#when your attempted bonding over shared experience turns to them asking if you know what therapy is

[senseioftheseidiots]

when your teacher accidentally drops that tidbit of lore

#Wu said he and garmadon were very young when the fsm explained the need to pass on spinjitzu #anYWHO #Wu stop no this isnt a relatable moment #wu plz #Wu's trying to relate to the kids like 'haha i was young too i get it :DD' #when your attempted bonding over shared experience turns to them asking if you know what therapy is #master wu #ninjago wu #ninjago #wu #ninjago master wu #lego ninjago #ninjago art #ninjago fanart #kai #cole #jay #zane #nya #lloyd

[kelstey]

i waited

theodore nott x reader

warnings : none

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

theo kissed your forehead, both you bodies sticky and sweaty from the moments prior. you smiled to yourself as his muscular arms made their way around you.

"i don't think i'll ever get over how beautiful you are," theo ran his fingers through yourhair.

"thank you, theo," you turned your head and kissed his lips.

your happiness was quickly replaced by a sudden wave of what felt like guilt and shame.

the two of you had always been close, sharing kisses, looks, even touching when no oneelse would be looking. that part killed you.

no one knew. not even pansy and luna. given, luna may not be accepted by a large majority of slytherins but you couldn't help but love her, she was amazing and understood you in a way no one else did.

that's how private the two of you had decided- well improvised on. you wanted to show him off. you wanted to kiss him before class, hold hands when sat next to each other, dance in front of everyone, everything.

but he didn't want that. he liked the privacy. but you were never sure if that was really a cover for simply using you.

but you let him.

"i should get going, i'm going out with luna to the three broomsticks," you moved out of theo's arms and started picking up the clothes that were discarded all over the room after theo ripped them off of you.

"tell her i said hi," theo said, another thing that you liked about him. he liked luna. but he was partially stupid as you couldn't tell luna that he said hi, she would ask questions as to why he would even do that.

"i think you forgot we are a secret," you put your tights on.

"fuck, yeah. well- have fun then," theo waved and you hurried out, still attempting to tie your tie.

you felt the tears coming. you couldn't help it. you felt idiotic to allow theo to walk all over you. you promised yourself you would never let a man take you for a fool, but no. here you are, years later, being taken as a fool by a man you were in love with.

obviously he didn't know, he couldn't. it would ruin everything.

the two of you agreed to strictly have just sex. just sex. just stupid fucking amazing sex. he was a natural at it, he knew how to make you cum in minutes. he had you wrapped around his finger.

you typically wouldn't let anyone see or touch you, but theo? he could do anything and you would let him. it also felt like a weird bonding experience.

sex is intimate, of course. it's the closest two souls can get to each other. and you were convinced that the countless amount of times you did it in a day with him made some sort of connection.

you wiped your tears away as you entered the three broomsticks and saw luna sat alone in your usual corner. "luna!"

"you're here!" she exclaimed and got up out of her seat to hug you.

"of course, you know i love our chats here," you smiled and the two of you sat down.

"are you okay?" she asked as she observed the mascara which was evidently smudged under your eyes.

you had to tell her. you had to tell someone. there's no one you would rather tell than her. "luna, please, pinky promise me you won't ever tell a soul."

she nodded, "your secret is safe with me. you know that."

you looked around the place, only noticing two other tables of people who seemed to be in their own little worlds. "okay, me and theo have been hooking up. like friends with benefits style, but i'm in love with him. i cant keep doing this. it hurts, luna. i want to love him and kiss him around our friends but i can't."

luna sat and listened to you ramble on, a few tears shedding in the process. "that's horrible. but you must know, no man, especially one who you aren't even dating, should ever make you feel this way. the right one will make you cry only tears of happiness and pleasure, if you know what i mean."

her comment made you laugh, this was why you loved her. "thanks lu. sorry about that rant, i haven't told anyone and so feel special you're first to hear about this fucked up situation."

"i'm glad you can trust me, but i think i may have an idea," luna sat upright. "how about you stop meeting him so often? maybe start seeing him once a day; then once every few days. if you want to take it a step further you could even start hanging out with another boy more."

"luna you're a fucking genius," you reached over and hugged her.

"you know i always have the best ideas," she giggled.

just then the door opened and luna's eyes focused behind you, as your back was turned to the door.

"who is it?" you asked as you noticed her smile had dropped.

"don't turn around if you don't want to cry," she said and you immediately turned your head 180°.

"no fucking way," your jaw dropped as you saw theo walk in with cho. "is he fucking shitting me right now? luna tell me i'm dreaming. tell me."

"i'm sorry, babe. do you want to go somewhere else?" she asked.

"yes it is best we go. i don't think i'll be able to hold back a fucking fist in both their stupid faces," you both got up.

and as for your amazing luck, they both spotted you and luna. theo called out your name and walked over to you. "hey, what's up?" he asked with a stupid smile on his face as if he didn't know what he was doing.

"hey theo," luna gave a small wave and he smiled at her.

"we were just leaving," you said and took luna's hand and the two of you walked out. you heard theo say something but you were too distracted by the ringing in your ears.

"it's okay, it's okay," luna engulfed you into a very big, very needed hug.

"why would he do that? i literally told him i was going to be here with you?" you cried into her arms.

"he's a boy, they don't think with their brains, only their dicks."

-

it had been a few days since the incident and you still had not spoke to theo. you were going out of your way to ignore him, not caring if it hurt you more than him.

you would spot theo in the halls, once he noticed you, you had already turned around and walked the complete opposite way before he even got a chance to call out your name.

it hurt too much. it didn't help that after those first couple of days, he eventually stopped trying to get your attention. instead he was being all handsy with cho.

it killed you, hardly being able to speak or react. it also hurt that you had to distance yourself from the other slytherins who noticed the lack of your presence.

but it wasn't all too bad, instead of hanging with them you and luna started hanging out more. she would check up on you constantly, making sure to cheer you up to avoid you thinking about him.

she knew you were deeply upset about it. she allowed you to grieve, cry and let all of it out. she herself had never experienced this type of hurt, but she was almost grateful as she saw how badly it impacted you.

aside from not speaking to theo, you kept your head up high. you still went to class, still did your work, still sat at the slytherin table for meals. everyone noticed the tension between the two of you.

no one asked, or at least in front of your face. they decided it was better to keep quiet and try keep things as normal as could be.

amongst those few days of hurting, you started growing closer with mattheo. he was also there for you, he wasn't sure exactly what happened with theo but he knew it was hurting you and so he decided to be there for you.

he also had to admit that it was also due to the fact that he fancied you. you began sitting next to him at meals, class, even sometimes being spotted after classes walking together.

this didn't go unnoticed by theo, of course. he wanted to punch mattheo in his face. mattheo was one of theo's closest friends and to see him get close with you, it also hurt him.

it was a stupid, stupid situation. the two of you pretending to move on while both your feelings grew stronger- though a large majority of it was anger due to the fact you were not communicating.

or at least verbally communicating. whenever you looked up, no matter where you were, his eyes were the first ones to meet yours.

it was ridiculous, really. you couldn't seem to get away from him, he seemed to stalk you as if you were prey. he couldn't get you out of his mind.

-

you looked over at the clock, 2:56am. great. you couldn't seem to sleep for some reason and it was starting to annoy you. you quietly got out of bed, slipping on a random hoodie on the floor and your slippers before leaving your dorm. you knew that after 12am, no teachers or prefects would be on lookout so you didn't have to worry too much about getting caught.

you made your way up to the astronomy tower, your favourite spot to go when you were unable to sleep. you reached into your pj short pockets and retrieved the joint that you rolled earlier.

you got the lighter out and attempted to light it. of course it had to be out of fluid. you were just away to get up when you noticed theo standing behind you.

"you spooky bitch! why the fuck would you stand there like that, holy fuck bro. you better be glad i'm a teenager and not an old woman cause you would've gave me a heart attack," you scolded him as you raised a hand over your heart to relieve yourself of the pure distress he just put you through.

"calm down, darling. here's a lighter," he passed you his stainless steel lighter. the same one you carved both of your initials into. you were surprised he used it.

"you don't get to do that," you looked up at him, feeling anger flowing through your veins. theo looked at you, he seemed confused but also like he knew what was happening.

"you don't get to have cuddle me, kiss me, make love to me, everything a couple would do, and then fucking show up to a place where you knew i was at with another stupid fucking girl! do you know how long i've waited for you? years theo, fucking years! i thought it was best to keep waiting, hoping for the day that you would admit you loved me back, but you didn't. but i still waited, theo, i fucking waited. i would never do this if it was anyone else," you felt tears threatening to spill and a lump in your throat.

theo remained quiet, he looked down at his hands and played with the silver rings which decorated his stupidly pretty hands. you waited for him to say something, anything. but he didn't. once again, but were you surprised.

"have your stupid lighter back. i never should've carved our initials in it thinking we could've been something," you shoved the silver lighter into his hands before walking off.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

#theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott imagine #theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #fanfic #slytherin boys #slytherin #fictional men #harry potter imagine

[nickeverdeen]

Whispers of the heart | Kit Tanthalos x fem!reader

The sound of clashing swords echoed in the training grounds as Kit and Jade engaged in a spirited bout. You stood by, attentively watching the exchange, arrows tucked into your makeshift quiver. As Kit executed a well-timed strike, she noticed your gaze and flashed a triumphant grin.

"See that move, Y/N? You could learn a thing or two from me," Kit teased, her confidence radiating.

You chuckled, taking the banter in stride. "Maybe, Kit, but archery requires finesse, not brute force."

Jade joined the conversation, offering a playful jab at Kit's training style. "Y/N's got a point. Sometimes subtlety can outmatch strength."

Kit, undeterred, twirled her sword with a flourish. "I'll take my strength over subtlety any day."

The banter continued as the trio ventured into a light-hearted discussion about their respective training preferences. As Jade offered guidance on refining Kit's technique, you interjected with insights on precision and accuracy drawn from her archery experience.

The sun began its descent, casting a warm hue over the training grounds. Kit wiped the sweat from her brow, turning to you. "You know, archery might have its merits."

You raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh? Admitting that subtlety has its place in the world?"

Kit's laughter rang out. "Maybe I'll ask you to teach me someday, when I'm not busy saving my brother’s ass."

The camaraderie between the three grew stronger with each passing day. As you and Kit continued to exchange playful banter, Jade found joy in watching their friendship flourish. Beneath the moonlit sky, the training grounds transformed into a haven of shared laughter, dreams, and unwavering support.

One evening, as they rested after an intense training session, Kit broached a topic that had lingered in her thoughts. "Y/N, you never talk much about your life before Tir Asleen. What brought you here?"

Your expression softened, your eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the nearby torches. "It's a long story, Princess, but sure I'll share it with you."

Seated in a circle, the trio delved into the intricacies of your past. The night unfolded with stories of a distant village, a peasantry burdened by injustice, and your journey to Tir Asleen in pursuit of a life free from oppression.

As the revelations unfolded, Kit and Jade listened attentively, offering empathetic nods and words of encouragement. The bond between them deepened, transcending the boundaries of royalty and commoner.

In the quiet moments that followed, Kit looked at you with newfound understanding. Their conversations became a tapestry of shared experiences, dreams, and vulnerabilities. You and Kit found solace in each other's stories, forging a connection that defied the societal norms attempting to dictate their paths.

As the moon hung high in the sky, casting a gentle glow over the training grounds, the princess, the archer, and the swordswoman continued their journey of camaraderie, laughter, and unwavering friendship.

———

As the months passed, Kit found herself captivated by more than just your archery skills. There was an unspoken connection between you two, a magnetic force that drew Kit in whenever you trained together. Each clash of swords seemed to spark an invisible energy, leaving Kit feeling a mix of exhilaration and confusion.

Jade, ever perceptive, couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in Kit's demeanor. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she began teasing Kit relentlessly, especially during moments when you were out of earshot.

"Kit, you seem a bit distracted today. Anything on your mind?" Jade quipped, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Kit shot her a glance, a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. "Nothing, Jade. Just focused on the training."

Jade chuckled knowingly. "Focused, huh? Is that what they taught you to call it?"

Kit's cheeks flushed, and she swatted Jade with the flat of her sword. "You're reading too much into it."

Jade feigned innocence. "Oh, am I? It's just amusing how you and Y/N have this... almost sexual tension when you're sparring."

Kit rolled her eyes, attempting to brush off Jade's comments. However, the seed of realization had been planted, and Kit couldn't deny the truth in Jade's words.

One day, as you and Kit engaged in a particularly intense sparring session, Jade couldn't resist making her presence known. She whistled from the sidelines, interrupting your rhythm. "Wow, if I didn't know better, I'd say there's a storm brewing here. Anyone else feel the heat?"

Kit shot Jade an exasperated look, but her heart raced in sync with the rhythm of the blades. You, oblivious to the underlying tension, raised an eyebrow at the teasing.

"What's going on, Kit? Jade seems to think we're putting on a show," you said with a bemused expression.

Kit stammered, attempting to brush it off. "Jade's just being... Jade. You know it."

Jade winked at Kit, enjoying every moment of her best friend's discomfort. "I'm just saying, there's a certain spark in the air. You two might want to address it before the entire kingdom starts placing bets."

As you and Kit continued your training, the unspoken tension lingered, creating a dynamic that neither could fully grasp. Kit, conflicted by her growing feelings, struggled to maintain composure. Jade, on the other hand, reveled in the unfolding drama, eager to see how it would play out.

In the quiet moments after training, Kit often found herself stealing glances at you, contemplating whether to confront the truth or let the unspoken connection linger in the realm of ambiguity.

———

Kit and Jade engaged in a casual discussion as they prepared the training grounds for the day. The morning sun cast a warm glow, and the air buzzed with anticipation. Jade couldn't help but bring up a topic that had been lingering in the air.

"You know, Kit, you don't have to be so subtle about it," Jade remarked with a playful grin.

Kit raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Subtle about what?"

Jade chuckled. "About your feelings for Y/N, of course. Everyone can see it, even Airk and that’s a lot to say."

Kit rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

As they continued setting things up, you approached, having overheard their conversation. You stumbled slightly on purpose, a subtle signal that you were well aware of the topic at hand. Without acknowledging it directly, you joined the conversation seamlessly.

"Morning, you two. What's the plan for today?" You asked, your tone light.

Jade exchanged a knowing glance with Kit, who tried to maintain composure. "Just the usual routine. Kit here is working on her sword skills."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Sounds like a plan. Let me know if you need any help."

As the training session commenced, you couldn't help but steal glances at Kit in action. The rhythmic clash of swords echoed through the air, and Kit's prowess left an impression. You found herself captivated, realizing that your feelings were evolving beyond friendship.

Amidst the camaraderie and shared laughter, unspoken emotions lingered beneath the surface, gradually weaving a tale of friendship and a growing connection between the princess, the archer.

———

Under the canopy of the garden, you and Kit strolled along, the quiet rustle of leaves accompanying your footsteps. Kit couldn't help but notice the subtle warmth between you two as your hands brushed, each touch sending a flutter through her.

As you walked, your blush deepened, and Kit couldn't help but be intrigued by the unusual sight. Finally, under the shade of a dark tree, you settled beneath the branches, gazing up at the stars scattered across the night sky.

The air held a sense of anticipation as Kit mustered the courage to open up. "Y/N," she began, her voice soft in the quietude of the night, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

You turned to her, her eyes reflecting the starlight. "What is it, Kit?"

Taking a deep breath, Kit confessed, "I… Y/N all I care about is you. And if you wanna come prehaps even run away to live somewhere freely, I would tag along, if that’s okay. ‘Cause I don’t wanna have any adventures unless they’re with you. I should’ve told you sooner, you know? And for that I am so sorry. I love you Y/N."

The confession hung in the air, and Kit anxiously awaited your response. The garden, once filled with the sounds of the night, now held a stillness that seemed to echo the beating of your hearts.

The soft glow of moonlight bathed the garden, casting a magical ambiance over you and Kit. As Kit hesitated, wondering if she had made a mistake, your lips met hers in a gentle yet passionate kiss. The world around you two seemed to fade as you became lost in the warmth of each other's embrace.

You, breaking the kiss with a smile, whispered, "I love you too, Kit."

The admission hung in the air, a delicate revelation that opened a new chapter in your relationship. You continued to sit beneath the tree, your fingers entwined with Kit's as you exchanged stories, dreams, and whispered confessions.

As the night deepened, your laughter echoed through the garden, blending with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of the night. Kit, captivated by the genuine warmth in your eyes, couldn't help but marvel at the depth of your connection.

You moved to a quiet corner under a blossoming tree, where Kit often went when she needed some silence. The fragrance of flowers mingled with the crisp night air as you settled, side by side, on a stone bench. The stars above you two twinkled as if conspiring to keep your secret.

In a small awe by the magic of the night, Kit leaned in to steal a sweet kiss, savoring the taste of the moment. You responded with a tender passion, your fingers gently tracing patterns on Kit's arm. It was a dance of hearts, an unspoken language that surpassed words.

As the night wore on, you eventually found yourselves lying on the cool grass, cuddled together like pieces of a puzzle fitting seamlessly. You, usually the more reserved of the two, nuzzled into Kit's embrace, her heartbeat echoing the rhythm of the garden.

Amid whispered promises and playful banter, the hours slipped away, marking a turning point in their lives. Kit, stroking your hair gently, couldn't shake the feeling that your love story had just begun.

The night, filled with starlight and shared secrets, embraced you until you drifted into a peaceful slumber in the garden. The dawn would bring challenges, but for now, you and Kit found refuge in the warmth of your love, intertwined beneath the celestial canvas of the night sky.

———

During the training, Jade couldn't help but notice the unspoken tension between you and Kit. During a break, she decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Okay, spill it, you two," Jade said with a sly grin. "There's something happening here, and I'm not buying the 'just training' excuse."

Kit exchanged a quick glance with you, and you shared a silent agreement to open up to Jade. Taking a deep breath, Kit began, "Well, you see, it's not just training. Y/N and I... we got together"

You, though a bit shy, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's true. We've been getting closer, and our feelings have evolved beyond friendship."

Jade's eyes widened with excitement. "Finally! I've been waiting for this moment. Do you know how long I've had to endure the tension between you two? Spill the details."

Kit chuckled nervously. "It's still new, Jade. We're taking things one step at a time. But there was a moment in the gardens, and, well, things got a bit more serious."

You blushed but continued, "And we decided to see where this takes us. We're not hiding it, but we're also not making a grand announcement. It's complicated, especially considering the kingdom's stance on such matters."

Jade, thrilled by your confessions, grinned widely. "This is perfect! I've been shipping you two for ages. Just promise me I get to be the bridesmaid when you finally decide to tie the knot."

You and Kit laughed, grateful for Jade's support and understanding. The trio continued their training, now with an added layer of shared secrets, inside jokes, and the unspoken promise of a future filled with both challenges and the undeniable bond that tied them together.

————————————————————

Okay this is horrible and is extremely short, but I hope you guys like it! Feel free to give me any suggestions on how I can improve other imagines in the future.

Love you, stay safe and healthy 🫶💚

#imagine #kit tanthalos #kit tanthalos x reader #kit tanthalos x you #jade claymore #jade claymore x reader #kit tanthalos imagine #willow series #willow kit #wlw

[sycamorelibrary754]

When You Wish Upon a Star

Summary: You and Bucky Barnes have grown close, bonding over sarcasm and shared trauma. You make it your mission to help Bucky experience all the joys of life that Hydra took from him. A little Disney magic is the perfect place to start.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader (platonic)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: A few curse words and references to past trauma.

A/N: Who wouldn’t want to go to Disneyland with Bucky?

It was always the same. Your eyes shot open as the sensation of falling washed over you. Slowly, you rolled over and lifted your head to check the clock. 3:12 am. Fucking perfect. After a couple of deep breaths, you lifted your tired body off your bed. You throw on your favorite sweatshirt before opening your door and shuffling down the hall. 

It was dark, but you knew the way by heart. A frequent late-night visitor to the compound halls thanks to your PTSD. Your nightmares came in bunches, and when they did you needed a distraction when you woke up to keep yourself from spiraling down completely. You reach the kitchen and are just about to open the fridge when you see the outline of James Buchanan Barnes sitting on the sofa in the dark. 

“Bucky? What are you doing out here?”

“Moonlighting as a vampire”, he grumbled.

“You know, I usually just take your hundred-and-eight-year-old sarcasm at face value, but it’s late and I’m genuinely curious”, you said, as you sit across from him on the sofa. One leg tucked up under your body and your arms crossed over your chest to keep yourself warm. 

Bucky looks over at you stone-faced, but you can tell he’s trying to read you, searching for an ulterior motive. The gears are turning endlessly inside his head. After about five seconds of silence, you decide to return the favor. There are dark circles under his eyes and his disheveled hair is standing on end. You can tell has been up much longer than you. 

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, sorry. I thought we were having a staring contest”, you said lightheartedly to cover up your attempt at reading him. You can’t help but notice the small smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth, disappearing as quickly as it came. 

“Do you ever feel like you don’t matter? Like, despite it all, you’ll never be free of the pain?”

“All the time”, you stated without hesitation.

He turns to you with a furrowed brow and a look of surprise.

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry. It’s just, in the past when I’ve said that to people they usually give me a bunch of hollow platitudes,” Bucky said.

“Well, that’s not me.”

“Me either.”

That was the first time you and Bucky had a bonding moment. Moving forward there were many more late-night talks and quietly waiting up for each other. A movie always queued up to help pull each other back into the present moment after a mission. You could be alone together in a way that you couldn’t be with anyone else. It stumped the rest of the team, to say the least. Two people who would rather silently take in the world around them than be forced to speak had become best friends.

*^_^*

You wiped the perspiration off your forehead, sitting against the wall in the gym after a joint training session. Bucky insisted on helping you improve your hand-to-hand combat skills. He noticed you had gotten a bit complacent in relying solely on your powers. After you arrived home from your last mission with a black eye, Bucky was adamant about training you himself. 

Taking a sip of water, you turn to Bucky, “Have you ever been to Disneyland?”

“You ask the most random questions, and no. I remember some of the original Disney cartoons, though. Steamboat Willie, Oswald the Lucky Rabbit. Before we started moving around to different army bases, my parents would give me a dollar and I would walk to the movie theater in Shelbyville, Indiana. They would joke, “Don’t spend it all in one place, James”, he said with a smile that slowly faded. “After my parents died, I stopped going to the movies. And… the Winter Soldier never had a vacation.” 

It was only in the last few months you started to notice Bucky differentiating himself from the Winter Soldier. You assumed it was thanks to Dr. Raynor and his pardon-mandated therapy, but he would never admit it was you who was helping him see that the Winter Soldier and James Bucky Barnes were not one and the same.

“Well, something to add to your list then. Come on, dinner is probably ready,” patting his thigh. You mentally file away what Bucky shared for later. There was a whole new life for him to live now, and you were determined to help him do it. 

A couple weeks later you and Bucky are infiltrating an old Hydra base off the grid. A simple in and out to retrieve a backlog of digital files, and you were back on the Quinjet within a couple of hours. You offered to pilot the jet home while Bucky took a nap. He awoke a few hours later to you poking him repeatedly on the shoulder with a dorky grin on your face. 

“What?” Bucky groaned, wiping his hands over his face. “Are we home?”

“No, we’re making an unscheduled stop,” you said, as the super soldier sits up. 

“Where the hell are we?” Bucky walked to the window surprised to find no landing pad, no buildings, no New York. 

“Surprise, Buck! We’re going to Disneyland,” you declared. “I cleared it with Fury. We have tomorrow off, and I already sent the files we retrieved to Maria with a written debrief. We’re officially off the clock for the next 36 hours.” 

“No, Y/N. I’m too old for this. What if someone recognizes us?”

“First of all, you’re too old for everything, but that doesn’t matter in the Happiest Place on Earth. Second of all, I’ve got that covered,” pulling a change of clothes for him out of your bag.

You both change and are about to depart the jet when you remember one more preventative measure. You grab both your suits and fiddle with them for a second before removing two of Tony’s trackers. 

“This trip will be our little secret”, you wink.

You departed the jet and activated stealth mode at the top end of the Mickey and Friends parking structure, away from prying eyes. After a short ride on the tram and walk through security you’re standing at the top of Main Street USA. You look down at Cinderella’s castle as the sights, sounds, and smells of Disneyland envelop your senses.

“Okay, so I thought we could hit Adventureland first. Jungle Cruise, Indiana Jones, just to get your feet wet. Then we’ll do Frontierland and New Orleans Square. Wait until you see Pirates of the Caribbean! Oh, and Fantasyland has the Matterhorn, I have a feeling you’ll love that ride. Then maybe we could grab dinner at the Jolly Holiday cafe and watch the fireworks. That will leave us with Tomorrowland tomorrow, no pun intended. Finally, I thought for shits and giggles we could check out the Avengers campus in California Adventure Land before we leave.” you rambled happily. You finally look up from your park map to see Bucky eyeing you like you are speaking another language. 

“Sounds great, but how are we paying for this? I doubt it’s on Shield’s payroll.”

“Ask and you shall receive”, you said with a devilish smirk, as you pulled Tony’s Black Master Card from your pocket.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“Tony’s wallet. You’re not the only superhero here remember? Plus, Nat has taught me a thing or two about pickpocketing over the years,” you grinned. “Come on James, we’re going to spend it all in one place this time,” linking arms with the super soldier who simply rolled his eyes.

The next day and a half was a whirlwind of Disney magic. You went on every ride you possibly could. (You may or may not have hacked into the fast pass system to make your wait times in line as short as possible). Bucky made you go on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad twice and didn’t judge you for screaming in a way that would be considered very un-heroic by your teammates. You bought him personalized Mickey ears with his name embroidered on the back, and it only took ten minutes of arguing to convince him to wear them in a picture with Mickey. Meanwhile, Bucky took every opportunity he could to capture your Disneyland experience. Discreetly snapping a candid photo or filming as you happily sang along to the music on every ride.

After a good night’s sleep in the jet, the two of you made your way over to the Avengers campus in California Adventure Land. “Well, they got the aesthetics right,” you remarked. Taking in the scenery and park guests clad in Avengers merchandise.

You took a selfie in front of the Avengers campus sign that you immediately made your new lockscreen. It took a couple minutes, but Bucky found a spot for both of you in front of the compound to watch The Amazing Spider-Man! Peter welcomed the guests and conducted various flight tests in his new suit. There were flips, jumps, and web slingers galore. Each move executed smoothly, until he tripped over a few boxes and landed flat on his face. 

“Yeah, that’s about right”, Bucky joked as you nod in agreement. 

The campus is full of cast members dressed as all of your teammates interacting with park guests, Dr. Strange illustrating the mysteries of the Mystic Arts, and the Warriors of Wakanda demonstrating disciplines of the Dora Milaje. After exploring a bit, you decided to take a seat outside of Shawarma Palace to rest your feet. You both removed your hats and are scrolling through your phones when a curly-haired little boy wearing glasses and an Iron Man t-shirt quietly approached your table. 

“Hi”, he whispered shyly.

“Hi, what’s your name?” you smiled. You put your phone down and place your hand on top of Bucky’s hand. The gears turning in his head like the night you found him on the sofa in the dark.

“James”, he answered, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet. You looked over at Bucky as he visibly relaxed and smiled. 

“Are you Bucky Barnes and Y/F/N Y/L/N?” he asked. Pushing his little glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Why do you think that?” trying to hide your grin.

“I have a poster of the Avengers in my bedroom! You look just like them, and umm, we learned about you at school. Oh, and I had an Iron Man cake for my last birthday. I got a helmet and everything!”

“That’s amazing, James! Iron Man is my favorite Avenger too.”

“Hey?!” Bucky said.

“Okay, original Avenger.”

You look over at Bucky eagerly. He seems to read your mind and nodded in agreement.

“We’ll let you in on a little secret, but you have to promise not to tell anyone,” you whispered as you motion for James to come closer. You hold out your hand and focus as small blue sparks dance around your palm. 

“Woah!!” James yelled.

“Shhhh,” you giggled. 

Bucky looks around carefully before taking off his glove and rolling up his sleeve to reveal his Vibranium arm. 

“That’s so cool,” James said mesmerized.

“We’re here on confidential Avenger business and we must keep our cover. Can you help us keep our identities secret?” Bucky asked as he rolls his sleeve back down and put back on his glove.

“Yeah!” your new friend exclaimed proudly. 

“Thank you, James. You will make a great Avenger someday,” Bucky said.

He gave the small boy a fist bump, and you do the same. James walked away proudly, and you can’t help but look over at Bucky. Your eyes shining with unshed tears.

“That’s why you matter.”

For the first time in your friendship, you think he believes it. 

The sun begins to set as you both stroll out of California Adventure Land. Bucky is about to suggest walking across the street to wait for the tram when he sees you running back toward the Disneyland entrance.

“What are you doing? We need to get going. I’m sure everyone is already freaking out that our trackers are offline” Bucky shouted.

“There’s one more thing we have to do. Come on!” you yelled, motioning for him to follow you. You lead your best friend back down Main Street USA before stopping in front of the cinema. You waited for him to catch up to you and pointed up at the marquee.

Main Street Cinema Presents: 

Steamboat Willie 

Plus six great original Disney cartoons.

I thought you might like a little walk down memory lane before the clock strikes midnight and we turn back into pumpkins.”

Bucky stared at the marquee for a few seconds before looking back at you. Before you can ask him what he thinks, he embraced you in a hug. You walked inside and strolled from screen to screen. Taking in the nostalgia of the classic black-and-white Disney cartoons. You reached the last screen just as Mickey began to whistle the theme to Steam Boat Willie. You glanced over at Bucky and noticed his eyes shining with unshed tears this time. You rub gentle circles on his back until the credits roll. 

“Thank you, Y/N”, he sighed, wiping his eyes. That meant a lot to me. This trip meant a lot to me. I never thought I’d say this, but I loved it.”

“You’re my best friend, Buck. You deserve to experience all of the beautiful moments in life. It’s never too late. Hell, everyone should have a first trip to Disneyland. I’m just glad I got to do it with you”, putting your arms around him. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Back on the jet, Bucky offered to pilot so you can get some sleep. Fortunately, the night air is calm and clear, so after about an hour he put the jet on autopilot and sat down next to you. The super soldier gently covered you with a blanket before pulling out his phone. He can’t help but laugh at the sight of the two of you sharing a giant Dole Whip or screaming as the train dipped and dove on Thunder Mountain. For the first time in forever, Bucky sees himself smiling and almost doesn’t recognize himself.

You finally stirred when the wheels touched down on the compound landing pad. Bucky had yet to notice you’re awake. Preoccupied with shutting down the jet and grabbing both your bags. You lay there silently as your eyes followed him. You smiled to yourself as you heard him softly whistling “When You Wish Upon a Star”.

Mission accomplished.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #mcu #the avengers #fluff #disneyland #super soldier #super powers #vibranium #white wolf #james buchanan barnes

[florence-end]

Grand gestures

Helion x fem!reader

Request: Could you write a story where the reader is on her period and Helion takes care of her?

Warnings: none

The nausea and pain clouded your mind as you tossed and turned in the large bed, trying to find a comfortable spot. You were two days into your period and were yet to feel any relief from the symptoms.

Distantly, you could hear Helion clattering about in the kitchen. Despite your attempts to tell him you just wanted him to lay with you and rub your stomach, he was instead causing chaos as he tried to bake you brownies from scratch. The professional chef and various servants who usually prepared meals for the high lord’s household had been dismissed for the afternoon.

You had known when you first met Helion and the bond had snapped that he hadn’t really been one for committed relationships before you. Although he was naturally a very affectionate male, he lacked experience when it came to providing everyday care for a partner. As a result, he tended to overcompensate with grand but rarely well executed gestures when you would have been happy with a much simpler solution.

Muttered curse words reached your ears and you eventually admitted defeat in trying to find a comfortable position to lie in that would relieve your cramps. Groaning under your breath, you dragged yourself up and shuffled towards the kitchen to save your mate from himself.

As soon as you entered, Helion whirled to face you.

“Darling, what are you doing up? You need to rest,” he objected as you slid onto a high stool in front of the kitchen counter.

“I missed you,” you pouted, before resting your warm forehead against the marble in an attempt to relieve your headache.

Helion made his way toward you, hand outstretched to rub your back before overthinking it as he didn’t want to cause you any more discomfort.

“Please go back to bed my darling. I am almost finished in here and the dawn court emissary will be back shortly with the pain relieving bath oil I requested from Thesan so-”

Before Helion could finish his instructions, smoke began to swirl out of the oven. He sprinted over and pulled open the door, batting away the fumes before gingerly taking out the tray of charred batter. He looked devastated, and you were suddenly overcome with emotion at how much effort he was putting into taking care of you, even if he wasn’t quite hitting the mark.

Tears rolled down your face before you could stop them, and Helion was wiping them away before you even noticed he had moved back to your side.

“I’m so sorry darling, I’ll make more and it’ll take no time at all. Please don’t cry,” he fretted, mistaking your tears for upset about the brownies.

“I don’t need brownies, just need you,” you sobbed, leaning into him and prompting him to finally wrap his arms around you.

“But I thought females just wanted chocolate and space during their bleeds. I even consulted my council after we met and they confirmed it,” he frowned down at you, rubbing soothing circles into your back. You giggled through your tears at the thought of this powerful high lord consulting his courtiers on what to do during your cycle instead of the important political matters they were supposed to discuss.

“I’m sure that’s true for some females, but I just want your comfort. Come and lay with me?” you asked, giving your best puppy dog eyes.

“Oh not those eyes, you know I can’t stand it! I am going to have the chef make some brownies for me though, I feel I have earned them after such a torturous afternoon,” he mused, while carrying you back to your shared bedroom.

You just rolled your eyes.

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

Thank you for this request! I have been waiting to write it until I got my period so I could comfort myself with the story lol so thank you for being patient💕

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #helion x reader #helion x you #high lord helion #helion spell cleaver

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Mommy Kink | Yoon Jeonghan

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Kinktober 2023

Summary: A conversation with your friends leads to a slip up during an intimate moment with Jeonghan, and he's determined to hold it over your head, not that you mind one bit

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: Petnames (baby, princess), oral (fem receiving), fingering, Jeonghan is a tease, dirty talk, Jeonghan is called Mommy, Reader kinda spaces out after orgasming, soft shit at the end, a pussy slap

A/N: This is unedited, but I thought it was cute

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

Having a pretty boy for a boyfriend was delightful. He made sure you wore matching outfits, and let you style his hair as long as you let him do your makeup sometimes. It was a bonding experience really. The most amusing part was the way your friends reacted. They were enamored with him, almost as much as you were, and it led to a lot of long conversations that would always stick in your mind.

Like the time they grilled you about his skincare routine because they were jealous of his complexion. Or the time that they questioned which one of you really wore the pants in the relationship (and you were delighted to tell them that you did, but you were kind enough to let him think he was in charge). Or, most memorably, the time that you spent a tipsy night in divulging the details of your quite active sex life and Jeonghan's bedroom preferences.

It was a reference to that conversation that brought on the thought that was now playing on repeat in your mind. You'd been at your friend's house, all of you laid out across the living room watching some reality tv show drama and sipping at your drinks when Mia turned to you.

"Ya know, I've been thinking about Jeonghan again. Ever since he grew out his hair, he just looks so soft and fluffy." She said with a giggle. You raised an eyebrow at her sudden statement.

"What exactly is it that you wanna know?" You asked, very used to reading into her offhanded statements. Poor attempts to segue into absolutely out of pocket conversations. Which, you had to admit, was part of what you loved about your friendships. Too much information was a difficult line to reach, and everyone was curious about everything. It kept things entertaining.

"What does Jeonghan like being called in bed?" She asked. You snorted out a laugh.

"I don't really call him anything unusual. Hannie, baby. Same stuff I always call him." You said with a shrug. You knew some people were into titles or certain petnames, but it had never come up between the two of you, and you hadn't ever given it much thought.

"Yeah, but is that what he prefers? He seems...freakier than that." She said. You curled your nose up and laughed.

"I mean, I never really asked."

"You know, you're kinda right. With the curls and stuff he kinda looks like he'd wanna be called mommy. Take care of his princess." Your other friend Aaliyah piped up. You bit back a cackle at the idea. But underneath it all, you had to admit that the idea stuck.

It stuck enough that weeks later you were still imagining what that would look like, how he'd react. Never enough to bring it up, though. That was just embarrassing, especially if he didn't like it. Or if he decided it was time to tease you about sharing the filthy details with your friends.

But the last thing on your mind now with his face buried in your pussy was asking him if you could call him something new in bed. You arched off the bed, hips grinding against the lapping of his tongue and the brush of his nose against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves. You huffed out a moan, squirming under the intense squeeze of his fingers against your thighs.

You slid your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly at the curls and revelling to the feeling of his hummed laughter against your folds.

"Mommy, please," You whined, a tiny wail slipping out when he pulled away, looking up at you with your hands still laced through his hair and your wetness glistening around his mouth. He smirked, that dangerous sort of glint in his eye that made you squirm and flush warm with nervousness.

"What was that, baby?" He asked, fingers digging into your thighs a little tighter and making your breath hitch. Your mind went blank for a moment, desperately scrambling for the words you'd said but finding them just out of reach.

"Jeonghan," You pulled your hands from his hair to cover your face as you wiggled your hips at him, hoping to entice him into touching you again, the burning of your near orgasm fading into a dull, achy throb between your legs now without his touch.

"That's not what you said, princess. Try again." He said, sitting up now and wiping at his face. You made a frustrated noise, kicking your feet uselessly and only feeling more frustrated when he chuckled at your tantrum.

"I don't know what I said. Baby, please. Was so close, please." You pouted, reaching out for his hand to guide it back between your legs. He gave in, fingers teasing against your cunt, dipping in just a little before pulling back to run the full length of your folds.

"I think you know what you said. Wanna call me mommy?" He asked, and your eyes flew to his face, wide and searching for some sort of rejection. You hadn't even processed the slip up, but Jeonghan seemed entirely amused by it. "Just had to ask, you know I'd do anything for you. So tell me, is that what you want? Want mommy to take care of your needy pussy?"

You whimpered, hiding your face in your arms again and rolling your hips against his fingers. He landed a slap to your core and you jerked away from the touch only for his free hand to grab your thigh and drag you back into place.

"Asked you a fucking question. Better answer it if you want to cum at all tonight." He warned, tone dark and low in a way that you knew meant business. You nodded, peeking out from behind your arm.

"Yes please."

"Please, what?"

"Please fuck me, mommy. Need you to make me cum." You said, face so warm that it felt like you'd just combust right then and there. Jeonghan gave you an approving nod before sliding two of his long fingers inside of you, curling them to press against your gspot, rubbing at the rough patch and listening to the pathetic string of noises that it drew out of you.

"That's it, good girl. Take my fingers, cum on 'em okay? Maybe then mommy will let you cum on his cock. You want that, don't you? Want mommy to fuck you dumb over and over again?" He slid a third finger in, stretching you open and pistoning them against your most sensitive spot. You let out a choked moan, something akin to a sob. Your head nodded frantically as your hands searched for something to hold on to, eventually finding purchase on his bicep.

"Yes, please please please make me cum. I'm yours mommy, just wanna make you feel good. Wanna be so full of you. I need it, wanna be good." You were crying now, the rush of embarrassment at being caught in your little fantasy bringing you to the edge with an intensity that you weren't used to, and the way Jeonghan's mouth was running burned humiliation through you, sparks of pride and arousal flaring in your veins.

"Go on, princess. Cum for mommy." He ordered. And you couldn't deny him even if you'd wanted to, your walls clenching around his fingers and your cum dripping down his wrist as he continued milking you through the orgasm, leaning down to kiss over your shoulders and collarbone, murmuring sweet praise into your skin.

It felt like your orgasm lasted for several minutes, your vision swimming and your breath coming out shaky and desperate. Jeonghan smoothed his hand along your jaw, waiting patiently for you to come back down. When you blinked up at him with glossy eyes and tear streaked cheeks, he smiled fondly.

"Hey baby, welcome back. You were in lala land for a minute. How do you feel?" He asked, all of the intensity gone from his voice now. In place was the softest, sweetest tone of pure adoration. You hummed, stretching your legs out a little.

"Good. Really good." You mumbled, reaching out to grab his arm, just wanting to touch him.

"Good. Let's get you cleaned up, okay?" He said. You pouted.

"You didn't cum yet." You said, not wanting to leave him hanging. He laughed.

"I'll live. That was more than enough for me. Could watch you cum like that forever." He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "So...Mommy, huh?"

You were never gonna live this one down.

copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

#yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fanfic #yoon jeonghan fanfiction #yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan imagine #yoon jeonghan #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen smut #seventeen #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt fanfiction #svt smut #svt #x reader fanfic #x reader fanfiction #x reader imagine #x reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #reader insert smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober 23 #coupsie-daisies #coupsie-daisies kinktober '23

[sasukesun]

Hi Bella! This isn’t an ask I just felt like ranting a bit (a lot) because I’ve got a lot of Naruto feelings lately! No analysis just speaking from the heart so some of this might be up for interpretation lol but I’m mostly beating a dead horse here because what more can really be said?

The “so misogynistic it’s gay” phrase everyone likes to parrot is a complete disservice to Kishimoto as an author because how do you write Naruto and Sasuke’s dynamic accidentally when it’s essentially the driving force of the story? You don’t. And I don’t think he’s this raging misogynist people paint him as because he doesn’t really treat the other women with as much disrespect compared to S or H. He’s probably as misogynistic as the average male author or person out of willful ignorance but writing unlikeable and two-dimensional women, I would say, does not a misogynist make because not all of the women here are written with the level of contempt, sexism and mockery as these two. For examples: Temari was also strong, had a brash and unsavory personality and was labeled “scary” by Shikamaru but was a protective older sister and not unlikeable to readers. Ino, who also began as a “girl in love”, fell out of her crush with Sasuke and gained some perspective on her ambitions and affirmations after Asuma died (and she wasn’t the one to drop her friendship over a “rivalry” for a boy that didn’t return either of their feelings… I get it, I was once a kid too but Sakura still being just as childish in adulthood in regards to Gaiden? What a joke, anyways). Tsunade, Konan, and Kushina and all of their individual strengths do not revolve around the acknowledgement of men and their appeals. Their respective love’s, while tragic affairs, were openly reciprocated by their love interests and each aspect of their story was treated with some level of care. So at this point, Kishimoto simply didn’t feel like giving the same romantic grace to NH and SS because SNS was the entire point! of the manga!

The fact that the words Sakura and Hinata share of their shallow infatuations in their confessions are ignored or outright rejected (more than once mind you) actually ring true when they are frequently paralleled in text with how Naruto and Sasuke feel towards each other should be all you need to understand that! Because their devotion to another is believable! Their evolving, MUTUAL, bond and attempts at trying to understand each other throughout the course of 698 chapters is it! That’s the romance! It’s romantic as hell trying to grasp the deepest parts of someone, connecting with them in a way no one else is able to because of a shared experience through different circumstances and defending them when all others have turned their backs; protecting them, dying for them, “bearing the burden of their hatred” and proposing a romantic double-suicide where hopefully in the new world they are absolved of societies failures against their current selves and the ties still bind them (because they’re soulmates); not being able to cut a single person down because they’re your “one and only (friend)” and without them you’d finally be alone but you’ve seen and know what’s in each other’s hearts and you know they’ll never leave you and they’ll stand by you even at the cost of their life; having complimentary sun and moon symbols on the hands of the arms they both respectively lose together in a battle concluded by both of them communicating in depth how they view their relationship outside of simple labels. This is the single most important relationship in the manga. It’s impossible to ignore but OH do people try and draw incorrect conclusions about their connection and love for the other (that’s an entirely different rant).

And even if Kishimoto cared enough to spare a crumb of reciprocation from either male party towards their future “love interests/spouses” or even any sense of S or H actually understanding Naruto and Sasuke beyond attraction and personal convictions, that wouldn’t change; and ultimately kishimoto didn’t because he didn’t care to and that’s obviously not the story he was telling. Naruto as a manga revolves around the natural progression of SNS’ individual motives and aspirations laced with their mutual care and interest for the other. Their interpersonal connections with others mirror and influence their love and understanding of each other.

I think it’s a disservice to say Kishimoto can’t write romance simply because he didn’t develop those two “relationships”; like Minakushi is the staple blatant romance of Naruto (besides SNS) and both SS and NH fans constantly want parellel their bond, mimic tropes, or make banal and superficial comparisons of their favs to Kushina (and Mikoto too which screams insecurity here like please free them from the mediocrity, I beg) because they know it’s the epitome of love in regards to Naruto. But the closest comparison to Minakushi, trope wise, in my opinion, is literally SNS! And if either SS or NH fans had a single canon moment (written by Kishimoto) rivaling anything SNS have together they would be screaming romance at the top of their lungs but instead they cry “brothers/friends” to some of the most romantic text I’ve ever read whilst all they’re given by Kishimoto is eye sex(?) + (brotherly) forehead poke of rejection (“better than a kiss”; my ass) and “big strong hands” over my slave cousin’s corpse + silly contrived movie with imagery Naruto and Sasuke had first and both a plethora of cherry-picked panels taken out of context. It’s just embarrassing!

This comes from a place of neutrality for both S and H as characters tbh because I acknowledge they weren’t meant to be anything more than what we got. I just don’t like their fan bases praising fodder caricatures or their reductive ships because they “got the guy in the end” in extremely dysfunctional “canon” (lavender) marriages. If they would just let them be girl failures and pathetic in peace and regard them properly I wouldn’t mind. However, the constant character revisionism is annoying because I know I’m not missing some grand aspect to either woman. And they’re not “mothering” at all lol let’s be serious! They’re two cheeks of the same spoiled ass unfortunately and that’s just how they’re written— you’re not gaining feminism points for appreciating women written through a sexist lens like I’d argue that’s more misogynistic then just outright disliking them. Sorry! Kishimoto is an author, and like all author’s, he writes with intention. He wrote what he wanted to, how he wanted to and focused on what was important which was SNS. Laughably undeveloped or plain unlikeable characters be damned, Sasuke and Naruto were the main act and not the side show.

There are plenty of genre’s to choose from for interesting and developed female characters that aren’t contributing to male (and female, mind you) fantasies but unfortunately Shounen really isn’t one of them because there’s only isolated cases of actual decent representation across the board. But in regards to Kishimoto’s work, S and H got the butt end of the intentionally-poorly-written-stick compared to the other women and there’s no amount of personal head-canons no one legitimately subscribes to or cries of “you’re misinterpreting her character” that are changing that. My mind, and many other’s, has been made up because we see them for what they are and how they’re actually written.

Alrighty! Convoluted, possibly contradictory and very opinionated rant over. If you read this, you’re a real one LOL I hope all is well!!

i don’t think i have much to add, especially since you put it so well. i talked about the “so misogynistic that it’s gay” plenty of times before, and how nonsense and homophobic that take is, how kishimoto foreshadowing a romantic double suicide has anything to do with sakura being badly written? and that’s just one small example. people act like just because naruto and sakura are on the same team as sasuke, they must have the same importance to him, they expected both naruto and sakura to have the same influence over sasuke, but that’s not what’s written from the beginning, i believe the logic is “naruto and sasuke have a deeper relationship than sasuke and sakura, who has no room for development, that’s why they look gay (on accident)” but stopping at it is shallow, it’s not solely about their relationship being meaningful, while ss (or nh) isn’t, it’s about why it’s meaningful, and more importantly, only being meaningful isn’t enough either to be gay, it’s about why is it gay? why it feels gay? why so many people read it and think “that seems romantic”? naruto is a story that establishes some actions as romantic and then shows naruto and sasuke act exactly how it was established towards each other. did i mention anything about how lacking sakura and hinata are to talk about the nature of their relationship? no, because homosexuality is defined by who you’re attracted to, men are gay because they love other men, women are lesbian because they love other women, and it’s homophobic to say “actually, women are lesbians because they don’t love men”, it’s the same logic of telling a lesbian she just hasn’t found the right man yet. “naruto and sasuke love each other” and “naruto and sasuke don’t love hinata and sakura” are two facts that coexist and don’t have influence over one another.

i did mention that people say sakura has no room for development, but i disagree, sakura does have room for it, she has opportunities to be better, but she isn’t, it’s a deliberate choice from kishimoto, he simply doesn’t want sakura to be in the same position as naruto, he doesn’t want her to be important to sasuke, but giving naruto development while sakura remains inconsiderate (which is one of the reasons why sasuke dislikes her) isn’t inherently misogynistic. and even if he did want her (and hinata) to be better, that wouldn’t change how sasuke feels towards naruto and vice versa. and yes, i do agree with you that kishimoto writes sakura’s and hinata’s characters with mockery, as much as he writes ss and nh, but i believe he does that to leave no room for doubts, and yet… 🤦🏻‍♀️ for real, if people are already in deep denial of narusasu with naruto and sasuke being written that way towards each other while ss and nh suck, imagine if their relationship was written the same way but they were at least friendlier towards sakura and hinata (especially in ss’ case here), no amount of gay subtext would be enough to stop the homophobia and heteronormativity, the denial would be worse. but “sns shippers” really think they are allies when they help with this logic, that gayness is accidental and ss/nh only suck because sakura and hinata are women.

and this isn’t me saying there isn’t misogyny in naruto. misogyny in naruto is rin dying for male angst, is konan outdoing obito and not only dying, but being completely forgotten, almost erased from the story, is tsunade showing a fear of blood during her battle against orochimaru just so it weakens her in that moment and that is never mentioned again, is kushina wanting to be hokage and dropping that for no reason so minato could be, is even hinata being written solely for male wanking, but i can’t agree that naruto and sasuke not loving sakura and hinata is it.

5th and 6th paragraphs are very on point as well, emphasising them here because i couldn’t agree more. the double standards people have in relation to narusasu vs ss/nh is ridiculous and plain homophobia and, contrary to sakura/hinata stans try to say to scare people off by using serious issues, disliking sakura and hinata is not anti feminist or whatever, praising badly written female characters will only contribute to more of this kind of writing, so no thank you. i think i’m just repeating my and yourself at this point, but i feel bad to read a rant as big as this and only reply “i agree with everything!” hah.

#ask

[drbased]

One of the best ways to force TRAs to admit that transwomen are males, that they have been socialized as males and that they belong to the male class, is to push the concept of the "afab trans woman"

I left this ask unanswered for a while because I know exactly which user sent this and I don't really care for their arguments. But I'm going to use this an opportunity to address something that I think is really important for feminists and leftists when arguing online.

I don't really care about forcing TRAs to admit things. I'm much more interested in enriching the discourse of the choir I'm already in.

Arguments online are performative first and foremost; they're rarely if ever about trying to actively persuade the person you're talking to - they're much more about using sass and wit to try to control the conversation and make yourself look like the stronger person. Zero integrity is required to engage in an online argument - and those with ther crappier but more confident argument will always win out (plus if that argument supports the status quo and the oppressors class(es) within it, then said argument will take even less effort to convince people). Unless you're absolutely watertight in your argumentative strategy, you've basically already lost, and you've wasted your time. The ones who do decide to argue a lot end up looking vaguely irritating on your dashboard; discourse is irritating because you have to sift through a bunch of arguments you already know are wrong and bad intertwined with a bunch of arguments you already know are good and right. But the argument never seems to stop, despite how supposedly 'good' all those arguments are. The discourse goes on and on. By arguing with these people you're being baited into wasting time and energy.

I'm not here to say that nobody should say words to the opposing side, and by all means I sure can't stop you if you want to. The problem is, if the facts are on your side, the odds are stacked against you. You're fighting against mainstream status quo opinion and a collective of rhetorical tactics which are more effective than the truth and compassion will ever be. TBH I think the most effective arguer on this site is opabinia, but that's because she never wastes time actually arguing, she just sealions the other side over and over again until they give up (and, seemingly, deactivate??). But could you say she's ever actually convinced anyone, or has she just made our side go 'yassss girl!' over and over? Has she turned arguments from performing for them into arguments that are performing for us?

The Jehova's Witnesses are a cult-ish Christian denomentation infamous for knocking on people's doors and asking them if they've heard the good news; they will then attempt to convert that person to their religion. As studies have shown, this method of converting people is bad. It has such a laughably poor success rate that you'd be forgiven for thinking that conversion isn't even the point. And theorists have indeed posited that the 'point' of doostep conversion attempts is not actually to convert, but rather to strengthen the in-group through shared experiences - the members bond with each other through how much they are rejected by those outside.

Before I end this I also want to point out that trying to use the 'afab trans woman line' is weak as all hell to me. A lot of radfems seem to be under the impressionn that genderists haven't got excuses and workarounds for the most basic of arguments about sex. If these people cared about facts, then, well, we wouldn't have a genderist on our hands. You can't just 'trick them' - well, maybe you can the teenagers I suppose, but IDK I personally find arguing with teenagers online to be kinda gauche. Trans activists have their party line that gender is assigned at birth, and that's what dictates their life experiences. An 'afab trans woman' cannot exist because to them, because the whole damn point of being trans is that your gender is different from what you're assigned at birth. At best you can piss them off, get them to say hypocrisies with a straight face - but once again, that's just entertainment. Maybe it'll change their minds years later when they look back and cringe, idk. I personally think the odds are stacked against us and it's much more worthwhile to charge up our arguments for ourselves and so we're better at changing the minds of people who aren't already on the defensive.

I'm going to round this off with promoting a youtube series that every feminist and leftist needs to watch: Innuendo Studio's The Alt Right Playbook. I have referenced a couple of his videos here, specifically Control the Conversation, which I consider a must-watch for anyone frustrated with the argumentative tactics of groups like conservatives and trans activists. Now, he does lump in 'terfs' with this perception of the alt right, but that's just part of this territory (if you can handle the misogyny and bigotry of platforms like the Spectator and Daily Mail, I'm sure one little mention of terfs in a powerful leftist piece of work shouldn't be a problem); the actual content has been foundational for me in understanding how the right wing operates and understands the world. They're all short watches, and they're incredibly well-written. If you like my insight and how I write about things, well, youtube essays such as these have been formative in how I analyse and write about the world. A strong broad understanding of how people and the world operates in general makes you less susceptible for falling for bad arguments and rhetoric and makes you a stronger, more coherent thinker, speaker and writer.

#my writing #partisan posting

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Scholarly Sentiment

My dreams for the future are none of your business. (Chapter 4). | AO3 |

                            ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The jōnin captains, Sai discovers, exhibit very odd social behaviours. 

The majority of his own personal experiences have consisted of interactions with fellow members of ROOT, so perhaps he isn’t the best judge of such things. But he has always considered himself fairly thorough when it comes to research, and all of the books he’s read seem to indicate that there is something quite off-kilter about his peers’ teachers.

Particularly when it comes to their interpersonal relationships.

It is a quality he first observes in Hatake Kakashi. Though Kakashi did not accompany the squad on the mission to Tenchi Bridge, Sai does come to know more of the other leader of Team 7 as he and Sakura look on at Naruto’s new training regimen.

What strikes Sai is the man’s behaviour towards Yamato. 

He wasn’t aware of Kakashi and Yamato having any personal bond, but from what he observes, they know each other well. Well enough that Kakashi has another name for Yamato—perhaps a code name, since the wood-style user had been among the ANBU profiles Danzō handed over. Clearly, the use of this name vexes Yamato, causing a flush to rise in his cheeks, but that only seems to encourage Kakashi to use it more. He seems to derive some joy in getting a rise out of the normally even-tempered captain.

It is strange, Sai thinks. 

Why would Kakashi be so intent on bothering someone he considers to be a friend? Sakura certainly does not enjoy it when Sai accidentally presses on various insecurities she carries. Hence why he has learned to try to avoid mentioning her forehead or cooking, if either comes up.

Even stranger is that Yamato does not seem entirely put-off by the attempts to irritate him. Though he is offers his fair share of beleaguered mutterings whenever Kakashi decides to tease him, he returns the prodding with quips of his own, and he smiles when Kakashi is not looking at him.

At least once, Kakashi catches Yamato doing so, and for some reason, the look on Kakashi’s face is nothing short of panic.  

Sai doesn’t know what to make of it.

Although it is not his intention to overhear them, today, Kakashi and Yamato are positioned closer to the edge of the training ground, which makes their conversation audible to him as he sits in the tree line, sketching the waterfall where Naruto is practicing his change in chakra nature. Sai supposes they’ve all grown used to himself and Sakura as their audience. 

“Are you coming over for dinner again?” Yamato asks. When Sai glances over at them, he sees that Yamato’s head hasn’t turned; he is still sitting, facing Naruto with his palm up.

Kakashi looks up from his book. “Is that an invitation?”

Shrugging, Yamato replies, “If you need one. My apartment seems quieter now, for some reason.”

Kakashi chuckles. “This line of work will do that. I did want to try a new recipe. How do you feel about hijiki?”

Yamato pauses, and then sighs. “I haven’t eaten it in years,” he says pensively. “Isn’t it more of a side dish?”

“’Side dishes’ impose a hierarchy onto mealtimes,” Kakashi informs his companion.

It is a constant surprise Sai how many opinions his teammates have readily formed. Sai has eaten hijiki twenty-three times in his life so far, and has never once thought about its place in the order of meal components. But Yamato has, apparently, because what his captain says next is, “There is a hierarchy.” 

“I don’t know if I agree.” Kakashi closes his book, finally tucking his novel away. “Besides, what happened to not caring about rank?”

Yamato is the one who laughs this time. “That applies to shinobi, not salads.” He rolls his shoulders back and straightens his posture, levelling his hand once more. “I need to concentrate.”

“Naruto will be hitting his limit in another minute or so,” Kakashi replies, inclining his head towards the boy. “We can rest then.”

“Then we’ll eat too,” says Yamato, sounding relieved. “All of this talk of food has made me hungry. You can make dinner, but tomorrow, I’m making breakfast.”

“Oh my.” Kakashi steps towards Yamato, more into Sai’s line of sight, and bends to peer at his companion. “How forward of you, Tenzō.”

Although it not quite apparent to Sai what has shocked Kakashi about an offer of breakfast, he can see that it has precipitated a shift in mood. The winding down of their training has distracted Yamato too, because his attention is certainly not on Naruto. Sai supposes they may have forgotten their audience entirely. 

Yamato pulls Kakashi down by the collar of his flak jacket so the other man’s face hovers above his own. “It’s Yamato.”

Although Sai cannot tell what expression Yamato is making from this angle, it is apparent that something in Kakashi’s face has changed. His visible eye is dilated, and he is levelling Yamato with that same skittish expression as he has once before.

Kakashi springs up suddenly, his back straighter than Sai has ever seen it. His eyes lift in a smile for which Sai can’t quite understand the motive. “Maybe we should get takeaway.”

“Senpai,” Yamato says, sighing again. 

“Breaktime.” Kakashi thumps Yamato on the back forcefully, leaping to Naruto’s side before Yamato can respond. 

Naruto has spent the most time with the two team leaders together, so although intelligence-gathering isn’t the other boy’s forte, he seeks his opinion anyway.

“Does Kakashi-san have a problem with Yamato-taichō?” Sai inquires, as he walks Naruto home.

Naruto pauses in his tracks, giving Sai a puzzled look. “Kakashi-sensei and Yamato-taichō? They’re buddies, I guess. Why?”

“Kakashi-san has been looking at Yamato-taichō strangely,” Sai replies. “He seems alarmed.”

Shrugging, Naruto says, “Yamato-taichō has a pretty scary face, y’know? Maybe he’s trying it out on Kakashi-sensei.”

“Also, while you and Yamato-taichō were asleep during your break, I saw Kakashi-san putting dried plums into the pocket of Yamato’s flak vest. Why would he do that?”

Naruto frowns. “He brought snacks and only shared them with Yamato-taicho? No fair! All I got to eat this morning was food pills.” 

Sai blinks at him. “Do you like plums?”

“Who likes plums? I don’t want to spend my day on the toilet! But I still could’ve eaten some to get rid of the taste of antlers, y’know. Kakashi and Yamato are so unfair!”

Sai sighs, and gives Naruto what he hopes is a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Thank you for answering my questions, Naruto.”

—

It isn’t long before Sai realizes the issue isn’t limited to his own team. Sarutobi Asuma is also a very odd man. 

Ino of Team 10 confides in him that the Sandaime Hokage’s son has a romantic bond with another jōnin, Yuhi Kurenai. Apparently, one that has existed for quite some time. And yet, when he sees Asuma carrying a bouquet of flowers and Ino asks him if they are for Kurenai, the man refuses to answer her question.

Sai wonders if the flowers could be for someone else—laid at a grave, or perhaps given to a relative, or even another lover. But Ino insists they are for the Team 8 leader.

So Sai decides to watch from a careful distance, trying to understand what might motivate this man’s secrecy.

Yet he finds that Asuma gives the flowers to exactly the person Ino suspects: Kurenai. She appears pleased, based on her smile, but not surprised, as if this behaviour is not particularly out of character.

What, then, was the point of evading Ino’s inquiry? Surely it could not have been to keep Kurenai from finding out about the flowers in advance. And since his students already know of his romantic bond, there would be no point in hiding it from them.

Sai just can’t rationalize this behaviour.

He decides to ask Sakura, since her knowledge of the nuances of romantic interest exceed his own.

“I think it’s sweet,” she says, with an expression Sai has learned to categorize as ‘wistful.’ “He wants to keep their love something private, just between the two of them.”

Sai blinks at her. “But everyone already knows about their relationship.”

Sakura shrugs. “That doesn’t stop him from keeping up the pretense. He can still act like they’re in a secret romance.”

“Aren’t secrets usually indicative of shame?” Sai asks, confused.

She shoves his shoulder in what she probably assumes is a gentle manner, but he has to plant his feet to keep from listing backward. “Love is a complicated thing, Sai. You can’t assume you know someone’s motives.”

“I don’t understand his motives,” says Sai plainly. “That is why I’m asking you.”

Sakura sighs and tells him he’ll understand when he gets a girlfriend. Sai tells her he had assumed their own bond had progressed beyond that of teammates, and that he considers her his girl friend, just as he considers Naruto his boy friend.

She punches him in the shoulder again.

His conversation with Sakura doesn’t help him much, but he does leave with the notion that perhaps gender may be a relevant factor in how these interactions come to pass. 

Thus, he begins to wonder if Kurenai, who had accepted the flowers without question, is exempt from the deficiencies in expressing her bonds like the men surrounding her. So he finds himself following her next.

As it turns out, observing Kurenai is not much different from observing Asuma.

Her daily habits are different. Instead of training with Team 10, as Asuma does, she trains with Team 8. And, where the other jōnin prefer coordinated, concentrated attacks, she seems to prefer agility and evasion. In the hour that Sai watches her train, not one of her students manages to lay a hand on her.

Yet, ultimately, when it comes to the question of romantic endeavours, she is just as mysterious as her other half.

When her team leaves, Kiba mutters something about their sensei probably waiting on Asuma, a fact which Kurenai vehemently denies.

Minutes later, however, Asuma arrives at the training grounds, a basket in hand. Instead of embracing him, as Sai might expect, her first action is to weave a genjutsu around their area which makes it appear as if Kurenai is sitting on the grass alone.

If the two jōnin wanted privacy, why would they not choose to meet in a home rather than a common area? What could be so private about a picnic? It’s possible the meal is just a pretense to perform a lewd act in public, but when Sai releases himself from the jutsu, the two are merely sitting around holding hands.

“Kakashi knows, anyway. He guessed it during our last hospital visit, and I didn’t deny it. It’s probably time we tell everyone the rest of it.” Asuma is saying, managing to look somehow both apprehensive and eager. If he were not performing reconnaissance, Sai would consider asking him how he balances such emotions.

“We’ve made a point to keep this between us. You’re so certain you can let that go?” replies Kurenai, raising an eyebrow. But her smile is gentle, and her cheeks are flushed.

Asuma’s hand tightens around hers. “Yeah.”

Kurenai presses her forehead to his own. “We can have it set for the end of the week. I’ve already cleared it with the other rookie team leaders.”

“They’re not rookies anymore,” Asuma replies, raising one palm to tangle his fingers in her hair.

She laughs, leaning against him. “I suppose you’re right. Everyone’s gotten bigger, suddenly.”

“So will we,” Asuma says, with a low chuckle that suggests he’s said something funny. 

Kurenai is about to reply, but then she tenses, her eyes flitting over to Sai’s hiding place. “We’ll talk about it another time,” she says, her hands already weaving the signs of another genjutsu.

Sai flees. As he jumps from branch to branch, he wonders why Kurenai bothers to use illusions to discuss a relationship that everyone in the village seems to know about anyway.

—

He’s aware of the flaws in his research design. Observing a couple in which one partner has already been determined to display signs of emotional maladjustment means that the second partner is more likely to have the same issues. 

While tasked with supporting research on Orochimaru, Sai stumbles into Anko’s social oddities entirely by mistake.

Lately, much of their time has been spent in the medical research wing. It is a pressing concern for both Konoha and Sai’s teammates to gauge if and when there will be more movement from Orochimaru, and Shizune is one of the few in the village authorized to research his kinjutsu. So, as his to-be trackers, Sai and Anko are often present as lab assistants. 

Currently, Sai’s task is retrieving a list of vials with everything from bee sting venom to formaldehyde.

Shizune’s voice carries through the open closet door as he continues his search. “I doubt the poisons I use would have any effect on Orochimaru, but it wouldn’t hurt for you both to have them. The transference will be a time of vulnerability.”

“I appreciate the help,” Anko tells her. “I understand we’re handling threats from all directions now. Tsunade-sama has made sacrifices to lend us your expertise.”

“I volunteered,” Shizune replies, more quietly. “Tsunade-sama and Sakura have already taken on so much. I want to help.”

Anko falls silent for a moment, and it takes Sai no effort to understand why. He has seen enough of her personnel files to know why she was assigned to this team. She is similar to Yamato-taichō in that sense. Sai moves a footstool with an intentional scrape against the floor to allow them privacy, though it fails to cover the sound of her eventual reply. “I know the feeling.”

“This village is stronger than it was two and a half years ago.” Shizune says, her voice becoming clear and firm. By what Sai has examined of their personnel, it is true. 

“Don’t I know it,” Anko replies, with a loud laugh. “Even the goofballs are getting stronger now. Izumo almost managed to out-drink me the other night.”

Shizune makes a noise that might be a giggle or a sigh, covered by the rustling of the box Sai has pulled down. “Not quite the symbol I was going for, but I see your point. I didn’t realize you two were close.”

With a lilt to her tone that suggests it is meaningful, Anko says, “Not as close as him and Kotetsu.”

“It does seem to be in the air, doesn’t it?” Shizune says. “People our age becoming domestic.”

“Are you looking to settle down?”

Shizune definitely laughs then. “That depends on who’s offering.”

“You could join me tomorrow night; see what’s on offer.”

It is familiar, this conversation. Something in the phrasing or tone which is to what Sakura has said when she was willing to entertain the notion of a date with Naruto. Some clarity reaches Sai as he fills the last spot in his rack of organics. He can pass on his congratulations to Anko.

“I’d like that,” Shizune says, as Sai re-enters the room. 

The conversation shifts to one of chemistry and biology, so Sai’s felicitations are passed on as they leave the lab, heading through the dimly lit halls of the Hokage tower in the evening.

“Congratulations for what? asks Anko, looking at him askance. 

“Your romantic relationship with Shizune,” supplies Sai, wondering if she is the type of kunoichi who is shy about her paramours. He has read of such people in the character study, Icha Icha Violence.  

Anko splutters, which turns into a coughing fit. Her fingers tap on the chain mail near her neck lightly, and Sai thinks he must be right about her shyness.

“The sound travels within the laboratory. It appeared to me that you had asked Shizune to settle down with you.” Sai informs her. He takes in the red tips of Anko’s ears. “Are you upset?” 

The redness spreads over the rest of Anko’s face. Her tone belies the affectedness, as she replies, “No. I was only asking for her to join me for a drink. I didn’t think about how that sounded.” Her eyes widen suddenly. “Wait, does Shizune know?”

It was remiss of Sai not to collect more information before arriving at a conclusion. His skills are beginning to dull. Now, he takes a moment to assess her disquiet. “Would it be helpful to ask Shizune if there was a misunderstanding?” Sai suggests. 

He thinks that Kakashi-san would probably offer a smile in an attempt to reassure, but that isn’t an expression he has tried before, so he settles for nodding his head once. 

“Absolutely not,” says Anko firmly. “You can’t just ask a question like that.” 

Anko says it with such conviction, Sai is inclined to believe her. But he still requires more context. “Why not?”

“It’s like how Shizune showed you how to handle a poison needle without piercing through your gloves. When something is delicate, handling it improperly can break it.”

Sai is not sure if Shizune or Anko is meant to be the glove in this metaphor. “What will you do?

Anko eyes him as if he is one of the snakeskins they were handling this afternoon. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on between Shizune and me, and you’re going to help me.”

It is not immediately clear what help his own skills will be to understanding the situation, but as he has contributed to her predicament, Sai supposes he is duty-bound to help. Naruto has emphasized to him the importance of promises and maintaining bonds. Besides that, he is also curious to know Shizune’s answer. So, the next day, as Anko has prepared a series of romantic tests, Sai maintains his role of encouraging and observing. 

The first test is a bento box that Anko offers to Shizune as they break for lunch. 

“That’s great! I’m starving,” Shizune says, aiming a smile at Anko. When she opens the box, her smile fades to what Sai can ascertain is a puzzled look. “Wow, this looks...”

“Delicious, right?” says Anko, beaming. “There’s honey toast, yokan, mochi ice cream, even taiyaki! I have my own too. You said how you’d like to join a tea ceremony sometime, right?”

“Right.” Shizune smiles at her. 

Anko has informed him that a romantic partner would pretend to like something for their sake of their loved one’s feelings. Shizune elects to eat half of the dense array of sweet desserts, and to offer the other half to Tonton. It isn’t clear to Sai if she passes or fails. 

Each test that follows goes similarly.

When Sai occupies more than his fair share of their tabletop, pushing Anko into Shizune’s workspace, she does not lean into the other woman’s space or let their arms brush. Instead, she shifts her belongings so she is on the other side of the table, directly across from Anko, smiling warmly. 

When Anko remarks on being cold, Shizune does not reach for her hand, but instead goes to the turn up the thermostat. 

When Sai purposely breaks the band in Anko’s hair by allowing one of his ink drawings to scurry onto her and bite at her ponytail, Shizune offers her a replacement elastic band, but does not attempt to touch Anko’s hair. If anything, the redness on Anko’s face as their fingers touch is more telling of her perspective than Shizune’s. 

When Anko tries ignoring the woman, focusing only on the medical textbook in front of her without uttering a word of the idle chatter they have been exchanging, Shizune praises Anko on her concentration and focus. 

By the time he goes to retrieve another treatise on healing, Sai is quite certain that they are no closer to an answer than when they started. He’s beginning to think none of the jōnin follow the expected behaviour patterns he has learned to recognize. Their psychology is beyond the usual realm of his study. 

He sighs as he approaches the entrance to the laboratory unit. The sound is over taken by Anko’s voice, loud enough to be heard even at this distance. “What kind of an answer is that?!” exclaims the woman, with peal of laughter that carries. 

“You’re the one who asked!” Shizune answers, as Sai goes through the threshold. “Besides, it’s not like we were alone all of this time. How was I supposed to know?” 

The conversation is too short and vague to discern, but the implication of progress pleases Sai on Anko’s behalf. He makes a point to set the text in between the two jōnin. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he asks Anko. 

Anko meets eyes with Shizune and the two women begin to laugh again. Neither one bothers to answer his question through their giggles. 

—

Yamato is the one who finds Sai that evening, sighing to himself again as he draws figures with lines swirling and connecting between them, unclear where one connection begins and ends. The man sits down on the same stair that Sai is sitting on, one that is bordered by the Yamanaka Flower Shop. 

“How’s the research going, Sai?”

“For the medical ninjutsu, we have found some insights,” Sai answers. And then considering, he adds, “But my personal research endeavours are not yielding as many results.”

Yamato smiles at him. “Something in particular you’re trying to learn?”

“You are not a jōnin, Yamato-taichō.”

The older man’s gaze turns down, but he is no less obliging to the implied query. “No, I’m not. I hold equivalent standing while out of ANBU, but I skipped that rank promotion.”

“But you know many jōnin.”

“I do,” Yamato agrees. “Like you do. Anko and Asuma tell me you’ve been... close at hand lately. Does that have to do with your personal research?”

Sai contemplates how much to say. He is certain that Yamato has realized Kakashi is among the list of people whose actions he has been attempting to fathom, and wonders if his omission from the list is purposeful. But regardless, it is a fair question to ask.

“Yes. I am... finding it difficult to understand what motivates the jōnin captains to behave as they do.” Sai admits, frowning. “My peers handle their feelings very differently.”

“Ah, well...” Yamato says, sympathetically. However, whatever placating he might have offered falls away as something catches his eye in the distance. Sai glances at his periphery and sees Kakashi is holding up a bag and inclining his head towards them. Yamato raises his hand, which seems to Sai as a request to wait.

Yamato turns his gaze back to Sai, and smiles. “Look, Sai, it’s one of those things that you might understand when you’re older.”

“At what age did you begin to understand, Yamato-taichō?”

Yamato’s eye flicker briefly past him again, and he shakes his head. “Older,” he says, and pats Sai on the shoulder. 

#sai #kakayama #asukure #shizuanko #team 7 #fanfiction #mine #kakashi hatake #yamato tenzo #kurenai yuhi #asuma sarutobi #shizune #anko mitarashi #would you believe i started this four years ago #different times!!! #emotionally i am always the boy meets world laundry basketball scene #ayesha talks anime #naruto series #long post

[womenties]

Rucking it Up with Rugby

As I topped the tall hill, two flat playing fields (aka “pitches”) lay ready. Approaching the one with the two yellow goalposts on either end like the YouTube video I watched to prepare myself, I saw my cousin Paige, dressed in her former rugby cleats standing near an oblong football much bigger than a regular American football. I knew I was in the right spot to try rugby for the first time. My first impression of rugby was at college when the men’s team would crazily be dancing around an Indian statue – their mascot of some sort – in a bar on a Friday night. My feeling was they weren’t crazy, but the sport they liked playing must be crazy because that is how they identified themselves as a team when games and practice weren’t in session. So, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect on a balmy May night on the “pitch” in Syracuse.

Like most of the team sports I’ve tried, practice started with simple passing and running drills. In the case of rugby where the ball is larger and is thrown in a unique spiral, getting my hands around it and trying it out was my first lesson. I wasn’t horrible at it since my father, a football coach, taught me how to throw a mean football spiral growing up. I could handle the throw and motion until the passing drills of running while throwing the ball in a timely order to teammates in a moving line sped up my work. And in rugby the ball must be thrown behind or to your side, not in front, so timing is essential to get down.

Once the throws and simple running drills were done, we practiced running more advanced sequences of drills of passing and pocketing behind a teammate repeatedly until we hit the other side. If anyone dropped the ball, a “half-moon” exercise was given to the team. I definitely contributed to the half-moon workout which was basically a burpee plus a half-squat turn in both directions upon standing – thus the soreness in my thighs today.

After practicing the offensive drills, we turned to defensive drills learning the importance of working in a line to stop the offensive players from coming through. This is where my age and lack of quickness slowed me down. Running forward is one thing, trying to run as fast as the offensive line trying to catch up with them was another. Thank God their full-body tackling exercises were last week. When asked if anyone has gotten really hurt tackling without pads, I heard a few horror stories but not as many as you’d think. “Tracy, the old girls play just touch and not tackle,” a few of them told me. Yeah, that might be where I belong, I thought if I wanted to continue playing.

As the hazy sun started setting after two hours of a really fun time, they took me over to the “scrum machine” to give me a taste of what a scrum feels like. A scrum is a method of restarting play in rugby football that involves players packing closely together with their heads down and attempting to gain possession of the ball. With two teammates on my side, we maneuvered into the machine for the feeling and a photo opportunity. This is where I knew for sure you must have strong legs for rugby.

Playing along with a team of great girls reminded me why I love all women communities because bonds develop quickly and you want them to linger. So, I accepted their invitation to a restaurant across the pitch for food and drinks. It’s there I learned more about a few of the players and enjoyed casual conversation. My cousin Paige said, “This happens after all rugby games – both teams coming together afterwards to share in the experience and getting to know each other.”  

As I said goodbye to my rugby pals, they handed me my own rugby ball to keep for practice and invited me back anytime to play with them. I told them I would join cheering them on at a special fundraiser they host annually for a cancer patient called “Ruck Cancer,” and perhaps rejoin them for another great night of running, passing, scrumming, and bonding on and off the field.

[etherrreal]

“old habits”

Pairing: kuroo x gn!reader Genre: angst, but with a happy ending this time Summary: it takes kuroo months to build up the courage to kiss you, weeks to ask you to be his, but in the end it takes him only moments to break your heart. you know you shouldn’t be hanging out with him again, not if you have any hope of getting over him, but old habits die hard. WC: 8,627 Warnings: like 80% angst and 20% fluff but i promise it’s a happy ending lmao, some swearing, mentions of divorce A/N: did this fic need to be this long? probably not. did knowing that stop me? no :) -Dawn

You stumble into Kuroo for the first time in nearly two months since your breakup and find yourself wondering who exactly you offended so horribly in a past life that the universe is putting you through this now.

You figure it must have been someone pretty important. That’s the only reasonable explanation for why you’re already running into your ex-boyfriend after being on campus for only twenty minutes.

He looks good, though that doesn’t surprise you. He always looks good; all tall and broad-shouldered, with ridiculously messy hair and that warm, easy-going smile you unfortunately still love. He’s wearing the jacket he wore on your first official date, the same one he wrapped around your shoulders and let you keep after walking you back to your apartment.

You remember meeting up with him after he ended things to return that same jacket and all the other pieces of himself he shared with you throughout your relationship. You try not to remember how much it hurt you when you handed them over.

You spot each other from across the main plaza, unsure which one of you looks more stunned by the sight of the other. It’s almost comedic the way you both freeze in unison, as if you’ve somehow forgotten you attend the same university over the break. As if you didn’t text each other to complain about your upcoming classes just last week in an awkward, but genuine, attempt to keep your post-break-up promise of staying friends.

It was an easy thing to agree to in the moment: “staying friends,” even if it’s also one of the stupidest and most masochistic decisions you’ve ever made. In your experience, staying friends with an ex you still have feelings for is a lot like switching on a blender without putting the lid on first: thoughtless, counterproductive, and just generally messy for everyone involved. It’s why you’ve never stayed friends with any of your exes before.

But Kuroo’s different, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. He was your friend long before anything romantic happened between the two of you, the first person you really bonded with on campus. He brings you tea when you’re sick, stays awake with you whenever you can’t sleep, and he makes you laugh when you’ve had the worst day, even when it shouldn’t be possible.

So when he told you he wanted to stay friends after ending your relationship, you agreed, even though you had to struggle through tears and your own choked up sobs to do so.

Because you were –and still are– so in love with him that you’d do anything to keep him in your life. Because having him as a friend, you decide –even when it’s so far from what you actually want, even when it hurts you– is infinitely better than not having him at all.

So when he texted you after the breakup to check in on you, instead of ignoring him or asking him to give you space the way you know you should’ve, you answered like nothing was amiss, like you weren’t still nursing a broken heart.

And now, when you meet his eyes, instead of doing the smart thing and turning away from him, instead of just giving him a brief nod and moving along, you stop. You stop and you wait because you still love him. Because you still want him, still want him to want you, despite knowing how stupid and pathetic it is.

The sight of him may knock the wind out of you, but it also comforts you in a strange way, warm and familiar despite the distance between you now. And you find yourself wondering, not for the first time since your breakup, if any amount of time will ever be enough for you to really get over him.

Kuroo, for his part, recovers quicker than you do. He offers an uncertain but well-meaning wave in your direction and looks relieved when you return it, the obvious tension in his shoulders dissipating just a bit.

It pleases you more than it probably should, but you can’t help it. It’s comforting, knowing he’s as unsure about all of this as you are. You don’t know how you’re supposed to stay friends with him after everything you’ve shared together, but for him, you’re willing to try.

Apparently, he’s taken your awkward half-wave back as a sign that it’s safe to approach you because now he’s walking towards you. It shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does; you promised to stay friends, after all –you know, like a moron– but it’s hard to ignore the way your heart picks up speed the closer he gets to you, a sense of panic seizing your chest. You only hope it doesn’t show on your face.

He smiles when he stops in front of you, standing a safe two feet away, though the gesture still seems a bit hesitant, like he’s not quite sure he’s allowed to be this close to you again. He’s always been considerate like that, despite how much he likes to joke around. It’s just another one of the reasons why it’s been so hard to let him go.

Most other students are still back home, enjoying their last few days of freedom before the semester officially begins next week, so you’re the only two in the plaza right now, save for the occasional skateboarder or bike rider that whirls by.

You’re grateful for the relative privacy. Considering you still have no idea how you’re supposed to act around him anymore, the fewer people that witness this inevitable trainwreck, the better.

“Hey,” he greets you, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Hey,” you respond, for lack of anything else to offer. You notice you’re still waving and quickly tuck your hands away, crossing your arms over your chest and clearing your throat to ignore the way your face heats up. “What’re you doing here? Classes don’t start until next week.”

“I signed up to be a chem tutor again. They asked me to move back a little earlier to prepare. You?”

“Second semester fellowship. We also have to move back earlier. I’m supposed to help the new students in my program acclimate to the college experience, whatever that means.”

“Helping your fellow honors students fit in, huh?” A teasing smile grows on his face. Your heart flutters in response, and you dig your nails into your arm to ignore it. “Nerd.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Your name is literally next to mine on the dean’s list, you dweeb. And don’t you have a model of calcium sitting on your desk?”

“It’s potassium, actually, and it’s a gift-shop collectible, thank you very much.”

“I rest my case.”

He laughs. “Hey, I didn’t say there was anything wrong with being a nerd.”

You roll your eyes, and he smiles at you. You surprise yourself by smiling back. You didn’t think it would be possible this soon after your breakup, but it seems the two of you are still able to hold a conversation with each other, even if it’s not about anything particularly important. You start to think maybe this staying friends thing won’t be so bad.

But then you lapse into silence, and you wonder if maybe you’ve spoken too soon. The silence isn’t terrible by any means, but it’s still awkward. You have no idea how to break it without making it worse, and it seems neither does he.

You decide to bite the bullet and put you both out of your misery, wiping your suddenly sweaty palms against your jeans and rattling off some excuse about needing to get going to check in with your program advisor. That’s the real reason you’re here, anyway; not to tiptoe around greetings with someone you don’t quite remember how to talk to anymore. He’s quick to nod in understanding, looking almost grateful for your interruption.

He gives another smile that makes you weaker in the knees than it should and says something about seeing you around, but that’s not the part that confuses you. It’s the way he extends his hand out afterwards, open palm reaching for yours hesitantly, as if you don’t still have all his favorite foods memorized, as if he’s forgotten the way he used to lean into your touch as your fingers threaded through his hair. As if you’re strangers.

And maybe you have no right to feel this way anymore, but you can’t help the fact that it bothers you. He may as well have patted your head and called you “kiddo.” That would’ve insulted you less.

You pause to stare at him, unsure if he’s messing with you or not. When he doesn’t move his hand, reassuring you that he’s actually serious, you raise an eyebrow.

“If you’re seriously offering me a handshake right now, I’m going to kick you in the knee.”

He drops his hand, thankfully, that teasing grin sliding back into place. His eyes twinkle with amusement, but you know him well enough to know he’s also a bit embarrassed, the tips of his ears reddening, though he does his best to cover it up with his usual humor.

“Knee’s a bit ambitious for you, don’t you think? Especially without a step stool.”

But you’re just as much of a little shit as he is –hence the reason you get along so well– which is why you don’t hesitate to quip back. “Bold words coming from the man who holds most of his height in his hair.”

He gasps, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “You take that back.”

“Not happening.” You grin at him, but the familiar banter, despite how endearing it may be, isn’t enough to distract you from the sheer weirdness of him offering you a handshake as a goodbye, as if he didn’t spend most nights up until two months ago nuzzling his face into the side of your neck and snoring in your ear. “But seriously, what’s the deal with the handshake? Did we just close a business deal I don’t know about?”

“Honestly? I wasn’t sure what else to do. I guess I panicked,” he admits, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. He flashes a half-smile, an embarrassed blush dusting across his cheeks. “Though I suppose a handshake is a little weird, though, huh?”

“Very weird. I don’t think you’ve ever shaken my hand before.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just– I don’t, uh…” He makes a vague gesture with his hand, his voice trailing off as you patiently wait for him to gather the words. “...I guess I’m just not very good at navigating this sort of thing yet. I, um– I’ve never…”

“...never stayed friends with any of your exes before? Yeah, me neither.” You let out a little laugh at the sheepish look on his face, despite the situation. “But I think we can figure it out.”

He doesn’t say anything right away, and for a moment you panic, wondering if maybe he’s already changed his mind.

“If...if that’s still something you want,” you tack on quickly, hoping it doesn’t come off as uncertain as you feel.

“Of course it is,” he’s quick to agree, and you breathe out a small sigh of relief you hope he doesn’t hear, grateful you haven’t misread things. “And I think we’re doing pretty well so far, all things considered. I mean, this is our first face-to-face conversation in a while, and we’ve already decided that handshakes are definitely not our thing. So, you know, progress.”

He flashes you a thumbs-up that’s just awkward enough to make you laugh, which makes him smile. Then he tilts his head, almost comically serious as he leans forward to ask, “Speaking of which, where do you stand on friendly high-fives?”

You pause to consider it, making a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully. “I could live with them.”

“What about some good-natured elbowing?”

“Only if you’re prepared to be elbowed back in retaliation.”

“Fine, but in that case I’m making celebratory fist-bumps non-negotiable. Your elbows are hard as hell.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

You’re smiling at each other again before you can help it. Another silence follows, but this one is significantly less awkward than the one before. It’s still a little strange, though, mainly because he spends most of it just looking at you. His gaze softens as he does, hazel eyes meeting yours with the kind of fondness and lingering affection that feel a bit too raw and intense to pass as simply platonic.

It’s overwhelming, to say the least, not to mention so unfair. How the hell are you supposed to get over him when he’s looking at you like that, like nothing’s changed between you? Like he could actually still want you, even though he’s the one who ended things?

You’re about to tell him to knock it off, tell him how inconsiderate he’s being, but he says your name before you get the chance to. It startles you back into silence, the softness in his voice catching you off guard.

“It’s really good to see you,” he says quietly, sincerely, meaning every word.

You think something in your heart breaks again, or maybe it pieces back together; you’re not entirely sure. All you know is that his words are doing something, crossing a line you’re not sure you want to be there anymore. And you also know that, regardless of your efforts to get over him the past two months, you’re not at all ready to consider what those words might mean.

So instead of overthinking it, instead of talking about it, you smile and say, “You too.”

It helps that you mean it. As confusing and awkward as this entire encounter has been, it is nice to see him again, even if it’s also serving as a completely unfriendly reminder that your feelings for him haven’t changed at all in the time you’ve been apart. You suppose that’s just a reality you’ll have to confront later, preferably in the comfort of your own apartment and not when he’s standing two feet away from you.

The goodbyes you exchange the second time around go a lot more smoothly. He doesn’t offer you a handshake this time –thank god– just some vague reassurance about seeing you around soon.

You can’t tell if that’s a promise you want him to keep or not.

The following afternoon, you’re laying in bed, bored out of your mind and scrolling aimlessly through your phone, when a text message from Kuroo appears in your notifications. Apparently, he needs to pick up a few things from the store, and he’s asking if you want to go with him.

The logical part of you knows it’s an innocent offer, just another one of his awkward but well-meaning attempts at staying friends with you. But there’s another part of you –a stupid, pathetic, delusional part– that wonders if maybe it’s meant to be more. You want it to be more, to mean more. Want him to pull you aside and tell you that he made a huge mistake and that he still wants to be with you.

But you know that’s not going to happen. If Kuroo really wanted to get back together, he would’ve brought it up by now, and the fact that you want to get back together at all –the fact that you still care about him as much as you do– means you definitely shouldn’t be hanging out with him again, especially not on your own. You’ll only be setting yourself up for disappointment if you do.

You like to think you know yourself pretty well, which is how you know that spending time with him the way you used to, even while doing something as mundane as shopping, is only going to make it that much harder for you to move on. But the longer you stare at his text message, your thumbs hovering hesitantly over your keyboard as you bite the inside of your cheek and stress yourself over what you should reply, the more difficult it becomes for you to find the will to turn down his offer.

It’s not like you have much to do today, anyway; you’ve already taken care of your program obligations this morning, and there isn’t much else for you to do for it until the freshmen make it to campus. Your roommate hasn’t moved back yet and neither have any of your friends, so you’re not only tremendously bored, but you’re also kind of lonely, or at least lonelier than you’re used to being.

Plus, now that you think about it, aren’t you running low on dish soap? Maybe a shopping trip isn’t the worst way to spend your day, even if it will be spent with the ex you’re supposed to be figuring out a way to stay friends with. After all, friends go shopping together all the time, don’t they?

You know it’s flimsy reasoning at best, pathetic excuse-making at worst, and if you care about yourself and protecting your feelings even a little bit, you should find a way to say no. In fact, the sensible part of you is screaming at you to do exactly that, to tell Kuroo you’re busy and that you’ll just have to see him some other time, but you ignore it. You’re typing out a yes before you have time to consider the consequences, letting him know you’ll be ready in ten.

He’s already waiting for you in his car by the time you make it downstairs, which doesn’t surprise you. In addition to attending the same university, you and Kuroo also live in apartment buildings only a few streets away from one another.

“Five streets away, specifically,” you remember him telling you once during a movie night at his place. You had just joined him in the living room, carrying a bowl of freshly-made popcorn in your arms. “Trust me, I counted.”

“Did you really?” You hummed in amusement, setting the popcorn down on the coffee table while he made grabby-hands at you from the couch. Smiling, you made yourself comfortable on his lap, knees bracketing either side of his thighs. “Yikes. You must really like me, huh?”

“Ugh, I know, right? It’s so lame.” He heaved a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in mock disappointment. One hand settled on your waist while the other rested against your thigh, smoothing his thumb gently over the skin revealed by your shorts. “I was so ready to give in to the college player stereotype, but then you came along with your stupidly cute face and witty comebacks and messed it all up. Really ruined my cool guy rep, you know.”

“Aw, baby,” you cooed at him, placing your hands on either side of his face, “you can’t ruin something that doesn’t exist.” He squeezed your thigh playfully and you laughed, pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to his nose.

You pulled back, making a show of tilting your head thoughtfully. “Although I guess it is pretty convenient that we live so close to each other,” you added, making him raise an eyebrow at you as you struggled to bite back the teasing smile at your lips. “It’ll make late-night booty calls a lot easier to arrange.”

“And here I thought it would just give us more time to catch up on homework together.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head, but the grin on his face mirrored your own. “I knew you only wanted me for one thing.”

“Hey, I want you for your body and your chemistry notes. That’s at least two things.”

“Is that so? Well, now I feel less guilty for using you for your Netflix account.”

You’d reached up to flick him in the forehead, but he was quicker than you, catching your wrist and pressing a gentle kiss to your palm that made you forget all about pretending to be annoyed with him. And when he pulled you in for a proper kiss, you didn’t hesitate to meet him halfway, feeling him mirror your own smile against your lips.

You don’t know why you’re thinking about that moment now, least of all when you’re only seconds away from getting into his car, as if your own mind is set on sabotaging you. You wonder if maybe it’s your karma for agreeing to spend time with him, despite knowing it won’t be any good for you.

But you’ve never been the type to dwell on what’s good for you, anyway, so you force yourself to ignore your traitorous thoughts and offer Kuroo a smile and wave through his rolled-down window, hopping into the passenger seat to join him.

Surprisingly, your trip to the store goes a lot better than you thought it would. After your less than ideal encounter yesterday, you were worried things between you and Kuroo would remain awkward and tense, but thankfully, you’re proven wrong.

The drive to the store is quiet, but not uncomfortable. It gets a lot better when he gives you control of the aux and you can use the music filling the car as a buffer. You hum along to the songs, even singing some of the lyrics, and to your pleasant surprise, he joins you. It seems to do the trick, dissipating whatever leftover tension there is between you and allowing you to laugh together the way you used to.

When you get to the store, you take control of the shopping cart– “the only thing you know how to drive without speeding,” he jokes, laughing like he’s the funniest person in the world when you smack his shoulder. In return, he grabs whatever you need from the shelves you’re too short to reach, though he does take a few moments to cackle at your expense as you struggle to snag a bottle of detergent from the highest shelf.

You spend some time catching up as you browse through the various aisles. He tells you about the festival he dragged Kenma to over the break, shows you pictures of the cat his grandparents adopted since the last time he went home. You tell him about the trip you took with your childhood friends to Kyoto and all the recipes your mother insisted you learn before you headed back to school.

It’s easy spending time with him like this, familiar, too, like hardly anything has changed between you. You almost forget that everything has, that you’re not actually together anymore. Almost.

It hurts when you remember that you aren’t –it always does– but you refuse to let it ruin the otherwise good day you’re having. You push down your feelings in favor of helping Kuroo load the bags into his car, giggling when he almost hits his head on the door of his trunk and sticks his tongue out at you.

You stop by your favorite restaurant to pick up some takeout before heading back. You try not to notice it, but he remembers your order perfectly and shares it with the server. He blinks in surprise afterwards, like he didn’t quite realize what he was doing until he had already said the words, and when he glances at you, he looks both sheepish and panicked, like he’s afraid of what your reaction will be.

He’s quick to apologize, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. There’s an embarrassed blush on his face that you try very hard not to find adorable, his eyes wide as he scrambles to explain himself.

“Shit, I’m sorry. That’s my bad, really. I should’ve asked what you wanted first. I don’t even know why I– I mean, you might not even like any of that stuff anymore, so I shouldn’t have– hey, do you want me to call the server back?” He looks genuinely concerned about it, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. “Because I definitely will, hold on–”

“Tetsu, breathe.”

You grab his raised hand, bringing it back down to his side before he can signal for the server. His gaze immediately falls to where you’re touching him, but you ignore it, letting go before you trick yourself into overthinking again.

“It’s not a big deal.” You shrug, try to play it off, to act like it doesn’t mean anything when you both know it does. “Besides, my order’s still the same, anyway. Honestly, I’m more surprised you remembered it at all.”

“Yeah, well...” He’s looking at you again, the same way he did yesterday. It’s a soft look, a fond and intimate one that should definitely not be exchanged between two people who aren’t together anymore. “You’re hard to forget.”

You don’t know what you’re supposed to say to that. You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel, either, all of those emotions you’ve been doing such a great job pushing away coming back full force.

It’s not fair for him to look at you like that anymore. Not fair because it gives you hope every time he does, hope that he could still want you when he’s made it quite clear that he doesn’t anymore. But at the same time, you don’t want him to stop, don’t know what you’ll do when he finally does and you’re forced to accept that everything between you, all the late night phone calls and impromptu dates and inside jokes, is really gone.

The server returns to tell you your food will be ready in a few minutes, sparing you from having to come up with a response. You’re grateful for the interruption, even if it does little to ease the ache in your heart.

You wonder if it’ll go away, or if you’ll ever truly want it to.

Breaking up with you, Kuroo knows, is the stupidest decision he’s ever made.

It’s also the hardest, but mostly the stupidest, mainly because he knows it’s a miracle he ever got you to date him in the first place.

You’re driven and ambitious, clever and funny and so bright and warm he can’t ever stop looking at you. You’re smart as hell, too, smarter than he’ll ever be and kinder than you like to let on. You don’t know the first thing about sports and don’t plan to, but you indulge him whenever he wants to watch volleyball and cheer him on whenever he meets up with Bokuto and Daichi to play a few sets in their free time.

His friends adore you almost as soon as they meet you, even Kenma and Tsukki. Whenever you go out together, they always tell you to blink twice if Kuroo’s holding you against your will. He flips them off in response while you laugh and tug him a little closer, but he can’t help but agree. He knows even better than they do that you’re completely out of his league.

For a while he thinks you’ll only ever see him as a friend, but then he kisses you one night after you’ve stayed up way too late watching movies and avoiding your assignments, and instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer. It takes him longer than he likes to admit to officially ask you out –he’s so afraid of messing things up– but eventually he does, and every day he feels himself fall a little more in love with you.

And when you’re on a date at the aquarium, examining all the various fish and sea creatures around you, and you both point to the ugliest-looking one and say “that’s you” in perfect unison, Kuroo thinks you might actually be his soulmate.

Naturally, he brings you home to introduce you to his family, something he’s never done before. It goes even better than he hoped it would, his grandparents, father, and older sister all taking a liking to you almost right away.

And maybe it’s the fact that his mom is the only one who isn’t there –hasn’t really been there the way he’s needed her to be since the day she and his dad got divorced– but suddenly he finds himself remembering that he once thought his parents were soulmates, too. That he used to watch them make jokes and cook together and dance around the living room, much like you and Kuroo do now, and that in the end none of it had been enough to save their relationship.

He’s not a kid anymore. He knows sometimes people simply aren’t meant for each other, knows sometimes things just don’t work out, but for a moment he’s terrified that you and him will follow the same path his parents did. That one day you’ll wake up and realize you don’t want him anymore, and then you’ll leave, just like his mother did.

It’s a completely unwelcome, anxiety-inducing thought. You’ve given him no reason to believe the two of you will be anything like his parents, so the logical part of him knows he shouldn’t be as worried and scared as he is, but he can’t help it. He wants to talk to you about it, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up, so he keeps it to himself, hoping it’ll go away on its own.

Except it doesn’t. It stays with him, taking root somewhere deep inside his chest, like it’s set on crushing his heart, building and building until it’s all he can think about.

The two of you have known each other for two years, but you’ve only been officially dating for four months. He can see himself falling in love with you, knows because it’s already started happening, and the more time that passes, the more he worries that he might be moving too fast. That he cares about you too much, too soon, and that if you find out what he’s feeling and you’re not ready for it, you’ll leave. And he knows, all too well, that he won’t be able to recover if you do.

So he leaves first. He sits you down and tells you that he can’t do this anymore, that he thinks you’ll be better off as friends, even though that’s nowhere even close to the real reason. Your eyes water and your lip trembles, and it breaks his heart, but he tells himself it’s better this way, that he’s saving you both a world of pain in the long run. He knows it won’t be long before he inevitably ends up disappointing you, and this is the only way he can think of to prevent that from happening.

You don’t argue with him. He expects you to –you’re notoriously stubborn, and you never go down without a fight– but not this time. Instead of demanding that he give you a real reason, instead of pushing back, you just nod numbly and accept it.

And when he calls you after the breakup to see how you’re doing, already missing you more than he knows how to deal with and wondering if he’s made the right decision, you answer, but you still don’t argue with him. You don’t tell him to fuck off, either, even though he knows he deserves it. You promise to stay friends, and then you don’t see each other for two months.

He spends the entire break feeling miserable, though he supposes that’s his own fault. Kenma calls him an idiot and asks why he doesn’t just get over himself and call you to apologize and try to work things out, but he doesn’t understand that Kuroo can’t. He can’t put the two of you back in a position where you can hurt each other, where you can leave and grow to resent each other.

Then he runs into you on campus for the first time since your breakup, and you’re every bit as stunning as he remembers. Your conversation is awkward and a bit uncomfortable, but you’re smiling by the end of it.

He can’t stop looking at you. He wonders if you can tell how much he’s missed you, how much he still wants you. But he can’t, not when he’s the one who ended your relationship in the first place, so he says nothing, smothering down those thoughts and feelings in the way he’s gotten so good at lately.

He texts you the next day. He knows it’s wrong, knows that just because you didn’t curse him out after seeing him yesterday doesn’t mean you still want to see him, but he can’t help it. His feelings for you haven’t changed at all, and as awful and selfish as he knows it makes him, he wants to be around you, even if it’s just as your friend.

And, to his surprise, you answer.

He spends the rest of the afternoon with you, and if there’s anything he’s learned for sure in the past few hours, it’s that for all his fears and anxieties about the future, he still loves you more than he knows what to do with.

It’s dark by the time you leave the restaurant with your food. He pulls into an empty parking spot and the two of you get out and grab your bags, though you spend longer than you need to lingering by his car.

Kuroo knows this is the part where you’re supposed to go your separate ways, but neither one of you moves to leave. The silence surrounding you is thick with words left unsaid, ones he can’t quite bring himself to share.

He fumbles with his keys in his hand, long fingers that used to intertwine with yours passing over the little cat keychain you gave him. You never asked for it back, and he never got rid of it. He wonders if you’ve noticed that he still has it, that the part of his heart you once occupied has remained empty, just waiting for you to return to it, even though he’s the one who ruined everything between you.

“I’m really glad we got to hang out today, you know,” he says, mostly to distract himself, though it is the truth.

Your expression remains deliberately neutral, observant eyes watching him silently. Usually you’re the kind of person whose thoughts show directly on your face –it’s one of the most endearing things about you– but not now. He can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad one.

“I...didn’t think you’d want to see me at all,” he continues, more nervous than before. He swallows, runs a hand through his hair. It feels like you’re looking right through him. “Honestly, I thought you were going to turn me down. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.”

“I almost did,” you admit, and the honesty makes the corners of his lips curve up. “But I’m glad I didn’t. I had a nice time today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

You may have well as just told him he’s won the lottery, for how stupidly happy your words make him. He’s sure he’s smiling like an idiot, but you don’t seem to mind, returning the gesture with a little smile of your own.

Then you’re lifting your bags a little higher and shifting on your feet, and Kuroo knows that his time is up and that you’re about to leave. He also realizes he really, really doesn’t want you to, hating himself for how inconsiderate and selfish that makes him, and then he’s blurting the first thing that comes to mind to get you to stay.

“Do you want to eat together?”

The words tumble past his lips before he can stop them, and he resists the urge to smack his forehead with the palm of his hand. He definitely should’ve eased into that a little better. In fact, he shouldn’t have said it at all. He should’ve just waved goodbye and watched you go, because he knows you deserve so much better, just like he knows for a fact that better isn’t him.

He clears his throat, scrambling to make his outburst a little less awkward, though he doubts it actually helps much.

“I mean, you don’t have to, obviously. It’s totally up to you, but I know you mentioned you didn’t have any plans, so I just thought–” God, what is he even saying? Why is he still talking? He swears he’s not usually so bad at this, but you make him so nervous. You always have.

“I figured we could maybe eat and watch a movie or something,” he finishes lamely, “if...if that’s something you’re okay with.”

He knows you’re going to say no. You should say no. You don’t owe him anything, not when he’s the asshole who broke your heart, even if it was with the best of intentions, so of course you’re going to say no and–

“Okay.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat. You agree, and he has no idea why.

But it’s not enough to stop him from leading you upstairs to his apartment, and maybe that makes him a dick, but he’s missed you too much to care.

Once inside, the two of you slip off your shoes and jackets and settle on the floor in front of the couch to eat dinner, takeout boxes spread out on the coffee table in front of you as a movie plays lowly on the television. You stay there even after finishing your food, sitting side by side with your backs pressed against the couch.

You’re sitting close enough together that he can feel your warmth on his side. He wants so badly to reach out and touch you, to take your hand and wrap his fingers around yours, but he doesn’t dare.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from looking at you. The movie’s still playing on the screen in front of him, but you’re the only thing he cares to watch. His mouth opens and closes, hesitating, but his gaze remains locked on you. He looks away when you turn your head to look at him, averting his gaze back to the tv, but he isn’t quick enough. He knows even before you start to speak that he’s been caught, but the sound of your voice still startles him.

“What is it?” you ask. He can’t see you, eyes stubbornly locked on the television, but he imagines you’re raising an eyebrow, tilting your head curiously at him in that adorable way he misses so much more than he thought he would.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Liar.”

You nudge his knee with yours encouragingly, and he wants to give in, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He keeps his eyes on the screen, refusing to look at you as he shakes his head firmly.

“I can’t tell you. It’s selfish.”

“Tetsurou.”

Maybe it’s the way you say his name, or maybe he just isn’t as strong-willed as he thinks he is, but he caves all the same, drawing in a sigh as he reluctantly turns his head to meet your expectant gaze.

“I’m just...I’m glad you’re here,” he mutters, voice low, quiet. He’s afraid if he says it too loudly, too sincerely, he’ll upset you, and you’ll leave the way he’s always worried you will.

“You said that already.”

“I meant it.”

You turn your body to face him fully, and his breath catches in his throat as you lean in, putting you at the closest you’ve been all day. He feels his heartbeat pick up in his chest, pulse pounding so loudly he’s surprised you don’t hear it.

He knows he can’t, knows he shouldn’t, but he wants to kiss you. He wonders if you’d let him.

He shakes his head, as if that’ll be enough to dismiss the urge. He has no right to want you as much as he still does, no right to be thinking any of this, not anymore.

“I can’t hurt you again,” he says, more to himself than anything, but you hear it all the same.

“So then don’t,” you reply easily, as if it’s really that simple. You lean in a bit more, and it takes all he has not to follow you.

“...I shouldn’t have asked you to come here.” He doesn’t regret it, but he knows it was a bad move on his part. “It was selfish.”

“I should’ve said no when you did,” you murmur, voice as low and quiet as his. But one of your hands has sneaked up behind him, fingers threading softly through the hair at the back of his head, despite your words.

He leans into your touch without meaning to. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because maybe I want to be selfish, too.”

You’re even closer now. Close enough that you can lean your forehead against his, your fingers still tangled in his hair. He knows he should pull away, but he can’t find the strength to, not when you’re all he’s been thinking about lately. Instead, he finds himself apologizing.

“I’m sorry.”

The suddenness of it seems to catch you off guard, your eyes widening a fraction, but you don’t shut him down. “For what?”

“For hurting you. For not giving you the space you needed. For making the stupidest fucking decision I’ve ever made and for telling you all of this now even though it’s all my fault for saying we’d be better off as friends.”

“I don’t want to be your friend, Tetsurou.”

He blinks in surprise, stunned by your words, the blunt way you say them. He’s a little hurt, too, though he knows he probably deserves it. “You don’t?”

“No,” you say, more sure than you’ve sounded all day. Your free hand presses against his chest, splaying over his heart, which is still beating erratically in his chest, as he sucks in a shaky breath. You lean in even closer, so close that your next words brush against his lips, voice low and deliberate and hungry. “I don’t.”

And then you’re kissing him, lips pressing firmly and familiarly against his, and it’s all he can do not to sigh hopelessly into your mouth because it’s everything he’s wanted since the moment he saw you again and more. He hesitates for a moment, the guilt over everything he’s put you through nestled somewhere deep inside his bones, but then you tug him a bit closer and tangle your hand in his hair and he finally lets go, finally reciprocates, and reaches for you the way you’ve been wanting him to.

His hands go up to cup either side of your face, mouth moving in tandem against yours. He lets out a low groan when your teeth graze his bottom lip. You seem to chase after the sound, hands moving to slide down his chest as you throw one leg over his thigh and situate yourself into his lap. He welcomes you eagerly, fingers digging into your waist as he pulls you even closer.

“God,” he mutters breathlessly against your lips when you have no choice but to break apart for air, “I’ve missed you.”

This time, he’s the one who presses his lips to yours, but the kiss you share now is softer than before, slower. It seems to change something in the air between you, because when you pull away again, the little huff of breath you let out quickly transforms into a sob, and then your eyes are filling with tears as his gaze meets yours again.

“Woah, woah, hey. Are you crying?”

The glossiness of your gaze stuns him, makes his eyes widen and his heartache, because if there’s one thing that gets to him, it’s seeing you cry. He pulls back immediately to look up at you in concern. You make a valiant effort to hold back the tears, but they fall from your eyes before you can stop them, and he hates himself now more than ever.

“Oh, no, please don’t cry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He’s quick to comfort you, wrapping an arm around you while his other hand wipes at your tears. “Do you– do you want me to let you go? Am I making it worse? I can let you go–”

You shake your head furiously and scowl at him, though it doesn’t seem all that threatening when you’re sniffling as much as you are now.

“No. No, I don’t want you to let me go, and that’s why I’m crying, you asshole. I’m crying because you broke my heart and I shouldn’t want you anymore, but I do. So yes I forgive you, and yes I still care about you and want to be with you, but you broke my heart, and it hurt, Tetsu. It really fucking hurt.”

“I know. I’m sorry, baby.” He wipes away your tears and you lean into his touch, letting him brush his thumbs across your cheeks as he lowers you to rest against his chest. You go willingly, and the hand he runs up and down your back serves as a comfort, allowing you to catch your breath without sobbing. “I’m so, so sorry.”

His lips are at the top of your head when he speaks again, his words pressing against your hair. “I fucked up. I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you huff in agreement, but thankfully you’re not crying anymore, “you really are.”

The two of you stay like that for a while, you leaning your head against his chest while he keeps his arms wound tightly around you, holding you. It’s familiar and warm, peaceful after the rollercoaster of emotions you’ve gone through tonight, but as wonderful as it is, it hasn’t solved your problems, and Kuroo thinks you both know it.

That’s why he isn’t surprised when you lift your head from his chest to look at him properly, a serious and determined look in your eyes. There are dried tears on your face, but your voice is steady when you ask him, soft, seeking, and just a little bit sad, “Why did you really break up with me?”

Though he was expecting it eventually, the question still makes him hesitate. Kuroo’s good with numbers, great with people, but awful when it comes to being vulnerable. For you, however, he’s willing to try. He owes you an explanation, and if there’s any hope of the two of you having any kind of relationship after this, then he needs to start being honest with you.

“Because I was falling in love with you.”

Understandably, the confession floors you, makes you blink rapidly at him as his words slowly sink in.

“You– you broke up with me because you were falling in love with me?” You gape at him, eyebrows furrowed, like you can’t quite believe what you’re hearing. “Tetsu, what the fuck? Isn’t that the whole point of being in a relationship with someone?”

He laughs humorlessly, running a hand through his hair. “Trust me, I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. I was falling in love with you, and it scared the shit out of me because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And you– you’ve always been so casual about it, about us, I thought– I thought I was in it deeper than you were. And I was afraid that if you found out how I was feeling, if it happened before you were ready for it, then you’d run.”

He watches as your eyes widen in realization. “So you ran before I could.”

He nods. He wants to keep looking at you, but he’s afraid of the disappointment he knows he’ll start to see there and averts his gaze, looking down. Shame crashes into him like a tidal wave, and it’s all he can do to continue speaking.

“And when you didn’t argue with me after I said we’d be better off friends, I thought–”

“–that I was proving your point. That I agreed with you.”

Again, he nods, but he still doesn’t look at you. He feels your hand come up underneath his chin, urging him to look at you, and slowly, reluctantly, he does.

He expects to see disappointment in your eyes, maybe even anger, but there is none. Only affection, a devotion so deep he hates himself for ever doubting you, for ever thinking you’d end up anything like his parents.

You’re shaking your head, looking incredulous, like you can’t decide between laughing out loud or punching him in the face for being so utterly stupid. In the end, you settle for a combination of both, flicking him in the forehead with a smile tugging at your lips.

“You know, Tetsu, for someone so smart, you really are so stupid sometimes.”

He doesn’t bother to deny it, instead settling for a low chuckle and half-smile as he reaches for your face and brushes his thumb across your cheek. “So I’ve been told.”

“Evidently not often enough, if you were feeling all of this and didn’t talk to me about it so that we could fix it,” you say, utterly unapologetic in your delivery. The half-smile on his face transforms into a full one. He’s always appreciated your frankness, even when you use it to understandably –and rightfully– call him out. “But I guess mine isn’t much better, if I made you think I wasn’t serious about us.”

That’s when he tells you about his doubts, about all the things he’s been worrying over since you met his family. You seem surprised that he’s been keeping it all in this whole time, but you don’t tell him that he’s being ridiculous or that he needs to grow up. Instead, you listen carefully as he speaks, holding him close to you and trying to understand.

You don’t pretend to know what it’s like to have divorced parents, but you empathize all the same. And while you do tell him it’s normal to have doubts, you also gently remind him that the two of you are very different people from his parents and that comparing yourself to them isn’t very fair to either of you.

“Love’s not just something you fall in or out of, Tetsu,” you tell him, running your hand gently through his hair. You sound wise beyond your years, but that doesn’t surprise him. You’ve always been so much smarter than he is. “It’s a choice, one you choose to make even when it’s hard.”

“I’d choose you,” he finds himself saying, surprised by how certain he is of it. But you’re the best person he knows, and you’re who he wants to be with, if you’ll still have him. “I’d always choose you.”

You smile, and he feels something in his chest shift, like something’s just clicked back into place. “I’d choose you, too.”

And that’s exactly what you do. You choose each other, not just that night but every single one after that.

Because soulmates don’t need to be fated to be real; they can be chosen, crafted by every choice and deliberate show of effort that brings them together, and you and Kuroo are proof of that.

You prove it when you promise to be more upfront about your commitment, and he proves it when he promises to be honest with you and communicate about his doubts and feelings instead of shouldering it all on his own.

And you continue to prove it a year later, four years later, and a decade after that. Years upon years together, multiple graduations and jobs and a wedding neither one of you could stop smiling about later, and you’re still reminding each other of your choice. Kuroo’s still not tired of looking at you, being with you, loving you.

He knows, with stunning clarity, doubtlessly, that he never will be.

Written by: Dawn

Requests: OPEN!!

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo imagines #haikyuu imagines #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! #hq x reader #our writing #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsuro angst #haikyuu angst #dawn writes

[angeli-marco-writes]

Harry Holland - Polaroids

A/N & WC - I do not know Harry or the other people mentioned in this fic, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction. 3.9k.

Warnings - Swearing, mention of food, smut: depictions of oral (m+f rec), penetrative sex, use of toys, bondage & bdsm, photos being taken in the act, mild exhibitionism and definite voyeurism (not Harry or reader) 18+.

Summary - You and Harry have an exciting intimate life to say the least, and he rather enjoys taking photos of the two of you in compromising positions. However, in his sex-addled mind, one vital fact is let slip when he allows Sam into his room unsupervised.

“BUD, WHERE ARE THOSE PHOTOS you took of my food the other day?” Sam asks.

The sizzling of pancakes overlaps the conversation, and you mussing up Harry’s hair distracts him, his attention drawn to more important matters than his brother. Harry barely swallows his giant mouthful of food before speaking.

“By my bed there’s a huge pile, they’ll be somewhere,” he answers flippantly.

Flippantly.

Usually so cautious and so organised Harry lets one thing slip his mind for five seconds, and his life is going to fall through the cracks. His reputation will be utterly destroyed. Just with his brother, but it still stands. Sam is… more innocent than Harry has ever been. And Sam will also tell the others, and likely their friends…

“Remembered something, baby?” you muse sardonically from beside him, your hand halting its movements as you cup his jaw, turning him to face you.

The second his green eyes meet yours, you watch the world crumble in his eyes. You’ve never seen him scramble up from his seat so quickly. His bare feet slap on the tiled floor violently, thudding sounds echoing through the house as he blunders around, swinging around the banister with the force and elegance of an elephant.

“Sam! FUCK— Wait!”

“Don’t look in that pile of photos,” you add in a feeble shout.

It’s not like what Sam’ll find there is any secret. You’ve been together a long time, you and Harry, and everyone knows full well that you’re shagging, but that doesn’t mean you necessarily want them to know exactly what happens in the bedroom, in your most intimate, secret moments together. That’s sacred, even if it seems like sacrilege to so many.

No matter how quickly you hear Harry legging it upstairs, his lean legs carrying him up the stairs perhaps three at a time, his curly hair even more unruly than before from the exertion, you know he won’t be fast enough, and that Sam is an insolent bastard when he wants to be. You’ve lived with them all long enough and have had more than your fair share of near misses: no chance will you not be found out, this time you’ll be caught. Better than the alternative and the other times, you suppose, as you cram one more syrup-drizzled and strawberry-covered pancake into your gob, reluctantly trudging your way upstairs to the hive of fun.

It’s chaos by the time you get there. Dozens of artfully-taken photos spilled out onto your duvet, Harry’s freckled face paler than you’ve ever seen it, his hands tugging at his pyjama shirt convulsively while Sam stands on the other side of the room, his dark eyes wide, his expression agog, his jaw unhinged, staring blankly and pointing at whatever the most incriminating thing is he sees next. You just hope he doesn’t go ferreting through your drawers, because then you’ll really be in trouble.

“What… the fuck.”

You come up to Harry’s side, and wrap an arm around his slim waist, lending a weak, “Surprise?”

It’s their fault if they haven’t guessed, frankly.

You can’t draw your eyes away from the pictures, so many of them, all displaying different aspects of your sex life at varying degrees of explicitness. You can even recount the minutes and hours of pleasure that led to the photos, each occasion etched into your mind. Sure, you and Harry go at it a lot, but you don’t always go the extra mile, hence why these commemorative photos of your special nights are so treasured. And private. Or, were.

The first one… oh boy, that takes you back to the most far-out, extreme experiment you tried—the most recent, as well: just this past weekend. You’re still covered in rope burn from it, though that could’ve been prevented if you hadn’t writhed or wriggled about so much while in those bonds. The amount of attempts it took, the sheer number of YouTube tutorials you had to watch, but it was definitely worth it. The intricate patterns the ropes formed all across your body, creating braids down your back, suspending you prone with little movement in your arms or legs. It was heaven to have Harry tugging on the ropes, contorting you into new and wonderful positions for his own delightful access to all of you. Perhaps it’s not something you’ll gravitate towards again, but it was fun while it lasted, and it’s another thing to tick off your list of fun, kinky bedroom experiments to try. To be fair, even though the swathes of soft, rose-coloured rope, intricately woven around you were a lot, you certainly wouldn’t be averse to trying something else with rope. Less shibari, perhaps just normal levels of bondage. You can feel the skin on your arms prickling with heat: Harry feels it too, winding his fingers into yours, holding on tight as he struggles to suppress a smirk.

The next set is interesting, and rather common. Harry’s freckled, ring-less hand is unmistakable in the dappled light as it grapples with the handle of a leather whip, or a paddle, even his belt, bringing them down harshly onto your ass cheeks, already reddened with hand prints, purple from bruises. In one of them, your skin is even glistening with his release, and another, your hands are suspended behind your back. Harry’s always been one for spanking, and the rest of them know it. Even before you were sleeping together he’d playfully smacked your bum, and he certainly hasn’t stopped even with the sexual connotations it now conveys between the two of you. As though he can read your mind, he snakes a hand down and pats you on the bum; his wink telling you it’s just for good measure. Cheeky shit.

One in the dead centre brings shivers throughout your body. Not because it wasn’t fun or pleasurable, but because of the way it made you feel afterwards. Yes, you’d talked through it in thorough details—as with everything the two of you do—how it made you feel going in, throughout, and you’d got a safe word sorted, but perhaps you hadn’t discussed all the long term risks of it. The pretty pink collar, the satin blindfold… The whole subservient thing is a big turn on for Harry, and you played into it, you always do and you naturally fall into a position of less power in your relationship because of the way you are, but being degraded in such a way isn’t for you. You can’t help but feel a sting of shame ricochet through your heart. Harry must feel it this considering how reactive he is: he leaps towards the bed and snatches it up, shredding it before your eyes, chucking it into the bin, and curling another protective arm around you.

“Look,” you whisper to Harry, turning his attention elsewhere as you point to the bottom few: your favourite photos of all.

Despite the disarray, they’re all together, and they remind you of an incredible night. Your anniversary, and what a special day it was. Butterflies swarm you at the sight of them again, but it feels strange for someone else to be looking at them. Not that you or Harry are exactly in a fit state to be proactive about preventative measures now Sam’s seen them all. His eyes bulge from his face, his mouth going dry as he swallows viciously, suddenly having to shift his already apparently tight shorts. Again.

“You’re so sexy in those, baby,” purrs Harry.

He’s damn right, you do look incredibly sexy. And though the first one in the chronological series is you mostly covered, you can remember how hard his dick was at the sight alone, salivating, clenching his fists to stop from ripping the lingerie from you piece by piece. You wanted to put on a show for him that day: who was he to deny you?

On top of your bra, panties and stockings was a nightgown, and above that, a dressing gown. Each image shows you in a further state of undress. It was a deep burgundy lace set of negligée with soft satin straps that pushed your boobs together, lifting them up, the lace hooked together with a single eyelet on your spine, whereas the panties, though half covering your cheeks with dustings of lace, hid nothing while they sat high on your hips, revealing your entire upper thigh where a matching satin garter sat with tiny lace bows. The entire thing cost a fortune. You forked out a damn arm and a leg for what you got, even with a discount included with a certain toy you bought.

First went the dressing gown, letting it fall from your shoulders, allowing it to pool around your feet as you showed off the skimpiness of the silk slip in a series of flourishing twirls, much to Harry’s delight. Next went the slip, and you honestly wish you’d taken a picture of his face utterly agog—as you stood there in stockings held up by garters, barely there panties and a push up bra. There’s one shot of his rough fingertips playing with the trim of the stockings delightedly, like a kid in a candy shop. Next went the feeble scrap of fabric that you dared to call a bra, barely covering your nipples, allowing your breasts free, spilling into Harry’s awaiting hand. You remember the next part vividly, because he was just about to peel the panties off when you laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” you cooed.

His twinkling eyes grew as wide as saucers, and you dared to card your fingers through his curls as you settled yourself over his lap, letting him keep his camera in one hand while leading the other down, down, a little further…

He’s never since made a sound quite like it, so visceral and animalistic, so ready to devour you, to come on sight. He’s never been as hard as he was in that instance.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he moaned, a deep groan released from him the second his fingers slipped through your folds to find dripping arousal all ready for him. “Just—wait a minute…”

You followed his every instruction for the next few moments, finding yourself standing up in a good lighting position, Harry strategically beneath you as he snapped a particularly incriminating (yet oh so sexy shot) of your bare pussy in crotchless panties. Harry’s never recovered. He’s already openly admitted that he uses those particular photos more than any others to get himself off whenever you’re away from him. However, the creases and folded corners of one particular photo can’t be blamed on him, since that’s the one you use when you're away, two of his fingers plunged knuckle-deep inside you in those exact panties, from that exact angle, desperately trying to replicate the irreplaceably pleasurable feeling of him within you. He took a good few more than had to be thrown away. Spillages are awfully unfortunate… He fucked you that night with the panties, stockings and garters still on. Twice. Then without the panties, then without the stockings, then nude at last at some ungodly hour of the morning when he took you at last as the sun rose. You didn’t sleep a wink.

There are more of you with lingerie on, nightgowns and matching sets, scraps of silk and strange one pieces that took you hours to get on, but they’re bound to make a sort of book, stowed away neatly (mercifully) beneath his bed.

Sam still hasn’t moved from his state of paralysed shock, and though you should probably clear the photos up from where they’re dumped, you feel a filthy swelling pride within your chest, a glean of risk as you watch Sam rove his eyes over some more, these all involving toys. If only he knew where you hid them. One his eyes focus on is you with a thick purple rubber dildo deep inside you, a rabbit vibrator stuck to your clit. Your body is but a blur, writhing around for Harry, your hands cuffed before you and not released no matter how much you moved. Harry wouldn’t let you stop coming for what felt like hours: it was the first time you squirted for him as a cry tore from your heaving chest, drenching the bed with your fifth orgasm of the night. Harry vowed he’d be the only one to make you squirt after that, no toys involved, and he’s stayed true to his word.

There’s a few more, and Sam seems to be furrowing his thick brows at the sight of the Polaroids. Glass wands, spreader bars, clit suctions (that admittedly look like they’d be used in a spa for a facial). Poor boy is being corrupted...

Good God, you need to get those toys out again.

With his twin's attention diverted, you snake your hand down the front of Baz’s shorts, wrapping your fingers around his already hard member through his boxers: he seems to be enjoying this as much as you are.

You point out one of your favourite pictures, a debauched mess that shouldn’t be viewed by anyone else, frankly. Harry was reluctant about hurting you or pushing you too far, but you begged to be gagged. You meant just by a tie, maybe his bandana—which features in many images in many different manners: as a bind for your hands, tying you to the bed, keeping your ankles together, even wrapped lightly around your neck, but never as a gag—but he went all out. When you got home, he was waiting in his room with a leather-bound ball gag.

“You begged, baby,” he said, and you couldn’t refute. You had begged, but this was above and beyond. You complied with his every wish that night, and though you’d do it again in a heartbeat, Harry wasn’t a fan of not being able to shove his fingers or cock down your throat at any given moment. He liked hearing your whines and moans and hushed curses, prayers of his name. He also liked hearing your bratty, belligerent rebuttals when he took on a dominant role. You enjoyed it more than a little, but only now can you see how much of a mess you were, messy hair and tears spouting from your eyes, drool down your chin...

Given the chance of the slightest spark of stimulation, you’ll be coming on the spot.

There’s a scattered pile of the two of you in just about every position under the sun, every shape in the karma sutra, fucking both inside and out, al fresco sex beneath the big oak in the garden, anyhow, anywhere and everywhere you could fuck safely and privately, you would, and you didn’t even realise Harry had snapped some of these shots after consenting to him taking them at any time. Your eyes squeezed shut as you peaked, Baz’s palm kneading your chest, your skirt hiked up around your stomach while your jaw was agape, your pussy exposed and glistening slick in the mirror, penetrated by Harry’s cock. That was a good day, mirror sex, and definitely something you’ll try again. This time with your own mirror... There are a few snapshots of oral, perfect Polaroids of Harry’s nose nuzzled into your pussy, his tongue deep in your core, his lips on your labia, all of them for your sake whenever he goes away.

“Gonna recreate that one tonight,” Harry husks, pointing towards one image in particular of you sucking him off.

His huge member down your throat, you’d trained yourself to breathe solely through your nose, but the neatly trimmed patch of hair there tickled your nostrils. Harry’s talent for photography reveals your doe eyes were red rimmed, saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth matching the mascara tracks down your cheeks. You’ve never looked so fucked out, and Harry couldn’t believe you remained in that innocent façade, rosy cheeks and a coy expression even with his dick rammed down your throat, making you gag.

However, the one you’d like to recreate is one he picks up on, surreptitiously moving a hand to your chest, his fingers hovering over your peaked nipple.

“Reckon we can go again the second Sam fucks off?”

“Yes,” he eagerly exhales.

You don’t blame him, especially not when both twins are staring at the same image of your tits, pushed together with Harry’s dick between them, fucking your chest despite the fact his come already painted your chest in hot white strips, a beautiful painting you’d always wish to frame. He certainly has an obsession with your boobs so there are a couple like that, his hands all over them, the tip of his member tapping them, but the debauched one is by far your favourite. Similarly, there’s one of you tied to the bed, completely spread eagle, his dick resting on your stomach while your belly is coated in his come once again.

It seems, however, that’s what snagged Sam’s attention and has his face a ghastly shade of grey because it's so pale, is the one photo Harry never wanted anyone to see. You leap and snatch it up in one fell swoop, and Harry draws you into a bear hug within his arms, kissing your temple affectionately in thanks as you stow it away for safekeeping. Though Harry naturally carries the more dominant title in your relationship, you always like to shake things up, hence why this photo (and a series of others he already has hidden) depict Harry as your submissive. You walked around as the picture perfect dominatrix in stilettos, carrying a whip while Harry lay there with his hands bound, a blindfold on in some photos (you took them so they’re not as great, but he still looks damn sexy) with a vibrating cock ring wrapped snugly around his girth. He’s never come so hard or so much after you finally removed it and cuffed his hands to the bedpost and began to ride him. You can still feel the warmth of him climaxing within you if you close your eyes and clench your thighs.

“I promise I’ll touch you later,” boy do you hope he sticks to that promise he whispers while nibbling on your earlobe, “but Sam’s coming out of his daze in 3... 2... 1...”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Okay, I didn’t see that coming,” he remarks breathily, hazel eyes wide as he pivots, met with two incredulous stares. Tom’s cry wakes Sam up right on cue.

“Harry! What the fuck?!” Sam demands, his voice a bellow, horror and disgust and... something unattainable just emanates from him. “Why do you have three porn mags worth of your girlfriend down here? That’s fucked, mate.”

“No it’s not. We just like to have photographic reminders of all our... sexcapades.”

Sam is, unsurprisingly, retching, now finally turning his head away from the pile without even bothering to pick up.

“This was cool until you called them sexcapades,” Tom chimes, smacking Harry upside the head as he swaggers over to the bed, fishing a few photos up before tossing them back down.

Sam's horrified attitude doesn’t seem to be spreading thankfully, but you and Harry are understandably rooted to the spot, stuck to the carpet, just biding your time until this is over. Then again, you can’t really tell, since no one is saying anything. You nor Harry want to be the ones to break the silence, though, and you can tell with the furtive and expressive stares you’re sharing that his anxiety is increasing the more people are seeing this.

Momentarily, you think someone may remark about your silent communication, your fixed glances and speechless conversation, but instead, Harrison comes up to you both, a sly smirk etched onto his pretty model face as he clasps a hand around one shoulder of yours and one of Harry’s.

“Harry Holland, you kinky fucker,” he praises.

You definitely feel a swell of pride at that. And the fact that Tom is trying desperately hard not to look at you while also trying to hide how flustered he is, somehow still abhorred by the sight. Harrison’s intrigue is palpable, gnawing on his lower lip as his lithe fingers trace you on the polaroid's, whereas Sam? He can’t decide whether to cry or scream. Harry huddles in closer and cuddles you, ensuring you feel every part of him, just how much he wants this lot to leave to finally have you at his mercy once more.

“So you two are shagging,” Tom observes.

You and Harry nod between kisses.

“Dangerously.”

You nod again, though this time a little reluctantly.

You expect Harry to nestle down with you again, but instead he detaches himself, unravelling his arms, and shoulders past Tom and Haz. He gives Sam a death glare as he piles up all the Polaroids and shoves them deep in a drawer for him to organise later, away from prying eyes and judgemental comments.

“Really, though?” Sam bursts out, flailing his arms before grasping Harry’s collar. “I thought you’d just handcuff her and give her a smack at most, very vanilla.”

As much as he tries to fight it, Harry’s face flushes bright red, leaving no visible distinction between his forehead and hairline. “I think those photos, erm, tell a different story.”

He rocks on the balls of his feet, tugging himself out of his brother's grasp, only to fall into another, saved by Harrison’s scowl at Tom.

“Can you lot bloody get out? Please? I’d like some alone time with my girlfriend after that sodding invasion.”

“If you’re having alone time, we’re leaving the house for a while,” Tom jokes, “how long?”

You smirk, striding over to meet Harry, eyes fixed on him as you press onto your tiptoes, wrapping your fingers around his shoulder before kissing his earlobe. He wilts into your touch.

“Two hours should be enough time. Scram.”

They do, gladly, and you slam the door shut as their scurrying footsteps down the stairs recede. Harry’s grip increases around your waist, a growl escaping him as he pushes you onto the bed. You gasp when your back hits the mattress, his lips instantly attacking your jaw.

“Which of those polaroid's do you wanna recreate first, baby?”

—

It’s hours later, and you're all around for your weekly dinner at the Holland house. You and Harry, having some ‘business’ to attend to before leaving the house, are the last to arrive, and Paddy, poor unfortunate Paddy, has the delightful job of letting you into the house.

“Sam asked me to give you this,” he says barely before you’ve entered the porch.

Harry’s face pales as he unravels the small piece of paper bundled into his hand by his younger brother, but you could swear all blood drains from him the second the words sink in.

‘You took them, you lost them, you collect them. What would mum and dad say, Harold?’

“Harry, what’s happening?”

“That utter wanker stole the polaroids as revenge for scarring him. He’s hidden them around the house. We have to find them before mum and dad go looking. You in for the ride?”

“Only if Haz can join us tonight,” you tease, and after calling a hello to Harry’s parents, you follow him around the house, detaching all the pinned photos.

Harry's learnt a solid lesson today: hide his damn Polaroids better from now on, away from the prying eyes of his bloody brothers. But, he thinks with a smirk, by no means will the two of you stop taking them.

#harry holland #harry holland imagine #harold holland #baz holland #harry holland fluff #harrison osterfield #harry holland smut #harry holland x reader #harry holland angst #harry holland fanfiction #harry holland blurb #harry holland fic #harry holland x y/n #harry holland one shot #harry holland x female reader #harry holland x fem reader #harry robert holland #h holland

[sepia-mahogany]

Prompt: hearing about xuanwus defeat, madam jin and jin zixuan come to lotus pier and overhear madam yu saying wei wuxian should have let the 'sect heirs die', lwj who's recovering also overhears, the 3 get first hand experience of jiang household situation and decide fk this and take wwx out of there, its a prompt from vrishchikawrites blog (a wonderful write!) So maybe ask permission?

From the prompt on @vrishchikawrites

Jin Zixuan could not forget the young man, the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, who, despite his previous (petty) grievances with, had stepped up when everyone else had been frozen on the spot, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get his blood stained image out of his mind. Which had led to this discussion.

“What? No! I forbid it.” his father responded when he asked for sending reinforcements to Jiang Sect, while he understood with Cloud Recesses burnt down, and Nie under attack, either Yunmeng Jiang or Lanling Jin were next on the table, and despite having well equipped men, with the best of weapons, his father refused to extend help. 

Refused to stand against those who sought to harm his son, ‘in situations like these, know when to step back’ he had said, and Jin Zixuan could feel shame creeping up under his skin, outnumbered and clearly at losing stakes, he hadn’t hesitated to save him, and what would that make him if he forgot the debt so clearly owed? To live the lavish life of a coward..! He could see his mother fuming from where she stood, and closed his eyes to suppress his bitter thoughts, he wanted to do something, anything to help.

And suddenly, anger melted from her face and that smile crept up her face and he felt a chill down his spine, a sense of foreboding overcame him, he could see his father tense as well. “Of course, the Jin Sect sides with them.” she spoke, venom dripping off her every word. “Nothing wrong if the Sect Leader’s wife wants the marriage renewed?” a pit formed in his stomach, he did not want to marry a woman he barely knew, but using this opportunity, they could, in a sense create a bond, stronger than of just two sworn sisters.

However, “Madam Jin meets up with her sworn sister, Madam of Jiang Sect, just as Qishan Wen begins its attacks?” the war has been declared, how would it seem if the two sect Madams, and the Sect heirs are meeting, with or without the Sect Leader? “The risks are completely unneeded, what do we gain from this?” his mother glared at his father, who pointedly ignored her, Jin Zixuan exhaled, thinking things over.

As much as he disliked the engagement, he knew she would not bring it up, unless the situation, as dire as it was, needed it, this bond could provide future aid to one another should the need arise, so Jin Zixuan kept his disagreements to himself, because he knew she wouldn’t force him, not with the concerns of a  cold loveless marriage like his parents, he knew she was using it as a cover to aid her sworn sister.

An opportunity, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then remembered how the Second Jade, Lan Wangji had stood shoulder to shoulder with him,  and Wei Wuxian, Head Disciple, had stepped up to save them. 

Jin Zixuan exhaled, and made a decision, muttering out a half-hearted excuse, he left them on their own, and later into the night, he approached his mother.

--------

The boat landed steadily, unnoticed in the middle of the night, his mother had won the final say in the matter, of course with the reluctant agreement of remaining disguised as just another trade ship, the serene view would have been calming, had his nerves not have been high strung from adrenaline, small sacrifices, he could of course find a way to break off the engagement in a future of more peaceful times.

Jin Zixuan climbed out the boat first, followed calmly by his mother, the disguises were near perfect, for the disciples around the brightly lit place to look curious, but not alarmed. One, he recognised seeing a few times at Cloud Recesses, came near them with a nervous smile. “We offer you our sincerest apologies but...we’d appreciate it if travellers could avoid an audience with the Sect Leader?” 

The disguises were perfect then, for they had been mistaken as travellers that would go to and fro from Yunmeng Jiang Sect, his mother sniffed and looked at the disciple sternly “We are not here for the Sect Leader, but the Violet Spider, we have an important message for them.” Jin Zixuan had noticed before but now it had become more apparent as the disciples shifted around, something was off, it dampened his enthusiasm and the rush he had felt earlier, instead concern filled him, had something happened to Wei Wuxian?

His mother held out a token, the disciple’s eyes widened and he bowed in respect, “I assume this would be enough?” Madam Jin said curtly, and the disciple nodded, though tensely. “This one will escort you to the guest chambers” 

The curious gazes had not been moved, as they moved inside, step by step, down the corridor they went, as the muffled voices became more distinguishable, all 3 of them froze when they heard, unmistakably the Jiang Sect Heir’s voice. “-You shouldn’t have played the hero and you shouldn’t have cared for such a hell of a thing. If in the beginning you hadn’t….” 

Jin Zixuan felt a cold pit forming in his stomach, surely he must be mistaken, but seeing the expression twisting  on his mothers face, he could assume he was not, in fact, misunderstanding what Jiang Wanyin was implying. 

The disciple bowed quickly, slightly panicked “If you’d follow me-” Madam Jin pointed at him and he immediately shut up, head bowed, just as the Jiang Sect Leader reprimanded “Jiang Cheng.” Silence followed. “Do you know in which ways what you just have said is not appropriate?” was followed by a glum “Yes.”

Even if slightly, Jin Zixuan relaxed, his mother’s expression lightening into a frown, ‘at least someone is self-aware’ Madam Jin thought. “He’s just angry and speaking without care” another voice added, Jin Zixuan perked up, Wei Wuxian! So he was alright, he felt relieved. Madam Jin continued to frown, Wei Wuxian was clearly trying to lessen the pressure off of the Jiang heir. 

Another harsh voice cut through them all “Yes, he doesn’t understand but what does it matter, as long as Wei Ying understands!?” rang out her voice, Madam Jin’s lips pursed into a line, of what her son had just said, that was what she was focusing on?

 “‘To attempt at the impossible’ is exactly how he is, isn’t it? Fooling around even though he knew it’d bring trouble to his sect!?” Jin Zixuan sneaked a look at his mother to see her eyes cold, her fist clenched tightly, he was aware they shouldn’t be hearing this, but this? It wasn’t what they expected at all, he was frozen in place, what in the world was he hearing?

Madam Jin’s thoughts matched her appearance, for once she felt less than charitable towards Yu Ziyuan, and more and more like a fool, here she was, risking her and her son’s safety, her sects safety, for a woman who couldn't care less about her son’s life, but was also wilfully blinding herself to the war right on the horizon, ‘No’ she thought to herself, ‘it was I who was truly blind’

And it was the boy she heard being called ‘Fengmian’s bastard’ or ‘son of a servant’ who had saved her son's life instead, she bit back the bitter chuckle that threatened to escape her, truly, what a fool she was, to be caught in the violet spiders web.

She looked at her son, whose face clouded over the more he heard, she grabbed his arm tightly, if nothing else then to prevent him from barging inside, with Jiang Fengmian’s favor, she was sure that they didn’t need to interfere, until, “My lady, what are you doing here?” she held back her disbelief, her son on the other hand, inhaled sharply.

This was what he was focusing on? Not the insults to his bas- to his ward? To his sect’s entire foundation? It would seem she was truly mistaken, in her and Yu Ziyuan sharing their miseries, entirely wrong about her character, and who was still throwing around callous words for the sake of it, for what else? If not her own cruelty?

"What am I doing here? What a joke that I am asked of such a thing! Sect Leader Jiang, do you still remember that I'm also the leader of Lotus Pier? Do you still remember that every inch of the earth here is my territory? Do you still remember, between the one lying there and the one standing there, which one is your son?" Disbelief and disgust couldn’t even begin to describe what Madam Jin was feeling, the Sect Leader’s response,  however, “I do remember.” Enhanced those to the heights she didn't even know she was capable of feeling.

And so stood the enraged Madam of Jin Sect, the horrified Jin heir and one ashamed disciple whose head could bow no lower, but that was nothing compared to what was said next “You do remember, but there's no use if you simply remember. Wei Ying, he really can't take it unless he stirs up some trouble, can he? If I had known, I would've made him stay in Lotus Pier properly and not go outside. Could Wen Chao really have dared to do anything to the two young masters of the GusuLan Sect and Lanling Jin Sect? Even if he did, it'd mean that they ran out of luck. Since when was it your turn to play the hero?"

Blood roared in Madam Jin’s ears, her nails digging into her palm, she wanted to bite Yu Ziyuan’s head off there and then. ‘Of all the idiotic, foolish, horrid, things she could utter-’ in her cursing, she only realised she had put too much force in her rage filled haze when her son hissed in pain, she immediately let go of his arm, and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking calming breaths.

She was afraid she would do something terrible and irrevocable if she stayed there any longer, listening to a pathetic mockery of- she exhaled and pushed Jin Zixuan towards the open doors. “B-but mother-” he looked back but she gave him that look and he quietened “Later a-Xuan.” while moving outwards, the disciple trailing behind them, they could easily catch some of the words the woman threw at Wei Wuxian.

Madam Jin gritted her teeth in anger, and left without looking back, once she and her son were seated in the boat. “A-Xuan” she began, lightly ruffling his hair “Your marriage is up to you to decide, I will have no say in the matter from here onwards” Her son was not going to be married into that cursed Sect no matter what if she could help it, she moved forward to pull him into a hug, “Mother was wrong.”

 “But mother what about..?” She heard him say, she pulled back and rest one hand on his shoulder, the other caressing his cheek, her son, who by the Jiang’s standards, should’ve been killed, and her blood boiled in her veins. “We came here to make a bond and talk if it were possible, since that wasn’t possible, it can be done some other day.” She lightly patted him, and seeing his thoughts drift off, thought to herself darkly ‘and if the Jiangs are attacked, well, they ran out of luck then.’

Her son hesitantly nodded, “Wei Wuxian...I owe him, for saving me then, if not for him.....” She sniffed, as if indicating what was obvious “Of course,” When the news spread later that Lotus Pier was attacked, with Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian on the run, she hoped for Wei Wuxian’s survival, more so than the Jiang Sect Heir.

And if, perhaps, after a few years her son proposed sworn brotherhood with that Wei Wuxian, well, it wasn’t without her approval.

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

authors notes i guess?

Okay so writing Madam Yu’s lines legit left me disgusted like wtf was she even saying?? Also like I tried to write Madam Jin similar but a bit less than Madam Yu (ya know madam jin never whipped kids with her spiritual weapons, if she had any, not to our knowledge at least...right?) but ended up venturing straight into slightly dark madam jin heh, also like no engagement, no jin-wei tense relationship, (there’ll be 1-2 parts more probably) also wwx woke up earlier in this one, this’ll serve as catalyst for later years. 

#mdzs fic #jin zixuan #madam jin #jin guangshan #jiang wanyin #jiang fengmian #madam yu #unnamed disciple lol #prompt writing #anon asks #my writing

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Latch (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! Just a little background, this takes place post-Age of Ultron but pre-Civil War. Let me know your thoughts! I have some more ideas in store for this story. :)

Warnings: Just some good old fashioned angst and comfort plus some light fluff :)

“You lift my heart up when the rest of me is down... If there are boundaries I will try to knock them down.”

Despite everything in her life pointing to the contrary, Wanda spend the majority of her life believing in love. Life was cruel and took and took from her endlessly, yet deep down she believed that one day there would be more than that.

When she lost Pietro, she knew she couldn’t believe that anymore. Her only constant, the one she relied on most in this world was cruelly torn away from her. She was alone. Truly and utterly alone for the first time in her life, and it terrified her. It was clear to her that life had decided happiness was not in the cards for her. If life had decided that she didn’t deserve love or happiness, then she didn’t see a point in fighting it any longer. With steely resolve, she retreated into herself and found solace in her loneliness and the emptiness in her heart.  

Despite being a new Avenger, she refrained from getting to know anyone on the team or allowing them to know her. Wanda had established a routine that kept them all at arm’s length despite numerous attempts to reach her from each of them. This worked fairly well for a month.

Then you walked through the doors and everything changed.

Steve had brought you in temporarily to further the Avengers training with your powers as he was your mentor of sorts.  Almost immediately you were drawn to the girl with sadness in her eyes. It didn’t take the advanced skills of a trained assassin to notice that she was withdrawn and perpetually alone. Your heart ached for her. If there was one thing you understood in this world, it was loneliness. You knew what being alone in this cold world felt like and you would never wish it on anyone. You sensed it the moment you met Wanda and you wanted nothing more than to help her bear that heavy burden. To do anything you could to take that pain away from the beautiful stranger who had mesmerized you from the very first glance. As far as you were concerned, she was now your mission.

As cliché as it sounded, Wanda also felt an instant connection with you. Regardless of the connection she felt with you, her walls remained up. She made it her own mission to avoid you at all cost. Too scared to let anyone close again and unwilling to even consider taking the risk. Despite her efforts, you still managed what countless others before you had failed to do. You broke through Wanda’s walls as though they were made of paper. You both gravitated towards one another naturally and you understood that not all situations required words. She appreciated that.

In the beginning you would just sit with her and listen to music, both comforted by one another’s mere presence. Neither really understanding it, but seemingly seeking it. Eventually sitting together transitioned into small talk. Small talk developed into sharing small tidbits of one another’s life. Small talk led to deep conversations which often involved a lot of comforting. Slowly but surely you were helping her heal.  

You two quickly became inseparable. As much as it surprised the other Avengers, they were all just glad to see Wanda with a little less sadness in her eyes. To see Wanda accept help.

After a few weeks, Steve announced you had been formally asked to join the Avengers and had accepted much to Wanda’s dismay. While she had developed a bond with you, she knew that you staying meant that her already fragile heart was facing the threat of even more heartbreak. Staying meant that she would only come to care for you more. Staying meant she could potentially lose you – her last glimmer of hope in this unforgiving world.

Despite her fear, staying away from you had become impossible for her.  

It wasn’t until she learned about your past that she understood. You had been sitting with her quietly on the roof of the compound as usual, soft music playing in the background. That’s when she decided she couldn’t take it anymore. “Why?” she asked with a steady voice as she faced you.

“Hmm?” you hummed, as you turned to meet her questioning eyes, clearly confused by her sudden words.

“Why do you care about me? You barely even know me.”

You looked down and began twisting the rings on your fingers with a furrowed brow. Enough time had passed, and Wanda was about to ask again when you began speaking, your voice solemn. “Because… Because I know what it’s like to be you. I know that sometimes the only way to save yourself from drowning is to accept the hand that is offered to you no matter how much you’d rather sink to the bottom.”  

Wanda studied you for a moment, trying to keep her features neutral but her eyes gave her away. She was surprised. “And how would you know that?”

“We’re more similar than you think.” You replied, which was a cop-out answer. You were just trying to ready yourself in order to tell her of your own past.

“How?” She asked insistently.

Again, Wanda noticed you begin spinning the rings on your fingers. A nervous tick she picked up. “Before I met Steve I was a lot like you.” She opened her mouth to speak, but you merely held your hand up to signal you weren’t done yet. “I’m getting to it. I was a product of Hydra too. Not a volunteer exactly, but I never put up a fight to leave. I stayed for the promise of guaranteed safety for my little sister – Anna- if I cooperated.”

Wanda’s breath hitched. “Y/n-,”

“Hydra had taken my parents years before. I couldn’t let them take her too. Then my powers developed. Developed into something that they could use to harm innocent people. I became their new weapon… but, I couldn’t do it. I refused. A few days later they tied me down and brought Anna in th-then they took her from me. Right in front of my eyes.”

Wanda’s eyes watered, she understood your pain and she finally knew that you understood hers as well. She took your hand in hers and held it tightly. “You don’t have to tell me more.” She whispered.

You shook your head, “You shared your entire past with me. It’s only fair you know my own. After they took Anna I lost control and don’t remember much of what happened but when I came to the majority of the building was in rubble and I was ready to lose myself in the rubble as well to be with Anna once again. That’s when Steve found me. He knew what I was trying to do and didn’t let me. He knocked me out,” you chuckled slightly, “After I awoke again, he sat with me and offered me help, offered me another option in life. It was like I could hear Anna’s voice in my head and she told me to accept, so I did.”

“You accepted the hand that wanted to save you from drowning.” Wanda whispered, squeezing your hand once more.

With a small smile, you nodded. “I did. I had no control over my powers though, so Steve took me to Fury who helped me train for about a year with Steve constantly checking in on me. Now here I am. An Avenger. With you. Offering you a hand, hoping to save you from drowning.”

Wanda closed her eyes for a moment and took in everything you had just confided in her. She took note of your hand still steadily in her own. A life raft. She took note of how for the first time since she lost her brother she didn’t feel alone.

“I don’t think I want to sink to the bottom anymore, Y/n.” she whispered, finally opening her eyes and looking into yours with raw emotion. “Just- just don’t let go.”

You noticed the vulnerability in her eyes as you collected her in your arms, feeling her bury her face against your neck, her tears coating your skin. “I’ve got you, I won’t let go of you.” You whispered into her hair.

Well there it is, part 1! Technically this is a companion piece to my last story “One Day at a Time” but you don’t have to read it to understand this piece since it would be part 1. Inspired by Sam Smith’s “Latch (acoustic)” so full experience would involve listening to it lol. I hope anyone reading this enjoyed it!

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #wandavision x reader #marvel #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #mcu x y/n #mcu x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda #wandavision #the avengers #avengers x fem!reader

[ash-mcj]

Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.

Thiam or maybe Jisaac? 👀 I think either of those would be cute! 💛

#28—Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.

THIAM, JISAAC | General Rating | 859 words | read on AO3

“Is that new?” He nodded towards the kitchen, where Theo and Liam were seated across from each other on the floor, with a half-played mancala board between them.

“Is what—” Isaac began, but paused as he watched Theo hand his half-empty strawberry milkshake over to Liam, who didn’t hesitate before slipping the straw into his mouth and taking a sip. “Aw, Pup caught the recluse.”

Most Friday night pack gatherings at the rebuilt Hale Manor were group ordeals. Everyone would be corralled into the den to fight over what movie to watch and complain about the burnt attempts at making food, which would ultimately lead to a massive argument over what restaurant to order dinner from. But occasionally, Derek allowed the betas to section off and form into their smaller cliques around the manor. Debatably less pack-bonding, but significantly more peaceful—which was a pretty good deal. 

It was during one of those more relaxed nights, when Jackson and Isaac were curled up in an armchair that was definitely not built for two grown men, that Jackson noticed something interesting. 

“Is that new?” He nodded towards the kitchen, where Theo and Liam were seated across from each other on the floor, with a half-played mancala board between them.

“Is what—” Isaac began, but paused as he watched Theo hand his half-empty strawberry milkshake over to Liam, who didn’t hesitate before slipping the straw into his mouth and taking a sip. “Aw, Pup caught the recluse.”

“Be nice,” Derek scolded under his breath, startling the betas by suddenly appearing beside them with an eyebrow raised in warning. Derek's ability to move around silently was inarguably the most supernatural thing in Beacon Hills.

“You’re definitely wasting your breath, telling them to be nice,” Stiles said as he approached them. “I don’t think they’ve ever heard of it.”

“I don’t think anyone ever asked for your opinion,” Isaac quipped.

“He's bullying me again,” Stiles complained.

“Fight your own battles,” Derek dismissed him. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, then frowned as they landed on Theo and Liam. “I can’t believe Liam actually chooses to fraternize with the murderous science experiment.”

“It’s good for Theo to have someone,” Derek told him. “Sulking alone in corners isn’t good for his pack bonds.”

“Yeah but Liam?” Stiles complained. “There are better friends with better intentions.”

“I’m pretty sure Theo’s intentions are good,” Isaac reasoned. “I mean, he hasn’t done anything in awhile.”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest the way he always did when the betas would get into fights. Behind his back, it was referred to as his dad mode . “It’s important to trust your pack.”

“It’s also important to remember past betrayals, since history has a habit of repeating itself.”

“If we held onto betrayals as hard as you hold onto your stupid grudge with Theo, then Peter and Chris wouldn’t be in the pack,” Jackson pointed out.

“Exactly—and that would benefit all of us!” Stiles exclaimed. “I know I speak for everyone when I say that I could’ve lived my entire life without walking in on them with their tongues down each other’s throats. They’re way too old for that—it just turns wrong once you hit a certain age.”

“Well, now we’re all gonna have to see Pup’s tongue down Theo’s throat,” Isaac sighed. 

“Wait, what?” Stiles asked, eyes wide in horror. “What do you mean?”

“They’re totally head over heels for each other,” Jackson claimed. “Look at them.”

“Playing mancala definitely doesn’t mean love,” Stiles argued.

Jackson’s eyes darted to the side with enough sass to rival Peter Hale. “If I offered you a sip from my milkshake, would you drink from my straw?”

“Hell no!” Stiles grimaced. “My mouth will never be anywhere near yours or your probable backwash.”

“Fuck you, Stilinski, you—”

“You don’t share straws with people if you don't want your mouths touching, right?” Isaac cut him off, before Jackson and Stiles could spiral into another one of their signature yelling matches. He nodded towards the kitchen, where Theo was taking his milkshake back from Liam and putting the straw between his lips.

“Ew,” Stiles groaned, putting his hand over his eyes. “Ew, ew—I need a drink.”

“I’ve got wine,” Derek chuckled, before gently guiding Stiles towards the wine cabinet by a hand on the small of his back.

Isaac hummed softly, then said, “I could go for a milkshake right now.”

“You can take my car to go get one,” Jackson offered as he pushed himself up out of the chair to fish his car keys from the pocket of his skinny jeans. Isaac stood as well and reached for them, but Jackson pulled them away with a smirk. “If you share it with me.”

Isaac grinned and shook his head while leaning down to press a kiss against his mate’s mouth. A content sigh escaped from Jackson’s nose as he relaxed into him—providing just enough distraction for Isaac to snag the keys from his hand. He pulled back, jangling the keys triumphantly as he walked backwards, towards the door.

“I love you, but not enough to let you steal my milkshake.”

“Asshole!” Jackson flipped him off, a childish pout on his face.

Isaac shot him a playful wink, before slipping outside.

After ten minutes of sulking alone in the arm chair, Jackson’s cell phone lit up with two texts from Isaac: a picture of two milkshakes, one strawberry and one chocolate, along with a message that read, ‘gimme half of yours, i’ll give you half of mine.’

FROM THIS PROMPT LIST

#you: thiam or jisaac #me: yes #thanks for the prompt! #thiam #thiam fic rec #jisaac #sterek

[ray-ray-writings]

HELLO RAY! I have a sorta cute image prompt for you to possibly do? Idk it's cute to me so ima just day it, it's a Sam x Reader. Now they aren't together in it but actually get together in it, so basically we all know Sam has adopted Tommy at this point, but what if the Reader did the same thing *gasp*! Sort like a mother figure? But anyway, it's clear that Sam and the reader like each other but are awkward about it because reasons, so Tommy does as Tommy does and becomes WingmanInnit and attempts to get the two together, with out actually saying to either of them that's what he's doing. Thank you for doing this if you do💙💙💙 have a good day or night, make sure to eat/drink/take your meds, and have a good nap you deserve it!

HELLO FRIEND! I’m so sorry this took so long to write but I really hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! This is a fem! reader because reader is referred to as “a mother figure” but you can honestly just pretend it’s “parental figure” and make it gender neutral! 

Honey Barbecue-Awesamedude

You first met Tommy while you were walking the Prime Path back to your home from a trip to gather a specific type of wood. You quite literally crashed into the boy because he was so beaten up and disoriented that he didn’t even notice you and ran right into you. Your hands immediately reach up and grab onto the younger boy’s upper arms to stabilize him. “Tommy?” His bright blue eyes meet yours and you can tell he’s pretty out of it. “Okay kiddo, let’s get you to my house huh?” 

With a little bit of struggle, you manage to get Tommy into your home and into your bed. Once his head hits your pillows, he’s out cold. You carefully clean him up and patch up his wounds before setting a glass of water by his bed and leaving him in the room. 

Tommy doesn’t come out of the room until around sundown. He’s yawning, but he looks so confused but when his eyes meet yours, everything seems to come back to him. He gets this really sheepish look on his face and he rubs the back of his neck. “Hey… Sorry about earlier. Thanks for taking care of me.” 

You give him a bright smile and nod, “Of course, Tommy. There’s no need to be sorry. It’s something anyone would do. Now come sit down. Dinner is almost ready.” Tommy hesitates for only a moment before seeming to get a whiff of whatever it is you’re cooking and making his way to the table and seating himself. 

You force Tommy to stay the night at your house. It was getting really late and you didn’t want to run the risk of him getting into more trouble and hurting himself even further. He left once daybreak came, but that wouldn’t the last time he’d be spending the night at your house. 

After that day, you kind of became like a mother figure to Mr. Tommy. You were always there for him and he always had a place in your home. You were one of the only people that was always on Tommy’s side no matter what and was able to remember that he was a liter child that needed to be taken care of. There was only one other person in the entire SMP that looked after Tommy like you did… And Tommy believed that you two would make a perfect couple. 

You and Sam were the only ones that looked out for Tommy for no other reason than to look after him. You two had kind of become the young boy’s unofficial parents. Yes, Tommy had his own house, but most nights he could be found in either your’s or Sam’s house. 

You and Sam knew each other, of course you knew each other. You two interacted sometimes but most of your conversations were about Tommy. Even with your limited conversations, you both quickly caught feelings for each other. The mutual care over Tommy was something you bonded over as well as, Tommy definitely doesn’t stop talking about you. You both had fallen for each other through your shared love of the boy that you considered your son, but also his words that he spoke about the two of you. 

It would have been impossible not to fall in love with him. 

However, it almost would be more impossible to tell him that you were in love with him. 

And the same goes for him. Sam had feelings for you, but there was no way in hell he would ever tell you that. 

This doesn’t make your feelings for each other any less obvious to one Mr. Tommyinnit. Contrary to popular belief, Tommy isn’t stupid. He’s very smart and very observant and he could tell almost instantly that the two of you clicked and that you two had developed feelings for each other. But it was also very obvious that you two knew of your feelings, but refused to acknowledge them.

He was going to fix that. 

Sam had informed Tommy that he had made a nice steak dinner for supper that night and that he really would love it to have company over to share it with. Tommy saw this as the perfect opportunity to push you two together. Tommy told you that Sam had invited you two over for dinner that night and you believed him. So you dressed up in a cute outfit and at 10 minutes till, you and Tommy headed over to Sam’s place. 

Sam was very surprised to find you standing at his door with Tommy, but it was a very pleasant surprise and one that he welcomed. Sam moved out of the way of the doorway and allowed you inside. You turned back around to face him and Tommy and found an odd sight. Tommy was still standing outside, staring down at his communicator. “Everything alright Tommy?” You ask, a little concerned as to who he was messaging. 

Tommy’s head snaps up and meets your eyes, a small smirk forms on his face as he speaks. “Oh yeah. I’m fine… Tubbo not so much. I have to go help him. I don’t know how long it will take. Go ahead and eat without me.” 

Not realizing what he was doing, you jumped in, “Oh! Is he okay? Do we need to come help?” 

“No, no, no, no. It’s fine. He’ll be fine. You two being there will probably just embarrass him. Seriously, enjoy your time together,” Tommy tells the two of you before turning and running away. 

Sam knows what the child had just pulled, you not so much. Sam could only glare after the boy but once he turns around his eyes find your frame, they soften. “Should we follow him? I know he said it’s fine but I don’t want--” 

“Y/N. It’s Tommy and Tubbo. They’ll be fine. If not, they have their communicators. But if you want to leave, I would completely under--” “No! No. I want to be here… with you.” 

There was a beat of awkward silence before Sam cleared his throat and held out his hand to you. “Well in that case, may I?” You carefully reach your hand out and let him grab it. He gingerly leads you through his house and to his kitchen table where he carefully guides you to sit down in a chair before pushing you in. He walks over to the counter and picks up two plates that he prepared right before the knock on the door and sits one down in front of you before sitting himself down with the other one. 

“I hope everything tastes okay. I’m not the best chef but I wanted to do something nice for once,” Sam tells you sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck and looking anywhere but your face. Even though he’s not looking at you, you offer him a sweet smile and a laugh. 

“I’m sure it will taste great Sam,” you assure the creeper hybrid as you pick up your fork and knife. Sam copies your motions and gives you a big smile and together you begin to dig into the meal. 

The food tastes great. Sam really undersold himself, and you were sure to let him know. You complimented his cooking over and over as you two dined and chatted. It was really cute to watch his freckles light up as a form of blush to coat his cheeks under your heavy praise. A lot of the time all he could manage to get out in response was a small “thank you.” 

The conversation flowed naturally between you two as you discovered you had a lot more in common than just caring for Tommy. You two talked about what you did for work and what you did for fun. Some of the conversation revolved around Tommy, but not a whole lot. You mostly used your experience with Tommy as a way to jump from on topic to another. 

You two continue to talk even after you’re done eating. You help Sam clean up, despite his protests, and you two take a seat on his couch and talk for a while more. You two snap out of your conversation when one of the redstone clocks he’d made chimes loudly letting the two of you know that it was now 10pm (2200). You’re both shocked about how late it had gotten, and although you wanted to keep talking, you knew you should probably get home. 

Sam, ever the gentleman, offers to walk you home, and you still wanting to be able to spend a little more time with him, you accept. Together, the two of you walk back to your house. Sam has his sword just in case but no mobs bother you. You two get to your front door sooner than you would have liked. The two of you stop and turn toward each other in front of your door. 

“Well… This is me,” you state after a few moments of silence. 

“This is you… I had a really nice time tonight Y/N… Would we be able to do this again sometime?” 

A wide smile spreads across your face as you nod a little frantically, “Yeah. Yeah, I would love that.”

There are a few more moments of silence before Sam takes a deep breath and then blurts out, “Can I kiss you?” 

You’re surprised at the question, but you find yourself giving him a small nod. Sam seems a little shocked at your answer, but his hand comes up and cups the side of your face and he ever so slowly leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You immediately melt into him, your hands finding their way onto his chest and slowly dragging up onto his shoulders and you pull him a little bit closer to you. His other hand finds itself on your waist, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss. 

The kiss ends too soon for your taste, but you also know that if it didn’t end when it did, you’re not sure it would have ever ended. Sam gives you a soft smile after pulling away. He carefully removes his hands from your body, you doing the same. 

“Goodnight Y/N.” 

“Goodnight Sam.” 

You stand there, back pressed against your front door, watching after him until he was no longer in your eyesight. You let out a small dreamy sigh before turning around and letting yourself into your own house. 

You are immediately startled by the presence of a teenage boy sitting in your kitchen, gorging himself on what looks like some chicken wings. “What the heck are you doing here? Is everything okay? Is Tubbo okay?” You ramble out as you rush further into the kitchen, placing yourself between beside him, your eyes scanning over his body, making sure that he’s okay. 

Tommy just rolls his eyes and laughs, “Tubbo’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I just needed a place to eat my wings. Wings for a wingman. I’d say I’m a pretty successful wingman?”

It was then that it hit you. Tubbo never really needed help with anything. Tommy didn’t leave you two alone to help Tubbo. He had set you up. Tommy had forced you and Sam to be alone together because he knew that this would happen. That the two of you would fall deeper and in turn would admit that you had feelings for one another…. This sneaky, meddling kid. 

You wanted to be mad. You really did. But you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at the boy for giving you the opportunity to go out on a date with the man you had been crushing on for many weeks now. So instead of taking the time to scold him, you instead opted to playfully push Tommy’s head before snatching a wing from his plate. 

Tommy opened his mouth to complain but fell silent at the sight of your playful glare. “Now, I will be taking this honey barbeque wing and will be heading off to bed. Clean up after yourself and get to sleep soon. Goodnight kiddo.” Tommy gives you a small smile and a nod before wishing you goodnight as well. You turn on your heel and walk out of the room toward your bedroom. But right before you were about to exit, you stop and turn back around. 

“Hey Tommy?” You call, drawing his attention to you. You give him a soft smile before raising the wing you had taken from his plate. “Thank you for being our wingman.” And with that you turn on your heel once more and continue on your way to your room. Even though he’s a sneaky, meddling kid, you couldn’t help but be very thankful for the boy that had brought you and Sam close together… You’ll have to make sure he’s the best man at the wedding. 

#mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt drabble #mcyt one shot #awesamdude x reader #awesamdude imagine #awesamdude one shot #awesamdude drabble #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit imagine #tommyinnit one shot #tommyinnit drabble #ray-ray-writings #honey barbeque #anon #requested