parents used to tease her about it, always asking who she was doing it for, but she learnt to tune them out over time. She wasn't doing it for anyone but herself. If they couldn't understand that, it wasn't her fault. So what if she liked feeling good? There were bigger crimes a person could commit.

Since Henry's birth, that whole routine- hair, make-up, outfit- had gone down the drain. There were some days where she was lucky if she changed out of her pajamas and into sweatpants. She didn't mind, because she loved Henry with all her heart, and she had always wanted to be a mother, but she missed it. Perhaps it was a silly thing to miss, but she still missed it.

Will was doing just as much as she was- he was a half-decent father after all- but there never seemed to be enough time for either of them to do anything more than splash their face with some water. Obviously, neither of them would trade it for the world, but even Will was starting to miss being able to shower for more than nine minutes and forty five seconds.

Obviously, neither of them were able to stay at home forever. Not if they were going to buy the house they had fallen in love with. So Will went back to work as soon as his combined paternity and annual leave finished, which left JJ alone for eight hours. She missed him, but it was okay. As soon as he got through the door, he was showering her with affection, taking Henry from her arms, and sending her to get rest.

JJ went back to work a few months later, very grateful that everyone had been accommodating. Jordan had done her best, but the BAU wasn't for her, and that was okay. JJ was glad to hear that all miscommunication had been cleared up, and that everyone had gotten on in the end, because she wasn't sure she'd ever forget the time Aaron had phoned her at three in the morning because he'd messed up.

(He hadn't, not to the degree he was convinced he had, but it was not a fun night.)

For the most part, her return to work was rather smooth. And then suddenly, everything went downhill.

Will and Henry both got sick at the same time. She, somehow, avoided this, and after triple-checking her temperature, and asking Will a ridiculous number of times whether or not he was going to be okay, she went to work.

Her clothes did not coordinate, her face was devoid of all make-up, and her hair was thrown in a bun to try and make it less obvious that it hadn't been brushed, but it was fine. The BAU were (supposedly) grounded after doing successive cases. Again.

"Morning blondie- what happened? Are Henry and Will okay?" Derek asked, concerned as soon as she walked towards them.

JJ blinked the sleep from her eyes. "They've both gotten sick. But I'm okay. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

"Well if you start to feel unwell at any time, just tell me. I'll drive you home," he says.

She manages to smile. "Thanks Der."

Morgan simply shrugs. "Least I can do."

Before she can offer to do something in return, Hotch exits his office. "Strauss is coming by later today with the Director. They're doing an inspection. So Emily, please, do not take my phone and start reading my texts from Nate again."

Emily smirks. "Are they more inappropriate than last time?"

Hotch glares daggers. JJ tries to stifle her laughter, but completely fails.

"Wait. Do I have to be here?" She asks, suddenly aware of how unprofessional she looks.

Hotch turns to her. "Oh JJ. A moment in my office please?"

She swallows, but nods and follows him. He holds the door open for her, then locks it behind him. She's not uncomfortable, just confused. She only grows more confused when he closes the blinds, sticking his tongue out at Emily like a child.

"Hotch, what are you doing?"

He pulls the chair he keeps in front of his desk to the centre of his room. "Sit."

She does. "Hotch."

"After Jack was born, we got sick at the same time. Haley had to go in because there were some very important meetings. She looked exactly the same as you do now. Which means Henry and Will must be ill, and you must be exhausted."

There's no point in denying it. "Yeah I guess. But I'm not ill! I can do my job."

Hotch smiles, and pulls a brush out of his desk drawer. It's the exact same one that she uses. "I know you can. I just want to help you feel a little bit more like yourself. That's all."

"Oh."

She expects him to pass the brush to her. He doesn't. He stands behind her, and takes her hair out of the bun she had hastily thrown it in. And then he parts her hair into three sections, moving two over her shoulder, and gently brushing through the third.

"This is very nice," she whispers.

"Feel free to fall asleep," he says.

She laughs, but eventually her exhaustion catches up to her and her eyes flutter close.

When she wakes up, a blanket has been draped over her body, and Hotch is behind his desk, doing paperwork. The blinds are still closed, and he's working using the lamp only.

"Shitting- why didn't you wake me up?" She exclaims.

"Because you looked so peaceful. And you deserved some consistent sleep."

"But what about the observation?"

"Hasn't happened yet. And if they have a problem with me taking care of my agents, then that's on them. JJ, it's completely fine. If I needed something urgently, I would have either asked someone else or woken you up."

She knows he's telling the truth. "Okay. Thank you. I know you don't like brushing your hair."

If he's surprised by her knowledge, he doesn't show it. "I don't, but other people, it's nice. Soothing."

JJ smiles, then runs her hand through it. Her fingers don't catch a single knot. "I do feel more like myself. So really, genuinely, thank you. It means a lot to me."

"It's not a big deal, but you're welcome. If I could help with the make-up and clothes, I would, but I don't know anything about either of them, clearly, so…" he trails off, and she can't help but grin.

"You've done more than enough. Could you do one more thing? If it's not too much?"

"JJ, of course. What?"

"Would you plait it for me? It'll be easier to do my work, and then when I get home, it'll be easier to deal with two sick people. Or maybe it's a psychological thing. I don't know. My mom always plaits her hair when someone is sick, and I like feeling close to her in that way."

"Of course I can. Tell me if it looks terrible?"

She nods, knowing it won't.

Aaron splits her hair into three sections again, running his hands through each. "Your hair is so soft!"

"It's the shampoo and conditioner I use," she says, not sure how to handle his softness.

"Of course it is. It always is," he responds, and she knows he's thinking of something else, but she isn't going to push. Not now, when he's doing her hair so nicely.

"All done," he says, moving her plait over her shoulder.

"Thanks Aaron. It looks perfect."

He grins, and she knows she's going to cherish this moment forever. She cherishes it even more when she gets home, and a sick Will can't stop complimenting how pretty she looks.

(She gets sick as soon as he recovers, and Aaron comes over with soup, plaits her hair again, and when she gets better, he sends her and Will to a cute restaurant whilst he babysits Henry because they deserve a night together. She plaits her hair for that as well.)

#hotchley's 500 #platonic jotch #tw mild sickness

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debbiechanclub · 3 years

Text

Best Two Out of Three, Part 26

This is it: the last chapter of BTOOT 😭

I wrote a long, sappy post about what this means to me *months* ago when I thought we would finish much sooner than we did (whoops), so I won’t get into all that again. However, I will say that this is a huge accomplishment for me because I have never finished a multi-part fic until now. But I didn’t do it on my own. I absolutely could not have completed this in the time that I did without @hotyeehawman, and BTOOT absolutely would not be the fic that it is without her. So thank you so much, Lauren. We wrote a whole ass 123,419-word, 228-page mf’in fanfiction novel in less than a year 😳

And, at the risk of sounding cheesy AF, we couldn’t have done it without you all, either. The response to this little wrasslin’ fic consistently blows us away. SO THANK YOU. It means more than words can say. So once you finish reading this last chapter, please come scream at me in your tags, in the comments, in my asks, in my DMs. Because I cannot wait to hear your thoughts.

Alright, enough of that 🤧 I’ll let you get to reading 😉

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 26/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC, Matt Jackson x OFC x Cash Wheeler, Adam Page x himself

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: Language; MAJOR angst

Catch up on previous parts here.

Tag squad: @freshlysqueezedmox @comeasyoudar @heelchampbucks @bec0m @betsy-bradock @linziland13 @gabbynorth98 @exe-darbyallin-exe @librathepheonix13 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @kingswitchblade

Callie pulled her phone out of her purse to check the time again. 8:57 a.m. She put it back and glanced anxiously around the hotel lobby. She and Cash had agreed to meet there at nine to head to Orlando, and with each passing minute she worried that it would be Matt who stepped out of the elevator instead.

Their conversation had played on a nonstop loop in her head all night. This all happened way too fast. Yeah, I guess it did. Over and over again. Except, in her head, it didn’t end the way it had last night. Instead of Matt walking off she called out to him to wait. She told him that the reason she’d been avoiding him was because she felt guilty about how much she enjoyed being with him. Her brain told her it was wrong, but her heart told her otherwise, and because she didn’t know how to reconcile the two it was easier to just avoid the issue all together.

And that’s exactly what she was doing now: avoiding the issue by going to Orlando with Cash. And she wasn’t just going for the day—she was staying the night at his place.

It had been Cash’s suggestion that she spend the night. It’ll save me a round trip, he’d said via text. It made sense; they both had to be back in Jacksonville for Dynamite tomorrow, so there was no point in making Cash drive four extra hours tonight. So, Callie had agreed.

But, deep down, she knew she’d mostly agreed because it helped her avoid Matt that much more.

She pulled out her phone again, but rather than check the time she opened the camera and flipped it to face toward her. Her double black eyes had worsened from last night, turning an ugly bluish color, but thankfully some full-coverage concealer had made them barely noticeable. Even so, she pushed her oversized sunglasses onto her face. The last thing she needed was people thinking she was a battered woman.

The elevator dinged, and Callie’s chest constricted as the doors slid open. Mercifully, it was Cash.

“You ready?” he asked as he moved toward her. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

She nodded and jumped up from her seat. “Mhm,” she said as she grabbed her suitcase. She couldn’t leave the hotel fast enough.

* * * * * * * * * *

The drive to Orlando was mostly quiet. Cash had asked her if there was anything in particular she wanted to do or see, but she’d just told him she was up for whatever. She knew absolutely nothing about Orlando outside of the fact that Disney World and Universal Studios were there and the little bit she’d seen when she’d stayed with Britt. But Cash didn’t seem bothered by her apparent lack of enthusiasm; he’d just grinned and said, “I got you.” It made Callie’s stomach flutter.

They dropped off their bags at his place and she met his English bulldog, Pawla, before they set off for their first stop of the day. Cash seemed excited as he steered his truck into a parking lot in front of a large complex. Callie, however, was more than just a little confused when she saw what it was.

“Go-karts?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed, but Cash just let out a laugh. “What? You don’t like go-karts?”

She didn’t answer, looking skeptically out the window at the building. For whatever reason, it made her think of Alex. Go-karts seemed more her speed. She frowned. I wonder if he took her here, too.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Cash said. “I think you could use the adrenaline boost.”

“I can think of better ways to get an adrenaline boost.”

As soon as she said it, Callie wished she could take it back. It had just slipped out, implication and all. She looked hesitantly at Cash. He was smirking.

“I’m sure you can,” he returned. Callie felt her cheeks burn hot behind her sunglasses.

“Come on,” he repeated as he unbuckled his seat belt. “I’ll let you pick where we go to lunch afterward.”

He got out of the truck, and Callie drew in a deep, calming breath through her nose as she did the same.

Maybe avoiding Matt wasn’t the only reason she’d decided to stay overnight in Orlando.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex still hadn’t gotten over what had happened at the Labor Day party. In a word, she felt awful. She wanted to text Callie and apologize again, but between nearly breaking her nose and all but telling her to stay away from Matt, she doubted she wanted to hear from her. So, in hopes of boosting her mood, she’d decided to sit out by Kenny’s pool and soak up the last vestiges of summer while she still could.

But, so far, it hadn’t worked.

Her phone chirped next to her on the lounger, and she picked it up and unlocked the screen. She had a text from Trent.

Hey loser. You have plans today?

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips as she typed back. Not really. Why?

She hit “send,” but instead of setting the phone back down she opened up Instagram. She clicked on Jay White’s story and let it autoplay through a couple more people before it unexpectedly came to Cash’s story. It was a Boomerang video of an indoor go-kart track. Alex recognized it; he’d taken her there one of the first weekends she’d stayed with him in Orlando.

A banner appeared at the top of her screen with Trent’s reply. Because Sam is in town if you want to come hang out.

That caught her off-guard. Sam, the boys’ friend who she’d first met five years ago. Alex had had no idea she was going to be in Jacksonville. Had one of them told her and it’d slipped her mind? But she didn’t think too much of it as she opened the text and sent her response.

Idk. After yesterday I kind of just feel like being a hermit today.

She went back to Instagram and refreshed the page—and her eyes widened at the first picture that popped up.

Callie, a bright smile on her face as she posed in a helmet at the very same indoor go-kart track from Cash’s story.

“Are you shitting me?”

“There you are.”

Alex nearly dropped her phone on her face at the sound of Kenny’s voice. He gave her an amused look. “You alright?”

“Yeah…” she started. But she thought better of it and huffed, “No.”

Kenny cocked his head in concern as he sat down on the edge of the lounger next to her. “What’s wrong?”

Alex let out a sound that was half sigh, half groan. The last thing she wanted to do was to complain to Kenny about Callie and Cash, of all people. But if she couldn’t talk to him about it, who could she? “I’m just frustrated with the whole Callie situation,” she breathed.

She glanced at him from underneath the bill of her baseball cap. He frowned sympathetically at her. “I know, baby. But you didn’t hit her on purpose. If she doesn’t believe that it’s her problem.”

“It’s not just that,” she interjected. “According to Instagram she’s in Orlando with Cash right now.”

His brow furrowed in confusion when she said that. Alex knew exactly what he was thinking. “I don’t give two shits about Cash,” she assured him. “He can do whatever and whoever he wants. Honestly, I expect bullshit like this from him. But I don’t get where Callie’s head is at. Where the hell does she get off blaming me for ruining her relationship with Adam while she’s off driving fucking go-karts with the guy who stabbed him in the back? It hasn’t even been two weeks since she left him!”

“Because it’s what Callie does,” Kenny blithely returned. “She thinks she’s blameless in everything and doesn’t take accountability for anything. This isn’t the first time she’s shown you that’s exactly the kind of person she is.”

“But we were friends, Kenny! Somehow, we got over all the bullshit and became friends, and then fucking Adam…”

She trailed off, her voice growing thick with emotion, and looked to the ceiling. She didn’t want to get upset. But it was hard not to. She felt betrayed. That was the only word for it.

“Hey.” Kenny put a hand on her bare leg, drawing her eyes back to his. “Do you want my honest advice?”

She nodded.

“Stop wasting your energy on Callie and Adam. They’re not worth it, Alex. You’ve given them so much of your time and effort and what have you gotten in return?”

A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and she quickly wiped it away. She didn’t need to answer him. They both knew the answer. “I know,” she softly agreed. “You’re probably right.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Of course I am.” He leaned over and kissed the side of her head. “I was thinking about ordering sushi for dinner tonight. That always makes you feel better.”

She perked up a bit at that. “Can we get sake, too?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’ll get you sake, too.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

He gave her leg an affectionate squeeze and stood. “Well, I’m gonna go get a workout in. Wanna join me?”

Alex couldn’t help herself. “Is that a euphemism?”

He grinned. “No, despite how much I want to take that bikini off you right now.”

She just playfully rolled her eyes in response.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “Endorphins will make you feel better, too.”

Alex emitted a dramatic groan as she put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. “Not if you try to kill me like you did last time,” she argued.

“But I always take good care of you afterward,” he said. “That was a euphemism, by the way.”

She returned his smirk. “Yeah, I got it.”

* * * * * * * * * *

To Cash’s credit, the go-karts had been fun—but Callie was more than happy to take the lead on the rest of the day. She’d picked out a restaurant on International Drive for lunch (Cash had groaned and said that was where all the tourists went, to which she’d cheekily replied that she was a tourist), and afterward he’d convinced her to ride the Ferris wheel at ICON Park, where he’d pointed out some of the different areas of the city to her (Callie, who was afraid of heights, had kept a death grip on his arm the entire time). Then, at Callie’s request, they’d driven around some of the neighborhoods so that she could get a better feel for them (“Obviously, I recommend my neighborhood,” Cash had said). Overall, it had turned out to be a good day after all, and Orlando was looking more and more like the place Callie wanted to move.

But, the more time she spent with him, the more she started to wonder how much of that feeling was due to Cash.

“What’re you craving?” he asked as they sat on the couch in his living room.

“You pick,” she returned. Pawla lounged between them, and she reached down to scratch her behind the ears. “I’m honestly still stuffed from lunch.”

“Chinese it is,” he decided, and he pulled out his phone to order. Callie did the same, but to open up Instagram—and she found that Alex was the first person in her stories queue. She stared at the little circle of her profile picture, hesitant. But she was too nosy not to look, so she angled her phone screen away from Cash and clicked.

There were only two pictures in her story. The first showed her in sweat-drenched workout gear lying face-down on a gym room floor with the caption, “@/kennyomegamanx tried to kill me again.” The second was of her smiling in satisfaction in front of a takeout container of sushi. “He made up for it,” the caption read.

“I guess Alex and Kenny aren’t hiding their relationship anymore.”

She froze and glanced at Cash out of the corner of her eye. That was the second time that day she’s put her foot in her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “They’re probably the last two people you want to hear about.”

But Cash shook his head. “I don’t care. They can have each other.”

Callie frowned. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but he spoke up again before she could.

“Do you prefer beef and broccoli or chicken?”

She thought for a second. “Beef.”

A few more clicks and he finished putting in the order. “It says it’ll be here in thirty-five minutes,” he said as he stood from the couch. “You want a drink? I have a bottle of The Rock’s tequila, it’s really good.”

Callie’s nose scrunched up. “Do you have vodka?”

“Yeah. You want it on the rocks or mixed?”

“Mixed please.”

He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Callie occupied herself with petting Pawla until he returned with their drinks a few minutes later. “Here you go; vanilla vodka and Coke Zero.”

“Oo, that sounds good,” she said as he handed her the cocktail. She took a sip. He’d made it just right, not too much vodka, not too little.

“So, what’d you think of Orlando?” he asked as he sat back down. “Did I convince you to become my neighbor?”

His choice of words made her stomach flutter again. “I think so. There’s more to do here than in Jacksonville, and a two-hour drive to work is a lot better than a cross-country flight.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I like it. Dax is planning on moving back to Asheville, but I think I’m gonna stay here. It’s grown on me. Plus, I like Disney and Universal Studios too much.”

“Yeah, I definitely want to check those out,” she returned.

“We should plan a weekend,” he smirked. Callie took a sip of her drink to hide her blush.

They fell into silence, and they both turned their attention to the random show Cash had put on the television. But there was something hanging in the air; Callie could feel it. She was about to speak up when Cash beat her to it.

“So, we’ve avoided the topic all day, but I kind of feel like I have to ask now.”

There was no need for him to clarify what he meant. “Matt?” she guessed.

He nodded. She shifted in her seat. “What about him?”

“Well… are you two not together?”

He sounded almost hopeful. She hesitated to respond.

“That was the rumor backstage,” he added.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it was. But I guess, yeah, at one point it was moving in that direction. But… I actually told him last night that I think we rushed into things.”

“Oh,” Cash said. It was obvious that he expected her to continue, but her confusion over Matt was the last thing Callie wanted to get into right now. So, she deflected.

“There’s something I need to ask you, too.”

Cash arched his eyebrows as he raised his glass to his lips. “That doesn’t sound good,” he joked.

But Callie wasn’t joking. “Why’d you do what you did to Adam?”

He paused to cock his head at her. “What do you mean?”

She shot him a flat look as he took a sip of his drink. “I mean when you stabbed him in the back, Cash.”

Cash made a noise as he swallowed down the tequila. “Damn, not pulling any punches, huh?”

“You didn’t with Adam.”

He looked back at her in surprise. She didn’t waiver. He breathed out again.

“Alright, look,” he started. “I don’t have anything against Adam. I’ve known him a long time. But he and Kenny had what we wanted, and we did what we had to do to get it.”

She rolled her eyes again. That was such a canned response.

“What?”

“You did not have to do what you did,” she returned. “You didn’t have to manipulate him the way you did.”

His eyebrows arched. “Manipulate him? Callie, all we did was point out that Kenny and the Bucks don’t give two shits about him. He did the rest himself.”

“What?”

“I swear.”

“So you didn’t tell him to sabotage Matt and Nick in the gauntlet match?”

“No! He did that because he was upset about you and Matt!”

Callie’s brow puckered in confusion. “What?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “He told us at the hotel bar that night that he found out right before the gauntlet match that you were staying with Matt in California, so he retaliated by sabotaging their title shot. Dax and I didn’t have anything to do with that, I promise you.”

The room grew silent as his words sunk in, stunning her. That was exactly what Alex had surmised when Matt had confronted her immediately after the gauntlet match. But Callie hadn’t wanted to believe it, and after FTR had turned on Adam she’d assumed that they’d been the ones to put the idea in his head.

But if Cash was telling her that they hadn’t, then it meant she really was to blame.

“Hey,” Cash softly beckoned. She looked back up at him. His eyes were earnest. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t mean to make it sound like it was. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Callie stared down into her drink, tapping her fingernails on the glass. She appreciated the sentiment, but she didn’t agree. Not really. “Well, technically I walked out him, so…”

She trailed off and took a long drink. She felt like such a bitch. I shouldn’t be here.

“And?” Cash returned, drawing her out of her thoughts. “I’m sure you had good reason to.”

Callie didn’t answer right away, nearly draining her drink. Once she’d had enough, she looked down at Pawla and scratched her head again. “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said.

“Done,” he said, and she sent him a tight, grateful smile. “So what do you wanna do? Watch a movie?”

She nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I just have one request.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Anything but Mean Girls.”

* * * * * * * * * *

When Matt arrived at Daily’s Place on Wednesday, he had half a mind to go to Tony and tell him to cancel the mixed tag match. He had no desire to wrestle a match with Callie anymore. To be frank, he didn’t want much of anything to do with her at the moment.

He knew she’d been in Orlando with Cash yesterday. He’d seen her Instagram photo at the go-kart track and hadn’t thought much of it. But not long after, Kenny had texted him.

Hey, did you know Callie is in Orlando with Cash right now?

It had caught him completely off-guard. No? he’d responded. Who told you that?

He’d been more on-edge than he cared to admit while he’d awaited Kenny’s reply. Alex. I guess they posted photos from the same place on Instagram or something.

A quick search for Cash’s Instagram profile—Matt didn’t follow that asshole—had confirmed the claim to be true. It wasn’t a photo, but a Boomerang video on his story that gave it away. It was unmistakably the same indoor go-kart track from Callie’s picture.

I just thought you should know, Kenny had followed up. Matt hadn’t responded. He’d tried to put it out of his mind ever since, but he couldn’t. He kept going back to what Callie had said to him the last time he’d seen her.

This all happened way too fast.

He didn’t disagree; they had moved fast. But what confused him was that Callie had been the one to set the pace, not him. He’d thought she’d wanted everything that had happened between them.

But the way she was acting now made him feel like nothing more than a regret.

“Matt.”

“Hm.” He looked up from his phone at Brandon. He, Nick, and Kenny all stared expectantly at him from across the EVP room.

“Do you want me to film the mixed tag match for BTE?” Brandon asked. His tone that conveyed he was repeating himself. Matt obviously hadn’t heard him the first time.

“Oh, no. Sorry,” he replied, and he looked back down at his phone. He saw the three of them exchange a wary glance out of his peripheral vision. Thankfully, they just left it alone.

“Alright, I’m starving,” Nick announced as he stood from his seat. “You guys coming?”

“Yeah,” Brandon agreed.

“No,” Kenny wearily returned. “I got that interview with JR.”

There was a pause. And then, “Matt?”

He looked up again, this time at his brother. He shook his head. “No. I’m not hungry.”

Nick let out a breath. “Alright,” he said, and he and Brandon went out the door, leaving Matt and Kenny alone. The silence in the room was deafening. But it didn’t last long.

“Have you talked to Callie at all?” Kenny asked. “About the match,” he quickly clarified.

Matt shook his head again. “No. I haven’t talked to her period. Not since Monday.”

There was another beat of uncomfortable silence. Again, Kenny was the one to break it. “Look, about yesterday. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Don’t,” Matt abruptly cut him off. He knew exactly what he was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it. “I’m glad you told me. Let’s just leave it at that.”

He raised his palms in surrender. “Fine,” he said, and Matt hoped that really was the end of it.

But then Kenny added, “But I think you owe Alex an apology.”

“What?” Matt cut his eyes at him in disbelief. “For what?”

“Oh, come on, you know exactly for what. For the whole reason the mixed tag match is happening in the first place.”

That confused him even more. “The mixed tag match is happening because Trent can’t mind his fucking business.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Oh, okay,” he sarcastically returned.

“What?”

“You called Alex a slut, Matt!” Kenny burst. “That’s what led to the mixed tag match! You accused her of putting Hangman up to sabotaging your title shot and you called her a slut for being involved with both me and Cash. But where was Callie yesterday? In Orlando with Cash, even though she’s apparently with you. So yeah, I think you owe Alex an apology.”

Matt sat back, physically stung by Kenny’s words. They hurt because there was more than just a grain of truth in them. But, at the moment, he was too stubborn to hear it. “Oh, so Callie’s the slut now? Is that what you’re saying?”

Kenny expelled an exasperated breath. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“It sure fucking sounds like it is.”

“I’m saying she’s making you look like a fucking idiot.”

They were thrown into silence again, their arguing replaced with quiet, palpable hostility as they sat opposed on either end of the room. Matt’s eyes turned dark. He didn’t need this. Not now. Not from his best friend.

“Fuck you, Kenny,” he spat. He stood and stalked toward the door, and as he gripped the handle he turned back, a cutting remark on the tip of his tongue. But in a moment of clarity, he decided it was better left unsaid. The shoe was on the other foot now. So he just went out the door, suddenly glad that he did have a match. He needed to hit something.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Are you guys going out for Jim’s match?”

Alex glanced across the locker room at Trent, looking for him to answer Chuck’s question. He met her gaze before responding.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “We’ll probably stay back here and focus on our match.”

Chuck nodded. “Yeah. I wish it wasn’t mixed tag rules. I’d like to see Alex hand Matt his ass.”

“Oh, she doesn’t even need to touch him to do that,” Trent returned. “Didn’t he train Callie?”

Alex knew he was asking her, but she didn’t look up as she rummaged through her suitcase. “I think so.”

Trent smirked. “So then kicking Callie’s ass will be kicking Matt’s by proxy,” he said. Chuck blinked at him.

“Wow, you actually used that correctly.”

He sucked his teeth. “Fuck off. I know big words.”

“‘Proxy’ is a five-letter word.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Spell it.”

“Are you serious?”

Alex smirked to herself and let them continue to argue while she grabbed the top to her gear and a pair of joggers and went into the bathroom to change. Truth be told, she didn’t want to talk or even think about the match against Callie and Matt. It was a complete one-eighty from a week ago—she’d been aching to kick Matt’s ass then. But now, she just wished the entire situation would go away.

She finished changing and returned to the main area of the locker room. Chuck was still challenging Trent to spell different words. “I’m going to hair and makeup,” she announced over them.

“What gear are you wearing?” Trent asked.

She turned to face him as she pulled on her zip-up hoodie. Her top was a sparkly dark silver-purple with black trim. “This gear. Why?”

“Because we should try to match. I knew I should have brought the gear from Fyter Fest…” he trailed off as he dug through his things and pulled out his dark gray tights with the blue and pink designs. “Do these work?”

Alex gave him a soft smile. “Yeah, those work. I’ll ask Stella to do a blue and pink eye look,” she said, and she went out the door.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get ten steps before she ran into Adam.

He slowed to a stop when he saw her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she returned, and her brow puckered with concern as she looked him over. He had his ubiquitous glass of whiskey in hand, but he at least looked better than he had when she’d seen him at the hotel on Sunday. “Going somewhere?”

He looked confused at that. “No… why?”

She awkwardly fidgeted with the sleeve of her hoodie. “Well, you just look dressed for TV and I didn’t see you on the card tonight. I wasn’t even sure you were here.”

Adam hadn’t said a single word to her since she’d texted him to ask if he was going to the Labor Day party. But she hadn’t said a single word to him since then, either. Because the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d realized how right Kenny was. It was exhausting putting so much effort into a friendship where she wasn’t getting the same effort in return.

“Oh,” Adam regretfully said as he looked down at his pale blue button-up. “Yeah, I just had an interview with Schiavone.”

“Oh,” Alex repeated. “About—”

“Where I go from here,” he interjected. “I said I was still open to tagging with Kenny if he was.”

He laughed wryly to himself and took a sip of his drink. Alex frowned and looked away. Kenny was not open to tagging with him again; she knew that for a fact. But judging by the look on Adam’s face, deep down he knew that, too.

“Where are you headed?”

She looked back up at him. “Oh, hair and makeup. For the match tonight.”

Realization dawned in his eyes. And then, sadness and hurt. “Oh, right. You have the mixed tag against Matt and Callie.”

“Yeah.” Alex fidgeted and glanced away again. She couldn’t bear the look on his face. But then she wondered: did he know that Callie had been in Orlando with Cash yesterday? Should she tell him?

No, she quickly decided. It’s not your place or responsibility.

“Well, I should get over there,” she said, gesturing in the direction of hair and makeup.

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded as she started walking. “Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks,” she said, and she turned and hurried off as quickly as she could.

* * * * * * * * * *

In the years since she’d started wrestling, Callie had never felt as much of an outcast as she did now. As soon as she’d arrived at the arena with Cash, she’d realized she had nowhere to go. The EVP room was out of the question, and she didn’t want to go back to sharing a dressing room with Britt—she was the one who’d blabbed her business all over Daily’s Place to begin with. Cash had offered for her to share with him and Dax, but she’d turned him down; she could only imagine the rumors that would start if people noticed her sharing a locker room with FTR. No, she needed to keep a low-profile, and so she’d found an empty room away from everyone else. Now, she sat in one of the lounges watching the show as she awaited her match, alone.

Orange Cassidy had just beaten Angelico with the Orange Punch. Callie had expected Best Friends and Alex to be at ringside for the match, but they weren’t. She looked away from the TV and down at her phone as Bryce Remsburg raised Orange’s arm in victory, but a commotion a moment later redrew her attention. Santana and Ortiz had attacked Orange from behind. The assault didn’t last long, however, as Chuck and Trent ran out and chased them off like a pair of guard dogs. Callie couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Trent angrily paced the ring, shirtless in his skinny jeans. She sincerely hoped Matt would get a quick pin on him in their match.

Chuck grabbed a mike to speak, but Callie’s phone buzzed in her hands and she looked down at the screen. It was a text from Cash.

Are you free? I need a favor.

Her pulse picked up a bit as she unlocked her phone to respond. Yeah… what’s up? she typed back and hit “send.” She watched as the typing bubble appeared and, soon after, his answer.

Don’t laugh. I can’t decide on a shirt.

Despite his request, Callie couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. But she couldn’t blame him too much; FTR was having an in-ring celebration in honor of their championship victory at All Out that night. He probably wanted to look his best.

Usual room? she asked as she stood to leave.

Usual room, he replied, and she headed off in the direction of FTR’s dressing room.

The door was slightly open when she arrived, and she knocked to announce herself before she let herself in. Cash stood alone in the middle of the room in a pair of dark navy slacks and socks, shirtless. Callie’s mouth went suddenly dry as he looked over at her.

“Okay, I can’t decide between these two.” He motioned to a pair of dress shirts hung up in the cubby behind him—one white with tiny blue dots, the other with a subtle blue and white checkered pattern. She walked over and pulled them both out of the cubby so that she could hold them up next to him. He smirked at her as she studied them. She did her best to ignore it.

“This one,” she decided, handing him the checkered shirt. But she frowned as she returned the white shirt to its place. “Are those the only dress shoes you have?” she asked, nodding at the pair of black square-toed loafers on the floor.

“Yeah…” Cash slowly returned. “Why? Is something wrong with them?”

It took every fiber of Callie’s being not to blurt out with, “Yes, they’re hideous.” Instead, she said, “Just brown would look better with navy, is all.”

“Oh,” he realized. “I guess I should have asked your advice before we left this morning.”

She smirked. “Is that all you needed?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he answered as he pulled on the shirt. Callie watched as he fastened the buttons, and she realized she was staring. She fidgeted and looked awkwardly away, but Cash didn’t seem to notice. “Are you ready for your match?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Physically, yes. Mentally… not at all.”

He snorted. “Make Matt do all the work. He’s the one who dragged you into this.”

Callie anxiously bit her lip. He wasn’t wrong; of the four of them in the mixed tag, she was the only one who hadn’t been present when the match was made. But even so, she couldn’t do that to Matt. “No, I don’t want to do that. And besides, Matt didn’t ask for the match, either—Trent did. All because he didn’t like Matt mouthing off about Alex.”

Cash rolled his eyes as he tucked his shirt into his pants. “That doesn’t surprise me. I think he has a thing for her.”

She scoffed. “You think he does? Please, it’s obvious he does,” she said. And then she muttered, “It seems like everyone has a thing for her.”

“Not me,” Cash abruptly announced. “I’ve moved on.”

Callie looked up at him, but he turned away to grab his suit jacket. She wondered if he had more to say—it felt like he had more to say—but before she could ask the door to the locker room opened and Dax walked in. He halted when he saw her.

“Oh, hey, Callie. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

He glanced between her and Cash. They both quickly shook their heads. “No, I just asked her to come help me pick out a shirt,” Cash said.

“Ah,” Dax nodded. Callie didn’t miss the little smirk on his face. It was her cue to go.

“Well, I’ll go so you can get dressed,” she said to Dax as she started to leave.

“Good luck if I don’t see you before your match,” Cash returned, and she gave him a tight smile and went out the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex’s hands were clammy as she stood at Gorilla with Trent. The mixed tag match was next. Unfortunately, it was right after FTR’s joke of a tag team championship celebration. She did her best to tune out Dax’s egotistical blathering as she rolled her neck and loosened up. She needed to focus. A match was a match, and even though she wasn’t looking forward to this one, she still wanted to do her best.

“You ready for this?” Trent asked.

She looked up at him and nodded. “Yeah. Are you?” she meaningfully returned. She still couldn’t believe that he and Chuck had challenged Santana and Ortiz to a parking lot brawl next week. On top of worrying that they’d murder each other, she was concerned that Trent’s focus was no longer on their match.

“Yes,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about me.”

Alex smirked. “Man, have I got bad news for you next week.”

He gave her a crooked smile; but then his eye was drawn to a spot just past her shoulder. She turned to look. Matt and Callie had arrived.

Trent scoffed. “They don’t match at all. Losers.”

Normally, Alex would have laughed. But it was obvious even in the dim lighting of Gorilla that Matt and Callie’s gear wasn’t the only thing off about them. Callie in particular seemed unsure of herself. Her eyes met Alex’s. She turned away without a second glance.

Back in the ring, the “celebration” came to a screeching halt when Jurassic Express dumped a cooler full of beer cans over Cash, Dax, and Tully’s heads. Thankfully, they returned backstage a different way than through the entrance tunnels.

Alex drew in a breath and shook out her arms and legs as the show went to commercial. But it seemed like no time had passed at all when she heard the distinctive beat of the Best Friends theme song sound throughout the arena.

“Let’s do this,” Trent said as he held out his fist to her. She bumped it confidently with her own, and they walked into the tunnel together.

* * * * * * * * * *

A boulder settled in the pit of Callie’s stomach as she watched Alex and Trent disappear down the entrance tunnel. She didn’t know why she’d expected Alex to be just as nervous as her. On the contrary, she’d looked laser-focused; her and Trent both had. It was glaringly obvious that they were ten times more prepared for this match than she and Matt were. The two of them hadn’t even walked to Gorilla together—they’d just happened to get there at the same time.

“I’ll start the match,” Matt said. “I’ll try to keep your ring time to a minimum.”

Callie looked at him in hurt and confusion. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s obvious you don’t want to do this,” he breathed. “So I’ll just make quick work of Trent and get it over with, alright?”

“SUPERKICK PARTAYYYYYY!”

The opening of the Young Bucks theme interrupted before Callie could say anything. Matt didn’t so much as glance at her before he walked into the tunnel, and she had no choice but to follow him out.

The crowd offered a mixture of boos and cheers as they walked out onto the stage, but Callie couldn’t hear them over the music. She stood awkwardly next to Matt and waited for him to do his signature pose, but he never did. He just glared into the ring at Trent, who glared right back.

BOOM!

The cannons on the side of the stage shot fake $100 bills high into the air, making Callie flinch. She looked back into the ring as the paper money floated down around them. Alex rolled her eyes in annoyance and turned to say something to Trent.

She stood stiffly at the top of the stage until Matt moved, and they made their way down the entrance ramp. Trent started jaw-jacking, but Callie tuned him out as she took her place on the ring apron. Matt, however, took the bait; Aubrey had to push him back as they yelled at each other. Eventually, Trent scoffed and turned back to Alex.

“You wanna start?” Callie heard him ask.

But Alex didn’t even get the chance to open her mouth before Matt yelled, “No, we’re starting the match!”

Alex and Trent exchanged a look, but she stepped through the ropes and out onto the apron next to the turnbuckle. Matt removed his leather jacket and tossed it to the floor. Aubrey called for the bell, and the match started.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex didn’t know if Matt was ignoring Callie, if Trent just wanted to beat the shit out of Matt, or if it was some combination of both. But whatever the case, the match had been going on for nearly ten minutes now, and neither of them had even tried to tag in her or Callie. It was aggravating, but at least it worked in her team’s favor. The match had effectively become a singles contest, and Trent had far more experience wrestling on his own than Matt did. That, and his cardio was better. If it continued like this, it would only be a matter of time before they won.

Matt tried to whip Trent toward the ropes, but he reversed it and pulled him into a side headlock. He pivoted toward a corner and charged, running up the turnbuckle to hit a float-over DDT. He went for the pin—but Matt kicked out at two. Afterward, both men remained still on the mat, taking what chance they could to catch their breath. Alex eagerly stepped up onto the bottom rope and banged on the turnbuckle. She wanted in.

“Trent! Tag me in!”

She leaned into the ring, reaching as far as she could, and he looked over at her. But just as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, Matt hit him with a clubbing blow to the back. He grabbed him by the hair and jerked him into a chinlock. It wasn’t a move that Matt typically did. Alex knew it meant he was getting tired.

The crowd started clapping in rhythm for Trent, and Alex stomped her boot on the ring apron in time. Trent wrenched at Matt’s fingers, prying them away from his face. In response, Matt pulled him to his feet and swiftly maneuvered to hit a float-over DDT of his own. Alex bit down on her jaw as she watched him hook his leg. Trent got his shoulder up at two.

Alex stepped back up onto the ropes. She was tired of this. “Why don’t you tag in your partner, huh, Matt?” she taunted. “Worried she can’t beat me?”

Matt glared daggers at her as he climbed to his feet. “I don’t want to subject everyone to having to watch you wrestle,” he spat.

But Alex’s wit was just as quick. “Oh really? You look awfully lost without your little brother out here doing all the work.”

That needled him. She knew it would. But what she didn’t expect was his response.

“Please, you wouldn’t even have a contract if you weren’t on your knees for Kenny every night.”

For a second, Alex was stunned into silence. But then a white-hot rage bubbled up inside her. She ducked through the ropes and charged toward him.

“What’d you say to me?”

“You heard me.”

“Why don’t you say it again.”

“Get out of the ring, Alex!” Aubrey ordered.

“Matt!”

At Callie’s warning cry, Matt instinctively whirled around and dodged—and what happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion.

Trent flew toward Alex like a bullet. He crashed into her and knocked the wind from her lungs, sending her violently back into the turnbuckle. She felt a pop in her right shoulder, and then nothing but searing hot pain.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Trent realized what he’d done, he felt sick.

He hadn’t known Alex was in the ring. That DDT had left him dazed, and he’d been oblivious to his surroundings until he’d spotted Matt with his back turned to him. So he went for a spear. But Matt dodged at the last second. Trent had absolutely no chance to stop himself or correct course, and he rammed full speed into Alex.

He watched in stunned horror as she writhed against the turnbuckle. She clenched her right arm, her face screwed up in pain. She was hurt. He’d hurt her.

“Alex—”

Smack!

He was abruptly cut off by a superkick to the jaw. He crumpled to the mat. Matt dragged him by the ankle further into the ring and pinned him. The count sounded distant and faint.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bell rung. Trent felt Matt throw down his leg as the music started, ringing in his ears. He stared up into the lights, unblinking, while Matt’s arm was raised in victory. He’d hurt her. He’d hurt her and then lost the match.

“Alex,” he said again as he rolled over onto his hands and knees. She was still huddled against the turnbuckle, clutching her arm as Aubrey checked on her. He felt sick all over again.

“Alex.” He crawled over to her and put a hand on her knee. She looked up at him. Unshed tears shined in her eyes. It broke him. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “It was an accident—”

“Alex!”

Suddenly, Kenny was in the ring. He practically pushed Trent out of the way as he knelt in front of Alex. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“I think it’s dislocated,” she winced.

Trent looked at her right shoulder. It hung visibly lower than her left. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Let’s get you to Doc,” he said as he tried to move toward her again.

But Kenny blocked him. “I got it,” he bit. Trent didn’t have it in him to argue.

He watched as Kenny helped her to her feet and ushered her to the ropes; he held them open for her so she could gingerly duck through. As she stepped to the other side, Alex looked back. For a brief second their eyes met. But then Kenny put his arm around her, and she turned away and disappeared into the back.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie couldn’t stay out there a second longer. She was horrified by what she’d witnessed. The way Matt had taken advantage of Trent’s awful mistake, how he hadn’t hesitated to kick him in the jaw—there’d been a viciousness in his eyes that she’d never seen before. And she didn’t want any part of it.

She stormed off before Aubrey could even raise his arm in victory, marching quickly up the ramp. Kenny nearly bowled her over on his way down to the ring, and she turned to watch as he ran to Alex’s aid. But then she saw Matt coming after her, and she turned back around and hurried through the entrance tunnel.

“Callie!”

She didn’t stop or even glance his way. She just kept walking.

“Callie! What the fuck?”

That got her stop and face him. “Me what the fuck? You what the fuck, Matt? What the fuck was that out there?”

If looks could kill, she was certain she would have been dead on the spot. “Are you serious?” he spat. “I won the match and you just ran off!”

Her eyes darkened. “Well, I didn’t want to be a part of it anyway, right?”

Matt bit down on his jaw. There was nothing he could say to that. She gave him one last glare and turned her back on him again, praying that was the end of it. She just wanted to leave. Alone.

“I want your shit out of my house by the weekend.”

Callie halted. His words were like a knife in the back. They hurt. And suddenly, she wanted him to hurt, too.

She turned around again, her head held high. “That’s fine, because I don’t want to move back to California anymore.”

She held his gaze in defiance. But Matt just laughed, cruel and low. “Let me guess, Orlando with Cash?”

She faltered. He knew about yesterday. But she steeled herself again. “No. I want to move to Orlando for me.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

“That’s the truth!”

“Was all this just a rebound to you?”

If his previous words had been a knife to the back, those were a blow to the gut. Tears sprung to the back of Callie’s eyes. Her voice came out strained. Apologetic. “No. I care about you, Matt. So much that it scares me.”

He laughed again and looked away. “Coulda fooled me.”

She took a step toward him. “Matt—”

“Have fun in Orlando,” he cut her off, and that time it was him who stormed off and left her behind. Alone.

#aew fanfiction #kenny omega fanfiction #cash wheeler fanfiction #matt jackson fanfiction #trent beretta fanfiction #the elite fanfiction #young bucks fanfiction #best friends fanfiction #adam page fanfiction #hangman page fanfiction #hangman adam page fanfiction #ftr fanfiction

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octania · 4 years

Text

Midnight shadow (Dabi x Reader 18+)

(Dabi x Reader / 18+/ SMUT)

This is the third chapter of the Midnight stalker. (Chapter 2 - Midnight hunter)

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, masturbation, violence, threats,stalking.

Short description: When you decide to look for your stalker Dabi, you don't even know what dark secrets will emerge along the way and what claws are eagerly waiting to grab you out of the darkness.

__________________________________________________________

He had heard of love, but never knew what it was. He only knew the word, and he didn't say it either. That word was one of the greatest delusions of the human race, the most disgusting lie. And he could confirm that. He saw with his own eyes. He remembered how love falls like a tower of cards over any threat that arises before it. He watched her weak hands and senseless attempts to keep him safe, he listened to her empty promises to protect him, but if she had succeeded, he would not be where he is now, he would not have this conversation with himself, nor would he wear these disgusting scars as evidence of her failure and failed promise.

He returned to the only thing he knew, the only path he had walked unencumbered, a path that was not paved with a thousand questions and insecurities. He went back to what he knew brought a good, comfortable, desirable feeling. Something that suited him, something he didn't have to think about. Pleasure, to be more specific, sexual pleasure. To satisfy his body, alone, without too many complications. He lay down on his bed with a pair of pillows and a thin blanket on it, taking his cell phone out of his back pocket. He was too tired to think, he wanted pleasure to start flowing through his body as soon as possible, and he wanted empty thoughts. He typed the name of the porn site into a search window and started browsing the various videos that were offered to him. He wasn't even aware that everything he'd been looking for, and the superficial way he'd done it, was now dead and replaced by specific desires.

Instead of fake breasts and other pronounced attributes that had a clear purpose on this page, his eye searched for a certain hair color. Your hair color. Your facial features, the shape of your lips, and even your eyes. The body structure had to match yours, otherwise it didn't satisfy. He scrolled the screen longer than a few minutes, not even realizing how long it has been. Every tasteless make up on the face of porn actresses aroused disgust in him. Their greedy gaze, stripped of everything but the pure animal need for sex, was by no means what he longed for now. The look you gave him after you saved him and told him your name. He stopped the search, staring blankly at his cell phone. He touched the left corner of the screen where the miniature magnifying glass icon was located and typed the letters of your name, pressing Search. Although he subconsciously knew how stupid this move was, he gazed at the couple of videos at the top. The women who smiled back at him now were anything but you. His patience was getting thinner, he could feel his shoulders tense, his jaw tighten and a feeling forming in his chest that he had tried to escape from with this very act. He had to give himself break, get rid of at least some of the frustration.Since his attempt to find similarities between porn actresses and you fell into the water, the latest addition to the information he gathered about you could have been used in another place. Before opening a new icon on his smartphone, he grabbed the edges of his white T-shirt, taking it off himself with one lazy pull of his hands. It was stuffy in his room, he hadn't raised the blinds in days, and given the high summer temperatures and his own body heat, glistening drops of sweat had already formed in the corner of his forehead beneath his thick black hair. He retrieved a crumpled box of cigarettes from the nightstand, tapping the box on the edge of the bed. A cigarette filter popped out of a torn hole in the box. He brought the spongy filter to his lips, biting the light surface. He pulled a cigarette out of the box as he opened the multicolored icon on his cell phone screen with his thumb.

The social network called Instagram opened, asking for login information. He smiled at the thought of having a profile on such networks. One of the most wanted villains collects likes with half-naked selfies. Fortunately, he didn't need a personal account. He remembered the fake profile Twice and Toga had made when they drank a little too much alcohol one night, having fun leaving naughty comments on the All Might fan page. He couldn’t imagine a stupider thing anyone could do. But luckily, he was present when they created the account. He typed in a username and paused. It took him a few seconds to remember the passwords they had used. He knew it was related to the insults they used. A small smile escaped his lips when he finally typed in a simple password that couldn’t have been simpler. AllMightSucks. The profile full of red notifications which were from angry fans ’responses to their humiliating words about Number one hero puzzled Dabi because he couldn’t believe the account was still not blocked due to so many reports. He ignored the countless angry messages that glowed the same intense red and headed for the search space. His eyes narrowed as he typed in your name and squeezed the search. He didn’t know your last name, and a lot of people generally don’t have their real first name on their profile. This seemed more and more futile. Hundreds of profiles have opened under your name. He passed them quickly, pausing a few times when the picture was so blurry that he wasn't sure what was hiding on it, but each time he would be disappointed, closing the profile and continuing his search.

In the process of searching, another detail managed to discourage him. Many of the profiles were private, so even though he might find you with some crazy luck, it will be in vain again. Preoccupied with the search, he forgot that he was still holding a cigarette between his teeth. He moved his free hand to the top of the cigarette. The blue flame rose gently across the surface of the skin of his index finger. He inhaled the sweet poison into his lungs. Two icy eyes flashed behind a curtain of smoke spreading across the room. His lips curled into a sinister smile as he watched the small profile picture. Your profile.

Your name was the same ... along with your last name.He could feel the excitement when he now learned your whole name. This could not have been simpler, how this had not occurred to him before? He opened a profile, which was public. How many mistakes can you make because of so much innocence. Your profile consisted of hand-full of pictures, almost all posted in the last two years, except for one that was about seven years old. Your young face that was still at the mercy of puberty, smiled with a pink braces. You managed to make him laugh. You managed to make Dabi laugh, and you weren't even aware of it. However, one picture quickly caught his attention and did not lure the same kind of smile to his face. The photo you posted because of the endless persuasion of your friends, spontaneous in nature but really challenging, was a photo of you in a thin bathing suit as you stepped out of the water. The smiling face on which the drops of water followed your neck and continued to your big breasts, over your belly all the way to the lower part of your tight bikini, gave Dabi more than the desired scene. This is what people call the Jackpot, he thought mockingly. He licked the tip of the cigarette filter as he moved his free hand toward his belt. With a few moves of his fingers, he unbuttoned the buckle and headed for the zipper of his jeans. He lowered his jeans, while grabbing the top of the boxers, clearing the way for his already hardened dick. He grabbed it at the base, giving it a few lazy strokes, returning his attention to your picture. He could see himself catching those drops of water with his tongue, following all the lines of your body, from your jaw, to the neck where he would leave a few light hickeys. He inhaled the smoke, holding the cigarette now only with his teeth as he let the smoke out of his mouth. The grip around his lenght became fiercer, as he started pumping it faster. He could taste your salty skin from the sea, how smooth it was and how his tongue would sink into your soft breasts as he burned every bit of fabric on them, clearing the way to your nipples. How you would bend and moan as your senses raged at his sucking of those sensitive parts. He wouldn't stop no matter how much you said you couldn't take it anymore, he'd just bite your nipple again lightly, forcing you to scream his name. When he was briefly fed up with those sighs and the constant mention of his name, he would move on along the path of your body. Until now you sighed with pleasure, now you would cry out because of his teasing. The thought of kissing the inside of your thigh, stroking the surface of your panties just enough for you to feel the slight vibrations on your delicate folds , and as he rudely touches your clit just for a moment and pulls his fingers back, he made his rhythm quicken. Veins popped out on the light skin of his throbbing dick, making it look even thicker. The tip was releasing a few drops of cum, as the skin was tense, looking like it will let out the full amount of his sperm soon. In his fantasy, he came to the point of pushing your panties aside, imprinting a couple of kisses on the border of your thighs and pussy. It was glistering from all the juices flowing out of you, calling him to slide right in, but he decided to torture you a bit more. You tried to push his head closer to the wet entrance in hope that his lips would finally do the job, but he was far from wanting to make it any easier for you. He kissed you all around but not in the most precious places. His tongue left a trace of the saliva a millimeter from your swollen clit, while you were crying out from frustration. You shivered under his touch, trying to lift your hips to place your needy cunt on his lips yourself, but he was having none of that. He slapped your smooth backside with his rough palm, making it even hotter with his fire before it touched your skin. You screamed from pain and pleasure mixed in the same time, while he continued to tease you without mercy. The idea of you begging him to do this lewd things to you, gave him exactly what he needed, a feeling of dominance, being in charge, the things that in real life were shaken by you. But he had no time to think about that now, his mind was blank as the electric feeling of raw pleasure was flowing through his body. He was jerking himself almost violently when the last scene of him finally burying his tongue inside your cunt appeared in his head.He eat up your sticky juices like his favorite desert, pushing the tip of his tongue as deep as he could, tasting as much of your innerwalls as he could. He can feel the pressure of them squeezing his soft muscle as you were about to reach your climax. The strokes on his tense dick were now more shallow, faster, as the grip was so fierce his hand started hurting. But he ignored it with ease, as he could feel the sperm piling up. He exhaled the smoke of an already burned cigarette as ash fell on his bare chest, and his head twisted with pleasure as his sperm began to squirt from his tip.

The feeling of a cold wall on the back of his head was good, as he pulled the cigarette filter out of his mouth, extinguishing it in a glass of whiskey without even looking at it. After a few moments he opened his eyes, looking back at your profile he had just abused. He scrolled to the last picture that you posted. A simple picture of you and your couple of female friends over a cup coffee. He looked down to see the date in the picture. Five months ago. Just a few days before he first saw you and interfered with your life. Since then, it’s as if everything stopped, not a word from you on social media.

"I don't need to find you." he growled contentedly.

You walked down a foggy street at the crack of dawn. Blurry colors flickered among the gray clouds that lazily dragged across the sky. The light of the street lamps was still on, but what this neighborhood contained , it was better to remain hidden in the darkness. It's been three long months since your last saw Dabi. Your lips quivered when you heard his name in your own thoughts. You still couldn’t get used to the feelings he was awakening in you. Fear, insecurity, exposure, paranoia .... interest. The last was the only one moving in the direction it shouldn’t have. The first time you felt interest for your pursuer was right the day after he chased you through the woods without mercy. Because of his refusal to defend himself from the hero and to escape without you telling him your name, it forced you to think deeply. You were sure you were going to die that night, but you did not, you were saved. Lies. If Dabi wanted to finish you, he would have done so, but he didn't. In fact, he showed he wasn’t a monster when he refused to rip the last of your clothes off your upper body without your consent. Something about him was very wrong. All the news, articles, any information you found about him on the internet since that day gave the same, petty and incomplete reports. Only where and when he participated in which crime, no background, not even a last name. Infact, it was like he just appeared out of the thin air. All members of The League of Villains had at least some information exposed to the public regarding their private lives. Every normal person would like to forget traumatic events like the ones you experienced as soon as possible, but you did the exact opposite. And in full consciousness even though you didn’t understand why you wanted to uncover the things you started looking for about him. Luckily for you, you knew exactly where to start.

Research instinct ran in your family. Your mother was an archaeologist, the finest one for uncovering long forgotten things, and her sister, your aunt, was a journalist, better at finding fresh news and unrevealing things that tired to stay secret. So, combing your mother’s passion and set of skills you inherited with the excess to forbidden information that your aunt had, you thought of a plan that could help you find the answers you needed.You were cunning, even more than you were aware of. When you got to your aunt’s office, you were playing well-thought-out cards. After she hugged and kissed you, and asked you a thousand questions about how you are and how you are progressing, you explained how you came with a desire to get involved in her kind of work. The reason for your desire on the one hand was to broaden your horizons for your future, and the other reason you knew would be crucial in her consent was that you wanted to occupy yourself with work to think as little as possible about the atrocities that befell you. She couldn't refuse your request. Before you even know it, you got a card with your name and the “College Student” label on it, which allowed you to move freely around all the rooms of their business space. After your aunt gave you a couple of easy tasks like cute pet reports, you completed them ahead of time, so you could spend the rest of your time in the archives they had. You would sneak up to a room full of dusty shelves filled with published articles that stood there for years, but those weren't your target documents, no, you were looking for what seemed to deviate from the average information that could have been obtained over Internet. Unauthorized articles, unpublished articles, these were the markings on the boxes that immediately caught your attention. You took out a heavy cardboard box and carried it to a table in the corner of the room. You turned on a lamp that cast a dim light on an old wooden table and clung to the documents. The first day did not bring any results, nor did the second. Endless half-written articles, sometimes just notes or suggestions for articles that have never seen the light of day for known or unknown reasons. You thought you might have made a mistake in the approach you chose, until you noticed out of the corner of your eye there was a hero who was present the night you were attacked. Number two hero, Endeavor. An expression of slight disgust crossed your face. He was no hero, he was a savage. You thought as you pulled out a paper with his name on it. You lazily read a few lines of text, almost putting it down before you got to the middle of the notes. Thank God you didn't stop reading. This is odd.

The tragedy hit the Todoroki family, after the eldest son died in a horrific accident.

That was one of the notes. You stared at the sentence for a few moments. The eldest son?

A grieving father, mother, sister and two brothers from the family.

Two brothers, so there were three of them? You had to admit, this was news you hadn't heard of before. You pulled out your cell phone, typing in Todoroki's name. A picture of the famous family appeared on the screen and to your surprise, there were really three young men and one little girl in the picture. For a moment you felt ashamed that you didn't know about something like this, preparing to close your cell phone, but something caught your attention.

“Quirk more powerful then my own, the time will show who will be the strongest.” Endeavor’s statement made you open the article to the end. You read an article that conveyed his praise of how his descendant would take first place as a hero, showing the world who is the strongest. A couple of lines later, quirk that belonged to the oldest son was briefly described by the father, not revealing much, just that the quirk is connected to fire. After that, the article went on to describe the Endeavor’s quirk, and on the end of the article, two doe like eyes stared back at you from the paper. You stared into two electrically blue eyes that belonged to a little red-haired boy named Touya, the eldest son. Frightened, he looked into the lens. Although this picture was almost twenty years old and the boy in it was five years old, something about him was familiar to you. You opened a new search window and entered his name. Touya Todoroki. A handfull of articles that were only mentioning his name and had no real story on him popped out. None of them contained the information about how he died, only that it was an accident. You fool, you told yourself, going back to the papers in front. You flipped through a few more pieces of paper with notes until your eyes stopped at the sentence that made every drop of blood escape from your face. You turned pale in a second, as you stared at the two short notes before you.

Died by his own quirk. Burned alive with his own fire.

The thought of that frightened boy being devoured by his own flames brought tears to your eyes. You pursed your lips looking at Endeavor's cold face. This was covered up for a reason.

He will be a new number one hero, there is no stopping until he gets there.

The sentence found in the text before. He must have pushed him beyond the limits the poor boy could bear. Anger piled up in your chest as you squeezed your cell phone. The fact that this article didn’t come out is just confirmation that they wanted to shove it under the rug, not to find out how cruel a man called number two hero really is. You wanted to do something, you wanted to take a photo of this and if nothing else, post it on social media where knowledge would spread like a virus, but you knew it would cost your aunt her job, reputation, and in the end Endeavor with his influence would probably do everything to turn this in his favor again. Sudden moves were not smart. You buried your face between your palms, massaging your eyelids with your fingers.

So much pain in this world. It went through your head as you squinted through your fingers at Tounya’s photo, all the way to the end of the notes. You almost jumped out of your chair when you read the barely visible words at the very bottom of the paper.

Quirk: Blue flames.

The blue flame, the boy's quirk that surpassed Endeavor’s in strength was the blue flame.

An expression full of ... pain. It echoed in your head as you stared back at the boy with the icy blue eyes. Now it was clear to you why he was familiar ... the same expression of pain in those blue eyes was worn by Dabi the moment he was losing the last of his oxygen underwater. The same kind of unspoken suffering.

Omg ... is this you? .. A hurricane of thoughts raced through your head. The scars he was wearing ... burnt skin ... everything was falling in its place. Is it possible that the poor boy managed to survive? That he managed to defeat the death of self-ignation? If so, why does it say he's dead? Why didn't they go and treat his wounds? Did they want to get rid of him? Is Endeavor such a monster that he rejected him after the boy failed? Or ... is the boy the one that wanted to escape? He wanted to save himself from the real hell he was going through. How awful must a man be for fear of him to transcend death itself? Your hands were shaking from all the things that came to your mind. You tried to calm down your rapid breathing, try to settle the dust in your mind. It must be true, it felt like the truth and nothing less. But you had no evidence, nothing but a theory that might have made sense, and the feeling of certainty in your guts unfortunately does not count. The only way you'll find out is to ask the only person who can give you an answer ... Dabi himself. And if you ignore all the alarms that are now whistling in your body that this is a bad and dangerous idea, the fact is that even if you manage to find him, if you stay alive for the third time when you face him, asking a question like this, and if it is true, can make him feel cornered. And when a wild animal is cornered, it attacks instinctively.I have to do this.You decided, not thinking about anything but one thing. But..how do I find him?

The answer came faster than expected. You had to admit, you were a talented researcher. This whole situation would have been even fun if it hadn’t been so dark, and after you found out the recent things, even tragic. Given that you were a victim of a notorious villain twice in a row, and the first time they thought they should withdraw too much surveillance and security, the matter escalated and resulted in horrible things, this time they did not intend to repeat the mistake. Since you refused an escort that would be with you 24/7, the only compromise they agreed to was that you be moved to a new apartment intended for witness protection, and that a police officer and one hero patrol in front of that building every night. , plus you have to report to your assigned detective every week to see if there is any possible threat. Yes, you had your very own nanny detective. However, this time that nuisance was the only door that led you to your goal. After a brief formal conversation with the detective that resulted in nothing more than usual, you rocked in your chair, leaning forward.

"Are you alright !?" - he took the bait like a fish on the hook, jumping from a chair and getting down on his knees to prevent you from falling.

"Y..Yes. I am so sorry, I feel dizzy that is all. Can I please ask for a glass of water? ”

"Sure, I will get it right away." - the kind detective left his office with the intention of bringing you water, not even knowing it was a hoax. It was so simple and superficial that you couldn’t understand how he fell for it, but then you remembered that you were the victim of this story in his head and that’s why there’s no doubt turned on you.You were by the drawer of his desk in a second, opening it. Various yellow folders full of files peeking out ,crowded into the cramped space. Slowly but hurriedly, you began to run your fingers over the marked names. It didn't take you long to find what you were looking for. The League of Villains.

It was clearly printed on the folder. You took it out, flipping vigorously through the contents. Profiles ... crimes ...attempts ...You smiled when you found the thing you wanted.Possible base locations.A list that did not contain more than fifteen names that were written here after someone’s tip or some previous suspicion. You took out your cell phone, taking a picture of the list and putting the paper back in the folder.

This was the seventh destination listed on paper. Although there was no exact address, logically, but only lists of neighborhoods where the headquarters could be, it did not prevent you in your intention. You went through the last six quarters in detail, this one will be no different, even if it didn't give results either. You aimed at the darkest possible corners, the most remote spaces hidden from view. Instead of fear, excitement prevailed. Even if something small goes wrong, you are not helpless, at least you thought so, you have your quirk. You walked a couple of streets where there was nothing suspicious, until you walked down a street where a familiar voice came to your ear. You looked back, but there was no one, just scattered wet cardboard boxes and a large trash can. You looked again, realizing that to the left of the container, a meter from it, there was a small window in the building. The voices came from the inside. You approached carefully, eavesdropping as best you could. You couldn't understand them, they were too quiet, but you'd swear you heard that voice somewhere before. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to find out who it was before something cold and sharp got under your neck.

"It's not a very nice thing to spy on others." A woman's voice giggled happily in your ear as she held the blade under your neck.

316 notes · View notes

hood-ex · 3 years

Note

Dude, I love reading everybody's fan works, but I myself cannot write for my life. I have so many ideas but it just seems impossible to actually put any of them on paper past a couple of notes. Do you have any tips for getting any stories done, even if it's just a really short one? (Also, Happy New Year!!)

Happy New Year!

Sure, yeah! I’ll list a few tips for ya!

If you haven’t written a lot/at all then consider starting off with either a drabble (100 words) or a one-shot (typically 1000+ words). The action here is supposed to be fast. You won’t have to worry about super descriptive details and things like that. You can just get out the main points of the story.

I’ll give you an example of something I’ve written that’s only about 200 words or so. This fic is very short but it still manages to tell a story because it follows a very basic plot structure.

The paragraph that builds up to the action is very short, and this paragraph is the entire exposition of the story. It introduces the main character (Dick), and it tells us what Dick is doing. This sets the scene so the reader can now picture Dick sitting on a couch with his pizza.

The rising action is Dick describing the pizza he got, and the reader getting a sense that something about the pizza is wrong based on the way Dick freezes at the sight of it.

The climax is Dick realizing he ordered the wrong pizza. He got Damian’s pizza order, and this is where the reader realizes that Damian is dead.

The falling action is Dick putting the pizza away in the fridge next to all his other untouched meals. This is the effect from the climax, and it lets the reader know that Dick is still grieving over Damian.

The resolution is Dick going to the shower to cry. The fact that Dick is going to the shower to cry tells the reader something about his character and gives him a little more depth.

Notice how I stick to the very basics. There is no long, descriptive introduction that builds up the scene like you might see in other stories that start off by describing the gray clouds, the pouring rain, all the Gotham residents bundled away in their homes, etc. There are no lengthy descriptions about what Dick’s apartment looks like or what he’s initially feeling. Nope. It’s just Dick sitting on his couch to eat his pizza because he’s hungry. Super basic, right?

This is kind of what I mean when I say that sometimes I just jump into a scene and write. It’s the same as starting a story with dialogue rather than a descriptive paragraph. Dialogue immediately throws you into a character’s conversation, and dialogue is much easier and faster to write than wordy paragraphs.

This fic of mine is an example of a story that is essentially just dialogue. Sure, there are a few descriptive sentences here and there to help the reader visualize the scene better, but most of the action is the dialogue. And we can apply the same basic plot structure to this story as well.

Exposition: The Titans are in the car. Dick is tired.

Rising Action: The Titans think Dick is going to fall asleep during the movie they’re going to watch. Dick says he’ll be fine, and he asks what movie they’re going to watch.

Climax: Gar complains about the movie Kory picked for them to watch. Vic suggests watching another chick flick. Gar is not happy about it.

Falling Action: Dick confuses Dinah with Diana. Donna gives him shit for it.

Resolution: Gar thinks Dick is adorable and asks if he can be like this more often. Dick says something to make Vic and Donna laugh, and then Dick finally falls asleep.

The plot structure is something we learn in school that we usually associate with novel length stories, but you can see in my examples that the plot structure can also be used for very short fics. Personally, the rising action and falling action are things that I don’t really plan out. They kind of just occur naturally when I’m writing. The exposition, climax, and resolution are usually the things that stick out in my mind the most (and it’s totally normal to just picture one or two of the three before you start writing).

As a beginner, filling out the plot structure with the few notes you have will help you turn your notes into full sentences and dialogue. Let’s test this out just by filling in the plot structure starting with very little information.

For example, let’s say I want to write a fic and all the notes I have for it consists of:

Jason (as Red Hood) is crying

Dick (as Nightwing) comforts him

Alright, well now I need to build a scene around those two notes. So now let me fill in some information for the plot structure. When I’m filling it out, I want to keep things like the characters and setting in mind.

What I end up with is:

Exposition: Dick and Jason are being held as prisoners on an alien planet. Dick and Jason are in a cell together. The cell is small and cold. They don’t know why they’ve been taken in as prisoners. They can’t understand the alien’s language. All they have is each other to rely on. Dick is keeping watch while Jason leans against him, asleep.

Rising Action: Guards come to Dick and Jason’s cell. They are really fucking big. Way bigger than humans. Jason wakes up, startled and disoriented. He sits up. The guards start speaking. Dick has no idea what they’re saying. He tenses in anticipation.

Climax: All hell breaks loose. The guards make a grab for Jason. Jason defends himself. Dick attacks the guards to protect Jason. The small cell makes it hard to fight. The guards crowd Jason and harshly restrain him, making Jason cry out. Dick tries to free Jason. One guard uses a device to shock Dick in the head. This causes Dick to have a seizure. Dick can hear Jason going ballistic. Jason’s screaming for him and cussing at the guards. But then Jason’s voice gets further away, and Dick is left to ride out the seizure on his own.

Falling Action: Dick’s seizure passes. His head is foggy, he’s got a horrific headache, and his body feels sore. The more time passes, the more tired Dick feels. He’s in and out of sleep, his anxiety for Jason’s safety keeping him from sleeping fully. At some point, the guards return with Jason slumped between them. He’s still conscious. The guards dump Jason on the ground. Once they leave, Dick crawls to him. He starts to ask what happened, having a vague idea that torture was involved based on Jason’s demeanor. He stops after noticing that there are tears on Jason’s cheeks. Jason looks away and his shoulders are shaking.

Resolution: Jason hisses through his teeth when Dick tries to gently sit Jason up against the wall. Jason mumbles that he’s too sore for sitting and he just wants to lie down. Jason uses Dick’s thigh as a pillow and curls up into himself. His shoulders are still shaking, and Dick hears him sniffle. Dick tries to comfort him by rubbing small circles into Jason’s back. Jason lets out a shaky breath and falls quiet. Dick keeps doing it until he starts to nod off, completely drained from the seizure. They both fall asleep in pain, but with the knowledge that at least they’re together.

Okay so see how I was able to flesh out the two original notes into something more in-depth that turned into actual sentences? That’s something you can do with the notes for your stories. Put all your ideas for each part of the scene into quick, short sentences.

Filling in the plot structure like this helps you flesh out those brief notes into an actual scene that you can build off of. And if you look at what I wrote, you’ll notice that there are sentences I came up with that I can actually use in the story when I’m writing it.

Does that make sense? Basically what I’m saying is just come up with short sentences to describe each part of the plot structure. These short sentences will form the bigger picture of your story. Then you want to use those sentences you wrote to help you build the beginning, middle, and end of your story.

I think that part of what makes writing a story so hard is simply just starting the scene. For me, it’s usually always the hardest part. You can make it easier for yourself by jumping into a more action filled part of a scene or by starting the story off with dialogue. For example, if I want to start off the Dick and Jason prisoner story then I can be like:

“You made my arm fall asleep,” Dick mutters under his breath.

Jason, who’s currently treating Dick’s right side like a damn body pillow, answers with a soft snore. Between the cold floor of the prison cell and Jason’s body weight slowly crushing him, the snoring is just the cherry on top of this whole shitty situation.

The dialogue allows me to introduce the characters and the setting. Just from the first line, I know that Dick is in this story, he’s uncomfortable, and someone else is with him because he said the word “you.” This gives me the perfect chance to introduce Jason as the person Dick is with. It also gives me the chance to explain the setting by letting the reader know that Dick and Jason are in a cell. Now are prison cells usually pleasant? No. So I made sure to mention that the cell is cold. Now the reader knows Dick is uncomfortable, cold, and he’s stuck in a terrible situation.

And the story just keeps building and building from there.

Tbh, a big part of this is just having the will to start writing. You just have to make yourself type something even if it’s shit. And it’s totally fine to play around with sentences! Just try it out by writing maybe three sentences. Don’t like it? Erase. Tackle the scene from a different angle. Change the dialogue. Start the story from a different location or with different characters. Don’t like it? Erase.

Keep practicing. You’ll eventually come up with something that’ll just click in your brain, and before you know it, you’ll have typed a paragraph of two. And your brain and your hands will work together, and you won’t have to think so hard about what you’re writing. Your hands will just go once you’re in a groove.

But yeah, dude, that’s all I got for you right now! I hope that was somewhat helpful to you! Lemme know if you have any other questions!

#writing #tips #fics #batfam #anon

42 notes · View notes

binniedeactivated · 4 years

Text

saint. || soobin (2.7)🌪

🖤┊𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 . ೄྀ࿐ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙/𝖆𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙; 2436

spending time studying became easier and easier by the day for soobin with your help of course. even in school he found himself using your methods of studying and was actually pretty consistent with it. studying was also good in terms of him passing his exams but it was also an excellent tool for soobin to try and forget what occurred just a couple of days ago. He’d been spending so much time with you he hoped you wouldn’t find out about it at all.

but there was nothing to be done when it featured all over the news this morning. soobin curses under his breath knowing this would be the buzz of the school for days on end. nevertheless he nervously awaits outside the door of your classroom. it would be his first time seeing you since the news released not too long ago. the bell rung and students were pooling out of the classrooms in a frenzy about what had happened. some even saying they wanted to stop by and see the scene before they went home. soobin thought it was weird, but whatever. he lays his head back on the wall until you strolled out of the classroom with books tucked into your arm. you walked out without even looking at him so he caught up to you, tugging your arm back.

“mama--”.

“soobin, I don’t know if I want to talk to you right now”. you stated as calm as you possibly could.

“so you’ve heard?”.

you placed your hand on your hip at his reply.

“what do you mean have I heard? do you think I was born yesterday. It’s obvious who did it. my question is why didn’t you stop them?”.

“why is this my fault?”.

“I been told you to tell your idiot friends to leave her alone and that whatever they had going on is over. you didn’t do it did you?”.

soobin sighs in defeat.

“you’re acting like they would’ve listened to me”.

“why wouldn’t they? you’re choi soobin right? the cute rich that every guy in this school wants to be? most popular? the one who calls all the shots right?”.

you turn to walk away but soobin pulls your arm back again.

“you don’t understand how difficult this is. they won’t stop. that night when they did it I was with you. I wasn’t involved at all--”.

“because they’re your friends this means you’re just as attached to this situation as they are. mia was already being effected by other medication but now she has to deal with this trauma too? theres no telling what they did to her in that house soobin”.

“why are you pinning this on me? you’re acting like I told them to do it”.

“why are you trying to disassociate yourself from them now as if you all weren’t close weeks ago?”.

“I’m trying to be a better person. I really am, princess. you have to believe me when I say I didn’t want that to happen to mia just as much as the next person. I’m just as confused about their motives as you are”.

honestly, you thought. who did soobin think he was? did he really think he could win you over with his innocent face and pet names? because if that’s what he thought then... maybe he’s right. you had to admit you saw him changing himself piece by piece. although he isn’t entirely perfect now you knew he was trying. you calmed yourself down before you spoke.

“so what do you think this is going to mean for you soobin?”.

soobin sighs, knowing what you meant by that.

“I- I don’t know. but don’t worry. my parents know a lot of people and can pay for lawyers to lift any suits if they are placed on me”.

you unconsciously frown. since soobin wasn’t there you knew his friends would try to make everything seem as if it were his idea. because you knew even long ago that his friends weren’t as real as soobin thought they were, and that’s just the type of people they were. and although soobin was one of them not too long you began to think that maybe it isn’t fair for soobin to get wrapped up in their antics after all.

soobin pulls you into his chest hugging you and kissing you on your forehead. he was already scared and worried for himself enough, he couldn’t deal with you being worried for him too.

“i’ll be fine. you just keep worrying about passing these exams so you won’t get punished by your mom”.

you placed your chin on his chest, now looking up at him.

“have you been studying on your own? how is it going?”. you ask.

“bad. it’s boring studying alone”.

“why? because you don’t have someone to touch constantly?”.

you smirk detaching yourself from him now starting to walk to your next class. soobin laughs behind you. “that’s not true”. he calls louder watching you turn inside. he missed you between classes, he really did. once he was finished watching you he turned around to see yeonjun standing behind him with a grin waiting at the corner of his lips.

“are you done loverboy?”.

“where the hell did you come from?”.

“the shadows. let’s go to free period we have to talk”.

soobin nodded, following yeonjun into the library with their designated teacher and sitting at their designated table. soobin piles his textbooks and notebook on the table. yeonjun does the same, the both of them knowing they weren’t going to get much studying done.

“so you saw the news this morning?”. yeonjun starts. soobin was sharpening his pencil.

“unfortunately”.

“and you do know that mia ratted them out to the police right?”. soobin’s eyes widened. he stops his sharpening.

“she did what?”.

“they are no longer suspects anymore soobin”.

soobin’s heart tanked.

“it’s only a matter of time before your name pops up”. yeonjun mentions again.

“I’m going to get a lawyer”. soobin replies.

“make sure you get a good one soobin. since you were friends with them at one point it’s going to have a bad reflection on you”.

“it might, but where is the proof that I planned the whole thing? how would they even get away with saying that?”.

“you’d be surprised the lengths that people go to just get themselves out of trouble. especially with the charges they have over their heads”. soobin breathes again, trying to feel positive that his lawyer would be the one to get him through this.

“does your girlfriend know?”. yeonjun asks,

“she knows about the incident and she was getting mad at me because she told me to tell them to stop messing with mia and I didn’t tell them. she’s saying that if I did what she said I wouldn’t be in this situation right now”.

yeonjun nods.

“what are you going to do if the hotel situation comes up?”.

“why would it?”.

“the boys need evidence to deem you capable of carrying out such a plan. the more clearer the evidence gets the closer you are to becoming an inmate”.

soobin gulps. at this rate, the only thing that was on his side was time.

“whatever you do, you have to tell your lawyer everything. like everything in full detail so they are able to defend you when it comes up”.

“everything?”.

“yes everything. the last thing a lawyer wants is to be surprised with some new information by their client in court. above all else though, you must be ready for anything”.

soobin nods. it was going to be hard to admit what he’d done but he would rather do so than to be sent to prison. he tapped his pencil on his paper a couple of times before speaking.

“yeonjun”.

“yo?”.

“why are you helping me? you aren’t afraid of getting caught in it?”.

yeonjun shrugs, writing the last of his sentence before speaking.

“if i’m caught in this i’ll protect you”.

“but why?”.

“because you’re just a dumb bastard whose trying to be a good person and your friends are fucking it up for you”.

soobin chuckled a little. “thanks, dipshit”.

“what did i say about thanking me?”. yeonjun playfully responds. the joy in yeonjun gave soobin at least a little bit of hope. hopefully he’d be able to get himself out of this. that’s all that clouded his mind these days. he’s done bad stuff in his life but he never knew it would lead him to this extreme. but all of this clouded worry was brushed away when school was over and he was able to see you again.

he kisses your neck while you were retrieving things from your locker and you flinch. he laughs at your shock and you looked like you wanted to kill him.

“soobin! what are you doing?”. he pinches your cheek softly.

“I can’t kiss you?”.

“not on the neck--at school”. you reply. he childishly rolls his eyes and waits for you.

“this is the beauty that I haven’t gotten a chance to meet yet”. yeonjun grins approaching soobin’s side. you turn, trying to figure who it was that said that. some blue haired kid that you haven’t saw around here before. you kind of thought he was cute but, don’t tell soobin that.

“yeonjun don’t start”. soobin nudged. yeonjun ignores him and continues talking to you.

“how you doing? i’m choi yeonjun. i don’t think we’ve met”.

“choi? you’re related to soobin?”. you ask.

“in some way, yeah”.

“interesting”. you say nonchalantly, grabbing the rest of your things and closing your locker. you didn’t want him to think you cared about anything he had to say.

yeonjun slides his arm up the locker beside yours,

“so yeah whenever soobin is acting like a bitch, you can call me”. yeonjun joked, winking for good measure. soobin shoves him into the opposite direction and yeonjun laughs in return.

“stop fucking playing around you idiot”. soobin scowled with his hand on your lower back, ushering you away from him. yeonjun’s watches the both of them go, “remember what I said!”. he shouts after soobin. and soobin heard him loud and clear, he just didn’t want to think about that right now.

“how was your classes today?”. soobin begins while you both were now settled in his car. it was kind of second nature at this point, you going with soobin after school.

“they were okay, I’m tired of hearing about the same information. are you going to your classes nowdays?”.

“yeah i’ve started. i thought it was pretty stupid to study for exams and not go to class”.

choi soobin? going to class? it had to be some type of miracle.

you were fixing your ponytail,

“so? my house or your house today for studying?”. you question. now driving soobin answers,

“let’s go get some food. how about a coffee shop?”.

actually, a coffee shop didn’t sound too bad. it gave you both a break from being enclosed in your homes. you nod in agreement. while driving though you couldn’t help but to start up a little conversation.

“so? where did choi yeonjun come from?”.

“he’s this kid that was brought to my house by my dumb ass friends. I hated him at first”.

“why?”.

“because he was talking back to me”.

you laughed.

“talking back?”.

“i was shit talking him and he was shit talking back. that was a first for me”.

“god forbid no one is scared of you, soobin”.

soobin laughs, “yeah i thought it was pretty cool to be feared. but when yeonjun was talking back I kind of realized I like a person that knows how to defend themself. so then I started liking him”.

“you can date him instead of me you know”. you tease. soobin deadpans you for a brief second before putting his eyes back on the road.

“it’s not even like that”.

“oh so it’s complicated?”. you tease again and soobin laughs, you could tell that this time he wanted to murder you. the both of you arrive at a small cafe shop on the corner of two of the biggest streets in town. you were sure to bring your backpack inside with you, you hoped you could get a lot done even if you were with soobin this time.

he pulls your chair out for you and you thank him whilst taking your seat. he sits across from you. he was pretty satisfied with the size of the table, you guys needed just as much space as you could get.

your eyes grazed the menu at the endless flavors of coffee the shop sold. some sounded just pure weird and some sounded delicious. “have you ever been here before?”. soobin questions. you shake your head no. “I forgot this town even had coffee shops”. you admit.

“welcome! what can I start you guys with today?”. the waitress asked. soobin orders a hawaiian salted caramel coffee which sounded amazing, but not as amazing as the one you had in mind. you decided to order the s’mores flavored coffee.

“so did you hear?”. you prompt. “no, what is it?”.

“the school is hosting an incentive for the seniors who ace their exams this year”.

“what is it going to be?”.

“I’m not sure but I’m kind of excited. I know most seniors didn’t pass their exams last year so i’m motivated. that’s probably what the school is trying to do anyways, motivate us”.

“that is kind of motivating. but we go to a catholic school so for all we know our incentive can be an extra church service”.

you laugh.

“i’ll die”.

“excuse me choi soobin?”. voices blare behind him. you’d saw the two officers walk in but you thought they were going to a table, not targeting soobin. your eyes widen. soobin turns around, stunned once he found out who was searching for him.

“yes?”.

one of the officers beckon his hand upwards, signaling that he wanted soobin to stand up. soobin does so.

“you’ll be coming with us for now”. the other officer spoke pulling out his handcuffs. you gasp. soobin was at a lost for words. he pulled his hand away.

“wait just let me--”. he fishes for his wallet and gives you some cash. “i’ll be fine princess. don’t worry. eat well”.

the officers take the both of his wrists and cuffs them tightly. soobin didn’t really know if he’d be fine. truth be told he was scared out of his mind. and truth be told you were more than scared out of yours.

#choi soobin #choi beomgyu #choi yeonjun #choi soobin au #txt #txt au

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blackjewles · 3 years

Text

Love and midnight walks

Just a drabble of the thoughts of Kaminari ans Shinsou while they share a special moment.

Cw: no warnings apply

summary: Shinsou and Kaminari meet up late at night by chance, during a wordless walk they both consistently think about how much they like eachother. Kaminari wants to confess but can’t bring himself too, but, he confessed that he cares about him. And somehow, Shinsou too confesses that he cares. And for now, that’s better than anything they’ve ever experienced with eachother before .

—-

7:21, about an hour after the sun retired is position for the night, instead, being replaced with the moon. It was a clear night, the starry light lit up the paths just enough for any night wanders who dare leave their dorm for fresh air. The risk of being caught sneaking out at UA was expediential. Nobody dared challenged the rules, not even Katsuki Bakugou, who to some was known for living at his own pace.

However, two opposite boys found the night comforting, and dared challenge the ruthless punishments that would await them if caught.

Those two boys where Shinsou Hitoshi and Denki Kaminari. They where total opposites, mot only in aesthetics departments, but personality wise too.

However, as the age old saying goes, opposites attract.

After relentless determination from Kaminari, he managed to break down the purple headed boys wall of intorvertness and wedge himself into Shinsou’s life. Admittedly, Shinsou was scared at first, his whole life people had never liked him. Sure, he’d had his fair share of “friends” but most of those where just classmates who didn’t hate him for his quirk. But for the first time in his life, Shinsou had a real friend. And to his demise, he’d discovered that his feelings extended a lot more than just friendly ones. Which was the most terrifying but wonderful experience in the world. Being a stoic being with all these sudden nervous feelings was overwhelming, but in a way, exciting.

Kaminari had many friends, he was an outgoing and friendly guy. Everyone found company in his jokes. Each day he walked in and brightened the classroom with his laughs and smiles. Though Kaminari was nice to almost everyone, he found special interest in Shinsou. He’d stare for just a little bit longer, he’d think about his small and deep giggles late at night, and he’d imagine what it be like to date him. Kaminari knew what was happening to him, he knew quite well. He’d had many crushes before, and he knew now that he had fallen into a hole of uncontrollable emotions that yearned for the lilac headed boy. He was screwed, but he let it happen, deep down he believed each crush he had was fate. Weather it turned into somthing or not, he let these teenage feelings happen.

And so, two similarities they shared. They where both screwed, and in love.

But they shared another similarity: Insomnia.

Kaminari is quite literally a ball of energy, and with so much electricity building up inside him all the time, a full nights sleep was a rare thing.

Shinsou on the other hand had insomnia since he was in middle school, and so, a full nights sleep was also rare.

So what happenes when you combine two insomniac boys in love?

Way. Too. Many. Feelings.

—-

Rhythmic tapping of their own footsteps was all that was heard from both boys point of views. Neither bothered with music, the sounds of the night was comforting to both of them. Plus, if you’re not aware of your surroundings while on a late night walk, you can get in big trouble. Not only with teachers, but with villans too.

Shinsou liked to stare at his feet, while Kaminari stared into the sky. But they both kept listening to every sound around them. The owls, the wind, and most importantly, anyone else’s footsteps. So when Shinsou picked up on footsteps that wernt his own, he stopped directly in his tracks and immediately looked up.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, getting caught outside at night is a death wish. But luckily, the figure that emerged form the darkness was not a teacher, but rather a boy. One that Shinsou thought about way too much.

“Shinsou?” The blond said gently. Shinsou had heard Kaminari call his name many times before, but this was different. He was calm, almost like the blurriness of a dream was coating his voice.

“Kaminari?” Shinsou called back. Kaminari took in a very slow breath, slowly tapping out of a meditative state he had been in. The nights always dark, but the moon lit up Shinsous face just enough to show his bewildered expression that was somehow, extremely beautiful. The blond made sure to ingrave this image of Shinsou in the moonlight into his mind. He didn’t wanna ever let it go.

“What are you doing out here?” Shinsou then asked, approaching Kaminari.

“I could ask you the same” Kaminari replied with a grin. Both boys let out small laughs.

Shinsou pondered his next move carefully, walking with someone could get him caught easier, but, it could also provide more protection. And, admittedly, he wanted to be with Kaminari.

“Do you... wanna walk with me?” Shinsou then asked Kaminari. Kaminari looked up, and smiled softly.

“Yeah, I would.” He replied. Kaminari then turned around and signaled Shinsou to follow.

Both boys where nervous, and for reasons beyond their adolescent understanding. But they both knew that being alone with eachother made them exponentially nervous.

Walking down the path little words where exchanged, their breathing and footsteps where the only sounds heard. Shinsou had never seen this side of Kaminari before, he was calm and a different type of beautiful.

Kaminari was only barley visible through Shinsous perifrial, but because his hair being up so high, looking over at him periodically wasn’t all that hard.

He studied every feature of the blond hard. Taking notes of every single detail. The way his cheekbones where illuminated by the dim light, his yellow eyes watching the sky with such concentration, the way his lips where placed on his face with such godly persision. Shinsou wanted to look at him forever, his heart thumped consideredly harder while being alone with him. The feeling was almost like the electricity the boy beside him held was flowing through him even though they weren’t touching. He was utterly entranced, experiencing a kind of romantic admiration that provided no real thoughts. No words came to mind, it was a hazey fog of whispers that yearned for the boy beside him. Shinsou did know one thing though, in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss the boy beside him.

Kaminari, on the other hand, was trying extremely hard NOT to stare. His mind raced with thoughts he couldn’t control, so he focused on the stars that dotted the sky instead. But alas, the thoughts wouldn’t stop. It was a battle with his mind to not think about how much he’d like to take Shinsous hand and confess right there right now. But not making expressions mirroring his thoughts was even harder. There was a tornado of anxiety flowing through him, swiviling inside his chest. He took a deep breath, and looked to his left. Then, he locked eyes with Shinsou.

Shinsou looked away quickly, desperately fighting off any flustered expression that was clawing at his nerves and trying to show itself.

Kaminari on the other hand was hit with a rather sudden thought.

He was looking at me

Kaminari just about ran off then and there. Being alone with Shinsou and suddenly locking eyes like that was, well, very exciting. So exciting he could run laps. Kaminari knew he was overthinking things, but he let himself feel foolish for a while. He locked eyes with the stars again and mentally told them how he felt, and how he needed guidance for what to do in this precarious situation. He had to do something, say something. He begged the sky to tell him.

“Confess” He thought. He’d been thinking that way to much tonight. But He couldn’t, he’d ruin everything he’d built up with Shinsou, telling him he was in love with him would surely scare him away! But he wanted to tell him. So bad. He wanted to finally tell him how he felt and stop this crush. He thought of his feelings like a flame with opposite mechanics. Usually, when you put a flame under pressure it’ll go out. But with love, when you put the flame under pressure (aka bottle it up) it only wants to escape more. Right now, that flame of Kaminaris was enlarging, and dangerously close to escaping.

Shinsou on the other hand was drowning in a goey pit of embarrassment. Overthinking every moment with Kaminari was a habit at his, and he *knew* that this would come back and haunt him late at night. He felt foolish to have let Kaminari catch him staring, he was making it obvious wasn’t he? Shinsou wanted to run away from this entire situation. If it was up to him, he would’ve ran off the minute he saw anyone late at night. But of course, Shinsou just had to ask Kaminari to walk with him. He was starting to regret this decision.

“Hey Shinsou...” Kaminari suddenly said. Shinsou looked back up at him, mentally preparing for Kaminari to call him out for staring.

However, what followed was much more unexpected.

“Do you... Like anyone? Like have a crush on them?” Kaminari asked. Shinsou inhaled quickly, and looked away. Shit, what was he supposed to say?

Kaminaris heart raced way to fast. Part of him wanted Shinsou to say “nobody” or name sombody, that way he wouldn’t have to worry anymore. Sure, it would hurt, but this pining was beginning to get to much. Sure, hed be estatic if Shinsou said his name, or said he liked him, but he knew it wouldn’t happen. Shinsou was out of his league, it was impossible for him to like him back. Right?

“I... I dont know.” Shinsou replied. Stupid, you can do better than that! Shinsou thought.

Kaminari simply said “Oh.” and looked back forward. It wasn’t any of the answers he wanted, this way he couldn’t decifer if Shinsou liked anyone.

They kept walking silently, feeling the burden of their words weighing on their shoulders. Burdens they self created.

After torturous minutes of silence, the 1-A dorm finally came into view.

“I should probably go to bed now... huh...” Kaminari said, but he knew somthing was bothering him. He didn’t want to leave, not yet, he need something more.

“Goodnight.” Shinsou said solemnly, looking down at his shoes. Their walk had ended, and frankly, Shinsou didn’t think there was anything else to say. They’d see eachother tommorow and Kaminari would be back to his happy go lucky self and they wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.

Kaminari on the other hand, wasn’t done yet. He didn’t want to confess, not yet, but he could say somthing.

“Shinsou.”

Shinsou looked up and Kaminari smiled brightly at him.

“I want you to know that I...” Kaminari took ina. deep breath. “I care about you, so take care of yourself alright? You get some sleep too, you always look better when you show your body some love.”

“Insomnia doesn’t exactly let me do that, you know.” Shinsou replied. It was miraculous that he could even speak in that moment, Kaminari had just admitted to caring about him. Of all people, Denki Kaminari cared about him.

“I know, but try for me, okay?” Kaminari said softly, his smile falling into one much softer and his eyes sparkling with admiration and compassion.

Shinsou just about melted right then and there. Somehow though, he smiled back.

“I care about you too, Kaminari”

And with that, both boys said goodnight and went back to their dorms. Shinsou had to walk back to the class 1-C dorm, but they shared one thing for the rest of the night. They thought about what had just been said with stupid grins and rosey cheeks for as long as they could.

Caring isn’t the same as love or like, they both knew that, but neither could help but freak out and replay it over and over.

They where just two idiot insomniacs in love, and no matter how terrifying the feelings where, it was the most rewarding thing to finally hear the other say that they cared.

—- end

(YAY!! This took like a week because of procrastination,,, and i used a lot of conjunctions to start sentences... If that bothers you, i am sorry. but ANYWAYS, i REALLY hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it. THANK YOU FOR READING!!)

#bnha #mha #denki kaminari #hitoshi shinsou #shinkami #shindenki #kamishin

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thestarsociety · 3 years

Text

hey there, hero

Rating: T

Word count: 4.5k

Content warnings: mild blood/injury, likely inaccurate medical procedures

Summary: five times kira greeted bella, and one time bella greeted her back.

: : : : : : : : 1 : : : : : : : :

Bella pulled at the edge of her gloves, adjusting her stance on the roof as she observed the Citadel Solutions complex down below. It was walled (which, really, was no surprise, considering the name), but she had found a spot on a building high enough up that she could watch.

Something was happening in there. She knew it.

She had forgone her usual bright blue and yellow attire for a mostly black outfit. After all, Blink, local hero and above-the-board actor, couldn't be caught here. But, Bella was fairly certain she could get in easily with some well-timed teleports. She had a labcoat stashed in her bag that was at least somewhat similar to the garb of the engineers inside. Similar enough, she hoped, that they would let her pass by, once she was in.

She'd spent this stakeout watching the movements in and out, trying to time her entrance so she could get in with the least fuss. She was almost sure she had it. She took a deep breath, and repeated the plan like a mantra. Get in, find what they're up to, disappear. You can do this. You can do this. You can do th—

Boots touched down onto the roof behind her.

"Hey there, hero. What brings you to this fine rooftop?"

Bella startled, instinctively teleporting behind the newcomer. "Wh– who– how did you know I was here?"

The newcomer spun around to face her, tilting her head slightly and crossing her arms. She was slightly taller than Blink, and wearing a sort of armored suit. A hard shell mask covered the bottom half of her face, but her dark eyes were amused. She had warm brown skin, and thick wavy hair that fell past her shoulders, just above the backpack she seemed to be wearing.

Most eye-catching, however, were her gauntlets. They were bulky, covering her entire forearm, and when she moved her hand, Bella could hear the whine of motors.

In short: definitely dangerous.

"Hey, whoah, no need to break out the powers," she said, wiggling her fingers slightly. The motors whined. Bella swallowed. "Anyway, I asked first. So." She stepped towards Bella. "Why are you here?" The mirth drained out of her voice, replaced by a steely seriousness.

"Ah..." Blink floundered for a second. "Just... came up to enjoy the view," she said. It was... a plausible excuse. It wasn't like nobody had ever spent time on top of a building for a view before.

The stranger just looked even more amused. "You sure? 'Cause the locked door would say otherwise," she said, cocking her head towards the door which did, in fact, read "NO EXIT/ENTRY" in large red letters.

"Euhh..." Bella clenched and unclenched her fingers. Purple sparks began to accumulate, swirling around her feet. "I..."

There was a snap, and Bella fell onto her bed.

Quinn spun around from where he was sitting in her chair, a red lollipop in his mouth. "Oh, you're back early. How'd it go?"

Bella covered her face with her hands and groaned.

: : : : : : : : 2 : : : : : : : :

Fighting has never been Bella's strong suit.

She'd gotten better at it, sure, thanks to experience and sparring with Quinn. Her battle strategy didn’t consist of "teleport away from punches and hope for the best” anymore. But she still didn’t like it.

Case in point, feeling like she's totally floundering as she tried to fight a dozen robot drones. She elbowed one that approached behind her, then teleported three feet above one in front of her, letting gravity (and her steel-toed boots) do the work for her. She got into the rhythm of it, kicks and punches and smartly-timed teleports becoming a dance that she weaves and bobs to.

However, she's not a fighter, and when fighting on a rooftop, it turns out that drones sometimes do have a strategy.

Corner her towards the edge of the building.

Every time she tried to fight her way away from the edge, the bots herded her towards it. What they lacked in individual power they made up for in combined might.

Then, the worst happened.

She tripped.

Her scream lodged in her throat as she fell though the air towards the hard ground below. Wind whipped around her, hair flipping into her eyes as she frantically tried to gather her powers, visualizing somewhere safe and grounded and––

The momentum around her stopped as Bella was slammed into by someone flying through the air. Arms circled her knees and back and Bella opened her eyes to see––

Her.

The girl bridal-carrying her grinned, the edges of her dark eyes crinkling. "Well hey there, hero," she said. "Hold onto me. Don't want to drop you." Bella looped her arms around her neck and dared a look down at the ground below. They were. High up. So she kept her gaze on her unlikely savior.

"Why did you—"

"I'm a hero," she said easily. "Heroes don't let pretty girls fall off rooftops." She glanced down at Blink. "Uh, and if they did, they would catch them out of the air."

Bella's breath hitched. Her face flushed, and she was silently happy that her mask covered her cheeks. "Thanks," she mumbled, averting her eyes from her savior's face.

"Your ears are red." Bella could hear the stupid smirk on her face. "Let's get you on solid ground, shall we?"

Before Bella could say anything in reply, the stranger boosted whatever mechanism made her fly, and the wind whipped even faster. Bella buried her head in her shoulder.

When they landed and brushed themselves off, the armored girl turned to Blink. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot." She extended a hand. "I'm Cavalier."

Blink didn't move. "...As in, arrogant?"

"As in, horse-riding knights." She tapped the Citadel Solutions logo, a horse, on her chest. Blink frowned. Of course she was with Citadel.

"Shouldn't that be Cavalry?"

"The force as a whole is Cavalry. Just one is a Cavalier. Also, c'mon, can you just shake my hand?"

Bella took her gauntleted hand reluctantly. "Blink." she offered.

"Charmed, I'm sure. Can I ask what you were doing? Those bots aren't meant to attack people.” Blink opened her mouth. “Also, would be nice if you didn't disappear on me again. I did just save you."

"I can handle myself," Bella bit back. "I have powers."

Cavalier shrugged. "You were falling pretty fast." She cocked her head. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the Citadel cell tower on that rooftop, hm?"

Bella's breath hitched. It did. Citadel Solutions had recently developed and installed cell tower devices that would monitor and report "suspicious metahuman frequencies". Essentially, anti-meta spyware. Bella and Quinn were intent on destroying them. Her stomach tightened. "I... can't tell you that."

Cavalier started at her flatly. "So, that's a yes."

"Listen, they're horrifyingly unethical!" Blink burst out. "Spying on metahumans? For no reason? It's ridiculous! We aren't inherently dangerous!"

Cavalier cocked her head. "Blink, just last week, a pyrokinetic couldn't control their powers and created thousands of dollars in property damage."

Bella threw her arms up. "I know! I was there! I am extremely familiar with what happened. So familiar, in fact, that I was the one who diffused the situation!"

Cavalier's eyes widened.

Bella continued on her tirade. "So I know that the solution isn't surveillance. Jamie just needed someone to talk to. Someone who knows what it's like. He needed help, not to be stopped by some kind of armed force," she spat.

"Okay, but one situation doesn't cover all of it. Citadel is trying to help people, to make the city better, just like you are."

"The intent behind it doesn't matter. This is going to impact metahumans everywhere. It's not okay."

Cavalier stood for a moment, her jaw opening and closing a couple times. Her eyebrows were furrowed. Finally, she hummed. "Okay. Thanks for not disappearing on me." She turned her back to Blink, getting ready to take off.

Before she left, she looked over her shoulder back at Blink. "I'm... not gonna report this. Just so you know. Thanks for your thoughts."

Her repulsors built to a high whine, and she lifted into the sky.

: : : : : : : : 3 : : : : : : : :

Blink hadn't seen Cavalier all night. They had gotten into a rhythm of patrolling together over the past few months: they worked better as a team than on their own, and games of rooftop tag always made it more fun.

Their first patrol had been awkward, for sure. Blink has never approved of what Citadel does, but when they're not pushing morally dubious tech, Cavalier was helping people. So when Cavalier approached her on one of her regular patrol routes to ask about "pooling their resources" since "I save people, you save people, really, we're on the same side, here," Blink and Signal accepted.

Through these shared patrols, they'd grown much closer. There was something about the late nights spent together that allowed their conversations to flow, to share their thoughts easier. Blink had grown to appreciate Cavalier's humor and wit, and cared about her quite a bit. Through conversations about possible team names (Cavalier was set on 'Starlets', but Bella was partial to 'Moonlighters' and Quinn to 'The Star Society'), things that happened at school (though they were both careful to never mention names), or even Citadel projects, Bella saw Kira as a total person and not just an extension of Citadel. She agreed with a lot of Bella's criticisms of Citadel, and Bella admitted where they did legitimate good.

She knew Kira now. Knew that she was laughed loud and cared louder, that she would quote random lines from things Bella had never heard of, that when she smiled, the edges of her eyes would crinkle.

Nowadays, they would patrol together nearly every night. Quinn would sometimes rib her about "not giving away team secrets," but Bella trusted Kira. Which was strange.

Blink was worried. Cavalier had a tendency to flake off, sometimes, but she would always at least shoot her a message. Today had been radio silence.

She completed her route alone, as the sun set low below the sky and the few stars that weren't obscured by light pollution made their appearance. Once she was done, she went to one of their favorite spots: the top of a building that was taller than all the rest in the area, so they could see everything, but couldn't be seen.

Sure enough, Blink found Cavalier sitting on the edge of the building, her head resting on her knee and her mask set on the ground as she looked over the blinking city lights below. This didn't seem to be her usual vigilant watch. She looked... tired. Contemplative.

"Hey."

Kira looked up at her, her head not moving from its rest on her knee. "Oh. Hey, Blink." She sounded exhausted. Her shoulders were slumped.

"What, no 'hero'?" Blink said, trying to lighten the mood.

Cavalier huffed a little laugh. "You know you're my hero." There was a smile in Kira's voice now, at least.

Bella sat next to her, letting her legs dangle and peeling off her mask. She looked at Kira from the side. She still hadn't moved. Her eyes seemed fixed a million miles away, as the lights of the city reflected in them. Thousands of pinpoints of light: windows, passing cars, neon signs, like stars in a dark sky. The glow brushed the planes of her face, accentuating the shadows beneath her eyes.

"Hey," Bella murmured. "What's up?"

Kira smiled a little. "Us?" Her voice cracked as she spoke.

"I am completely sure you've said that joke before," Bella said softly.

Kira's smile softened. "I think you're right. ...You usually are."

They sat for a while, watching the city. (Really, Kira watched the city while Bella watched Kira, and occasionally the blinking red cell tower.)

"I don't think I can do this. I don't know if I'm made for it." Kira confessed quietly. Her eyes were still fixed on the city.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," her voice wavered. "I mean, I don't know if I'm a good hero. If I can be a good hero. I know the kind of person my parents want me to be, what Citadel wants me to be, even what you want me to be. But I don't know what I want to be or–– or if I even have the ability become any of those people."

She sniffled.

Bella took a deep breath. "Kira," she said gently. "I've thought a lot of different things about you in the past. You know that. I've made sure that you know that. But something that has always stayed the same is this:" Bella turned so she was facing her. "Kira, you have proven to me a million times over that you are a hero. You're a good hero. No matter how much I've argued and fought with you about Citadel, about the Cavalry, whatever. I know Kira. And Kira is a hero."

Kira tilted her head towards her, and Bella could see stars reflected in the tears pooled in her eyes.

"Listen to me. The only person I want you to be is you. I like you. Whatever kind of hero you end up becoming–– and you are a hero, trust me ––I will want you to be that person. No matter what."

Kira sniffled, her lip quivering. She surged forwards, wrapping her arms around Bella's torso. "Thank you," she said, muffled into her shoulder. Bella held her until her breathing became more even, until her breath stopped shuddering in her ribcage, tracing circles on her back.

When Kira pulled back, their legs still intertwined, she looked up at her, eyes huge. "Thank you. Again. I needed to hear that."

Bella smiled at her. "It's just the truth."

"I– god. You're so good. I think I like you way too much." Kira sniffled. "Also, uh, all that stuff you said, about 'I like you no matter what?' Um. Ditto. Me too. I care about you. You're good people."

"You're good people, too," Bella said. She was sure she was red all over.

"Your ears are red," Kira murmured. "Hey, you ever think we're moving too fast? Like, I'm here spilling my guts about everything and how much I like you, and we've bandaged each other up more times than I can count, but I don't even know your favorite movie or your last name––"

Bella cut off her increasingly panicked ramble, stilling one of her shaking hands at the wrist. "My Neighbor Totoro. Jennifer's Body is a close second. And Vogel."

Kira blinked. "Iron Giant. And Singer-Veturi."

"Listen. We have plenty of time to move slow. Let's get dinner and see a movie. This Friday."

"Is that a date, Vogel?" she said coyly, testing the name out. She blinked up at her through her eyelashes.

Bella smiled, angling her head just as coyly. "If you want it to be."

Kira snorted, and they both broke out into laughter.

"I do," Kira said, without a hint of sarcasm. "I really, really do."

They stared at each other for a moment, grinning, before Kira took the hand that Bella was holding and cupped Bella's cheek. "Hey, can I––"

Bella nodded vigorously. "Please."

Kira leaned forward, and their lips connected.

: : : : : : : : 4 : : : : : : : :

Bella was inches away from slamming her head into her calculus notes when her phone pinged.

"Oh thank god," she mumbled.

Kira Cavalier: hekp'

Kira Cavalier shared a location with you.

Kira Cavalier: please it's serious thifs timr

Bella's heart caught in her throat. She tapped the location into her maps app threw her phone onto her bed, yanked her costume on in record time, and checked for landmarks around Kira's location. Locating a bakery on the street she was familiar with, she grabbed the first-aid kit just in case and teleported onto the roof.

She landed in a three-point-stance, immediately jumping up and looking for any sign of Kira. She grimaced at the familiar sight of a Citadel device on a nearby roof, but no sign of Kira.

"K—" what would she say? Kira? Cavalier? Either could be compromising to her identity. Eventually, she settled on yelling "K?! Are you here?"

Her phone pinged in her pocket.

Kira Cavalier: alleywy

Bella bounded towards an alleyway, leaping across it when she saw no one there. She silently thanked Kira for goading her into playing rooftop tag all those times. She was an expert at traversing rooftops now.

She saw a flash of purple in one of the narrower alleyways. She immediately blinked down. Purple sparks rained around her as she landed. She gasped.

There was a distinct coppery smell in the air. Kira was slumped against the wall, one gauntlet pressed against her side, where red was leaking through, staining her suit and her gauntlet. When she touched down, Kira smiled up at her weakly. "Hey there, hero." She tried to raise a hand to wave, the motors whirring, but she winced and lowered it gingerly.

"Oh my god." Bella dropped to her knees, kneepads slamming onto the concrete. "Why are you covered in blood? What happened? Can you move?"

"Uh, in order:" her voice was strained. "Sexy reasons, I fought some drones, and, uh, no. That's why I called you."

Bella began opening the first-aid kit. "Couldn't you call someone from Citadel? The Cavalry?"

Kira looked her in the eyes. "I was fighting drones, birdie. I was dismantling Citadel property." Before Bella could say something in reply, she continued. "I wiped 'em, don't worry. They won't be too retributive. Citadel won't know."

"That's not..." Bella said softly. "Why?"

Kira closed her eyes. "Milagro. That kid we saved last week. She's a metahuman and she lives here. She would qualify for surveillance. I couldn't..."

Something curled in Bella's chest. "Hey, listen. We're gonna make things right, okay?"

Kira looked at her and smiled. "Okay."

"Let's do this not in an alleyway, okay? I'm gonna teleport you to my room."

Kira sniffed. "Okay."

Bella wrapped her arms around Kira as best as she could, gathered her powers, and they popped in a shower of sparks.

Back in her bedroom, Bella gently placed Kira in her spinny chair. Kira protested weakly. "'M gonna get blood all over your nice chair."

Rooting through the closet, Bella glanced back. "It's fine. Honestly, Quinn will probably be more upset than me."

"Man likes his chairs." Kira said absently, head lolled against the headrest.

Bella peeled her mask off and dragged the larger first-aid bag out from her closet, unzipping it and pulling out the relevant materials. "I think you're gonna need to take off the armor," she said. "Is that possible."

"Mmhmm," she said. "But I think you'll have to help."

She guided her to the release on her mask and pulled it off. Bella set it aside as Kira licked her chapped lips. Bella frowned. "You should drink more water. I'll get you some after, uh." She gestured vaguely.

Kira sniffed. "Thanks."

They went through the process of gingerly removing her armor, Kira typing in the command to release the pressure and Bella peeling it off. Once the armor around her torso was removed, Bella lifted up the tank top above the wound on her side and cleaned it gently with alcohol and cotton. Luckily, it wasn't bad enough that she would need to go to a hospital, but she began securing it closed with butterfly stitches.

"So, how'd this happen? Usually you're a much more capable fighter."

Kira sighed and leaned her head back. "Both me and the drones are Citadel-made," she said bitterly. "My blasters didn't damage them as much as I expected. So they overwhelmed me."

Bella hummed. "We'll have to mod your blasters so they will, hm?"

Kira smiled. "Yeah."

Once the biggest wound was cleaned up, Kira removed the rest of her armor, including her gauntlets, and accepted a change of Bella's clothes. She was bruised elsewhere, but nothing that had to be attended to immediately.

"You should stay here," Bella said. It was selfish. She wanted Kira near her. But she was worried about what would happen if her parents saw her like this. "Tell your parents we're having a sleepover."

Kira shrugged. "They're too busy to notice," she said easily. Bella frowned. Kira just yawned, turning away. "I'm beat. Getting stabbed takes a lot out of you. You coming?" She asked. "Bed's big enough for two."

Bella smiled, filing that away under 'talk about later'. "Yeah. Let me clean up first, and I'll get you some water."

She gathered the bloody cotton and the gross tank top and shoved them into the trash can in the alley. She put the first-aid bag away, and stacked both of their costumes in the closet so prying eyes wouldn't see them.

She blinked downstairs to find her dad. "Hey, Dad, Kira's parents are out of town, so she's sleeping over here."

Her dad looked up from his book. "Oh, has she eaten yet? We have some leftovers we can heat up for her."

Bella nodded. "Yeah, she's asleep upstairs already. She went to bed late last night."

Her dad smiled. "I am never gonna get used to you just teleporting people in and out of here"

Bella rolled her eyes and grinned. "Dad, it has been like eight years since I got these."

"I'm your father! I worry about you! What if you get splinched?"

"Splinching isn't real. Don't worry so much, Dad. I am very responsible." She filled up a glass with water. "Alright, just wanted to let you know that she was over."

"Thanks. You know we like Kira," he said significantly.

Bella coughed. "Thanks, Dad! Goodnight!"

"Night, rabbit!"

Bella returned to her room with the glass. "Your water, my liege."

"Thank you, Sir Vogel." She took the glass and gulped it down, placing it on the nightstand. "Now come to beeeeedd," she said, reaching out her arms.

"Okay, okay!"

: : : : : : : : 5 : : : : : : : :

Bella woke up bleary. So, so, bleary.

She rubbed at one eye, shading a bit of the sun coming through the window. She buried back into the comforter, and rolled over to see Kira on the other side of the bed.

Oh. So last night wasn’t a dream. The injury, patching her up, asking her to stay for the night. Sharing the bed.

Bella sank into the bed and observed Kira as she slept, her chest rising and falling evenly, her lips slightly parted. She looked so different to the girl she'd spoke to on the rooftop months ago. Peaceful. She hoped she'd had even a small part in that.

She still found her just as pretty as she had on that night, though.

Kira began to stir, her eyes screwing shut before blinking open.

"Morning," Bella greeted.

Kira stretched, groaning a little bit. "G'morning." Done with her stretch, she settled on her side, facing Bella and looking into her eyes. She smiled, the edges of her eyes crinkling. "Hey there, hero," she said.

Bella couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey," Kira started.

"Hey," Bella echoed.

"You remember that time we were playing rooftop tag—"

"Oh my god." Bella covered her face with her hands.

"Wait, no, c'mon, you don't get to hide from this," she retorted, laughing. "You were it, and you tried to tag me, and you decided the optimal way to do that was by straddling me."

"Listen, it seemed like a good idea at the time!" she groaned. "And I did get you."

"I wanted to kiss you right then and there," she said, her eyes tracing the lines of Bella's face.

Bella started. "Oh. Yeah. Me too, actually," she said, bringing her hands down from her face.

Kira's eyes widened a little, but the expression was soon replaced with a grin. "Well, it's a good thing we have plenty of time to make up for it."

"Mmhmm. Wait, what are you— be careful––"

Kira hooked a leg over Bella's hip, flipping them so she was straddling Bella's hips and her arms were on either side of her head.

"Oh, you asshole," Bella giggled.

"Hey there, hero," Kira said, grinning down at her.

Bella pulled her down for a kiss.

: : : : : : : : +1 : : : : : : : :

They took Bella. They took Bella.

Tensions between the Moonlighters and Citadel had risen, and an ultimatum was presented: metahumans had to be controlled or neutralized. And Blink was the first meta to go.

Kira was so stupid. She should have seen the signs. The blueprints floating around for metahuman containment, the power-nullifying field generators she thought were purely theoretical. She was too busy living her stupid fantasy life of being a Real Hero, of running around the city with her friends.

She fired indiscriminately, warning everyone to get the hell out of her way. She'd spent hours and hours modding her gauntlet blasters, and now not even the Citadel Blast-Resistant Substance™ could withstand it. She descended into the complex, searching for the containment tubes.

And she found it.

Bella, held in a transparent tube, straps around her torso. Her head was lolled forward. The hum of electronics and the beep of a heart monitor filled the room.

Kira slammed the control panel, keying in the combo to release her.

Bella slumped out of the cell, and Kira caught her in her arms. "Birdie," she said, heart racing. "Hey, it's me, talk to me."

Bella sniffled. "Kira?" She looked up at her. She had a bloody nose that had since dried, the blood showing on her teeth as she grinned at her. Kira took a shallow breath in.

"Well hey there, hero," Bella said, eyes sparkling despite her injuries.

Kira's eyes welled up. "Shut the hell up, you're not funny," she said. "We gotta get out of here. Can you do that?"

"Mmphf. Gimme a second." Her head lolled forward again, and she gripped onto Kira's biceps. Purple sparks began swirling around them, and Kira felt the familiar sensation of teleporting, the mild nausea and rubberband snap.

But they were only about a yard away from the tube. Bella sniffled again. "'M sorry," she said.

"Hey, it's okay, that's fine," Kira said, adjusting Bella so she had one arm around her waist, letting her lean her weight on her.

"We'll fight our way out," she said, her arm blaster whining as it charged up and flashed.

#this is the longest single thing i've written. wtf #it's not. super great? but idk i had a lot of feelings about these two and needed to put them somewhere so. *hands you this*#also artfight friends if you drew literally any scene from this i will owe you my firstborn #my FIRSTBORN OK i am so serious #also im not usually a writer so if there's anything glaringly obvious that could be better lmk #writing #birdsong #kira #bella

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jlalafics · 4 years

Text

“Lesson Learned”-Part 3 of 4

Yes, we’re almost to the end.

Also, we’re about to have some major changes in this next section.

It’s a little squicky on some subjects but nothing I don’t think you can’t handle.

Thank you if you’re still reading! Enjoy!

Summary: Sometimes Katniss asks too much of Peeta. This time she’s gone too far. College Everlark. Katniss and Peeta POV’s. Rated M.

Previous Parts:

Part One

Part Two

_______

Those words coming out of her mouth are like a shot of electricity.

Her stare is bold, though I do see a sliver of uncertainty.

“It’s not that difficult,” I tell her. “Your hand…my hand…orally…vaginally…I assure you that it will get hard.”

She meets my eyes, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. “Which one do you like?”

Blowjob!—my cock practically screams at me.

This isn’t about me, however. This is about her.

“What would you like to try?”

“Uh…hand, I guess,” Katniss tells me.

I nod and take her hand. “Should we do this in your room?”

She doesn’t reply; instead, she pulls me along to the open door of her bedroom and we walk in.

Katniss’ bedroom is softly lit by two tall paper lanterns that sit on each of her side tables. Her walls are painted a soft white except for the sage green accent wall behind her bed. Her bedding is a grey and white pattern with light green throw pillows.

She leads me over to the bed shyly. “Is it easier if you lay down?”

“I mean, that’s how I usually do it,” I offer, and she snorts. “Just trying to be honest.”

“Honest and gross are two different things,” Katniss informs me. “So…hop on that bed and let’s get to it.”

“Setting the mood, aren’t we?”

I sit on the bed and lay back as she follows, scooting next to me before going to her knees. We’ve laid on this bed millions of times to watch movies or listen to music. I’ve even slept here when I was too drunk to make it to my apartment. However, it is awkward to be here completely exposed as she kneels besides me and examines every inch of my skin.

“I don’t know what to do,” she finally tells me. “You have to guide me.”

I nod, taking her hand and bringing it to my cock.

“This is a penis.” Katniss rolls her eyes and I chuckle, covering her hand with my mine. “There are different parts.” I guide her hand along my length which has stiffen at the warmth of her touch. “This is the shaft. Most of the stimulation is along it—”

“Tell me more, professor,” she jokes though there is a distinct purr which cause a frisson of heat to travel through me.

My dick is definitely hard now.

“So you’re going to stroke…” I move her hand along with mine in a slow rub, letting her get a feel for the rhythm. Fuck, this feels amazing! My hips begin to move along with her caress. “Do you think you have the hang of it?”

I manage to push the question through clenched teeth.

The curiosity in her grey eyes is unbelievably sexy.

“I think I got it,” she tells me, her eyes on my hard-on. Katniss matches my movements, even following the amount of pressure I usually use to a T. The softness of her skin and the firmness of her strokes causes me to push up into her hand. “Am I doing this right?”

“So right…” I reply breathless.

“And, do I anything with the head?” Katniss asks. Her eyes peer as a pearl of pre-cum seeps out from the tip. Her thumb unconsciously reaches to smear the liquid along the head and as she sweeps on the underside of it, I suddenly feel it happen—

“Fuck!” My hips shoot up as I abruptly come, spunk covering her hand…my stomach…her sheets…I feel dizzy at the sensation.

Shit—I can’t believe I came so quickly.

It’s like a girl has never put a hand on me or something. As I come down, I realize the mess that I’ve made and look to a shell-shocked Katniss.

“I’m so sorry…I should’ve mentioned getting a towel or something—”

“No,” she blurts out. Katniss is flushed, her whole body taking on a rosy hue. “Um…it was actually amazing to watch.”

“But the sheets…” I croak out. “I’ll pay you back.”

“You better.” She looks at her hand, covered by my essence. “How does this taste?”

And without another thought, Katniss sticks her finger in her mouth—

“UGH!” She blanches and then looks to me aghast, her eyes almost bugging out. “In Johanna’s books, they all make jizz sound so good. This is…not. No offense.”

“I don’t exactly sample my semen,” I tell her as I sit up. “But how does it taste?”

Katniss smacks her lips. “Like nothing at first and then extremely bitter—” She gags. “And I feel like my mouth is going to be dry for the rest of the night…I need water…or a beer.”

“I’ll grab you one,” I tell her. “But first, I need a towel.”

+++++++

Peeta returns after taking a quick break from the bathroom and then the kitchen. He’s holding out a beer and a bottle of water for me.

“A peace offering for ruining a very nice duvet set,” Peeta says. “Which one?”

“I’ll take the water first.” The bitter taste hasn’t exactly disappeared from my tongue or my throat. “Out of curiosity, is there anyway to fix that taste?”

“I’ve heard that pineapple juice helps,” he replies. “I’m not sure how much the guy needs to drink but it doesn’t hurt to try, right?” Joining me on the bed—my sheets have now been pushed to the foot of the bed—Peeta turns to me. “Have you ever tasted yourself?”

“No. I don’t exactly think about sticking my fingers down there,” I say.

“You had boyfriends,” Peeta says, resting back on a pillow. “Have any of them ever kissed you after oral?”

I find myself scoffing.

“I had no idea how to give a handjob, you think that someone has gone down on me?”

My experience has consisted of some over-the-shirt action during a movie in high school and one rub over Marvel’s jeans which was quickly cut short because his mom had come home early from work.

And finally, this evening.

“We have to do something about that,” Peeta declares before taking the water from my grasp. “Lay back.”

“You really don’t have to,” I protest. “I’m learning how to seduce a man—”

“Listen, some guys are all for their own pleasure,” he tells me. “However, the right guys are going to reciprocate. If Cato doesn’t, he’s fucking trash.”

Oh, Cato. I forgot all about him.

The image of him has become a distant memory in comparison to watching Peeta come undone at just the stroke of my hand.

Makes a girl feel a little powerful, you know.

I nod in agreement as I lay flat on my back. “Do I ask him or should he just know?”

“The right guy is going to want to give you pleasure. Don’t sell yourself short, Katniss. You deserve someone who wants to give you what you need.” Peeta settles next to me, his lips going to my neck and I try to bite back a moan, but the feeling of his kiss goes straight to my pussy. “I want to hear you. Don’t hold back.”

“Peeta, have you been with many women?”

He stops, pulling away, and looks to me…guiltily.

“We said honesty, right?” I nod and he lets out a sigh. “I’ve done stuff with girls. But I’ve never gone all the way.”

I’m intrigued. The campus is full of beautiful women and more than one woman has come to me asking for help in regard to catching Peeta. “Why?”

Peeta shrugs. “We get to that point and…it never pans out.”

“So, I would be your first?” I ask slowly. “If it pans out.”

He nods. “Are you mad?”

I shake my head immediately.

“No. I can’t really judge you on waiting when I’ve done the same thing. It just has to be the right person and we trust each other. We’re not afraid to be real—even if it hurts.”

“Right,” Peeta agrees quietly. He looks down at me. “You really are a queen, Katniss.”

That look in his eyes; it’s full and warm. I can’t breathe from the intensity of it all.

“Now, I demand that you touch me,” I say, hoping that my voice sounds light. I take the hand resting against his side and press it to one of breasts. His eyes go to his hand, cupping my breast, his thumb just hovering over my nipple. “You have touched a boob, right?”

That snaps him right out of his trance. “I have…lots of them!”

I laugh—hard—at the incredulous look on his face. “You just looked really in over your head for a moment!”

“You have a pair of gorgeous tits in your grasp, you’re going to be a little overwhelmed,” he protests with a grin. His thumb brushes over my nipple—finally!—and I’m immediately squirming at his touch. Peeta notices, his eyes go to me. “You like this.”

I love it. I’ll never admit that it’s because the sight of my arousal causes his whole expression to go slack. I have a power over him, and I enjoy it.

“Obviously,” I choke out.

Then Peeta leans down, taking my nipple into his mouth.

Everything flips and I lose myself of the sensation of him teasing the peak to full height. He nips, not too hard and swirls around my areola gently.

However, when he suddenly sucks—

“Stop!” I yelp.

Peeta pulls back immediately. “What?”

“Too much, dude!” I push up on my elbows. “Honesty, right?” He nods, still silent. “You have to be a little gentler. No girl wants to feel like you’re trying to milk her like a cow.” Taking his hand, I bring my mouth to his index finger and suck gently at the tip of it. Peeta starts at the motion. I draw my lips away slowly, eyes on him, pulling out with a soft pop. “Like this.”

He lets out a ragged breath. “You’re amazing.”

I snort as I lay back down. “I just believe in a good education.”

Peeta moves down, mouth just over my breast and with the slightest of touches, takes my nipple into his mouth once more.

And it’s fucking amazing.

My lower half twists and I can feel the gush of wetness between my thighs as he sucks and savors. I don’t think I’ve enjoyed anything more than feeling Peeta’s mouth on my tits.

Maybe there is one thing.

Our first kiss.

Peeta is moving downwards, his lips on my abdomen, gentle as he tastes my skin and it sends shivers through me.

This shouldn’t be happening; I shouldn’t be enjoying this…

This intimacy, those kisses.

I shouldn’t be having an epiphany about my feelings as Peeta kneels in front of me and parts my thighs. He lays on his stomach, resting my thighs onto his shoulders, and bringing his mouth over my netherlips.

“What are you doing?” I ask, pushing myself onto my elbows to look at him.

“I’m going to eat you out,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Didn’t we just have this talk about reciprocation? I swear sometimes I don’t think you really listen to me—”

“Stop with the melodrama.” I take a deep breath before speaking. “I feel a bit overwhelmed. Because I’m not going to come right away. Maybe I won’t even come.”

“This isn’t about an orgasm,” he argues. “It’s about learning to enjoy yourself. Any decent guy will enjoy the sound of his girl enjoying herself, okay?” Peeta looks at me in exasperation. “Now will you lay back like a good girl and just let me eat your pussy already?”

I huff and lay back.

The first swipe is not so bad, just a quick sweep from my lips to just above my clit, and I hum in contentment. He takes that as a good sign and continues, listening for whenever a hiss and groan escapes my lips.

I don’t make it very easy on him or myself. I’m stuck in my own head about whether or not, it’s okay down there…scent wise.

“Peeta?” I push back onto my elbows. He looks up, doe-eyed and his jaw covered in…me. “I smell okay, right?”

“You smell lovely,” he assures me with chuckle.

“Lovely?” I raise a brow. “Like what does that exactly smell like?”

“Kind of musky, but not too much,” he informs me. “And you taste just as nice.”

“How’s that?”

Peeta sits up for a moment, thinking on my question. “Faintly salty, but good.”

I tilt my head at his words. “Like a salt-water gargle?”

“No…” He pauses. “…more like chicken broth?”

I can’t help but laugh. “That’s about the realest answer I’ve heard.”

“Would you settle for bone broth then?” he retorts with a grin. “It’s much better for you.”

“Why am I friends with you?” I ask.

Peeta smirks—and he’s so damn handsome that I want nothing more than to just be near him.

“Because I’m the shit.”

I’m on my knees right in front of him. I can smell myself on his lips, it’s not bad—faintly musky.

“Shithead,” I retort.

Peeta wraps his arms around my back, pulling me close.

“Taste yourself on me,” he whispers.

I press forward, my mouth slanting over his, tasting that tang of myself. He responds ardently, his tongue rough inside my mouth, hungry and yearning for something that I desperately want to give him.

Love.

Did I just fucking fall in love with him?

He pulls away breathless, his blue eyes dark and full as he looks at me and only me.

“What did I tell you?” he says huskily. “Lovely.”

Yes.

Yes, I fucking did

#Lesson Learned #Part Three #Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark #college!Everlark

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opbackgrounds · 4 years

Text

Alright, friends, you know the drill by now. Here’s Part III of Sarcasticles’ overblown thoughts on sexism in One Piece. If you haven’t already, go read Part I and Part II before proceeding.

I promise after this I’ll be done. By hook or by crook, we’re getting through the point of the original question. To the Anon who originally sent the ask, sorry it took this long to get here, I hope it’s helpful.

Also, I allude to some very, very minor Wano spoilers, so if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing here’s your warning.

Characterization? I Don’t Know Her

What makes a good character?

I’ve spent an awful lot of time talking about character designs, when, funnily enough, it’s one of the aspects I pay the least attention to when it comes to deciding if I like how an author portrays their characters. I personally don’t care for fanservice, never have and never will. But unless it’s particularly egregious, I tend to ignore it because there are other factors I think are more important.

The secret sauce for building characters is hard to define, because a good writer can take a concept that has no right being any good and turn it into something incredible (Oda does this all the time) where bad writers will seemingly slot all the right information in the right holes and still have their characters come out of the developmental oven flat and under cooked.

One of the biggest buzzwords floating around these days is agency. Is a character active in their own story, or are they jerked around by the needs of the plot? Is their voice heard? Is their voice unique, or do they blend in with the background?

This is particularly important, because the term Strong Female Protagonist has been warped into shorthand for “girl who fights a lot and looks pretty doing it”. You can have a girl strong enough to lift mountains and still have her be a shit character. You can write a girl who’s main motivation is to get married and have babies with phenomenal depth. What matters is execution.

The Petition to Call A Group of Rescue Arcs a ‘Damsel’

Both Nami and Robin had to be rescued, their main arcs bearing similarities that are impossible to ignore. But these aren’t copies of one another as much as variations on a theme, and with the existence of Marineford and Whole Cake Island I think anyone would be hard-pressed to say that One Piece’s rescue arcs are a girl’s thing. At this point it’s a feature, not a bug.

Which makes sense given how fundamental the idea freedom is to the series. Hell, the first thing Luffy does after becoming a pirate is free Coby from Alvida’s tyrannical reign. Then he frees Zoro from an unjust authority that would have killed him had Luffy not intervened.

Notice a pattern here?

One Piece is written like Pachelbel Canon, in that a very simple core of ideas are repeated over and over with layers of complexity and nuance added over time, examining the same themes from every possible angle.

And when you look at the Four Big Rescue Arcs -- Nami, Robin, Ace, Sanji -- you’ll see that it’s Ace who’s given the least agency throughout his arc. Nami chose to hijack the Going Merry, repeatedly chose to push away the Straw Hats until she reached her breaking point, at which she chose to ask for help, with Luffy only intervening once she does.

Robin is a little less obvious, but during the post-Water 7 party chapters, Aokiji makes the interesting observation that Robin could have escaped CP9, but chose not to

Remember that before Robin’s backstory was shown, Luffy specifically said he didn’t care if she wanted to die or not, so long as she was with the Straw Hats when she made her decision. No one bullied her into “I wanna live”. It was a choice she made of her own volition after realizing the depths the Straw Hats would go on her behalf.

I know there are people who disagree with me, but Nami and Robin are well-written characters. I’ve expounded enough on my reasoning both here and on my main that I don’t want to spend the time belaboring the point. What I do want is to note that Luffy wouldn’t be able to attain his dreams without them. Nami keeps them on course while also severing as a sort of moral compass for the crew -- remember she was the one who insisted on saving the giant kids at Punk Hazard -- while Robin’s ability to read the poneglyphs is what’s going to get the crew to Raftel.

Robin admittedly doesn’t have the same presence within the Straw Hat Pirates as Nami, but I would hardly call that sexism. Since Water 7/Enies Lobby she’s been pretty content to go with whatever Luffy says, and the fact that she’s literally quieter than anyone else in the crew means she doesn’t get as much focus. I think there could be more scenes with her using her specific skill set, like her investigations in Wano and the forensic anthropology scene in the pre-Jaya chapters, but I’m okay with her being a supporting character.

The East Blue Crew have consistently gotten the most focus of any of the Straw Hats. They are the core of the crew, something Oda admits in a roundabout way in the Color Walk where they all appear together for the first time in a color spread

With the main cast as large as it is, not everyone is going to have the same amount of focus or development. Robin is given a unique voice within the story because she doesn’t overreact the way literally everyone else does. Through her silence, she stands out. I find there to be very meaningful character development when she feels comfortable enough with the Straw Hats to start calling them by name in Thriller Bark, relaxed enough with her friends to comitt her first facefaults in a series lousy with them in both Dressrosa and Wano.

In an ideal world, Oda would better rotate through his cast, much like how Brook was the unsung MVP on Whole Cake Island (where Nami was also excellent in a supporting role) but I don’t think people realize how hard it is to juggle almost a dozen different people in a story that’s bloated exponentially over time. To his credit, Oda has handled his expanding crew better than most writers.

I also find it hard to judge this aspect of the series because the manga’s not done yet. I don’t know how Robin and Nami will be used in the future. I mean, Robin never got a chapter title declaring her “The Seventh” which I find suspicious, so Oda could very well have events in store that completely turn our perceptions upside down. It’s impossible to say.

I will acknowledge that the lack of big fights is somewhat disappointing, but neither Robin nor Nami’s dreams revolve around them getting stronger. Robin doesn’t need to use her power to make people explode from the inside out, Nami doesn’t need to fry end-game bosses with her lightning stick. That’s simply not their narrative purpose. With the exception of Tashigi, I’ve found that the female characters advertised as fighters have lived up to their billing. Hancock came out of Marineford unscathed. Carrot’s sulong form was awesome, in the old-fashioned sense of the word. The whole climax of Whole Cake Island revolved around surviving Big Mom’s wrath. Not beating her, not fighting her, it took all the Straw Hats had to just survive. Once again you’re left with a number’s game where where there just aren’t enough female characters to even pretend things are balanced.

All said, I think if you’re going to complain about the lack of Robin fights then I think you also have to complain about the lack of Brook fights, and that’s just not something you hear about, especially after Whole Cake Island. You can’t have it both ways. Either there needs to be more even distribution of major fights throughout the entire crew, or you have to acknowledge that a character’s worth isn’t dependent on their fighting prowess.

One Piece is a battle manga, and I do think that it’s fair to criticize when a character isn’t allowed to fight when they’re perfectly capable of kicking ass. But it’s also an adventure story, and that opens up entirely new space for a character to occupy, and that’s where I think Nami and Robin (but especially Nami) really shine

That Moment You Realize Humor Isn’t A Universal Language

I’ve spent so much time defending Oda’s designs and characters that it might seem like I’m perfectly okay with everything that’s portrayed in the manga. To be clear, I’m not. If the messages and comments I’ve gotten over the past several days have taught me anything, it’s that many fans share the same sticking points I do, namely in regards to some of the gags.

I again want to be careful here, because I’m hardly an expert on Japanese culture and it’s really hard to tell if Oda writes his jokes because he thinks they’re funny, or if he thinks his audience will find them funny. I’m again going to default to somewhere in the middle, because if Oda truly found the perviness distasteful he probably wouldn’t have included it, and I’ve read enough SBS to know the guy likes his dick jokes.

First and foremost, one must address the culture gap. Japan ranks last among G7 nations on gender equality, In 2004 two-thirds of Tokyo women in their 20-30s reported to being groped while on public transport. There are numerous barriers that make it difficult for a woman to succeed either in the workplace or politics.

From what I can gather, some of these trends are reversing, albeit slowly and with great resistance. Contrary to what many people seem to believe culture is not always value neutral. And I say that as an American, recognizing there are plenty of things about my culture and country that are really fucked up.

But who gets to decide who’s right and who’s wrong?

When inside that kind of environment, that kind of culture, it’s a lot easier to understand how a character like Sanji can exist. It’s easy to understand why Momo shoving his face into Nami and Robin’s boobs might be played for laughs. It’s not an excuse, but an explanation. And with Sanji failing more often than not, being the butt of his own joke as he slowly turns into a parody of what he once was, one could almost say Oda is pointing those types of people and saying, “Look how pathetic this guy is. Now go laugh as he gets a nosebleed so bad he needs multiple blood transfusions in order to not die.”

I say almost, because Sanji is never condemned for his actions, nor does he learn from them. Instead you have this character who’s supposed to be one of the kindest characters in the series decide to immediately go peep on a woman’s bath house after gaining the power of invisibility.

Stay classy, Oda.

As distasteful as I find it, I don’t find fanservice to be an inherently evil thing that must be eradicated at all costs, and with Oda doing things like putting his entire cast, male and female, into skintight leathers you can hardly say that he’s excluding the men.

Everyone will have their line in the sand, and mine goes back to agency. When Nami did her Happiness Punch way back in Alabasta, that was of her own volition. When Nami and Robin dress in clothes that show everything but the nipple, that’s something they chose and feel comfortable in.

But when Smoker and Tashigi swapped bodies at Punk Hazard, Tashigi specifically asked Smoker not to strip, and he did anyway, opening her coat and removing her bra. This is especially egregious as Tashigi is one of the very few women in the series who is always shown wearing very conservative clothing. Oda specifically showed Tashigi getting upset at Smoker’s actions, and Smoker repeatedly refusing to listen to her.

That’s where I draw my line.

Some Final Thoughts I Couldn’t Fit Anywhere Else

Thought The First--Oda has an interesting habit of turning his most despicable, scummy pieces of flaming human garbage into the butt of the joke. Villains like Crocodile and Doflamingo are certainly evil, but it’s the idealized, cool type of evil that makes you almost admire them. There aren’t very many real-world Crocodiles, but just about everyone knows a Spandam, or an Absalom, or a Vander Decken. These kinds of villains aren’t scary because of their physical prowess, but their unyielding obsessions and the power they’re able to wring from the system, and -- surprise, surprise -- all three are either actively trying to be creepy sex pests or coded as such with the visual language of the comic.

And Oda turns them into a mockery.

While there are some who feel like not treating serious issues like sexual assault seriously are doing a disservice to people who have endured similar experiences I think there’s merit to turning them into a laughingstock. As someone much smarter than me said once, if an opinion cannot withstand mockery it’s revealed to be ridiculous, and these scummy-scum villains are certainly ridiculous.

Thought The Second--It’s hard to say how much sexism is a thing in-universe. Kuina is the only one who is explicitly told her dreams were impossible because of her gender, but with the recent reveal confirming that her family came from Wano, which in turn is based on Feudal Japan, it’s hard to say how widespread these beliefs are. Tashigi brought it up again at Loguetown and Bellemere specifically told her girls that they lived in an era where “girls needed to be strong, too”, but otherwise it’s not a topic that’s been explored in any depth

Thought The Third--The in-universe fetishization of mermaids has some implications that I think are unintended but worth discussing. Shirahoshi has a reputation of being one of the most beautiful women in the world despite not leaving her tower for over 10 years (she’s 16). Mermaids whose tails have split are worth less on the slave market than those whose are intact. Even Zoro erased Kokoro from his memory after meeting the more attractive Caime. It’s one of those odd things that when combined with the more obvious racism themes could have some unfortunate implications, and I think could have been avoided had Oda show a little more restraint with some of his jokes. Unintended consequences are still consequences.

Thought The Forth--There are many other instances throughout the series that people bring up with talking about sexism in One Piece. I feel like a lot of these can be explained away individually -- for example, both Belo Betty and Rebecca’s stripperific outfits were inspired by other media, the painting Liberty of the People and Red Sonja respectively; Lola chasing after an obviously abusive man makes a whole lot more sense when you meet Big Mom; Hancock’s love sickness could be seen as an emotionally stunted woman experiencing her first crush, etc., etc -- it’s when they’re all put together that they begin to read as “Problematic”.

It would be impossible to go over all these individually, but I tend to fall on the side of leniency. In the end, everyone has to make their own decisions based on their own values. I’m hardly unbiased, and my enjoyment for the series will undoubtedly make me look the other way when another might call the exact same incident The Worst Thing Ever. The thing is, opinions are like assholes, everyone has one and most are convinced that theirs don’t stink. I include myself in that statement. In the end it’s a comic for kids. It’s supposed to be fun.

Thought The Last--I have spent entirely too much of my time writing this up, but in the end I guess I have to go back to what I said when I talked about my thoughts on Sanji: Everyone has their own personal line of acceptable bullshit, and for me Oda does more good than bad. Sanji specifically gets very little leniency from me because I don’t like a lot of the gross behavior Oda passes over as a joke. But the female characters themselves, generally speaking? They’re fine. There are other mangaka that have more equal male to female ratios or have women play more active roles in the story, but Oda does a lot better than most other shonen titles I’ve read.

It’s okay to be critical of media you enjoy. It’s okay to complain. But remember that One Piece is a very long series, and there are some fans who have been a round for literally decades. I myself started reading weekly around the time Duval was introduced, way back in 2008. Every time a new batch of fans comes in the same old arguments get stirred to the top of the pot: Sanji is a creep, Oda can’t draw women, why doesn’t Robin ever get to fight?

It can be exhausting to go through the same hoops time and time again. So if you’re someone who is being critical and feel like no one is listening, or that a bunch of fans are going out of their way to defend Oda, that could be one of the reasons why. They’re tired of having a series they enjoy be shit on.

There are other fans who legitimately don’t think that Oda’s done anything wrong, that jokes are just jokes. If you happen to fall in that category, remember that not everyone feels that way. Art reflects life, which in turn reflects art. One Piece is a few million copies away from outselling Batman. To say it isn’t influential to young readers, both in Japan and abroad, is beyond asinine.

I thank everyone who’s taken the time to read this so far. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how civil the discussion and my inbox as stayed. Even if I didn’t respond to your message, I promise that I did read it.

I wrote as much as I did because I know this is a topic a lot of people care about, and also so I hopefully don’t have to write about it again. A lot of hours has gone into this project, and it’s been exhausting, but in a good way, if that makes any sense. I’m ready to put it to rest.

I was joking with some friends that I think I’ve hit just about every hot topic issue now, so hopefully I can go back to fun questions like speculating if Wapol can eat a person and poop out a devil fruit.

Until then, Sarcasticles, out

#sexism #one piece #long post #sarc talks

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