#like whether it was happening or not there was very much a basis for miles’ jealousy being set up

[anika-ann]

Cracks in Foundation (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, standalone or part of Love on the Brain series

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 6000

Summary: Dating Steve Rogers is a curse and a gift. Even as it was always a privilege, right now, it feels like the former. You really want to smack some sense into him so this never happens again, but you know it will – after all, that’s half the reason you love him.

In other words, Steve is stupidly brave on a mission and it has consequences neither of you could foresee. But maybe you should have; because now you’re here alone to pick up the pieces.

Warnings!!: Steve being an absolute dumbass, mentions and images of death, hypothermia, PTSD, flashbacks, probably not an ideal treatment of a flashback, canon typical violence, language

A/N: reader is called “Agent Jones”, works for the Avengers Initiative; you do not need knowledge of Criminal Minds or Love on the Brains series to read this, but it will, of course, make more sense. I imagine this taking place much later - in about a year after the events of Love on the Brain; divider by firefly-graphics

In my body I fight fire With the snow, my hell is cold (SYML – Body)

This shouldn’t have happened. This nevershouldn’t have happened but it had – of course it had. You should have seen it coming, both the action and the reaction. All of you should have known better, but you in particular.

Unfortunately, sometimes, despite your ability to profile people, you still failed.

Sometimes, despite your best knowledge of Steven Grant Rogers, you still managed to underestimate him. His literally unhuman body. His profoundly good heart. His incredible strength in both muscles and psyche. His ability to have you burn for him with a single touch. His ability to touch your heart in ways no one ever could.

His extraordinary dumbassery.

You really should have known so much better.

If you had, you wouldn’t have him here, face ashen, lips turning blue, eyes wide and unfocused; he looked like death itself.

You swallowed your tears and tried to battle the ever-rising panic crawling up your throat, closing your eyes for a moment as if it could erase the terrifying sight.

“Steve? Stevie? You’re going to be okay… I’m here. You’re going to be okay…”

You repeated the mantra so many times you weren’t sure anymore whether you were saying it to him or to yourself.

The craziest thing was, it wasn’t even the worst sight of the day you were offered by your exceptional dumbass of a boyfriend; no, that had been what your own mind had shown you. Now that image was going to haunt you forever and despite knowing yelling solved nothing and it couldn’t change the past, you were going to scream your lungs out when you’d get the chance. Later. Right now, you had more pressing matters to attend to.

Like making sure Steve Rogers, your GG, would come back to you.

You needed to get to work.

It was a routine mission really, if such things as routine existed within the Avengers Initiative. It was rather routine in terms of involvement of the actual Avengers; Steve and Natasha joined missions like these – sweep a base, gather intel, make some arrests if lucky enough – on a regular basis. Tony Stark coming with? Less so. Still, one could call it routine enough, even when located in the death of tundra in Russia around 100 miles from the border with Finland.

Besides the cold and Tony, there was nothing extraordinary. Just another mission.

And it had been; until the agents scattered and you heard several voices in the comms reporting they were in pursuit of the enemies. Until you found out they were chasing them through the tunnels and suddenly found themselves outside of the base. Until you learned that outside meant the landscape of the very frozen lake Natasha had purposely avoided landing the quinjet on for the fear of the heavy aircraft destabilizing the already risky environment.

Until you heard agent Smith was down. And by down, they meant under the ice, because a thinner layer of it cracked and broke under his feet. Until Steve fucking Rogers, two hundred and forty pounds of muscle and zero brain power at the moment had the wonderful idea to rush to Smith’s aid.

You had made it out of the base just in time to see his navy-blue suit disappear and your sleep for the following nights probably with it. You had stood there holding your breath as if you were the one in the icy water, as if subconsciously testing how much oxygen – as if that was the only concern – you had left before you’d have to make it to the surface for another breath.

It was long. It was too long. You had taken at least two breaths in the meantime and you weren’t sure the panic rising in your chest with every frantic beat of your heart, with every second they did not appear above the surface, was to blame.

Your hand flew to your comms and you cursed yourself for not having done it moments ago.

“Tony-“

“I’m onto those idiots, Squirt, don’t worry,” his voice sounded in your ear, not quite easing your worry in fact.

Steve was still under. Still in the water. Even though you were aware that he survived much worse than a few seconds of icy cold water – try decades – you’d rather he was still conscious when Tony would get his stupid ass out. And the second Steve would be able to hear you, were going to yell, very loudly and probably more than a little hysterical, because what the hell had he been doing beside tempting fate to give him another involuntary icy nap. You were going to chew the hell out of him, your fists curling in your thick microfibre gloves, because you felt like punshing him too, anything, just so you could stop holding your breath.

But you needed him to get out first.

“And get to the jet, your bae will need some warming up,” Tony added, causing you to grit your teeth, even as you were grateful; not a second later, the whoosh of Iron Man’s suit flying above your head blew the few stands of hair that escaped your hat in your face.

Completely ignoring Tony’s inappropriate comment and his sound advice, you remained right where you stood, gaze transfixed where you had last seen Steve, slipping under the surface. Your pulse thundered in your temples as you watched the red and gold of Tony’s suit fly like a flare above the flood of white surrounding you all, nearing the break in the ice, no doubt searching the heat signatures you assumed were fading with each passing moment.

And then the Iron Man himself performed an obnoxious superhero-like landing, complete with fist on the ground and your anger, gathering since you saw Steve dive into a fucking ice soup without a second thought, exploded, your vision turning bloody red for a split second. What the fuck was Stark doing that for?! Did he really just feed his ego while on a rescue mission?! You were going to-

And then the fist landed again. And again and again and then it hit you. You didn’t have the capacity to scold yourself for assuming and assuming completely wrong; the realization stunned you, blood freezing in your veins having nothing to do with the snow and harsh wind hitting your face.

The ice had frozen over. Steve jumped in and before he could emerge, the ice had frozen over his head. The image of a him under water, holding Smith, the fucking moron, to his chest and fighting to punch his way through the solid surface, swinging his arm heavily through the icy water stinging every inch of his skin, losing oxygen by the minute, that was an image that would haunt you forever, even as you had never set your eyes on it.

Then again, the arm of Tony’s suit diving into water and pulling out two men as easily as if they were helpless kittens was etched into your brain just as effectively, arriving with overwhelming relief. With a wordless prayer on your lips, you squinted against the snow blowing in your face to search for a lump of beloved and hated navy blue suit contrasting against the endless white of the plain surrounding the incident.

You’d swear you could hear him coughing, hungrily drinking in air in between when he doubled over as soon as Tony dropped him off in a safe distance from the crack. In the back of your mind, you were aware of the red and gold figure carrying the motionless body of Agent Smith, flying it to the quinjet, the medical team having prepared on the ramp with a stroller and equipment, but your eyes were transfixed on the dark mass of a supersoldier good hundred feet away still. You were almost certain, even from the distance, that he also managed to empty his stomach to make him feel even more miserable. Not that you blamed him; it had to be, apart from really fucking cold, extremely terrifying. It definitely was for you. Just the memory made your feel throat as if squeezed in a vice.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, pick-up number two happening right away,” Tony assured you face-to face, uncharacteristically humourless now that he had set eyes on the momentarily lifeless body of Agent Smith.

You thought you uttered a thank you, but he couldn’t hear it as he was already off to carry your exceptionally idiotic boyfriend along. And so you ran to the jet, boots heavy with snow falling in and biting coldly into your calf and shins, legs stiff from the shock of the experience still.

When Tony finally brought Steve after what felt like a lifetime, you certainly didn’t speak a word of complaint when he also hauled him further into the quinjet into one of the medical cubicles sans a team. You followed, painfully aware of every single muscle in Steve’s body trembling, the tips of his fingers having turned white.

“You can yell at him first,” Tony told you graciously, shooting Steve an ugly look before glancing at you entering just behind them.

“Gee thanks,” you snarked back automatically, tone softening when you met his genuinely worried eyes. “Thank you, Tony, really.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed, but a small smile passed over his lips. “Jarvis, heat up this room for our Capsicle, will you?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Steve wasn’t going to live that down any time soon, probably ever, not after attempting to became an icicle for the second time.

“Certainly, sir. Gradually heating up to 25 degrees Celsius, as recommended in the medical manual,” the AI chimed helpfully, the wave of heat washing over you instantly. The air felt almost tropical after the arctic wind outside, but you were grateful. Steve would need that.

“Thanks, J,” you said, throwing off your gloves, hat and parka as quick as you managed with your fingers freezing, not bothering with more as to help Steve strip his soaking garments as soon a possible.

The silence that settled after rang a sudden alarm bells; it dawned to you at last that during the whole exchange, Steve remained quiet. Way too quiet.

You’d expect the sounds of zippers and Velcro as he was tearing off his uniform, the fabric dripping icy cold water despite the best engineers and designers having worked on the material. You’d expect his teeth to clatter in doing so, colourful curses on his blueish lips, especially when in company of only you and Tony. He had been coughing out water, quite violently, barely just having been dropped in the jet, so you’d think his air-ways would still fight spasm and the biting intrusion of ice, the raspy wet cough not ceasing.

But Steve was doing neither of that, tripling your worry for him in the process.

You moved to round him to get a look at him with an urgent whisper of his name, stomach flipping in fear when he didn’t answer.

The lack of any action or sound was incredibly disconcerting, because it could mean two things: either, he was absolutely stunned, the weight of what could have happened finally falling on him, or he had been already struck by hypothermia severe enough to be acutely in danger despite being a far cry from what Smith had looked like when Tony dropped him off.

When you finally laid your eyes on Steve’s face, your heart nearly stopped. His skin was scarily pale, his lips turning alarming blue, but that, while worrying, wasn’t surprising at all. What shocked you was his eyes; his pupils were blown wide, unfocused, misted over to the point that had he been lying on the ground, you’d swear he was--

Do not even think it. You can’t. He was going to be fine, he was alright, he just needed to warm up, he was not—He was very much alive, you were sure of it, he had to be. But the fact was, Steve couldn’t see you. He wasn’t seeing anything.

With horror, your gaze fell to his chest and in a split second, you realized that his whole body was still. Way too still. He wasn’t moving at all; he wasn’t even breathing. And yet, he was standing upright, almost as if his feet simply froze to the ground and that was the only reason why he hadn’t collapsed yet- But you knew, you knew that wasn’t possible, and despite the panic clawing at your throat, you were hundred percent certain that he wouldn’t be standing upright had his heart stopped, so how was he still standing?

It would be baffling if it wasn’t absolutely terrifying. Why was he so still? It literally looked as if he was frozen, as if-

He was frozen.

When it finally clicked, a choked noise erupted from lips, your heart shattering into thousand pieces; but your mind snapped into action, already working on solutions.

“Tony, get us as many of towels, blankets and those small heat packs, as you can manage  and give me full access to J. Make sure we have complete privacy. No one needs to see this.” Your throat was too tight for you to be able to speak on normal volume, but that was the least of your concerns, truly. You were sure Tony heard you just fine.

At least someone did.

“Kinky-?” Tony uttered, confused by your sudden escalated panic and the look you shot him – if looks could kill, he’d already be lying in a pool of his blood.

“Tony, get your ass fucking moving or I’ll swear to god I’ll strangle you in a way that will make Sam McDowell look like an amateur.”

Whether he knew the name of the prolific serial strangler or simply understood the urgency in your tone, he had enough wit to take his leave without further protest and with relative hurry, leaving you focus fully on Steve. Oh Steve. The absent brilliant blue of his irises had your stomach make another unpleasant somersault, your eyes filling with tears, nose tingling in anticipation of a full sobfest.

You so couldn’t afford that now. You couldn’t afford screaming either, but good god, did you want to – you wanted to stand in front of a mirror and scream your lungs out because how could it have not punched you straight in the face right away? How could you have not seen it coming?! You only had years of experience in profiling, with dealing individuals struggling with PTSD among other things. You only known Steve for years, knew what he had endured. You only learned about the sacrifice of Captain America in high school, several years ago.

God, the icy water. Could there be any more obvious and deadly trigger?

Of course Steve’s gaze was absent, his whole mind was. He wasn’t here with you, not in time and not in space; he was in the water. In a water so icy it was turning solid, trapping him for decades to come. People couldn’t breathe under water. People couldn’t breathe when frozen in a mass of ice.

Now you understood the reason for the absolute stillness of his whole body including his chest. Steve’s mind was locked so firmly into the memory that it either shut his body – because logically, he wouldn’t be able to breathe, let alone move in the prison he found himself in – or it latched onto his survival instinct, screaming at him not to breathe to prevent the water flooding into his lungs.

You fought your instinct to gag when the iron fist that realization hit you square in the stomach and sent bile up your throat.

So not the time. You needed him to snap out of it. And you needed it fast before you’d lose any more precious seconds.

“Steve?” you called out lowly, giving zero shit about the crack in your voice. “Stevie? You’re going to be okay, but I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?” you pleaded.

Grimacing, you released an involuntarily whimper when you got zero reaction. You pushed through the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to repeat the words in normal volume. The only response you got was the ever-present unnatural stillness; and Steve’s lips gradually turning bluer.

Your thoughts whirled in your head, mind desperately trying to latch onto any knowledge and experience you had with dealing with PTSD. You had never encountered someone with similar problem, never dealt with a flashback of this magnitude; Gideon had once taken the lead with a soldier trapped in his mind, murdering civilians for he believed them to be enemy soldiers, but that was Gideon. Jason Gideon, with his mind of steel and twenty-five years of experience. Jason Gideon, one of the founding fathers of the Behaviour Analysis Unit himself.

On your own, you were at loss with someone so far gone; but what you knew had to be enough. What you knew was that the only way of breaking Steve out of the prison his mind had created was to anchor him in reality, to appeal to all his senses.

The problem was that the majority of stimuli Steve was receiving from his senses matched the very environment of his flashback. The reality you would try to ground him in was his clothes soaking wet in freezing water and him being on a planewith a voice of a woman in his ears, trying to sooth his suffering. In other words, the reality was how he ended up buried in the ice in the first place.

Aware that you were shaking like a leaf yourself, jaw set so tight it was beginning to hurt, you were also painfully aware you couldn’t just stand there doing nothing with cheeks wet with tears and stare at the strongest person you had ever knew involuntarily depriving himself of oxygen. You had to do something.

Touching him was, frankly, a terrible idea; touching anyone with a flashback would be, because you’d be risking triggering a fight or flight response instead. Touching Steve and triggering the fight part in a supersoldier however, get him run on pure instinct? Now that could result in your broken neck or crushed windpipe really quickly. That idea truly didn’t sound appealing to you; and Steve would never forgive himself. You’d rather avoid that.

You took a deep breath, releasing the air shakily as your mind raced. Alright. Time. If you couldn’t ground him in space, you needed to ground him in time.

“Steve, GG, look at me. I’m Agent Jones – I’m Sparkles,” you said urgently, taking care to voice every syllable, daring to step an inch closer to him, hoping to fill his field of vision completely. “And I’m right here with you. There’s no water. Nothing’s stopping me or you from breathing.” You exaggerated an inhale and exhale, the warm air washing over his face, but without any effect. “There’s plenty of air, GG, for both you and me. Please.”

You dug your nails into your palms when nothing happened but your love staring back blankly, unnaturally stiff.

Steve could hold his breath for a long time – much more than an average human, his lung capacity unmatched – but he had also been drowning, so you really couldn’t count on that. You were running out of time. He was going to pass out. Sure, his breathing would kick in then and hell, maybe losing consciousness would be a blessing compared to this, but that sleep would not be peaceful and there was no telling what the wake-up call would look like other than really fucking unpleasant. The idea of him escaping one nightmare only to be find himself in another and then another until he woke up to the reality just as harsh, as if freshly having lost the whole world he knew all over again, chased fresh tears into your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Tony’s voice snapped you from your focus, your heart nearly bursting through your chest.

Jesus, how long had he been standing there?

Not important; and you didn’t have time to explain. Without thinking, you spilled the truth in as few words as possible, in the very same breath you tried to appeal to Steve again, your gaze never shifting from his pale face.

“He’s having a flashback, please leave, thank you for the blankets-- GG, please. Breathe with me, there’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise. I’m right here. Trust me. I can breathe just fine…”

You could not. You felt as if someone smashed your ribs with a crowbar for laughs and hit and hit until you couldn’t breathe in without blinding pain, but you knew, you knew it had to be nothing compared to what Steve was facing and you needed to get a grip, you couldn’t wallow in it and you couldn’t let the biting fear consume you. Not with Steve like this.

You were out of other options. Gulping, you oh so slowly lifted your trembling hand, settling it against Steve’s ashen cold cheek. You only got as far as your skin brushing his when a vice-like grip on your wrist stopped you, tearing your touch away and completely immobilizing your hand in the process.

He didn’t look at you as you hissed in pain; he was still far, far away, not moving an inch more than strictly necessary to stop you. But the jolt of pain into your wrist was accompanied by a loud gasp for air, his ribcage expanding right in front of your eyes.

A wet laugh escaped you. “Oh thank god.”

His fingers might as well be made of ice, just as freezing and just as rigid, clutching at you with all the might his body was probably capable off and it hurt. But at least it wasn’t your throat in his grip; you could both breathe. That was a tremendous win.

You still needed to anchor him further and actually bring him back, but the door to his mind were unlocked at least. Now you needed to appeal to all his senses, talk him through it, so he could open the door himself.

“Agent Jones? Do you require assistance?” Jarvis asked warily, no doubt reacting to your physical distress.

Rightfully so, because it was growing – if it was possible, Steve’s fingers dug further into your flesh, already making for a bruise, you were sure. Your fingertips begun to tingle, strange numbness spreading through your hand, but you were far too gone to give up now. You could handle this. You’d get Steve release you on his own.

“Not for now, J, thank you. We’re good—actually, Jarvis?” you called out lowly, the artificial intelligence instantly letting you know he listened. “Can you play me a song? I need to get Steve in the modern times.”

“Certainly. What would you like me to play, Agent Jones? Something contemporary?”

“Yeah. Contemporary and irritatingly ear-worming,” you muttered, mind racing.

A song Steve would hundred percent know, one his mind would without a single doubt identify as something modern. It was the biggest assholery of your mind to push the melody of Let It Go into the forefront of your overstressed brain before anything else, but a hysterical chuckle escaped you anyway, forcing you to lick off tears from your lips. It was the stupidest thing and the worst irony ever – because yeah, the cold really fucking bothered you now and it sure bothered Steve.

“Something way too overplayed on a radio, preferably without the words cold, snow, ice and such in it, J.”

It was only half a second later, when Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off came out the speakers.

Despite yourself, you snorted, fresh tears springing out. This time, you appreciated the irony. That was what Steve needed, right? He just needed to shake it off. He’d be fine.

Taking a deep breath, smiling through your tears and the growing pains in your wrist, you got to work.

You told him what he was hearing. The engines, the song, the heating running, your voice. You told him what he could see, your hair, the colour of your eyes, the Avengers logo etched onto your uniform and not an SSR one, the high-tech equipment you knew he could have never seen in his original time. You told him about the heat washing over his face and hair, your hand in his.

The owlish, painfully slow blink you elicited was a victory, bringing a smile to your face, drying your tears, bringing a softer and softer tone to your voice as you continued speaking.

“Steve? GG? I know it’s cold and I want to help you,” you said gently, trying to meet his gaze as it began to slowly roam to room; still absent, but not misted over anymore. “I could help you by taking off that wet suit, taking away the cold. But for that, I need you to let go of my hand so I can-“

You gritted your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut when the response you got was the exact opposite, as if he was mad at you for even suggesting it; you stifled the whimper at the prickling his grip sent through your arm. It was hard to tell whose hand was paler now; he definitely cut off your circulation and it was not a pretty sight. But you only had yourself to blame and you promised yourself you’d never do otherwise.

It was only when the numbness replaced the pain that it dawned to you where the problem might be.

“GG, please? I promise I won’t leave. I’ll stay right here with you. But I need you to release my hand so I can take that cold away. Only the cold, I swear.”

You nearly cried when the pressure on your wrist gradually eased, a shaky exhale sounding a lot like a whine escaping you. That was most definitely more than a bruise; you allowed yourself a few seconds of deep breaths, fighting off the dark edge in your vision.

Then, you grabbed after one of the small heating pads, snapping the thin metal plate inside to initiate a chemical reaction; in an instant, the thick liquid began to solidify and warm up. You placed in into Steve’s still open palm, hanging loosely by his side, enclosing his icy fingers around it despite the gloves getting in the way. You winced at the sharp pain shooting through your arm. Definitely more than a bruise. You repeated the process to warm up his other hand, finally going for the Velcros and zippers on the front of his suit.

Thankfully, the temperature Jarvis had set melted the microcrystals of ice around the metal, allowing you to undo it relatively easy. You felt Steve’s eyes on your now, his body slowly, oh so slowly getting on with the programme, fists unclenching when you needed to pull the sleeves over his hands without dropping the pads.

“You’re doing so good, Stevie, so good,” you praised him softly, loud enough to speak over the second playing of the song in the background. You were going to hear it for days, you were certain. And you’d hate it forever, too. “You’re a great help, GG, thank you.”

When he dropped the pads, you made a quick work of undoing his gloves too, before pushing new pads into his hands. His thick pants followed; the boots though, those were trickier.

Fuck this. You swiftly searched the transparent cabinets for scalpel, slicing the material through as carefully as you could with your still trembling hands. The water was still brutally cold against your fingers; and your wrist was beginning to throb. Almost there, you soothed yourself, wondering whether you’d manage to make Steve sit down so you could take off those boots and the pants… and underpants. You’d rather have him keep his dignity, but his boxer shorts were soaked through as well and way too close to his core… maybe if you placed enough heating pads around…

The truth was that despite your instincts screaming at you, you knew you didn’t have to worry that much about the physical effects of the low temperature on him. As awful as it sounded, you knew he could take the icy cold – that was part of the problem. It was the numbing memory constructing the perfect trap for his mind, the dissociation, that took precedence, as unusual as it was. And if you weighted the pros and cons…

Well. It wasn’t like his dick was going to freeze right off.

You stood to your full height, licking your lips as you faced Steve again. He was watching you now with surprising intent; you tried to give him a reassuring smile, raising your unharmed hand slowly enough for him to register and placed it on his ribs, almost under the armpit, ready to support him in case his muscles didn’t quite respond to his command as expected when you’d ask him to sit down.

What you didn’t expect was for him to crumble under your touch.

Over two hundred pounds of muscle was too much for your body to carry. When he leaned onto you without a single warning, his knees giving way, dropping his whole weight on your shoulders, you tumbled to the ground as you were without a real chance to slow down the fall. Your hands instinctively attempted too, but you knew you could add bruised backbone and your other wrist to the list on your injuries.

And while pain briefly shot through you very bones, you soon didn’t give a damn.

Not when Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck, arms gripping onto your body like as if it was a lifeline, harsh breaths and heartbreaking sobs escaping his lips, shaking his usually strong frame; but maybe that was just shivers from the cold. His skin was still almost icy to touch, his nose like an icicle as he pressed to your collarbone over your thermals, wet hair tickling your chin; his pants at his ankles, his boots, barely keeping together, still as his feet. You let them be as they were. Instead of stripping him further, you managed to reach for at least one of the pads and throw it into his lap, the blankets and towels too far away.

You enclosed Steve in a hug, achy hand carefully resting in his hair, the other running soothing circles on his back in a poor attempt to console him. His tears seeped into your shoulder and you never cared less for anything in your life; yours in return disappeared into his hair. Sweet nonsenses were spilling from your lips, drowned in his ragged sobs; you whispered his name over and over, his name and all endearments that came to mind and even remotely fit him. I’ve got you, love. Sweetheart, I’m here, sweet, I’m here… oh GG, my gentle giant, giant heart, I’ve got you, this will pass, I’ll help, I’ll help, I’ll help you stand up again. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you, baby, so proud…

The song, thank god, stopped playing as soon as Steve broke.

You could feel his body weighting a ton, every muscle weary, strung and feeble at once, and yet, it was his mind making for most of the weight he couldn’t bear. Feelings he normally hid behind a wall as tall as Tower of Babel so he could lead others into battle with a brave face now oozed off him and soaked your skin and mind. You could only imagine the onslaught of emotions and memories, reminders of all he lost, the ghost of having woken up in the new millennium for the first time looming over him.  

The way his fingers dug into your forearm, clutched at the flesh of your waist, it would hurt later; but at the moment, those long agonizing minutes that felt like an eternity, you barely felt it, instead consumed by overwhelming grief for the kindest and strongest soul you had ever met. The best man, breaking in front of your eyes and in your arms.

It took long minutes before you dared to move, just enough to reach for the blanket and strip him off the pants and shoes at least. You never went too far. The volume of your voice decreased along with Steve’s, along with the tremble of his exhausted body. He melted into your frame, falling asleep right there, held in your considerably weaker arms and you were grateful.

In a low voice, you asked Jarvis to notify Steve’s therapist – and yours, even if with less urgency. The worst of it was over, but you weren’t naïve as to think that just because the storm was over, there would be no damage and no need for restoration.

For now, you held Steve and tried to keep him warm, not blind to the fact his body combined with Jarvis’ service was already drying off the last piece of clothing he wore. You ran the fingers of your unharmed hand through the golden damp strands of his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead every now and then, hoping his sleep was dreamless.

Minutes or hours later, Natasha was the one to find you still curled one into other, gently telling you that everyone had already left the jet and that she’d send medics over in a few. You gave her a brave smile even as you were feeling everything but, your adrenalin wearing off and leaving you on the brink of breaking yourself.

When two medics rolled Steve away and you followed, refusing to move an inch farther from Steve than necessary just in case he’d unexpectedly wake up, a third one forced you to take an x-ray as your hand was already swelling.

As it turned out, there was a crack in both your ulna and radius, the mass, however strong, having been unable to withstand Steve’s strength. The swelling was bothering your nerves and your veins, hence the painful tingles and numbness; but in the end, they were just cracks. They’d heal.

Cracks actually usually hurt more than complete breaks, Doctor Jackson told you. You thought it was quite fitting. What Steve had experienced was not a break, for he was never broken; you weren’t certain he could be. It was but a crack; the foundation of who he was had so far been strong enough to withstand horrors unimaginable. And even though the cracks hurt like a bitch, you’d be there for him to help him through the pain.

The cracks in your bones could be solved by a few pills and rest; his would be a little more complicated.

But you’d help build him up again. You’d help him stand tall. Not for the sake of Captain America, the shining beacon of hope, the façade that could be speedpaint with shines of red, blue and white with ease. No, you’d help repair the real cracks for Steve, the gentlest of giants you knew, even if it would take more time and effort than an icon.

He was worth the trouble; even as you suspected that once he’d wake, he might have a thing or two to say about that. You’d convince him otherwise; you wouldn’t be alone.

And neither would he.

With a splint all over your forearm and wrist and a promise you would do a session in Doctor Cho’s cradle to speed the healing, you settled on the bed by Steve’s bedside, the surprisingly serene expression on his face and the gentle beeps of the heart monitor making for a warm hum of satisfaction in your chest.

You’d heal together. Of that, you were sure.

I was hearing words in black and white Twisted up inside my broken mind Outstretched dirty hands just like a child Hungry little fool, but you were mine (SYML – Body)

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Notes (because the first aid trainer in me screams and severe hypothermia is a bitch): normally, first concern would most definitely be the cold, hypothermia and the impending arrhythmia (can be caused by the cold), but a) it was established Steve’s body can take it (proved the hard way) and b) his suit probably kept the absolutely worst away… PSA over.

ANYWAY. I hope you – well – liked it ("enjoyed" feels like a little too strong of a word for Steve’s suffering) 🥰 Thank you for reading! Feedback is life.

P.S. – this will likely be followed by a second part called Restoration, but I make no promises.

P.P.S. - if you wish to read a fluff about "Steve fell through frozen lake" situation, I recommend Frozen by @tilltheendwilliwrite 🥰

P.P.P.S. -  if you are a CM fan, know that the title is a loose reference to Emily's issues in the second half of season seven when she tries to re-settle down with the team and at Quantico.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #captain america imagine #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america #steve rogers #captain america fanfiction #love on the brain vibes #love on the brain #cracks in foundation #anika ann

[deaddee-anime-brownfanlady]

Honestly, I feel like some people seems to totally misinterpret Miguel character so much to the point that it makes me wonder did some actual payed attention to the same movie? How I've seen certain iffy bad takes of some who thinks he's just pure evil or that he's a villain.

I have to say when it comes to Miguel as a character is that I think he's a very fascinating and engaging in the fact that he's very much so different from the other Spider-men's in terms of both his superhuman like straight up Mutant half spider abilities with the fangs & claws, but also because he himself while still being a hero is very much a antagonistic character and foil against Miles on the basis of what it's truly actually means to be Spiderman.

On one hand with Miguel I can feel were he's coming from when it comes to not wanting the world's/multiverse to collapse....But at the same time I think it's obvious that Miguel is clearly self-projecting all of his deep pain & anger, issues, trauma and unresolved grief of what happened to his daughter and clearly putting himself at major fault for the destruction of his daughter earth /universe and projecting it all on Miles.

I think its apparent that the man is very much letting his inner turmoil clouds his judgment and making him see things in a very narrow one-track minded way in regards to the canon conformity.

Like I'm not forgiving what Miguel did to my boy Miles during that whole train case scene and what he put him through thus far, especially with him calling Miles a mistakes, which felt very much like an personal thing in the fact that Miguel most likely sees some parts of himself within Miles. Given that he basically made the mistake of replacing another version of himself thus disrupting said universe. So its makes sense for Miguel to not want Miles to end up making the very same tragic mistake as he did....yet Miguel still isn't super 100% highly sure on whether or not Miles saving his dad would cause his universe to end completely along with causing damage to canon.

Of course, from Miguel's viewpoint and what he's been through, I can get why he's really doesn't want to take that risk, I'm not trying to justify Miguel crappy actions with how he treated Miles. But whatever might go down within Beyond the Spiderverse is that I hope Miles manages to have some kind of major eventful meaningful confrontation with Miguel and managed to show him that no matter how impossible it seems or might be, is that Spiderman should always, always try to help no matter what.

I want Miles to show & also knock some much-needed sense into Miguel and prove to him that you should still at least try. Instead of simply just letting things play out and saying that Welp at a certain point you should no longer try to save someone because of supposed written destiny in canon.

All in all I just think that Miguel is such a cool but fascinating antagonistic hero and foil who while having real good intentions of not wanting the multiverse to fall apart....is to me clearly going about it in the wrong ways...especially in regards to Miles.

#Spiderverse meta #Miguel o'hara #Miles Morales #Spiderverse spoilers #Spiderman across the Spiderverse spoilers #Spiderverse analysis #Spiderman across the Spiderverse #atsv #Spiderverse #long post #across the spiderverse

[tawaifeddiediaz]

tbf some of us are complaining about this feeling like eddieana/bucktaylor again because it feels like an unoriginal rehashing of those storylines, not just because of love interests per se

but is it? is it really?

before i say anything, i want to preface by saying that everyone is entitled to their own opinion about things, and that being disappointed with how the season ends is a valid feeling to have. except the way that this has spiraled through fandom with all these comparisons indicates that no one's really understanding the use of these storylines to begin with. that no one's taking it with any amount of grace, between the constant negativity, review bombing, etc etc and that's why it's frankly annoying.

yes, there was the whole thing about this potentially being the series finale, and if that had happened, it would've sucked, but it didn't. there are still many stories to tell about this whole thing, why not focus on that?

back to your ask:

eddie, this whole season, has spent time fretting and spiraling about not wanting to be alone, now that he's actually in a place to move on from shannon - who, as we've found out this season, has potentially been his only partner before ana.

think about the way that it is only this season that pepa starts to set him up, and that it's only this season that he even considers it, even if it's for his aunt's sake and he wasn't initially happy with it. think about the way he's been going to frank to unravel some of these feelings, that he and chris are talking more openly about shannon, that eddie is allowing himself to feel his grief so he can carry the weight of it better.

marisol, regardless of how anyone feels about her, comes in front of him and he feels a spark of connection with her at the hardware store. and this time, christopher himself encourages eddie to call her, ending the conflict we saw at the beginning of the episode where he was trying to text her.

eddieana and eddiemarisol are very different just on the basis of how he reaches out to her. it remains to be seen how they intend to continue it, but for the purpose of his arc this season, he's taken the step, his son is on board, and he's moving towards a relationship where he feels less of the grief of losing shannon. those are three securities that eddieana did not have, because eddieana was how eddie was trying to move on from shannon's loss, while eddiemarisol is what he's doing now that he already has.

as for bucktaylor - natalia, whether we like it or not, gives buck something that no other character on the show gives, just by virtue of not knowing him. him dying isn't a tragedy to her the way it is to everyone else, and for buck, who's still grappling with the loss of his life and all, that is a big thing for him to find somewhere.

it's easy for us to sit here and say "eddie sees him" or "how does someone who's known him for 3 seconds know him better than all his friends" or "she sounds too fascinated" but buck does not get afforded the same view that we do. he is an unreliable narrator, going through the things that we see from a bird's eye view, almost.

yes, there are multiple parallels between bucktaylor and bucknatalia but again, those are things we see, as viewers. they're not things that buck is going to notice right off the bat.

that ending scene with the couch - if we absolutely must with this specific interpretation of the theory - ali and taylor both came with couches. this is one where he's taking an active role in purchasing it for his apartment, an active role in pursuing something that'll make him happy. will it pan out? who knows. but where his story stands right now, it's miles different from where buck and taylor where at the end of s4.

and if it's buddie goggles that we're trying to view this through, then i absolutely do understand the disappointment, but with s7 coming up, and so much more for them to flesh out (because 911 does sometimes spread storylines across multiple seasons), there's going to be a lot more to come.

anyway this got very long, but my point basically is that i don't understand how this feels like they're rehashing storylines because when i take a look at the path towards the decision they made with ana and taylor vs marisol and natalia, it couldn't be more different.

#zee answers #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 spoilers #911 meta #i have so much more to say but i actually don't have the english for any of it

[rametarin]

well at least they're being more honest about intentions, now.

Been a bit amused at how they've been trying to put Peter Parker out to pasture, because they don't want Spider-Man, the iconic character, to be white anymore.

Miles Morales has his own niche, but it isn't Peter Parker Spider-Man. Any time interest has faltered for Miles, they went and whipped out Peter to come play support for him and have them interact. Which is nice and all, but there are about a million characters that are not as popular as the iconic ones in comics, from all brands.

And it boils down to people that believe themselves to be administers of Culture Itself to having decided The People will kiss the feet of a black/hispanic, or at the very least, not cishetero white male Spider-Man as their hero and icon. And they're kind of mad they can't make that happen, just because they want it to be so.

Where their principles matter more than whether the work they produce or the characters are actually good. Where they define what's good and enforce it so you can't have anything BUT what they say is "good." And if you demand anything else, they accuse you of simply being bigoted, evil or demented.

And when they can't bait&switch to replace the icon, they instead decide to character assassinate to try and make that thing you like be tortured to death on the altar before the fans, metaphorically destroying them so they have no choice but to like the silver or copper winner that the would-be ministers of culture want them to like.

When you play their game enough that eventually they get tired of trying to be clever, strategic, subtle, they'll inevitably upend the table and start trying to force it down your throat. Politely duck and weave that, they'll show their true colors and start berating those whom resist as just hating characters like Miles, "because they're black."

This goes beyond such petty topics as racism or sexual or gender-identity inclusion. It goes into this very wrongheaded view of where culture comes from, what it is, and who has the right to censor, and what censorship is. Censorship that comes from the HR department after they do a circus' worth of mental backflips about how religious right soccer moms have no right to demand tits be censored in media, but they can make you attend weeks of tolerance and diversity training for not saying, "chest feeding."

It's about asserting dominance and expressing power on the assumed basis of protecting people, or even culture itself as a principle. But it's something the majority in America have not been allowed to say, because every dissent gets aikido flipped into a conversation about how white people just don't like being called out for racism or sexism or historical inequalities.

You can't force the public to like sub-standard shit just because you insist it's technically, "entertainment." You can't try to use something people like to gut it, hollow it out and try to make your frankly Courtney Love-ian Yoko Ono garbage appealing.

You can order the entire MCU to come out on stage and have them scream about queer this and "whites are capitalism and bad" that. It just shows you think both the people and cultural practice of chasing coattails and limosines makes you popular, just because you manage to catch up to them. And it also shows you're willing to kill existing, healthy pieces of culture in a hostage situation if they won't support your viral loads by making the continued survival of the things people love dependent on also accepting the stupid shit you graft to them. That's a level of hostility, callousness and obsession that cannot be ignored, and you kill enough peoples sacred cows, eventually they'll understand the ways and means of the heretics.

I only wish I spoke Japanese. I have so much I'd love to say to Japanese fans of western content, but the language barrier is incredible.

#Youtube

[bitd]

outlast kind of makes my head spin. sorry im autistic and i am thinkng about it now but i fucking hate how badly it declined in quality like . outlast 1 was so fantastic as a game and miles upshur as a protaganist very much compels me. i enjoy how he never once is shitty to the variants on basis of them being variants and 100% of the just anger and upset he has is directed towards murkoff as it should be .       also he’s genuinely just really funny? his notes aren’t a slog to read through and i think the trager juice joke is good enough that whenever i’m streaming it i do open it to show everyone.

whistleblower is like. fine. i care about waylon because i am unfortunately bestowed with camerashipping fan and have been since i was 14/15 but its just sort of nothing. i don’t really enjoy frank he just kind of makes me feel weird and edide is also very uncomfortable as a character to the point where until i banked hard in another direction he was a huge trigger for me and hes kind of wrapped into it again for other reasons. i do think that whistleblower’s got merits w/ the way it handles blair + murkoff and i do like Some parts of it but my favourite part of it is genuinely the super ableist part exclusively because i think it’s fucking funny and i also like that simon is there because simon peacock is my best friend. it’s Fine.

2 is just so. it has more problems than merit whatsoever. i think due to my specific bullshit i’m equipped to speak on the st. sybil stuff and honestly it’s the only part of 2 i actually liked and that is just because it got stuff right. it however is very perplexing to me because i feel it’s handled incredibly well and the way that loutermilch is done is very interesting, it does do a very good job of showing blake’s trauma through his own eyes and i feel gets across a point without being gratuitous (though it almost was over that in an earlier draft, but i guess i can’t ding them for that). the school and the temple gate stuff just genuinely feel like they are written by completely different people and that’s very confusing to me. temple gate is also just fucking boring, all of its actual issues aside. it’s too big, and they fail to use that big space as an effective horror device. the school also further nullifies this by putting us in a smaller space and holding us there, and by making us feel much more trapped. blake’s only reason to stay in TG is lynn which while sweet is just. it’s not scary because he has autonomy in a way. i guess i could probably study him for that and for like, whether or not he really feels like he has autonomy in that situation (he failed jessica, he can’t fail lynn when that wound is fresh again) but i think from a game dev perspective it just really really fails to feel that way and people aren’t necessary playing a horror game for its story. i could talk in depth on all of the temple gate stuff but you know that gets really dicey really fast again due to my bullshit so. you know. 

i also kind of hate that in comparison to 1/wb, you need to read the murkoff account to understand what the fuck is going on in 2? and also have read every single note. without having 100% of the lore memorized you are just fully not going to understand 2 and that’s not... fun. at all. it is way scarier when you understand context and if they’d given us that then i feel like it would have been a bit better. but you should not have to read TMA and every document in 1/wb to figure out that blake is in the engine for the entirety out of ol2, ESPECIALLY because that is such a critical part of the plot. you need to know that the engine a) feeds on trauma and b) hurts people who don’t give it enough food very badly and c) forces you to relive trauma through your own lens in order to understand what the fuck is happening to blake. loutermilch is obviously not a tongue monster but that’s how blakes fears manifest. the reason we end up in the school during downtime is because the Downtime at temple gate is not traumatizing enough and the engine needs to dig up more bullshit. this is also why temple gate is more “realistic” because of all the time between the two. i would also argue it makes it more interesting as it makes blake a somewhat unreliable narrator and i personally Do!!! like blake a lot compared to miles and waylon because he is a deeply compelling protag to me. he isn’t as well spoken as either of them because he’s a cameraman (miles is a journalist and waylon’s in software dev), and he’s naturally not going to be as prepared for these horrors as a journalist who’s beat is murkoff or waylon who whistleblew after seeing that shit. like he’s interesting in that way insofar as he is a protag we haven’t seen before and his narration feels extremely different than either of those two’s even past being voice acted.

overall i think red barrels really failed the more of a budget they got. i hope trials manages to help them claw their way back into the light but i don’t really have high hopes because ol2 was so fucking disappointing other than the school section on all cylinders. i don’t even think i’d like the school section if not for (gestures). it handled everything else very unbiasedly poorly, it was incredibly shitty, and it wasn’t a fun game, it was a fucking slog

sources btw

#tthese eat so much of my storage space #sorry. i didnt realize how long this was going to get #raindrops #long post

[the-firebird69]

These wars and battles are going to increase it for us and the numbers will get huge it will start in earnest when the more locked trying to take possession of the pseudo empire basis and bunkers the pseudo empire will move in thinking the fleet will save it it's going to get worse and worse mentally for them as the rest of them are destroyed and they gain ships they'll probably end up at 1.5 trillion and will rival foreigners and the max combined it will start pushing people around and we will engage occasionally and they don't feel sorry and then we'll continue it and usually they get him stuff and we're going to suck at it they are going to suck at it but they still will now it's a pain we have to go through it going on

-the empire is having a lot of problems and they're telling people we don't have energy for this or the assets and we don't want to put up with it and they're firing on people all over the world that don't care and it's good nutrition rate attrition rate has increased to the 0.2% and is increasing again it has been there but it dropped almost right after we stated it that's pretty high and regular folks all over attacking them and they still have decent numbers even afterwards there's a major action or incident really going on at Black City and Black Rock City it is huge they're talking about changing running Man and stuff it's a lot of people have got involved and find out what was happening out there they're going out there in our sunset the great Sequoia is actually the ship was made out of wood and petrified and it's different kinds of wood it's entwood. And it's stronger than anything else. And people want it I see is huge on going after it also curious about the nozzle issue and whether someone has a backup for these ships and they're checking and they're finding out it could be very bad. We're also emptying caverns that we said were empty in the middle areas are where we're emptying all of them they're not wet tunnels and there's a way to do it it's like a trap no it doesn't work that way they're becoming wet tunnels it's a huge amount of water and the water has gone down so people are wondering how the hell that works and it doesn't really it's just that the cameras are there about 500 miles down but there's a thousand Miles high so you're wondering how that works.

They have been sealed off and the system is such that the tavern Steve dry and it is a matter of a wet system and people don't understand how it works a little bit confused you would have to go up to go down and it's kind of what they do it's been working and he is amazed at the roots are kind of blocked now so it's a question and everybody thinks they may still be wet and they are if it's a lot of stuff that's coming out a huge amount. And the skulls landed in cloud into the Earth most about 300 miles no only 300 ft but the radiation trickled down and so did the Dead and vortexes and fed them and that still feeding them it's not a much for volume but it was a lot of radiation all of it went down and they thought they were poisoning people and they were raising our Armies. And Trump is Wheeling by after another brain injury and trying to harm our son and he's going to die again

-what the caverns are emptying soon there won't be any in the caverns in the middle areas and those will be empty and the mats will try and defend and it's radiated and it's not bracket and there's a lot of gross stuff down there and they're going to get very sick and die from all sorts of things it's really disgusting others like this or the ocean and in the ocean the ships sink to the bottom and most disappear and we grab the metal and reuse it and a lot of them have nuclear reactors which we just leave there and those are going to be evacuating right out of the cavern the middle areas I'm going to be under siege for a long time and will still be emptying of kju probably 6 months from now and they'll be fighting them and losing they never win. It's an awful day for them to be funny about me we expect The fleets to be cut down and probably 3 or 4 days and it includes the empire fleet and really big ships those ships are death stars and he'll be fought by a multiple group of things it would be the fleets that's up there for foreigners and the pseudo empire and us and miscellaneous but the rest will be mostly not there and we're here to join you try and get the planetoids systems up to fight the empire that's what that's all about and the searcher and the judge will be out before this happens and they will be getting ready to do maneuvers

More shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

This guy is a piece of work he got hit in the head and it's trumped in his backup not healing and drinking he's got to get lost

Hera

Zues

[fillyoursoulxx]

louis beaumont || bio pt. 1

❂ Louis Isaiah Beaumont was born Dec 2nd, 21 years ago in Washington DC. It was early morning, 3:33am to be exact and he’s always held that as sort of a ‘lucky’ time/number for him.

❂ He was the third born to Damian and Miriam Beaumont and the only boy. They’d been trying and failing for a few years to have a child and longer for a boy. To his mother, he was her precious rainbow baby and to his father, he was his heir.

❂ Standards for Louis were…different. With 8 and 13 years between him and each of his siblings, he was close to them, but he wasn’t often treated as the kid he was. His father had him very regimented, starting early with piano, athletics and language lessons. His mother didn’t object, but at the same time, she tended to give in to him on a regular basis. So it was a lot of whiplash for him on what was ‘really’ expected.

❂ His solace was found in his Uncle Elijah. When their parents were too busy, which was often, Eli took charge of the kids and let them– be kids. Sure he had them doing some of the stuff his parents expected, but he wasn’t nearly as rigid and he helped put things into perspective as Louis grew up on ‘why’ his parents wanted him to be as well rounded as possible. In the end, he realized so much was out of love even if fear and ego were there at times too.

❂ But as a kid, uncle Eli was king for Louis. Louis was always going a mile a minute. Always jabbering on, always into something. If something was broken, you could expect it to be him. Spills. Destruction. Curiosity. You couldn’t leave him alone without him finding something to get into. Which conflicted with the type of ‘kid’ his father was trying to mold. His sisters tried to shield him a bit, but even as a toddler, he experienced a lot of ‘discipline’ due to his energy and lack of impulse control.

❂ At that age, he didn’t really notice. He kept going, never letting spankings, time outs or loss of privileges effect him, nearly oblivious to what was happening in those moments till he got older. He just– went back at it. It wasn’t until he hit school age that it really began to click, oh ok. I shouldn’t do these things. And yet, a lot he couldn’t help. At home or at school, he was a fucking tornado of energy.

❂ He had…alot. In this search to just keep him busy and out of trouble, Louis fucking struggled. He loved his family. His memories with Max and Dallas and Eli are some of his favorites. But it felt like a struggle with his parents. Nothing was ever good enough even when it was ‘good’. He felt the perpetual fuck up. Constantly trying and failing to ever truly get their approval on anything. It was to push him, to make him great. He knew that because he did have softer moments with them. His mother was there when he truly needed it, providing the kind of softness she knew how. And his father, while often absent, followed his games, kept his stories, and did show up when he could even if it often ended in a fight. But it was…stressful.

❂ But where he lacked impulse control, Louis made up in kindness. He always the first to volunteer to help, whether it involved the teacher or another student. He’d give away his lunch money to someone he thought needed it or sit with the kids that seemed alone, talking their heads off about the latest thing he saw on late night tv.

❂ He was the kind of kid you dreaded and loved all at once and if you ask him, he’ll tell you his childhood was a wonderful thing even with all of the bad feelings, the good are what he focuses on.

❂ While mainly stationed in DC, they moved around a bit when he was elementary age. He liked being the new kid, always getting a chance to make new friends and have new ‘expectations’ from those around him. Though it always got to the same point. School was a process for Louis, who multiple teachers recommended that he take some form of medication for his outbursts and inability to follow directions without being distracted or derailing the entire class. Packing his schedule seemed to help some. Those sports, languages, music. Anything and everything was tried to keep him from idling.

❂ It was a lot. The pressure. He didn’t have a proper outlet and he had his first real panic attack at 9. His father didn’t want him to be stigmatized. Medication wasn’t an option. So he did what he could. Though movies proved to help in his lower moments. Movies, tv, anime. All escapes that for two hours he didn’t have to think about anything else. He began writing his own stuff and that helped too.

ADOLESCENCE;

❂ As he hit his preteen years, Louis began to play sports more seriously. He was coordinated, good at most physical things only after a few tries even if he couldn’t always focus. Soccer was his first poison of choice and he was good.They settled back in DC a bit around the time he turned 15 and he joined a team but some of the other kids found him to be odd. There were always jokes made about how he spent more time talking about japanese cartoons, comics and superheroes than he did the sport or the usual topics. Small, he was picked at, but Louis? He never really noticed. He was the butt end of jokes, but always the first to laugh. He was confident, even then, that the things his ‘friends’ did were often in good fun and never to take advantage of him or be malicious. Even when his trips to the principal's office became more frequent and his detentions began to pile up, he insisted things were fine. He was loyal and they just had different ways of showing their friendship to him.

❂ It was during that time things really began to sour from him. His uncle Eli had been struggling without the families knowledge. He began embezzling to stay afloat and other unsavory things that got him in a shit ton of trouble. He went to jail and Louis started to spiral a bit. He kept it cool. For the most part. He had that standard to live up to, but at the same time? He was being to buck it. Also anxiety inducing. The stress helped his mother realize he needed help. Therapy. Meds. He started both without his father’s knowledge.

❂ He was sixteen when a new kid moved to town and his friends turned their attention to him. Louis thought they were looking to welcome him into the fold, he was a bit quiet, always reading, kinda awkward, but the more time they spent with him, the more Louis started to notice the shit way they were treating him. The jokes they had used on Louis, they were funny to him, but this kid? Not so much. It didn’t take long before he began to see their relationship with this kid and their relationship with him? They weren’t harmless and in one very explosive day, Louis not only stood up for the kid, but broke his best friend’s jaw.

❂ He was ousted from the soccer team. Fine. He needed new friends. Fine. He had one and that was fine with him. He took it all in stride. Stayed confident and though he had a nasty mark on his record, his parents were actually kinda proud he finally stood up for himself and someone else. In the end, his dad was able to make it go away, but still. It felt kinda good. But at the same time, increased the pressure from his father to pick the right friends and be that person he wanted him to be.

#louis::|| bio #(( long as fuck and still not done )) #(( will update or do another post with pt2 )) #louis::|| hc

[carenthusiast259]

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[fibersupply0]

Low-impact Automobile Accidents and Massage Therapy

Having the strong knowledge base of low impact vehicle accidents is something that may be really helpful to a person at this time, and knowing how a new highly trained Fort Collins massage counselor and facility can assist you using pain relief is definitely also very helpful and inspiring. A low impact car accident is usually thought as being a celebration which occurs with rates of speed less than 10 miles-per-hour (mph). This sort of accident generally will cause the very least amount of injury to the particular automobiles engaged throughout the accident. Individuals body injuries could come about coming from almost any accident which include types which acquire place with cars traveling lower than twelve mph. Soft tissue injuries are usually the most typical problem for the people associated with a low impact automobile accident. An automobile accident which happens at speeds someplace between 10 and even 15 mph usually provides minimal noticeable destruction in the actual vehicles involved. In times due in order to the fact of which minimal harm acquired been performed to be able to the automobile the particular soft tissue traumas for the individuals within the automobiles are usually generally overlooked. This does not automatically imply that physical traumas didn't happen to the individuals while in the crash, whether or not it was a low impact collision. Many of these low-impact automobile accident victims within our will receive Fortification Collins massage, chiropractic, and physical treatment for whiplash and other injuries towards the muscle tissue that cause pain to the particular neck and high back area. Despite the fact that a motor motor vehicle was designed in order to have a slow-moving five to 10 with accident that basically automatically accurate with regard to the human entire body. In a low influence car accident an individual's soft tissue could possibly be affected. The neck of the guitar and back are the most common concern areas for soft tissue injuries. Generally speaking gentle tissue is the individual's ligaments, tendons as well as muscles. Gentle tissue injuries happen to be commonly categorized because contusions otherwise known as bruises, sprains or strains. There are many of Fort Collins massage facilities that see these kind of injuries upon an ongoing basis, especially since the particular traffic in town is becoming a growing number of of an issue with all the cars on the path. A contusion can be an issue for the smooth tissue due to be able to blunt force. This specific kind of force generates pooling of blood throughout the particular damaged area producing discoloring of the pores and skin (skin). This is known to as some sort of bruise. Bruising may possibly be present in many shapes, designs, and colors. A sprain is simply a great injury to the tendon generally caused by a wrench or even a twist. A hurt could be a basic strain, an incomplete rip or maybe a full-blown rip. This can happen in order to many parts of the individual's physical composition while in a good automobile accident. It's not at most uncommon for a good individual to switch within their chair as an electric motor vehicle hits theirs while in the automobile accident. A tension can be a good injury for the muscle tissue or even tendons as some sort of result of too much use, force or over extending. The real force from the particular automobile accident may push on an individual's soft muscle or trigger sections to increase in a good abnormal process. Muscles and tendons assist the bones. Some sort of strain could possibly result in a partial or even full tear in the muscle and tendon jointly. The neck of the automobile occupant can easily whip frontward resulting in the most frequent rear impact injury called whiplash. Several individuals inside the Northern Colorado community possess received medical massage for their whiplash injury. For https://sites.google.com/view/mobiletruckrepairpros may would like to discover a Fortification Collins masseuse for your care, although be sure this particular therapist and clinic take insurance with regard to payment or a person will be trapped paying for the particular therapy yourself away of pocket. One of the major automobile companies performed a research study in terms of auto injuries at speeds underneath 8 mph. These people found that these specific injuries do get place at like low speeds. The research furthermore indicated that whiplash injuries account for greater than fifty percent of injuries connected with vehicular injuries. One Fort Collins therapist stated of which she has got many clients that stated that medical massage along with chiropractic care work very well collectively for the therapeutic process of whiplash.

Despite the simple fact that most of these traumas tend to be characteristically categorized because minor, practically thirty percent of folks damaged within low speed accidents thought they experience neck problems mainly because much as four years later. This kind of injury may extremely well be more serious in people which encountered a back end impact car accident. Depending on how old the personal, this specific injury might cause a more everlasting disability. A car may well take the force of a very low speed accident without having very much damage as an effect of the advancements automobile companies have produced in home of their vehicles. When an accident will occur the pressure of the automobile incident forces inertia someplace and when the auto has consumed portion of it, in which in turn the energy aside the passengers acquire the remainder. These types of forces are normally the main cause of individuals bodily harm even within a low impact accident regarding under 10 your. Soft tissue injuries may seem to folks involved in the lowest speed impact although these types regarding injuries may be challenging to notice of which they may be present. With the increased quantity of growth within the city over the past years, Fort Collins massage practitioners possess seen an raise in individuals interacting with automobile crash injuries.

#mobile truck repair

[myfellowmelo]

Brother’s Best Friend

Context: Your brother’s best friend happens to be the popular basketball player, Lamelo Ball. And no matter how much you say you don’t feel anything for the boy, your body says otherwise after every encounter/game.

Includes: Smut, Oral sex, masturbation, teasing, swear words, hint of degrading.

Word count: 4040?

My POV.

“We can’t keep doing this Melo.” I whimper as his cock starts plunging deep inside me. Stuck in the locker rooms where he dragged me in there. His celebration for winning the game started early.

“You say that a lot for someone who’s obsessed with my dick.” He tells me. Before I answer him, he picks me and slams me onto his locker. Arms wrapped around his neck as he picks up the pace. “Melo! Oh god!” Gripping his hair as he relentlessly pounds my g-spot. Making it his absolute goal to have me cumming all over his cock. He needs to have me walk out the Spectrum Center with your hole stuffed with his liquids. “Take it baby. Fucking take it!” He groans. Sucking on my neck as he desperately tries to leave me as many marks as he wants. He loves how well I tighten around him. I love how no matter how hard I try not to fall, I still end up in his arms. Begging him to fuck me senselessly over and over again. Rolling his eyes back as I grip his hair yet again. Usually he would say some stupid sarcastic comment about leaving him bald like his head, but my pussy felt so good he couldn’t even muster up the words to say anything.

Omniscient.

Your moans were absolutely beautiful. Something he needs to hear on a regular basis just to even function. Having you fucked out until you could barely stand is what he was striving for. But it was all cut off short when he heard the locker room door open. Pulling out of you, you two quickly dress up.

“Melo ? Are you there?” Your brother Miles calls out.

“Hide!” He tells you. Signaling the shower room, you run inside quickly.

“Yeah I’m here!” Melo stated composing his breath.

Walking from around the lockers, Miles’ eyes brighten up, “Oh there you are! I was wondering when you were planning to get out of the locker room. Hey, have you seen y/n by any chance?”

Melo scoffs, “Do you see her around here?” A nervous chuckle leaves him but covers it up by a huff.

“Asshole. I was just asking.” Miles says as he rolled his eyes. Miles grumbled  “I can’t reach her-“

“Well she must’ve been tired. Probably went home.” Melo interjected him mid way.

“Yeah you’re right. Oh I know!” Miles claps his hands that startles Melo.

“What?” He furrows his brow.

“She’s hooking up.” Miles says with stars forming around his eyes.

“What?!” Melo says, taken aback. How did he know? And just when Melo said that, you too did as well in the shower room. Heart racing as you waited for yours and his name to fall out of your brother's mouth.

“Yeah, she once mentioned about this crush she has on Nate” Miles says looking back at his memories.

“Nate? My friend Nate?” Melo says surprised

“Yeah-“

“Nate, my teammate? Number 30 Nate?” Melo says again trying to confirm if what he heard was real.

“Yes! Nate Darling. She’s had a crush on him since I came here. Well I don’t know if she still likes him but she has been running off lately so I won’t be surprised if she comes out of a room with a large hickey on her chest. He’s very goofy.” Miles states while searching around the locker room.

“Yeah well I’m goofy too.” Melo mumbles. Shoving his stuff in his bag.

“What was that?” Miles asks him.

“Nothing! Now shall we get going?” Melo says as he gathered the remaining items and stuffed it in his duffel bag.

“Oh yeah, let’s go, You hungry?” Miles said as he gave up and went to the door with his stuff on hand.

Making his way out, you peek your head. Looking at Melo who merely glanced at you and walked out after your brother.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath.

—————

“Melo, please call me back.” You say to the voicemail. It’s been three days and ever since he found out about your old crush on his friend he can’t even talk to you. Not even look at you for that matter.

You didn’t understand. You two weren’t anything. You guys weren’t dating and on the occasion he’s made it very clear that you two are nothing more but fuck buddies.

“Hey you okay?” Your friend asks you. Taking a seat next to you after grabbing her lunch.

“Oh yeah I’m, I’m okay,” trying to mask your emotions.

“You sure? You know I’m good at telling when one is lying.” She says giving you the look that was so tempting to have you spill out all of your thoughts.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I stated while I tried to divert my gaze to the floor.

“Okay but you know I’m here when you’re ready yeah?” Nodding, she smiles and hands you her green apple. The only kind of apple you like. Appreciating it, you take it and take a bite out of it. As she told a story about something, you couldn’t focus on anything but his table. He wasn’t there, but everyone else was. Including Nate.

“Oh my god.” Your best friend gasps.

Averting your eyes from the table you look over at her. “What?”

“Can’t believe it.” She said with her mouth hanging open.

“What? What’s going on?” You said as you look around.

“He said he was done hooking up. I swear if he brings another girl home I’m going to lose it.” She said, glaring her eyes. You see, she is Gelo’s girlfriend and they are both staying over for the week before going back to Cali.

Turning around to meet her gaze, your eyes widen when you see Melo enter the cafeteria with a girl around his arm. No no not just any girl. The captain of the Hornets cheerleading team. You couldn’t tell what shocked you more, that Melo already replaced you with some girl days after he continuously dodged you, your texts, and your calls. Or the fact that he was able to pull the head leader of the cheerleading team. The CHEERLEADING TEAM. You expected one of the nurses which could’ve made more sense. Usually everyone in the cheerleading team tends to take their work very seriously and never have time to not even hook up. Now this, this was truly a shocker.

Walking past you. He ignores you yet again and plants a kiss on her temple. Arm around her as she giggles and holds his hand. What a brat. Following their movements until they reached their table, where the boys greeted him. Cheers burst when he introduces them to her. Who looks to be his new girlfriend.

“Shocking right? Psh wrong.” Your best friend scoffs.

“Yeah. Sorry you have to deal with that,” you say genuinely.

“Yeah I feel sorry too but boys will be boys that’s just the sad truth.” She shakes her head and continues on eating her lunch.

“Yeah…” you mutter watching as he converses with his friends. His arm is still around her neck. “You’re right.” You finish off, looking down to the barely eaten apple.

For the next few days you ignored Melo completely. You didn’t know whether you should confront him or not. I mean it is his loss if he wants to push you away. But also another part of you wanted an explanation and maybe to seek salvation of the last bit of what you two have. If you guys even had anything in the first place. But Melo seemed serious. He had her with him at all times. And any time he saw you, he would get all cuddly and affectionate with her and it would get too repulsive to even stand being in the same area as him. What sucked is that both him and his little girlfriend shared the same afternoon as you. Workouts. The two of them sit in front of you which is worse because he’s constantly baby talking to her. Asking her if she needs any help and never lets her lift heavy weight. What an ass kisser really.

And you couldn’t really understand why you were so bothered by it. You never saw Melo anything other than a fuck buddy. There were times where you would ask yourself if you could see yourself dating him and it always ended with you gagging and having to eat a snack to clear your head. Yet here you are, wishing that this girl would walk off the face of the earth. While you were too busy sulking, you didn’t notice someone taking a seat next to you to use the weights.

“Hi y/n!” Nate says cheerfully. His boxy smile facing you as he set his stuff onto the table.

“Hey Nate-“ and then it hit you. Oh why did you not think about this sooner? Think y/n, think! Turning your head to face the bubbly boy, you tilt your head and smile at him. “Heyyy Yangyang,” you said again trying to be flirtatious.

Furrowing his brow, he looks at you oddly. “You okay?…”

“Totally!” You say nervous laughing it off.

Melo before you who was once cuddly to his new girlfriend was now tense. “Say Nate, how come we don’t hang out as much?” You ask him.

“Oh well I’d like you to hang out but you don’t like getting body slammed onto the court huh?” He said elbowing you.

Giggling, you shake your head. “We should hang out someday.”

Melo scoffs as he rolls his eyes. His girlfriend giving him a confused look.

He sends her a fake smile and signals to the coach who has now entered the training facility. As if his reason for scoffing was the coach entering. Picking up his large water bottle, he spins the cap off and goes to take a sip.

“So like a date?” Nate asks you genuinely.

“You want it to be a date?” With this, the boy in front of you who was once taking a sip from his water bottle, is now choking on it. The training facility silences as they stare at him curiously.

“You okay Ball?” The coach asks him. Not answering with words but rather with a thumbs up, he nods and proceeds to start the lecture.

“A date is then babe.” Nate says, using his index finger to bump your chin lightly.

—————

“I knew it! It was about time you two finally got together.” Your best friend claps her hands.

“We’re not getting together. It's simply a date, nothing else.” I say to remind her.

“Please you two will be dating in no time. Now let’s see what we can have you get dressed in.” While she went through the pile of clothes I brought for her to piece together an outfit. The front door opened and slammed close.

“Geez I bet it’s Melo, another sucky practice.” She shakes her head.

Chuckling, I nod along. “Right. Hey can I go grab a bottle of water real quick?”

“Yeah go ahead, it’s gonna take me a while to make an outfit with these clothes. Your wardrobe isn’t the most stylish no offense.” She said while still looking at the clothes.

“None taken” you shake your shoulders. Leaving her room, you go down the stairs and into the kitchen. In there was the boy you wanted to see. Ignoring him, you walk past him who was seated on the stool chair.

His eyes following you as you opened the fridge and pulled out a water bottle. Jumping back when he was standing right next to you once the door was closed. “My goodness Melo what the hell?-”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Nate?” He said while his breath fanned against your neck:

“What about him? It’s none of your concern-” You turn around looking up to face him.

“It is!” He says, flying his arms around in frustration.

“Shhh keep it down Melo!” You said as you patted his upper stomach because that’s all you could reach.

“Or what? Afraid your brother will find out huh?” He says while he took a step forward, you took one back. Doing so until you were up against the counter. “Afraid your brother will find out how desperate you are for me. How I’m I able to get you begging for my cock over and over again mm?” He tells me slowly. His head lowering closer and closer to my lips. Pulling his head and smashing my lips onto his. He immediately responds, pulling me closer to him. Picking me up and resting me on top of the counter. A nice grip on his hair as I kiss his lips until I am sure they’ll be swollen. His hands roamed up my shirt. Already missing my soft skin against his hands. Leaning in more and more, wanting - no needing more of me. It’s been almost two weeks and he really missed me. Yet he would never admit to it. His growing erection began to tighten his shorts. And I knew this.

He groans and curses when I lay a hand on his crotch. “Missed me that much?” I ask him tauntingly. Chest heaving as he looks down at my hand softly stroking the outline of his dick. Softly thrusting forward, needing more of my touches. But he was surely mistaken if he thought I would give in easily. Pushing him back, I get off the counter. Shock written all over him. “Don’t think I forgot the shit you pulled on me. I was over Nate a long time ago. It was barely even a damn crush. But because of your stupid stubbornness, you no longer have a shot at having me anymore Melo. Enjoy your time with your precious girlfriend.” Taking a step forward, on tippy toes, I got closer to his ear and whispered, “Bet she doesn’t make you cum like I do.” Biting my lip, I grab my water and walk away.

Watching as I walk away, he shuts his eyes close and shakes his head. “Fuck.”

————

“It was nice hanging out with you Nate. And sorry for any wrong intentions I might’ve given you in the training facility.” I said getting up after the date with Nate was over.

“Don’t sweat it. I’m not dumb I know that you and Melo have been having sex for a while now. Just didn’t know it was this serious.” Nate said following my lead.

“It isn’t serious.” I restated.

“Really?” He asks, raising a brow at me. His smoothie in hand as we walked around the downtown mall. “Doesn’t seem like it.” Nate sighed looking up at the sky.

“What do you mean?” I asked curiously

“Doesn’t take Einstein to know we have feelings for one another.” He said laughing seeing the dumbfounded expression on my face.

“Woah! Hold on, feelings?! Psh I don’t have feelings for him.”  I said defending my self.

Nate scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s so obvious.”

“It’s not-”

“It’s so!” He said again standing his ground.

“You have completely lost it, Nate Darling.” He laughs, taking a sip from his drink.

“Please, I knew something must’ve gone down. I had my guess when he started arriving at our training all gloomy and silent and not even having the same energy. But then when he brought Natalie to our table I knew something was definitely up. Then you ‘asked’ me out. You two aren’t doing this simply to get back at each other or get on one another’s nerves. You guys are doing this in hopes one of you two will snap out of it and confess!” Nate said spilling it all out.

I stayed silent. I mean he wasn’t necessarily wrong. I asked Nate out in front of Melo knowing he would be listening in hopes that he would talk to me. Confront me, tell me how stupid I am and that I am  his. I also wanted him back. Even if he wasn’t entirely mine to begin with. Now if I were to ask that very same question that had me gagging at the mere thought of it, it didn’t sound so bad of a question. Can I see yourself dating Melo?

______

Omniscient.

“I bet by the end of the date, it’s going to be official.” Your friend beams. For a good fifteen minutes now she hasn’t stopped talking about you and Nate getting together after so many years. It’s annoying the hell out of him. And what makes it worst is that Natalie is sitting next to him smiling at her squealing at your potential relationship with his teammate.

“You okay baby?” Natalie asks him. “Mhm? Oh, uh yeah I’m alright.” He fakes a tight smile and goes back to being on his phone. Looking at the date, he sees that he has yet another game tomorrow. A part of him was wishing you would come to his game. What was he thinking of course you will just not for him but rather for Nate. The mere thought of it already has him rolling his eyes.

“Someone doesn’t seem in a good mood.” Your best friends voice brings him back from his thoughts.

“Just tired it’s all. Gotta game tomorrow.” Melo said Turing off his phone.

“Oh yeah that’s right. Aw man I wish I could go but I have my thing going on with the modeling agency.” Your friend stated cleaning up the kitchen.

Natalie pouts. “It’s alright.”

“Well I guess I better start heading up to my room. Imma text y/n how her date went with her soon to be boyfriend.” She wiggles her brows.

Fighting the urge to scoff. “Yeah I should get going too.” She smiles at him and says her goodnights.

Natalie left a few minutes later, getting on her tippy toes, he got the sudden Deja vu from when you did that to him not long ago. Moving his face so that her lips connected with her cheeks. She waves him goodbye and leaves. Closing the door, he sighs and his head gets rushed with images of you. Very naughty things of you. Once again feeling that tightness in his shorts begin to grow.

“Fuck y/n!” He hissed. Fisting his cock as he teases his tip. Getting off to the thought of you sucking him off. Your pretty lips on his tip, those gorgeous eyes looking up at him as you try to pleasure him. Remembering how even when he’s finished cumming you still don’t pull away. Turning him more at how you have an oral fixation that you found out because of him. Biting his lip as he concentrates on jerking himself off. Memories on how overstimulated he once felt when you just couldn’t pull his dick out of your mouth. Whining when he tried pulling you off him. “God baby. You take my cock so well shit.” He mutters. Tilting his head back as he rubs himself faster. His hand jerking himself quicker as he felt the familiar need to release begin to bubble up.

Thinking about having you bounce on his cock as you beg him to continue fucking you until you’re sobbing. Telling you how much of a slut you are for his cock. Your hands gripping his hair as you suck hickies all over him. And just like that, his warm fluids were shooting all over his bed sheets. Catching his breath as he was consumed with the darkness of his room.

______

Omniscient.

It was the day of the game. People started filling up the bleachers but no matter how much people were entering through the metal doors you still haven’t shown up.

“Hey Nate, where’s y/n?” Melo asked curiously.

“How will I know?” Nate said with the ball in his hands getting ready to shoot.

“She’s practically your girlfriend, you should know by now if she’s planning on cheering for her boyfriend” Melo says. Tone harsh when saying boyfriend.

Nate stares at him and later laughs. “What?” Nate shakes him and pats his shoulder. “You’re funny dude.”

Walking away, with a puzzled look. He sighs and takes one last look at the bleachers. His eyes met yours. Trying to hold in his smile. But you caught it. After thinking back on what Nate said, he was right. You wanted his attention and if he wasn’t going to do something first, you would. Smiling softly at him as you give him two thumbs up. He chuckles and nods. Eyes looking down and freezes when he sees Natalie. He forgot the cheerleaders are taking a break for 2 weeks. Holding a poster with his jersey number in it. Looking away quickly, as he hurries back to the rest of his team.

By the end of the game, the crowd was loud and rowdy. Anxious as it was a tie once again. Melo , who was now with the ball, rushed until he got near the net and dunked the winning point. The crowd roared as they clapped and cheered for him and the team's victory. Standing as you cheered for him too. Going down the steps to congratulate him. Looking for #1. You smiled warmly at him as you walked up to him. Freezing when a familiar figure walks the aisle before you calls out for his name. Rushing down the steps and enveloped him in a tight hug. Smile dropping as his eyes never left yours. He was still with her, and a part of you felt stupid. Were you really going to confess? Especially since Natalie is such a sweet girl and really likes Melo. She couldn’t ruin that. Couldn’t ruin what they have. But maybe there’s hope. Maybe he doesn’t have the same feelings for her and has some for you.

“Surprise!” She tells him excitedly. But you were certain that wasn’t true when Natalie pulled Melo down for a kiss.

Scoffing, you felt stupid. Embarrassed really. Turning around, you make your way out of the Spectrum Center. Melo pulls away quickly, keeping Natalie at arms length. “Melo? Baby what’s wrong?” Natalie said, looking up at him with her arm around him.

“Natalie, I'm sorry. But I can’t do this, I know it’s sudden and you deserve an explanation but I can’t keep going on in a relationship I don’t want to be in. I’m really sorry but I have to go.” He said as he broke the contact, heading to the door.

“Melo? Wait- Melo!” But he was already out the doors. Rushing after you.

“Where are you?” He says under his breath in search of you. Looking through every hallway and room and still no sign of you. “Dammit y/n where are you?!” He slammed his hand on the door and went inside of the locker-room.

“I’m here.” You said silently.

Turning around, there you were before him.

Staying silent as you two suddenly didn’t know what to say anymore. After much contemplation on what he should say to you, he starts taking small steps towards you.

“It’s you. It’s always been you.” He tells you softly. Meeting him in the middle, you grab his face and pull him in. Gripping your waist as he kisses you desperately. The kiss was no longer the same old one that was filled with lust and need. It was now filled with passion, love and want. Pulling away, leaning your forehead on top of his.

“Can’t go another day without you.” He said underneath his breath.

“Then don’t. Don’t let me go.” You said, with tears threatening to fall.

“Never baby.” Melo said, looking down at you.

————

“You two were what?!”

Your brother exclaims in pure shock. Both you and Melo are standing before him, hand in hand. Standing behind you and he plants soft kisses on your temple. Rubbing your arm for comfort, comfort for the burst of your brother who is now finding out the truth of you two. But no matter the outcome, he was just glad he now has you. In his arms once again. Only this time, he’s got you locked in. And you aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• I hope you liked my first imagines, I know there are some errors with the POV, but I’ll fix it later!

Thank you for reading 😊😊

#lamelo ball #lamelo #lameloimagines #Lamelofanfic #ball in the family #lameloballimagines #Basketball

[donald4spiderman]

The City

masterlist

-

Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

-

**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

-

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

-

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

-

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

-

“Pawnee’s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #dr reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #sub!spencer #bittersweet #criminal minds x reader #fluff #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader

[funtimebunnyblog]

...I cannot refuse Dagdoth. 😭😂 For the life of me, no matter how hard I try I'm helpless to their persuasiveness. I'm starting to think they're a Stand user. 😱 Not that I’m complaining about these saucy little requests, of course....

The Pillarmen walking in on you in the shower (or vice versa)... (Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• Whether it's you walking in on him or him walking in on you, either way this man is NOT shy!

• Not in the slightest!

• What was there to be shy about? He knew very well he had a gorgeous body and he never passed up an opportunity to show it off.

• Someone walking in on him naked in the shower really made no difference as he already walked around in nothing but a loincloth on a day to day basis.

• There was no naked body on this green Earth that would make him even the slightest bit flustered upon sight so if he happens to walk in on you, don't expect him to cover his eyes, apologize and run out.

• His showers smell like a fruit tray of the God's; you can bet he uses all the best soaps, scrubs and shower paraphernalia on the market.

• "How about you join me in here, little one?" The purr of his voice echoed off the walls of the bathroom, nearly drowned out by the continuous spray of water.

• The very rumble of his honeyed tone shook you to your core where you stood, trying to avert your eyes. The litany of apologies fumbling past your lips only seeming to amuse the massive man further.

• "I could use some help washing my hair..." he hummed. "And perhaps I'll return the favor and wash your back."

• Whether you deny that generous offer is all up to you...

Esidisi:

• Like Kars, Esidisi isn't shy about his body or any part of it being exposed.

• It doesn't bother him in the slightest if someone happens to walk in on him parading around in the shower naked.

• He owns a rubber ducky and he's proud of it.

• Expect to be teased later on if you scream and run out of the room if you happen to accidentally walk in on him soaping up.

• This man is something close to a locker room bully.

• "Aww, what's the matter, little one? Did I surprise you back there?" He questions, chuckling as your face goes red at the memory of him covered by nothing but steam and suds.

• He's gone the extra mile to confront you while he's still damp and only wearing a towel around his waist.

• He leaned down with a grin, "You know, there was plenty of room for the both of us in there if you really had your heart set on taking your shower. I don't mind the company..."

• If he's the one who walks in on you it might be a different story depending on your reaction.

• If you try to cover up he'll just laugh but if you scream for him to get out he'll calmly apologize and leave; respecting your privacy but not at all embarrassed.

• He'll propose showering together to save water next time...

• He also offers to let you hold his rubber ducky :P

Wamuu:

• As a proud Warrior, Wamuu was well aware he had a fit and desirable body.

• He definitely wasn't modest to show it off in the arena but he was a little on the shy side when it came down to being on display in the shower...

• He was quite used to his Masters or Santana bathing with him or being around him when he lacked what little clothing he usually wore.

• But if you happened to walk in on him, it spurs a reaction much similar to his shadow being invaded.

• He'd ask you to leave with a stern frown, his voice curt but polite enough, unless you planned on helping him wash his back.

• If he happens to walk in on you however...

• "Wamuu! GET OUT!" You screamed over the hiss of the shower water, your voice the fiercest he had ever heard it. Had you been a Warrior opponent he would've probably seen you as a powerful foe with such a cry.

• The Pillarmans face flushed beat red upon catching a glimpse of your exposed and unclothed state. You could scarcely see the lines of his war paint anymore, the colour painted all the way back to his ears; burning them hot like the embers of a fire.

• "I-- S-SORRY!!!" He yelled, an arm was thrown over his eyes as he was flooded with momentary panick, making a bolt for the door. He honestly hadn't expected anyone to be in here!

• The massive man slammed into the closed door so hard he took it right off the hinges but still kept going.

• You have to yell for him to come back to fix it... and get you a towel.

Santana:

• What makes you think Santana would be flustered over something like this?

• He just has no feelings towards bathing or naked people whatsoever, whether he walks in on you or vice versa.

• Growing up, the other Pillarmen made it kind of a habit to bathe together when the opportunity arouse.

• Chances were, there was always at least one other accompanying him to go wash up or at least someone would show up to join in halfway through; where they would take turns washing one anothers hair or back and the like as they did.

• It was not only for safety but it was a good bonding activity as well.

• If he happens to walk in on you, do not expect him to leave as he just follows his natural instincts and joins in.

• "Santana!" You shrieked, squishing up against the far wall of the shower as your hands flew to cover yourself.

• You had been washing your hair, singing softly to yourself only to turn and find the red-haired Pillarman standing outside the shower looking in. "What are you doing?! Get out!"

• It was almost as if he didn't hear you, his face unreadable as his gaze lingered on you for only a beat longer. Your eyes went impossibly wide when he began to discard what little coverage he had on.

• "San-- SANTANA! WH-- NO! P-PUT YOUR LOINCLOTH BACK-- WHA--" you could scarcely get the words out before suddenly he was in the shower next to you, his deadpan expression unchanged as his calloused fingers found the suds in your hair, blunt nails scratching your scalp softly.

• "Wash." He warbled out, almost an order as he worked the shampoo through your mane. You could only blink stupidly when he pushed the bar of soap into your shaking hand and guestured to his back next.

• Maybe this wasn't so bad afterall...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #pillarmen headcanons #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #kars x reader #wamuu x reader #esidisi x reader #santana x reader #my writing

[yslkook]

red card - on the defensive (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader (soccer captain jjk) summary: you and jungkook run in the same circles, and yet after three years, he struggles to get your time of day. you think he’s cocky and he’s going to change your mind. word count: 5.1k warnings: cursing, alcohol/drinking (lots of it), suggestive content a/n: this story is for @cutechim​, it went down in the DM’s and came to life. this is my entry into the blond jk foray!! enjoy<3

red card masterlist

“What should we drink?” Hana shouts over the music to you in the crowd.

“Uh… let’s do jagerbombs,” You shout back, even though you’re both relatively close to each other at the bar. You peer behind you at the group of people you’ve congregated with this afternoon, counting a total of four. 

“Can I have… eight jagerbombs?” You request of the bartender, who raises his eyebrow at you.

“Why am I not surprised,” He says with a roll of his eyes, “You’re all gonna run me dry of my jager.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time it happened,” You mutter. And you’re right- it’s happened at least twice over this summer, when you and your friends made a weekly appearance to this bar. The bartender knows you and Hana by your faces at this point and you’ve jokingly asked why your usual order of jagerbombs or tequila shots aren’t ready upon arrival.

These weekly occurrences were sponsored by your job at a law firm near your university. And by sponsored, you mean that your bank account takes a minor hit on a weekly basis. Since university had let out, you’d made yourself available for as many hours as possible- after all, you needed a way to fund these days and nights out.

While juggling a summer class three days a week for three hours each day.

But you weren’t completely financially irresponsible- you drew the line… eventually. Certainly not after eight jagerbombs though (you’d stopped questioning how you could easily drop that much money on alcohol these days). At least it's summer happy hour and you’re not paying full price.

Besides, you and your friends rotate rounds. Hana will get the next one, and then one of the guys, and so on and so forth. You’d gotten two extra specially for you and Hana, but nobody needed to know that.

You love these summer days, when it’s nothing but you and your friends enjoying the breeze and the vibes of a fun afternoon (that inevitably leads to a night of more recklessness). Nothing can take the tipsy grin off of your face or the arm looped around your best friend’s shoulders, except-

Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook.  You don’t mind Jimin as much (mostly because of Hana, who’s been harboring a not so secret crush that is definitely bordering more on love than a simple crush on him for who knew how long). But still, when all three of them are together, you make your disdain very known and obvious. At least you think you do.

Some of the star players from your university’s soccer team, and the captain himself, Jeon Jungkook. They walk into the crowded, noisy bar as if they own the place and you can already see heads turning. You roll your eyes and tell Hana to get it together when she starts giggling and waving at Jimin.

Your eyes seem to meet the back of your skull when all three of them saunter over towards you and your friends. It’s not that you have anything against them per se, it’s that you find them as a unit quite annoying and you know of their reputations. Or, you think you know of their reputations. Maybe you’re a little judgmental. But who cares, it’s not any of their business.

Most of your perhaps misplaced vitriol is reserved for Jungkook himself and the few interactions that you’ve had over the last almost four years of being in university together. You’ve had a few general ed classes with him freshman year, but after that most of your interactions were solely at parties and any excuse to celebrate. You had mutual friends (somehow) so it was inevitable that you saw him as much as you did.

Every fiber of him annoyed you- he was cocky and arrogant… Everything you intensely disliked in a person. Hana told you that you were being mean and judgmental (not as nicely), but if it meant not dealing with this boy who got a rise out of you for no reason, then it didn’t matter. Of course, he doesn’t take up space in your mind very often. Only when you have the misfortune of running into him.

You didn’t know him, and truly, you didn’t care to. You’ll remain civil though, only if he doesn’t annoy you. Which you doubt will happen.

Jungkook can sense your iciness towards him and his friends from half a mile away, from across the bar. And the bar itself is pretty big, with an outdoor area and an outdoor dance floor, and two bars inside with tables and booths and a dance floor. Despite the space of the bar, it’s crowded with college students, young professionals, and even older corporate workers who look like they work relatively close to the bar. He knows you and your friends come here often, and if that was why he had suggested to Jimin and Tae that they also come here then that was his business.

He swallows (not nervously). You look so pretty when you laugh, he thinks. He thinks you look pretty all the time, though. He lets his eyes wander to your tight black crop top shirt with cherries printed on it and your high waisted denim shorts. Jungkook’s throat goes a little dry when his gaze reaches your thighs, but he keeps it together somehow. He doesn’t know how, considering how nice that outfit makes your tits look.

“Hey Cherries,” Jungkook says smoothly, “Flattered you got this for me.” And he plucks the jagerbomb that you paid for for yourself and downs it in less than three seconds. 

Your jaw drops. The audacity of this boy.

“First of all,” You narrow your eyes, “Who the fuck is a ‘Cherries’. And second of all, I know you didn’t just drink the drink that I paid for. Right in front of my fuckin’ face.”

“That’s a funny way of asking me to buy you a drink, Cherries,” Jungkook grins, and gazes at your chest for a second too long. You roll your eyes and swat his arm.

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you. I’ll have a tequila shot, pretty boy,” You smirk at him and he smirks right back at you.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants,” Jungkook attempts, only for you to scoff.

“Congratulations,” You say flatly, “You’re lucky I’m not subjecting you to getting me two tequila shots for having to hear that line.”

“You don’t like my lines?” He’s pouty and his eyes are wide, mischief sparkling in them. You dare to think that he’s cute. Apparently all of the boys had dyed their hair blond this summer before the soccer season began and you must admit that it suits him. His hair falls over his forehead effortlessly, small hoops dangling from his ears as he smiles at you.

“Does anyone? Do your groupies?”

“Maybe I’m a little rusty…”

“Oh, I doubt that, Jungkook.”

“Well, you notice whether I have groupies or not, so maybe I’m not so rusty, Cherries,” Jungkook winks at you and you’re tempted to toss your drink at him. But that’s a precious waste of alcohol and perhaps you’re a little dramatic.

You only groan and accept the tequila shot, quickly licking your hand to place salt on and taking a wedge of lime.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks after doing the same.

“How lucky for me, that I get to do shots with our star quarterback,” You say flatly.

“That’s football, Cherries. I play soccer.”

“And I don’t care. Now, take this shot with me.”

As the afternoon blends into evening, you witness betrayal in front of your very eyes in the form of Hana inviting Jimin and his friends with you to the next bar. The ultimate betrayal.

But really, you’ve heard about those soccer boys. At least you think you have. Perhaps you know everything. Perhaps you know nothing at all.

And so the three boys follow you to the next bar as the night goes on. Nearly everyone was at least tipsy by this point, as you had all done a handful of shots following the boys’ arrival at the first bar.

You find yourself thinking that they’re not so bad, when they make you and your friends laugh easily and when being around them feels… fun. 

It’s easy to blame on the alcohol and the darkness of the crowded bar. It seems like everyone is out and about, the streets filled with college students and young professionals looking to unwind and let off some steam.

You love the feeling of the music pumping through your veins, along with the swirl of alcohol. You’re not ashamed of enjoying a drink (or several) and having a good time.

Even if it almost always results in you crossing the line and being hungover the next day.

“Wanna do shots,” You suggest to your circle of friends, eyes landing on Jungkook without you meaning to. Maybe it’s a hidden challenge and he raises his eyebrows.

“Again?” Jungkook says incredulously.

“Don’t be surprised,” Jimin mutters under his breath to Jungkook, “She’s kinda crazy.”

“I’ll take that as a yes… six shots then?” You say cheerily, ignoring Jungkook’s groan. You vaguely recall that Taehyung doesn’t really drink. How considerate of you.

Hana’s arm is slung around your shoulders, a bright (drunken) smile on her face as you pass shots behind you.

The following week, on your usual day of happy hour drinking, Hana presents you with a proposition that has you gasping and gagging, nearly writhing on the floor.

“No, for your information, I do not want to pregame at the soccer house. Thanks for asking, try again later,” You say definitively, pouring Hana a drink.

“Jimin invited us! I wanna see him,” Hana complains and pouts at you, “He said they got good alcohol for the pregame-”

“Jimin invited you, because you both like each other or whatever,” You roll your eyes, “I’m content to drink here alone-”

“We both know you’ll fall asleep if I leave you alone,” Hana says flatly, “Besides, Jungkook asked if you were coming.”

“And what do I care if Jungkook asked if I was coming?” You scoff, taking a long swig of the strong drink in your red solo cup. You cringe.

“He specifically asked if Cherries was coming,” Hana says with a near maniacal grin, “Pretend all you want that you don’t like that shit. Now go wear that top with cherries on it that makes your tits look nice. Quit being difficult.”

In the end, you end up walking the four blocks to the soccer house and you wear the baby pink long sleeved crop top with cherries on it and denim shorts, much to your chagrin (and to Hana’s delight). You’ve only been here a handful of times (maybe two or three) as a freshman for parties and hadn’t been back since.

Everyone knew the soccer house was the place to party to get shitfaced. Usually, the sophomore and junior year soccer players lived in the house while senior year players moved off campus.

You don’t know who currently lives at the house, but Hana quickly fills you in. Apparently Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook lived together off campus (because of course they did).

The soccer house has been part of the campus lore for years. Allegedly, all of the craziest, most reckless things happened at the soccer house and all of the best parties were there. You and Hana never felt that way freshman and sophomore year, instead opting to party hop at the frat houses rather than the sports houses.

How the tables have turned.

“You made it!” Jimin exclaims, outstretching his arms for a hug from you. Which you (awkwardly) return. You need more alcohol to be here, you think.

“Yeah, only ‘cause Hana told me you guys got the good shit,” You say flatly. Taehyung passes a cup of something and you eye it suspiciously but ultimately take a swig of it.

“Pretty good, Tae,” You say, raising your cup to him.

“Oh, I didn’t make that. I’m only the messenger,” Taehyung shrugs with a sly grin, “Jungkook over there did.”

You turn your head, only to find Jungkook staring back at you, lips upturned in a playful grin. It makes you roll your eyes, as most of his antics do.

“Hey, Cherries,” Jungkook greets, standing next to you after a few long strides, “It only took Jimin asking you once to come here, huh? I should be offended, considering how many times I’ve asked you-”

“And when have you ever asked me to party here, Jungkook?”

He only gives you a small smile, almost shy, and it’s a stark contrast from the generally cocky aura that hangs around him. “You just don’t remember.”

You frown a little, wondering what that means. But he gives you another broad smile quickly, shaking you from your reverie. Jungkook leaves you to your devices, being pulled away by some of the younger soccer guys that you hardly recognize. Freshmen? Sophomores, maybe? They look at Jungkook and the older guys with a playful sort of reverence- it’s clear that the team is close even off of the field. 

You briefly wonder what that’s like- having a group of friends like that. Hana’s always been the nicer, more outgoing one out of you both. She’s always made friends easily, with her sweet and genuine smiles. And then there’s you- you struggle to open up to others, always greeting anyone with the sting of sarcasm and holding people at arm’s length.

Sometimes, very rarely, you wonder how you and Hana mesh well together. When she could have a big group of great friends, you used to wonder if you hold her back somehow. It was stupid, and the first time you voiced your insecurity to Hana, she had smacked you upside the head and told you that you were stuck with her.

But still. You can’t help but feel burdensome sometimes. Maybe like you’re too much. Maybe not enough.

Hana pulls you out of your thoughts easily, an arm around your shoulder as she pulls you into conversation with Jimin and a few other girls. 

You down about half the cup of whatever concoction Jungkook whipped up for you and tried to immerse yourself in conversation. There’s a new girl here that you don’t recognize, Sunmi. She’s a transfer and the last thing you want is for her to feel left out. So you make sure to include her in the conversation and ask her questions, too.

Jungkook is not surprised that you don’t remember how many times he’s asked you to come party at the soccer house. Granted, it’s only been a handful of times over the last three years and change. It’s not like you were a stranger- he’s known you through a few mutual classes through the years, and through Jimin, too. After all, Jimin and your best friend have had this weird on and off, together but not together thing going on since the summer before sophomore year.

Maybe one of these days, they’ll get it together. Jungkook loves Hana for Jimin and vice versa- he’s never seen either smile as much as they do around each other. If only they would just admit how much they like (love) each other and put everyone around them out of their misery.

Jungkook thinks it’s a little romantic. Being so in love with someone that labels aren’t needed. There’s something poetic about that.

But Jungkook doesn’t know why you act like you don’t know him at all. You always greet him with a near frown or a roll of your shining eyes.

He doesn’t understand but he pays it no mind, instead turning his focus to the pretty woman eyeing him from the other side of the bar with her friends.

(She’s not you, but it doesn’t matter. Jungkook pushes you to the back of his mind, instead choosing to focus on the velvet heat of the woman in his bed later that night.)

With your shift at the law firm starting at 9 AM the following morning, you decide to remain relatively sober for the night (you enjoy a good time, but you try to draw the line when you can. Though there have been times when you’ve gone to work hungover or possibly even still intoxicated. It happens every so often. You’ve never claimed to be the paradigm of a working college student.)

But also, you don’t really feel like being out tonight to begin with. You do enjoy nights like this, but you also enjoy your quiet time. And it seems like this is one of those nights.

At least someone’s having fun, you think dryly, your eyes glossing over Jimin and Hana. You do think they’d be a great match- if only either of them would make it official. This dance that they’ve been doing for years frustrates you and Hana knows it. You’ve voiced it to her many times but she always says it’s not the right time.

It makes you roll your eyes. You briefly wondered if you should host an intervention and scold Jimin for taking too long- after all, if they kept playing games like this then who’s to say one of them wouldn’t move on? But it seems like they both always gravitate to each other no matter what.

He rotates around her axis and she rotates around his. It’s sweet but Jimin still puts a sour taste in your mouth for a reason that you can’t verbalize into words.

Maybe it’s the company he keeps. 

The music is loud in your ears as you dance with your group of friends, two of them in an impromptu dance off that you inevitably get dragged into. You sling your arm around Sunmi and nudge hips with her, getting her to come out of her shell a little bit and dance with her on the dance floor. She sings to the same songs as you do and gives you a bright, happy smile that you can’t help but return.

You buy a round of beers for your friends before the first yawn comes, not even at 1 AM. Hana looks at you quizzically.

You keep checking your phone for the time. Which in itself is pretty out of character for you. But you just need a recharge before the next outing…..

But you suck it up, not wanting to leave Sunmi by herself. You fight through your yawns and nurse your beer, twirling and swirling around with Sunmi.

And then you start to get hungry. Damn, you could go for some tacos right now.

“Hey,” Sunmi shouts over the music, “Wanna get food?”

“Wow, you read my mind,” You grin and chug your beer quickly. You and Sunmi both settle on the bar across the street (with the best tacos). You turn to find your friends and let them know that you’re heading across the street. Jimin and Hana both nod eagerly, Taehyung does, too.

You debate if you should ask Jungkook if he wants food- after all, it looks like he’s busy with a girl currently sending him sultry heart eyes. 

“Hey, we’re going to get food. Wanna come?” You ask, “You, too.” You look at the pretty girl who looks familiar. She probably attends the same university as you and your friends. 

Jungkook’s ears perk up at the mention of food, even with the girl currently standing in between his legs. She looks wary for a minute and before you can reassure her, Jungkook speaks up.

“Sure. I could go for some tacos,” Jungkook says, “Let’s get some tacos, Nari.”

“Are you sure, I mean I don’t want to impose. We can catch up later, Kook,” Nari says unsurely.

Jungkook will admit, this feels weird for a reason that he can’t place. The girl he’s trying to hook up with for the night getting tacos with the girl he might have a slight crush on. 

Weird. But still, there’s no harm in just having tacos.

“Trust me, you’re not imposing, Nari. I barely even like this guy,” You joke, “I’m just a big proponent of tacos and tacos should never be eaten alone. Tell your friends too, if they wanna come.”

“Hey!” 

You ignore Jungkook to reassure Nari and give her a bright smile. Nari looks at you, and then Jungkook before nodding slowly and returning your smile.

Jungkook walks Nari out with a hand at the small of her back, something you don’t miss as you chat away with Nari about anything and everything.

You even shoot Jungkook a wink when Nari isn’t looking. He groans internally- how poetic. His current crush giving him the approval of his hook up for the night (Nari knew what the deal was).

How incredibly awkward. Jungkook is capable of many things, always adapting to situations. But this is a new one and when Jimin and Taehyung catch his eye at the taco shop, they both give him a derisive smile.

Jungkook can only groan internally and eat his tacos.

Today’s Wednesday night is uneventful- Hana is with Jimin for the evening and they are likely going out with some friends. You had opted out, as you had an early shift at the law firm tomorrow morning. You’ve gone out the night before early shifts and early classes and more than half the time, you regret it the next day.

Does it mean you’ll stop those habits any time soon? Stay tuned.

But today, you just feel tired from a particularly long, difficult morning of class and your half shift that you worked until five PM. You hadn’t felt like cooking dinner (you had taken leftovers to work for lunch) and by the time you finished your homework for your natural language processing class, it was past 9 PM and your stomach was rumbling loudly.

You’ve been craving noodles, dumplings and chicken. So you place an order at the nearby restaurant by your apartment and order some extra for Hana for later or for tomorrow.

It’s only a fifteen minute walk from your apartment to the shop, and you plug your headphones in to begin your walk.

You sway on the heels of your feet as you wait for your food, saying hello to the couple who owns the small restaurant. They know you by face, from how many times you’ve been here. Your favorite comfort food (besides homemade food made by your parents) exists here. Your favorite aromas exist here and even just the smell of noodles and chicken has your tummy rumbling.

“I thought you would’ve been out,” A voice comes from your right side, “It’s the week before classes start.”

You turn your head at the voice, heart startling a bit. What in the world is Jungkook doing at your secret but not so secret restaurant?

“I could say the same for you,” You remark with a raise of your eyebrow, “I heard Jimin and Tae went out.”

You vaguely wonder if he’s still hooking up with Nari but decide it’s not your business to ask.

“Ah, well… I have work tomorrow,” Jungkook shrugs.

“Me too, they want me in at 7:30 tomorrow,” You complain, “What do I look like? A cog in the wheel that is capitalism?”

“Don’t we all?” Jungkook snorts.

“I didn’t realize you were working this summer, too. Thought you were just doing whatever soccer captains do,” You mutter, picking up your order off of the countertop.

“And what do soccer captains do, Cherries?”

“I dunno. Score touchdowns or whatever,” You shrug and laugh at the pained expression on Jungkook’s face, “And stop calling me that, Jungkook.”

“Whatever, Cherries. I’ve been working at this architecture firm as an intern. Figured it would help with post grad.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t know that was your major…”

“You definitely did, I’m pretty sure I’ve told you.”

“When-” You shake your head, not wanting to argue with him, “That’s cool. I’m working at a law firm, it’s about a fifteen minute bus ride from my apartment.”

“You wanna study law? Makes sense, because you always wanna argue with me-”

“No, I don’t really know if I want to go to grad school,” You trail off, “Hey! I don’t always argue with you!”

“You’re arguing now,” He says smugly, crossing his hands across his broad chest that you definitely do not ogle at.

“Whatever, Jungkook,” You roll your eyes, “You here for classes or anything?”

“Nah, not this summer. Just work and soccer,” Jungkook replies, “Gives me lots of time for other things.” The man has the audacity to wink at you and give you a big, bunny grin. You pretend like your stomach doesn’t flutter.

You roll your eyes, again. 

“How about you, Cherries? Any classes?”

“Yeah, I’m taking this natural language processing class three times a week for three hours each day-”

“Wait, you’re a comp sci major?” He asks incredulously, “Why are you working at a law firm then?”

“I’m working half as IT support and half as the intern,” You reply with a shrug, “It pays well and it’s pretty easy. Half of the IT support comes in the form of telling the lawyers to restart their computers for software updates. It’s so funny, you should see their amazed faces when all it takes is a fuckin’ restart. Makes a girl feel smart as hell.”

“Smart and pretty, huh?” Jungkook says with a crooked grin, “Where you been all my life, Cherries?”

“Shut up,” You say flatly, levelling him with a glare that only makes him smirk even wider at you.

“Cute,” He breathes with so much conviction that it almost makes you flustered. You clutch your bag of food a little tighter to ground yourself. 

“Me telling you to shut up is cute?” You raise both your eyebrows, eager to shield him from the heat in your cheeks.

“Among many other things, Cherries.”

“Share with the class then…”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Shut up, and why do you like calling me cherries so much,” You complain, lips jutted out in a pout, “I only wore that top once and now look. You’re referring to me as a delectable, juicy fruit. I mean I don’t blame you-”

“Cherries are my favorite,” Jungkook says, dark eyes swirling with stars. He unnerves you with his raw honesty and sincerity and he lets the implication of his words hang in between you both, your eyes wide by his statement. 

“Well, your taste is questionable because mangoes are very obviously superior-”

You both share a laugh and you’re pleasantly surprised by how the silence that comfortably falls isn’t awkward when you deflect. His name is called shortly after, breaking his intense stare. 

You let out a huff, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Hey, I’ll drive you home,” Jungkook says, pushing the door open for you to exit the shop.

“You have a car on campus?” You say, unable to hold back the awe in your voice, “That’s awesome. And uh, no, I mean, you really don’t have to, it’s only a fifteen minute walk-”

“It’s a two minute ride,” Jungkook says, “But I mean, if you’re not comfortable, I get it-”

“No, it’s not that,” You say honestly, “I just don’t want to inconvenience you-”

“You’re not, it’s a two minute ride. Now get in,” Jungkook says reassuringly, opening the passenger side door for you. He puts his own bags of food in the backseat before getting into the driver’s side.

You’ve never really been alone with Jungkook, but for some reason it doesn’t feel that strange. It’s easy to keep conversation (really, it’s banter) flowing with him- as if you’ve been friends for the entirety of the last few years of college. As if you hadn’t spent nearly every waking moment thinking of him a certain way.

He’s easy to talk to. It unnerves you, but you roll with it.

“You should come to a practice one of these days,” Jungkook murmurs. You raise an eyebrow. Why would he ask you to come to one of his soccer practices when you had only just started an acquaintance-ship? Isn’t that crossing some sort of friendship line that you both hadn’t approached yet.

It’s months later when you realize that everything Jungkook does and says is because of his kind, golden heart. He’s such a genuine person, sincerity always dripping from his warm, brown eyes. Everything he does, he does with love.

“Thanks for driving me home, Jungkook,” You murmur with a small smile. It makes his heart sputter in his chest and he easily returns it. “Text me when you get home?”

“If you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask. Cherries,” Jungkook says smugly and you gasp, affronted. “Text me when you get inside your place.”

“That’s not- I didn’t-” You stammer, sighing, “I already have your number, stupid.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” You mutter, cheeks blazing as you hurry to get out of his car. Which coincidentally smells just like him. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

“‘Night, Cherry.”

You roll your eyes but give him a small wave and a smile before entering your building. 

cherries: I’m inside. Drive safe jungkook: you worried about me? cherries: no im worried about your nice car jungkook: uh huh… gonna leave now, text you when i get home? cherries: 👍🏾

It’s about three minutes later (you barely even have time to wash your hands and change into pajamas) before your phone lights up again.

jungkook: im home cherries: me too jungkook: wow you’re funny cherries: pretty and smart too, according to you jungkook: well i wasnt lying 😍 cherries: Uh huhhhhh

You put your phone to the side to put some of the food on your plate, your stomach still rumbling. You turn on the anime you’re currently watching and get cozy on the couch with a glass of wine.

And in the middle of your late dinner, your wine and your show, your phone lights up with texts from Jungkook. It surprises you that he holds the conversation even when you had given him such a dull response. Isn’t he tired of texting you by now?

He keeps you company through your dinner and you barely are even paying attention to the anime you’re watching, only giggling to yourself over Jungkook’s silly texts-

cherries: you’re so distracting, couldnt even finish this episode of fruits basket jungkook: cute cherries: i cant tell u if its cute, i barely watched it bc of you jungkook: no i meant u. Ur cute

Five seconds go by. Then ten. Your face is heated- you’re glad he can’t see you. Maybe you’ll reciprocate someday. But today is not that day.

cherries: shut up

tags: @kookdbean

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you

[jean-kayak]

Falling Back Into Your Bed

Summary: One night was enough to have you crawling back to him

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Warnings: college!au, (smut 18+!!), fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, degradation, Eren's a little shit, little bit of ass smacking, mentions of sex under the influence (consensual), enemies to lovers sort of?

Word Count: 3120

A/N: This is has been in the drafts for a while, and it wasn't supposed to take the turn it was supposed to but I'm happy with it lmaoo. Completely unrelated, but I like making headers lol

It happened one time. To say you weren't really in the straightest mindset, but it happened once and now you're hooked. Your brain only filled with those images from that night. You groan as you pull at your hair, no matter how hard you try, you can't focus on studying. Your brain completely occupied.

"You seem troubled? Need some help?" The snarky comment comes from your right, and you scoff as you rub your forehead.

"Shut the fuck up," you spit with a little more aggression than you intended as you try to focus on anything but that amazing night.

"You thinking about that night? It could always happen again." The words whispered against your skin makes the images flash fully in your head, and you push him away from you, which only gets a chuckle in return.

"Fuck off, Jaeger," you groan as you close your textbook.

"You alright?" Sasha asks you, and you sigh as you nod.

"Yeah, it's just been a long day. I think I'm gonna head back to my dorm." You end your study session with your friends, stuffing your books in your bag, giving them a wave of goodbye as you walk out of the library, sighing in content when the sun rays hit your skin.

You slept with Eren. The only person who can get on your nerves to the nth degree. You woke up in horror realizing what you did, but the horror was that you liked it. It was amazing, the best sex you've ever had. Of course, it has to come from the person you despise the most.

It was a party that Jean wanted you to go to, and he happened to be there, annoying you to no end as he usually is, and then he was kissing you, and then you're walking up to his room and the rest is history. The memories of that night flood your head again.

The way his hands felt hot against your skin, branding a path all over your body. The way his lips brushed all over your skin, stopping to show some parts of your body some love by sucking dark marks onto the skin that took you forever to cover up.

The way his d--

Wait, stop! What am I doing?

You shake your head as you take another deep breath. This is not how you thought your week was going to go.

"I don't know if you have mind-blowing sex what's the big deal? I'm failing to see the problem," Hitch says, and you roll your eyes as you fall back on your bed.

"The problem is that I don't like him. He gets on my last nerve. Why can't I have amazing sex with a guy that I don't wanna stab on a daily basis?" you argue, and Hitch scoffs as she rolls her eyes.

"Well, maybe it's the fact that you don't like each other that's making the sex great."

"I just wanna stop thinking about it," you admit.

"Well, it doesn't seem to be bothering him as much as it is you," she responds, and that part is what makes you the most irritated and confused.

You were sure you weren't that bad,  but it's like he isn't even fazed by it, only teasing you about it in the best way possible. You groan as you roll over, burying your face in your pillow.

The only reason why you're forced to interact with him is that you're friends with Armin who's best friends with Eren. If that wasn't the case, you probably would never see him again, let alone be in the same room as him where he can annoy you.

"Whatever. Maybe I just need to get laid again, get him off my mind," you mumble into the pillow, and you know Hitch is giving you a look without even turning your head.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say," she muses. "Speaking of getting laid, there's another party tonight if you want to go."

You turn your head to the side to face her. "Weren't you just a party last weekend?" you comment, and she shrugs.

"You only live once." You raise your eyebrows at her answer but shrug anyway.

"If I don't have anything to do, then I'll go."

~

You should've stayed the fuck home because this party is not it. You don't know if it's because you really don't want to be here or the fact that you're sober, but you can't help but sigh in annoyance as you walk through the crowd until you find a corner where anyone isn't making out.

You nurse your drink, but the taste of the beer is slowly making you sick after two sips, so you just hold it to give you something to do. "You look like you're having fun."

You roll your eyes at the familiar voice, tilting your head to the side as you look at him. "I should've known you'd be here." You knew that you should've listened to that weird feeling in the back of your head the moment you stepped into the room. "I'm not really feeling it," you say, and he steps closer to you.

"Well, we could always go somewhere else, and I can make you scream while I split you open on my dick again." You clench your jaw as you find something else to look at, trying and failing to ignore the way his words make your body hot all over.

You scoff. "Yeah, in your dreams."

"Really? You don't miss this?" he asks, pulling you into him, and you can't help when your mouth falls open slightly your breath hitching. "Cause I sure miss the way your tight pussy clamped around me."

Your thighs squeeze together subconsciously as you let out a small moan, luckily it's muffled by the music, but he doesn't miss your reaction. "Yeah, I'll pass," you muster, and he smirks as he chuckles.

"Fine, have it your way. The offer still stands," he says before he walks away, and you sigh heavily as you drink from your cup. You have to get out of here.

Eren can't take his eyes off of you as you walk around the room. You've filled your cup back up, but you haven't drank from it, the only thing on your face is that you want to get out of here. Even as you talk to some blond guy, Reiner he thinks his name is, your face is very evident in showing that you're tired of this conversation, but you're too nice to leave.

He walked over to talk to you just to tease you but ended up doing the same thing to himself. He finds it funny that you seem to deny what happened between you two even though you reacted the way you did. If he could take you in front of all these people, he would.

Well, he can, but he's better than that.

He doesn't tell you this, he doesn't think he will, but you're the only thing that's been on his mind, but he's just better at hiding it. He can't count how many times he's thought about your body, the noises you made, how fucked out you looked as you took his dick. Every time he touches himself, those are the only things he thinks about.

And every single time he finishes, he declares that he's going to get you back into his bed.

Which is why he decided to come to this party even though he didn't want to. He knew Hitch would drag you out here, and he knew that there was no way he was letting you go.

He almost feels bad for the guy. Even though he can't hear the conversation, he knows Reiner is trying and failing to woo you with his awful flirting tactics. He can recognize your fake laugh from a mile away.

He decides that he can't stand to watch this horror show any longer, and he moves over to where you are, rolling his eyes at a lame pick-up line he hears come from him. "Hey, I need to talk to you," he buds in, and you give him a look.

"I'm in the middle of a conversation." You state the obvious, and he gives you a lazy look.

"Yeah, not really," he responds, and you squint at him. "Come on, it'll take a second."

You sigh, giving in before turning to the buff guy next to you. "I'll be right back," you tell him, and only Eren knows that that's not true.

He eyes Eren before giving you a smile and a nod, and you follow Eren as you walk the too familiar walk to his room. He closes the door behind him when you walk in, and you cross your arms. "What was so important that you had to pull me from my conversation?" you question, annoyed, and he smiles at you.

"Yeah, it totally looked like you were enjoying that little chat." You roll your eyes as he takes your cup out of your hand, setting it on his dresser. "How much have you had?"

You frown at him. "To drink? Not enough because it's difficult to have a conversation with you sober."

He chuckles lightly as he walks closer to you until your knees hit the bed. "Can I say something?" he asks, and you try to act like his close proximity isn't bothering you.

"If it'll make this end sooner."

"All I've thought about is that night," he tells you, and he moves closer, making you fall down onto the bed as you look up at him with wide eyes. He hovers over you, one hand on the mattress next to you, the other trailing down your body, making goosebumps break out over your skin.

"How good you felt, how loud you were, how fucking soaked you were." His lips brush against yours as he runs a hand down your tube top, biting your lip when he rolls his finger over your nipple.

"What does this have to do with me being sober?" you ask breathlessly, and he smirks as his hand moves down to your shorts, and he doesn't miss the way your thighs tense like you don't know whether to close them or not.

"Because I want to see if I can make you scream just as loud." He crashes his lips down on yours, making you squeak in surprise before you finally let him in, moaning when his tongue rubs over the roof of your mouth.

You thought your thoughts about Eren would change if you were sober, but he's just as addicting as he was that night, and you find it difficult to object to anything he's doing.

He crawls with you as you move up further on the bed, your body flushing hot all over. He works your shirt off, throwing it somewhere off to the side before trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck before moving to your chest.

Your hand makes its way into his hair, messing up the bun that it was in as he mouths at your nipples, pulling the taut bud with his teeth and his fingers before switching. "Did I ever tell you that you have nice tits?" he tells you with a playful smile on his face as he fondles them, and you scoff at his childish comment as you shift on the bed, the rough abrasion of your shorts against your crotch becoming extremely uncomfortable.

He works his shirt off as he slides down your body, his lips just grazing your skin to be teasing, and he unbuttons your shorts, peeling them off your legs, letting out a huff when his eyes land on your panties.

"You're so fucking wet," he mumbles, and you hiss at the cool air hitting your sensitive core when he pulls the fabric down and off your legs. You start to say something when he doesn't move, but you let out a low moan in surprise when he licks a broad stripe up your folds.

Your back arches off the bed at the sudden stimulation, and he lays an arm over your hips to keep you still, his other hand digging into the flesh of your thighs as he keeps you spread open. "And you taste so fucking good," he groans as he moves from licking between your folds to flicking at your clit.

"Fuck, Eren," you whine, pulling at the roots when his tongue prods at your hole.

"Come on, baby, I know you can be louder than that," he challenges, pushing one of your legs over to give him more room. His tongue prods at your hole before he replaces it with his fingers, his mouth going back to focus on your clit.

He's already curling two fingers inside of you as he sucks on the bundles of nerves, pulling it into his mouth, before circling his tongue around the bud. What you definitely didn't forget was how amazing his head game was. Your toes curl as the grip on his hair tightens, and it takes a few more pumps on his fingers hitting that sensitive spot inside of you to make you cum, moaning loudly as your orgasm hits.

"There we go. That's better," Eren says before moving his tongue to your hole to lap up your release. You're panting as he moves back up towards your face, his covered in your release. "But I still think you can be louder."

"You sound like you're all talk," you challenge even though you're still breathless.

He chuckles darkly before getting rid of the rest of his clothes, putting himself right back over you. "Sounds like you're undermining my skills," he jabs back as he lines himself up.

"Sounds like you're overestimating yourself," you counter, but you trail off before you can finish the last word as he pushes himself in, and you both moan at the feeling.

"Shit, I'll never get over how amazing you feel," he breathes once he bottoms out, and you're urging him to move, which he quickly obliges, your mouth falling open at the feeling of being stretched out with every stroke.

He moves himself so that he's on his knees, your hips angled upwards as he thrusts into you way too slowly for your liking. "Come on, Eren," you whine, knowing he can make you feel way better than he is right now. "Fuck me harder," you plead, and he coos at you.

"Aww, but I'm trying to make love to you, princess," he drawls, and you groan in frustration as you try to move, but he holds you down, making sure he's the only one moving.

"I don't want you to make love to me," you whine, desperate to have him fuck you until you see stars.

"But I like seeing you beg for me, seeing you so desperate, it's cute, keep going," he says, and you roll your eyes.

"Fuck--" He cuts you off with a sharp thrust, nailing your g-spot with ease.

"Me? Well, you're already doing that, sweetheart." You scrunch your nose at the stupid pet name, and you scoff before you smirk at him.

"As I said, you're all talk," you taunt. "Pretty sure Reiner could make me scream louder than you ever could." The playful demeanor in his face drops and his eyes are going dark, and suddenly he's pulling out of you, and rolling you onto your stomach.

He pulls you up to your knees, and he slams into you, making you cry out at the sudden intrusion as your eyes roll back. "You think you're funny, huh?" he spits before pulling you to his chest by your shoulder. "You wanted to get a rise out of me so that I could fuck you like a filthy whore."

You can barely respond, your body feeling like it's being shocked every time he rams that spot, and you jolt when he pushes on your clit. "Already going stupid? I haven't even done anything yet."

He pushes you back down, pushing your back until your chest is flush against his bed. "You're such a needy slut, aren't you?" A smack to your ass, the sting snapping you out of your daze. "Answer me."

"Fuck yes!" You can barely get it out, your knuckles starting to hurt from how hard you're gripping the sheets.

"Who's fucking you this good?" You don't answer quick enough, it's not like you can, but that only makes him fuck you harder. "Who?!"

"You! God, Eren, you," you moan, and you release your grip on the sheets as you feel yourself starting to drool.

"Who owns this fucking cunt? Fuck." His head falls back on his shoulders as you clamp around him, and he pushes on your clit again when you don't respond.

"You, oh fuck, 's all yours." You buck your hips back, meeting his, and he smacks your ass again.

"Come on, baby, you can say my name." He sounds just as wrecked as you, and his name is the only thing you're coherent enough to say, and you know that you're loud and that anyone walking past the door or on the other side of the walls can hear you.

"Shit, your pussy is so," he cuts himself off with a groan, his body curling as he feels his high building up as you suck him back in.

"Eren, I'm--" You try to tell him that you're close, so close, but you can't, tears running down your face from the constant stimulation on that spot inside of you.

He responds with a groan, and you know he's close too, and the next thing you know, you're cumming hard, your body going rigid. Your orgasm triggers his, and he cums with a moan of your name, his climax hitting him so hard, he falls on top of you.

Both of you fall down on the bed, his ragged breathing fanning against your neck, and he rolls the both of you over before rubbing up and down your top half softly. "You okay?" he asks against your neck, and you can feel the smirk on your skin.

You respond with a content whine, and his grip on your waist tightens when you try to move. "Stop moving. I'm trying to cuddle you."

You scoff before chuckling lightly. "Since when you do cuddle?"

"Since now. Now, shut up, I'm trying to go to sleep."

You roll your eyes at the words, but there's no heat behind them, and you feel sleep catching up to you as well.

Eren Jaeger might annoy to no end, but maybe this isn't so bad.

#eren jaeger #eren yaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger smut #eren jaeger x you #eren yaeger x you #eren jaeger x black!reader #eren yaeger x black!reader #aot smut #snk smut #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #🛶.hoarny

[kiingocreative]

The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

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I often feel that it took me thirty years to write my first book, No Pain, No Game. Not because I was physically writing it for that long, but because finally publishing my first novel felt like the culmination of three decades of bad writing, half-finished novels, random short-stories and a million mundane diary entries. It took that long to experiment with my craft, hone my skills, and master the fear of putting my work out there for all to see.

Exaggerations aside, it actually took me three years to write No Pain, No Game, from typing the first word on an otherwise blank page to having a fully-fledged, ready-to-publish novel. Those three years consisted of mostly undisciplined writing, sitting down to work on the story as and when the urge arose, sometimes not looking at it for weeks on end, and only getting back to it when inspiration hit. Only when I got serious about publishing did I put in the hours consistently, whether or not I was in the mood for it. The whole experience felt like not so much like long distance running, but more like a slow, often sluggish stop-start stroll, with a heart-pumping sprint at the very end.

I came out of having published the book revved up from adrenaline, soaking in the momentum, fretting for more and ready to do it all again. Out came the laptop again, the rush to get the first draft over and done with and the mad rush into editing-land.

It’s a Marathon, Not a Sprint (and not interval running, and not a slow leisurely walk)

The thing with sprinting, however, is that if you do it for too long, you quickly run out of breath and I soon learnt that maintaining that level of effort over time was unsustainable. Somewhere in the middle of editing my first draft, I hit a wall.

A big, fat, hundred feet high brick and mortar monster of a wall. I never saw it coming, and I face-planted right into it. For weeks after that I couldn’t look at my manuscript or social media, and I had to take a proper break from it all to restore.

The break gave me a chance to introspect and take stock of what had happened. It felt to me that, if I wanted to keep on writing more books (which I did) I had to pivot from my disorganised style of writing to a more committed endeavour. There’s nothing wrong with a leisurely walk, or random bouts of interval running, but I realised it wouldn’t give me the kind of results I was truly after. I had to look at writing as a marathon, and build the sort of stamina and endurance I needed to do this many times over without burning out.

From Dilettante to Disciplined Writer

When I think back to writing my first book, I wonder if there’s some truth in the saying that ignorance is bliss. Because I was less focused on the outcome at the time, I was better able to enjoy the ups and downs of the process, especially because I only sat to work at it when I felt like it. I was also mostly unaware of the mountain of logistics that come with writing and publishing a book, so I’d be able to see the distance I’d covered, without worrying about the miles that still stretched ahead of me. Yes, ignorance was, most definitely, a little bit like bliss.

Reminiscing on her own experience, author Shamika Lindsay says that, with her first book, ‘the process felt so different and [she] almost felt the pen gliding across the paper but with [the sequel], it was like pulling teeth’. In fact, she adds, starting to write her second book from scratch felt like ‘such a chore and [she] was just so eager to complete it because [she] felt like it took so much from [her] to write than the first book’.

For R. G. Tully, author of the Ardamin series, who put greater emphasis on the editing stage when working on his second book, the process also took longer and wasn’t always enjoyable. ‘The editing grind was exactly that, a grind’, he confesses.

But you have to do it whether you like it or not, because the only way out is through. There are, fortunately or unfortunately, no shortcuts. Fortunately, because it’s the very act of going through that arduous journey that makes you a better writer in the end. And unfortunately, because there can be times it’s just not all that pleasant.

You’ll be surprised the amount of distractions that manifest themselves when you desperately need a reason not to work on your manuscript — it’s actually quite spooky. Treating writing with discipline, organisation and professionalism is exactly what will prevent you falling off tracks, and what ultimately gets the work done. And that’s the difference between a published book and one that’ll sit indeterminately unfinished somewhere in your archives.

A Tough Act to Follow

Unfortunately, there’s still a little bit more to writing your second book than just great discipline. Even when you’re able to get yourself to follow through and show up for your craft, giving your first book a literary sibling can come with its own challenges, especially because you have something to compare it to.

And it’s not only you, but your readers too, who will be expecting certain standards from your writing, especially if it’s a series. Though it shouldn’t come in the way of writing the book you want to write, the relationship of trust you’ve built with your readership through your first book still needs to be honoured, and this can cause certain amounts of pressure.

‘I felt a little pressure to keep the same feel about the story’, R. G. Tully says, ‘and to include more from my secondary characters, give them a little more depth’.

Stormi Lewis, author of the Sophie Lee trilogy, puts it simply: ‘It was a little hard to decide how to exactly start [with the second book]. At first I was worried and became overwhelmed because so many loved the first one. I didn’t want to let anyone down. I had to step back and come to terms that they loved it for being unique. And the only way I could stay true to the story and give them what they really wanted was to focus on the story and not so much about what I thought they wanted for the second.’

For others, the comparison can be more inward-facing, like author Tara Lake, who admits that writing the second book in her series has been a challenge, because she’s ‘struggled with comparison of the self: past Tara had a lot more time to devote to writing, present Tara has much less time with [her] kids being home full time from school during much of the pandemic’.

For others still, some of that pressure can be self-imposed. When writing her second book, Freya McMillan shares that ‘[she] put a huge amount of pressure on [herself] as [she] wanted it to be meaningful in a particular way to honour [her] dad, who died a few years ago. Once [she] stopped doing that, it was much less challenging to write’.

It Ain’t All Bad.

I do want to pause here and add that not everyone faces such challenges. There are authors out there who launched into writing their second book with more ease than the first.

Sabrina Voerman tells me that ‘[her] second book came a lot easier to [her] than [her] first book. The idea hit [her] so hard and fast that it took [her] aback, and [she] could do nothing but write it’, and the entire novel was written in a matter of weeks, whilst her first book took years to finish.

Same for Trevor Wiltzen, who says that writing the sequel to his first book went smoothly, greatly helped by the fact that ‘[he] wrote the second book immediately after the first, [so he] knew the characters really well’. He admits he ‘found it very freeing and really enjoyed the process’.

Even Stormi Lewis, who struggled at first, adds that ‘once [she] got started, [she] was fine’ and that ‘[she] felt the writing was solid and [her] best book yet, simply because [she] really got to develop more of the characters and the story’.

As with everything, we must then conclude, there will be as many types of experiences as there are writers out there. So how can we best prepare for what’s to come?

A Chance to Grow

Performance coach Tony Robbins says that the quality of our lives is intricately linked to the quality of the questions we ask ourselves on a daily basis. So if we need to face something that’s outside our comfort zone — starting again from scratch on your second book for instance — is it a punishment or is it a gift? Is it a curse or an opportunity?

I’m tempted to think that the level of discomfort that can come with writing your second book is a gift, because it gives us a chance to grow.

It’s a chance to take everything we’ve learnt from doing it the first time around and take our learnings for a spin to see if it makes the process easier. It’s an opportunity to improve, to work at our craft in new and wonderful ways.

It’s both daunting and incredibly exciting to face a brand new story — or a different side to the same story for those writing series — and to dare to plunge into the unknown of where it’s fated to take you. It’ll see you grow and evolve as a writer and, in turn, you’ll get to watch your writing morph into something more mature than it was before.

I say look at your writing like you do the passing of seasons: different times will have different qualities, different characteristics, different feels to them. You live and learn through each of them, and gather a wealth of experiences that eventually inform who you become. Maintaining the discipline to write through every single one of them is what will ultimately give your work all its depth and substance.

All it takes is that first word on the page.

And the second.

And the third.

And all the words beyond that.

#writingtips #screenwriting #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

[s-horne]

for @maguna-stxrk​ based on this prompt 💖

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“For the last time, Tony, I am not going to ask them if they sell coffee by the gallon. I’m pretty sure that would kill you.”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“But it does hurt to drink that much coffee. Even if they did, which they don’t, I’m not risking it. You don’t need any help in endangering yourself.”

“I resent that.”

“And I don’t care,” Steve said back. The queue moved forward and Steve stepped closer to the till, already feeling slightly more awake than he’d been before he’d been hit with the scent of fresh coffee. “I’m not helping you with a caffeine overdose.”

“Think of it as a science experiment.”

Steve huffed, moving with the line again. It was going quickly and his mouth was practically watering at the thought of his sweet morning pick-me-up. “I don’t do science.”

“Do it for me,” Tony wheedled, his voice not quite as convincing over the phone as it would have been in person, but still enough to make Steve wish he could do what Tony was asking. He was always weak around Tony. It was something of a problem. “Please.”

“Wow.” Steve paused mid-yawn. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Tony let out an indignant huff. “I say please.”

“No, you don’t. It’s part of having the Stark charm – everyone just does what you want without you having to ask nicely. Or even ask anything, for that matter.”

“Ooh,” Tony said, smirk clear in his tone, “are you saying you find me charming?”

Rolling his eyes so hard he was almost worried for himself, Steve moved his cell to his other ear and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “You wish. Anyway, I’m nearly ordering. Did you actually want anything? A real order,” he said quickly before Tony could say anything to the tune of ‘all the coffee in the shop’, “nothing that could be fatal. Or illegal.”

“Spoilsport,” Tony muttered and Steve could just picture his pout. “No, I’ll be okay. If it isn’t 99% caffeine, there’s just no point.”

With another eye roll and a soft laugh, Steve shook his head. “Goodbye, Tony. Please make sure my computer is on. I know you’re sitting in my office to avoid Pepper. But please don’t be playing games on it – last time you downloaded something and the music started playing when I was on a conference call.”

“I have to hide; she’s on the warpath! I only forgot one piece of paperwork. I don’t deserve the punishment that I know she has lined up for me.”

“See you in 10.” With a laugh at Tony’s expense, Steve hung up just as the line moved and he was up to order. 

“Morning,” Steve said to the young woman behind the counter. 

“Morning,” she said back with a smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Mocha, please. To-go, medium, thank you. Oh, and a raspberry muffin,” he added when the girl started typing on the till. “I’d better get him something.”

“Is that for your partner? You two sounded so close.”

Steve fumbled with his wallet, fingers slipping on his card as he pulled it out. “Tony? Oh, no,” he said quickly. He felt his cheeks color and he looked down with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wish. He doesn’t see me like that. We’re just work colleagues.” 

“Oh.” The barista sounded as disappointed as Steve felt on a daily basis, but gave him a smile and a shrug. “He talks to you like there’s something, from what I could hear.”

Steve didn’t know what to say and had only managed to splutter out a few nonsensical words before she printed his receipt and handed it over. 

“And you’re taking him a muffin. Well, that’s a guaranteed way to his heart.”

How Steve wished that were true. If that were actually the case, then they would have been together for years. 

Even with Tony being his superior in the office, Steve had quickly realised that Tony did not take care of himself and had felt an urge to do it for him. More evenings than not, Tony would be the last person in the office and at lunchtimes Tony would stay in his office, long conference calls trapping him as everyone else went off to eat. 

It was in Steve’s nature to provide for people. He couldn’t see someone not taking care of themselves and just walk away. His mother hadn’t raised him that way. Despite the slightly uneven feeling and his colleagues gently teasing him that Steve was only trying to get a salary increase, Steve had started adding to his morning order at the coffee shop and doubling his lunches. They had only been boring sandwiches and the occasional salad back then, but Steve reckoned it was better than nothing at all. He’d left them on Tony’s desk at the very beginning with nothing but a sticky note telling him to take a 5 minute break to eat. It hadn’t taken Tony long to warm up to Steve and, before Steve had even realised what was happening, he had a new best friend to share his lunch break with every day, the two of them alternating whose office they sat in and who paid for their meals. 

But that was all. Colleagues turned best friends. End of the story.

 “Order for Steve?”

Steve jolted out of his thoughts and lifted a hand as he hurried over to the counter. 

“Go get him,” the barista called from the till with a wink and Steve laughed, ducking his head when most of the customers turned to look at him curiously. 

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Steve heard as he left the shop and fell into step with the crowds on the street. 

He nodded and huffed a short laugh before he realised whose voice it was. Tony?

Panic flooding him, Steve fumbled with the cup and takeaway bag in his hands to look at the phone screen sticking out of the top pocket of his jacket. Tapping it frantically, he was met not with his lock screen photo of his baby nephew, but with the call screen informing him that his connection with Tony was still very much live. He was also somehow on speaker. 

“Does the whole shop know now?”

“Fuck!” Steve transferred the pastry bag and hot cup to one hand and jammed the phone between his ear and shoulder. “Tony?”

“Yup. You didn’t hang up.”

“I never do!” Steve answered, voice betraying his panic. “Whenever I used to, you threatened to tell our boss because you said it was rude to hang up on a superior! So then I just stopped – it wasn’t worth the teasing. You were meant to hang up!”

Tony laughed. “Still can’t believe you fell for that. Anyway, I think we have something to talk about, don’t we?”

Steve could say no. He could brush it all aside and pretend that it had all been a joke or a big misunderstanding. It would be so easy; it would save him from any awkward conversation, from a broken heart when Tony let him down gently. 

But, he didn’t want that. He wanted to take a chance, didn’t he? What if there was something there? 

Didn’t he owe it to himself - to himself and Tony - to at least try? 

He wanted the hugs, the kisses. He wanted the late nights and the lazy mornings in bed; he even wanted the arguments and the yelling that would no doubt be inevitable one day. 

“I think so,” Steve finally said, voice quiet but sure. “I’m on my way now.”

“I’m in your office,” Tony said and Steve smiled. 

“Aren’t you always?”

“You love it,” the smile was clear in Tony’s voice, any hesitation gone as he fell back into his familiar teasing. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Steve said immediately, automatically, whether Tony had been expecting an answer or not. “Stay there. And stop playing games on my computer!”

“Never! See you in a bit. With my muffin.”

Steve grinned even wider. He was getting predictable, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. “Yes,” he said, fondness that could be heard a mile off seeping into his tone, “yes, I got you a muffin – that you never actually said you wanted.”

“My hero.” There was a pause. “Hurry?”

Wild horses couldn’t have stopped Steve when he knew what was waiting for him at the office and he clutched the phone tighter, dodging a dog sniffing at a streetlamp and a cyclist hurtling towards him. “I’m coming. Five minutes. Less than, even.”

“Good. I’ve already been waiting too long.”

#you are an enabler who reblogs things that make me want to write even though i gavethat all up #i wrote a thing #well attempted a thing anyway #stony fic #stevetony fic #stony au #stevetony fic rec #stony fic rec #stony #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #BASED ON A WRITING PROMPT #I hope you enjoy this #you deserve fluffy things