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#left over hormones or something). but turns out it was just my body compensating for the iron deficiency (which is either my body being

subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

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Let’s have a baby

yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader

A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work.

TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle

You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.

Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.

Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."

You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.

And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...

They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.

What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.

Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.

"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.

"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."

"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."

You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.

But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."

As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.

"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."

"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.

To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.

"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.

As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.

"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.

Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."

And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.

Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.

"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"

Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"

Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.

You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.

Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.

God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.

" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.

You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"

You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.

Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.

He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.

"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."

You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"

You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.

Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.

"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."

You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."

Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest."

He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.

"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.

Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."

"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"

You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.

"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."

"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."

"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."

You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."

You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."

"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."

---

Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.

"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.

"Why can't we just bring her home already?"

Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.

If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.

He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago.

#bnha yandere #yandere erasermic #yandere x reader #yandere present mic #yandere aizawa

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

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[ k i n k t o b e r ] d a y 1 - masterlist

↪ character: shigaraki tomura [boku no hero academia]

↪ tags/warnings: +18, female!reader, overestimulation, light dom!reader, a bit of choking.

It had been an excruciatingly long day. Since the moment you woke up, your body had been aching to get some release. You weren’t sure if it were your hormones or the fact it had been over a week since Shigaraki had last touched you, but you found yourself humping a pillow not long after waking up. It had done nothing. You had even ventured to touch yourself underneath your clothes but it wasn’t enough. It left you feeling empty, your soaked pussy clenching over nothing and you sighed defeated and hopped on a cold shower.

Maybe that was why the moment you heard Shigaraki opening the door to his bedroom, you could feel a known pulsation between your thighs. You were sitting on the top of his bed, a vermillion lingerie set under the villain’s oversized shirt you had thrown over and even if he hadn’t shared a second look at you, you noticed yourself getting wet when he let himself fall on the bed on his back, eyes closed.

“How was the meeting?” you asked him, pushing a couple of strands of hair away from his face. Your fingers lingered on his skin, drawing idle patterns across his cheekbones and jaw.

“Tiring,” he muttered, not opening his eyes. Moving from your position, you straddled him, softly grinding your hips against his crotch. You hated the shaky breath that left your lips at the contact.

Shigaraki opened his eyes and looked at you, just now noticing what you were wearing and the dark glint in your eyes.

“I am tired,” he reminded you. As an answer, you took off his shirt, revealing the lingerie underneath.

“That’s alright. I can do most of the work,” you replied, starting to unbutton his pants.

In a matter of minutes, his pants were down to his ankles, and you had made him remove his shirt as well. Your fingers traced the scars on his chest as you rode him, his hands on your ass as he let you decide on the pace. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, grunts coming out of his mouth as he dug his fingertips on your skin, making sure to leave two fingers on the air. Shigaraki buried his face on your breasts, still covered in lingerie, muffling the sounds coming out of his mouth.

You knew what you were doing. Just when you felt he was grabbing you tighter and the muscles on his shoulders and neck tensed up, you would switch to a slower pace. It felt almost sinful the way you would slide up his length, his tip barely inside you anymore, to sink down again, taking him all and loving the way his cock stretched you on its way back inside.

Shigaraki’s hands travelled to your waist, holding it tight enough to leave bruises for a few days. You took the hint and slowed your movements again, making him look up to you, his eyebrows furrowed. Taking a fistful of his hair, you pressed your lips against his, shifting your hips up and rubbing your pussy against his cock.

You pulled away to look at his needy expression as you massaged the head of his cock your entrance, not letting it inside longer than an inch before pulling away again.

“Fucking tease,” he snarled, to which you only smiled.

“Why? You wanted this?” you asked in an innocent tone, before sinking down forcefully, filling yourself up with his length. The burning sensation provoked by your movements was heavily compensated with the way your boyfriend’s eyes turned blank for a second. You recovered your quick pace, the grip on his hair tightening as you moved your hips as fast as you could. It didn’t take long for Shigaraki to come inside you, letting out a loud grunt as he pressed his teeth together. You closed your eyes for a moment, basking in the pulsating sensation inside you as he filled you up with a heavy load of cum.

When you opened them again, you were welcomed with the sight of Shigaraki’s erratic breath. You started moving to help him ride out his orgasm, your hands stroking his bare chest and shoulders, enamoured with the way his cheeks were flushed red. A few moments later, you felt his hands on your ass again, trying to pull you away.

It was true he didn’t expect you to slap his hands away, but what really surprised him was your decision of moving your hips again, the cum inside you letting you slide up and down his cock with ease. The sound was filthy, but it only riled you up even more.

“The fuck you’re doing,” he questioned, but you only answered with a smile. He thought about forcefully pulling you out, it wouldn’t take much energy to do so, but the pain of the overstimulation was not long gone and before he can decide on what to do, he’s coming inside you again. His second orgasm wasn’t as strong as the first one, but it certainly made him feel like you had squeezed him out of any cum he had left.

Unlike the first time, you didn’t pause your movement and just kept going. He opened his mouth to say something, but you put your thumb over it.

“Shh… let me take care of you,” you whispered. You started moving your hips in small circles and he lost his balance, falling on the bed. He propped himself again with the elbows, but there wasn’t any strength left in him to sit up once more. Shigaraki sets his eyes on your boobs bouncing up and down, your hips never losing their pace as you kept burying him inside of you.

Taking advantage of his new position, you leaned your torso forward and put your left hand on the mattress just by the side of his head. It was now easier to slide all over his length. Unlike before, this time you completely pulled away before sinking back with ease.

“Look, babe,” you said, your breathing ragged but a triumphant smirk on your face. “Your cock already knows it’s way to my pussy,” you chuckled, and grabbed his neck with your right hand.

You switched back to a quick pace, your hips doing a small circle every time your ass clashed against his thighs. Shigaraki wasn’t one to beg and you weren’t expecting him to. But if you had to be honest the disjointed expression on his face as he was barely holding on was the best reward you could have.

“Such a good boy. How many times can you come for me, huh?” you asked, pressing your thumb against the pulse point on his neck. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it other than heavy pants and a couple of curse words. You tightened the hold on his neck and leaned closer to him. “Come for me again, yes?” you whispered, grazing your lips against his.

His third load didn’t make you wait, and you swallowed the loud whine he made against your mouth. His elbows finally gave out and he fell on the bed, panting as his cock twitched inside you once again. You softly moved your hips side to side, just enough to help him ride it out and then pulled yourself out. Ignoring the mess that started gushing down your thighs, you set yourself by his side on the bed.

“Told you I would do most of the job,” you reminded him with a small giggle. He turned his head towards you, a tired but vengeful look in his eyes. You gave him a small kiss and jumped off the bed again to the bathroom, knowing that any day he would make sure to give you a spoon of your own medicine. And honestly? You couldn’t wait for it.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #bnha smut #bnha imagines #mha imagines #kinktober 2020

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 14 | S.R.)

Summary: Separated and terrified, Spencer and Reader rely on their unique skills to survive. The team, minus Penelope and Derek, don’t know who the strange girl in the bank is, but they find out very interesting things about her history.

A/N: I don’t know how banks work. Idk how heists work. I know nothing. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: ANGST. Just. All of it. All of the angst. Every bit.   Content Warning: Gun violence, discussions of death and dying Word Count: 10k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Hello, my name is (y/n)(y/l/n) and I’m calling from the Bank of America on K St. Northwest to report shots fired. The shots sounded like burst-fire from multiple semiautomatics.”

When adrenaline kicks in, there are a lot of things that don’t feel real. Time seems to warp into some ominous presence weighing down on you, but your body has never felt lighter.

“Ma’am, where are you?” Her voice sounded so far away. My own just felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“I’m inside the bathroom. Listen, I might not have a lot of time. There’s a federal agent inside the bank. His name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Call...”

My mouth blanked on the names of the two men Spencer talked about the most. I’d met them both, why couldn’t I remember?

Several more shots rang through the building as an answer. It was enough to shake loose the names, which flowed from me before I could even comprehend where they came from.

“Call SSA Aaron Hotchner and… Derek Morgan.”

“Can you remain on the line?” She sounded insistent — which is against their protocol by the way. My eyes were glued to the bathroom door’s hinges.

“Only until the door opens.”

The sentence conveyed my thoughts without actually forming the words. Once that door opens, I’m probably going to die. It wasn’t a completely irrational fear.

“Okay. I need you to remain calm. Did you see any of the gunmen?”

Jesus, it was like everything I’d just told her had gone completely over her head. “No, I’m in the bathroom.”

“Does the agent have his service weapon?”

“No.”

If she didn’t ask me a question I could say yes to soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

I tried not to think about Spencer outside, but I couldn’t help it. All of my thoughts were on him, even before the commotion.

Was he even still alive?

“Help is on the way, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

“Please hurry.”

My entire body shook from the hormones, my instincts telling me to do anything besides sit crouched on a toilet in a bathroom stall. I don’t even know why I bothered hiding. They would definitely kick them in, or just shoot straight through the doors.

“We’ve contacted Agent Hotchner and he’s also on his way.”

Finally, some good fucking news. I released my breath as quietly as I could, closing my eyes for just a moment to compensate for the fact I hadn’t blinked in several minutes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the phone like it could actually do something for me past this point. But it couldn’t. No amount of breathing exercises would help me through this one.

Suddenly, there was movement outside the door. A crowd of people were shuffling past the door, and I heard the distinct sound of a toddler wailing.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t hang up—“

I couldn’t wait, though. With trembling hands, I erased the evidence that I’d ever called them in the first place. And then I resumed my position as a sitting duck; quietly and as ready as I ever could be.

I listened for his voice, but I never heard it.

—————————————————

Three seconds.

Did you know that a semiautomatic weapon can fire up to three rounds per second, depending on how fast the user can pull the trigger?

After the first shot is fired, no one moves. Puzzled and alert, people are paralyzed. Your first reaction is to look for the source of the sound. It’d been a second before I turned to see the three armed people and two dead security guards behind me.

It takes the average person one and a half seconds to cognitively process that they're in a potentially life-threatening situation. It takes another .7 seconds for a physical response to kick in.

Three seconds.That was long enough for a maximum of nine shots per person to be fired- twenty-seven shots in total; it was long enough for the air to be filled with the sudden outburst of helpless screams the patrons of the bank, and it was long enough for me to realize that I didn’t have my gun and that my girlfriend wasn’t by my side.

“Everybody get down on the ground!”

Amid the chaos, I felt that all too familiar twisting sensation in my gut that begged time to reverse just enough for this to be a dream. Enough time to reverse the decisions that led us here.

But time was a cruel mistress, and she did not plan to bend to the whims of mankind, no matter how desperate.

Another deafening burst of sound rang through the air, shots fired into the ceiling now as myself and the others fell to the ground.

My gaze was fixed on the bathroom entrance. I couldn’t breathe. Please, I begged, stay hidden.

“Listen up! If everyone does what we say, you can all go back to your boring fucking lives.”

Injuries occur in less than two percent of bank robberies. Deaths occur in less than one. Saturdays are the second to least likely day for a robbery to take place. In the past 5 years, less than 10 people have been killed in bank robberies, and most of them were the perpetrators. Statistics usually calmed me down and helped me focus.

But these people didn’t care about statistics. They were defying the odds I had just recited to myself. They had already killed two people. Our luck was already stacked against us.

“Take everything out of your pockets and put it in front of you.”

As soon as the order was given, I was running through an inventory of everything in my pockets. It didn’t take me long to realize that with a cursory inspection of the items, they would figure out who I was.

But what were the odds that they would actually scrutinize them? I figured they were fairly low; you don’t rob a bank to get cheap jewelry and petty cash, even in a bank. What were the odds they would notice if I left something in my pocket — especially if my wallet was in front of me. If it wasn’t large enough to be a weapon, and I put out my objects of value, why wouldn’t I put out the rest of the contents?

So I decided to take the risk, removing my wallet while retaining my separate identification.

Luckily, the attention seemed pretty far removed from me. If I wasn’t too busy being extremely grateful, I might have been offended that they didn’t consider me a threat in the building.

“Alright ladies, all of you get up and follow my lovely friend here. You’re going on a little trip. Fellas, you stay right where you are.”

The sound of my heart pounding drowned out the instructions that weren’t intended for me. It was fine, I hadn’t planned on moving, anyway. As long as I could see the door to the bathroom, I was perfectly fine right where I was.

But I still felt for the terrified women that were shakily rising to their feet. To my right, I saw a woman struggling to hold a small infant. My heart was fracturing at the struggle, wishing I could help her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk doing anything that might draw attention to myself.

I felt like a traitor. I felt useless. I was quite literally trained to handle this exact situation, but now that I was here, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t thinking about strategy or how to maximize efficiency; all I was thinking about was her.

“Jake!” A woman’s voice screamed from the other side of the room. When I turned, I heard the sound of a rifle cracking against bone before the man hit the ground.

“Jake, huh?” The man above him laughed, using the business end of the rifle to turn the disoriented man on his side. “Well, Jake, how would you feel about your girlfriend watching you die?”

“Please don’t hurt him!” The woman sobbed, scrambling up off the floor that she’d resisted leaving. I wondered if (y/n) would have refused to leave me, too.

The man prodded the woman with the gun, urging her to follow the rest while simultaneously providing easy enough instructions. The man apparently named Jake made a few noises of desperate protest as he watched her leave.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m sorry,” Jake pleaded, “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt her. I’ll be quiet.”

Smart man. I understood his hesitancy, though. His girlfriend kept her neck craned back until she was no longer in sight, gazing back at him for as long as she physically could. I closed my eyes just for a moment, to try and combat their current strain.

Unfortunately, just like it always seems to happen, that’s when they spoke the words I had been dreading.

“Hey, you check the bathrooms yet?”

“Nah, I got it.”

I closed my eyes tighter now, scared that if I opened them, I’d give myself away. There was no possible way that I could hide the terror I currently felt. To be fair, I think it was only natural to be scared — but not like this.

There was a loud crashing noise of doors slamming, and the voice I knew better than I knew my own reached my ears, making sounds I’d never heard from her before.

Don’t fight them. I pleaded again, Please, don’t fight them.

“Let go of me!” She screamed as the door to the bathroom swung open. Unable to keep my eyes shut any longer, I opened them to see her clawing at the ground as she was dragged out by her ankle. “I can walk by myself! Let go of me!”

I wasn’t sure if she didn’t see me in the commotion, or if she’d just made the decision to act like she hadn’t. Either way, I was grateful. Still, my worries were justified as one of the three unsubs walked over to me.

“Why are you looking at her like that? You know her?”

Craning my head up, I shook my head no. It must not have been very convincing; the rage in my heart at them for thrusting her into this situation evident in my eyes.

“You wanna play hero, kid?”

“Sorry. No.” I muttered, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to regulate my heart rate or my voice, “She’s… very loud. I get headaches.”

“Yeah well, deal with it.”

That might have been the end of it, if I’d played my hand better. But it turned out that the risk I had previously elected to take was woefully miscalculated. I didn’t meet their eyes anymore, knowing that doing so might threaten whatever frail illusion of masculinity they possessed.

It still didn’t stop them from holding the gun to my head.

“Empty your pockets.”

“Okay. I can do that, but I have to put my hand in my pocket.” I explained, moving my shaking hand to my back pocket, “It’s not a weapon.”

For once, I was grateful that I was the resident wimp when it came to stressful situations. Sure, I could handle myself, but I definitely didn’t look like I wanted to be there. Had I been any more of a visible threat, I was certain they would have figured out my identity long before this point. They might even have killed me right away.

“Hurry up.”

Swallowing hard, I pulled the identification from my pocket, flipping it open and holding it up for him to see, my gaze aimed fully forward. He snatched the badge away, a cheeky chuckle and a smile in his words.

“FBI, huh? Well, aren’t we lucky. You just became our most valuable player.”

—————————————————

Morgan arrived on the scene relatively unhurried and mostly just curious. The information Garcia had sent over text message was vague, likely due to the crime being a local one. Nothing about this seemed to be the BAU’s usual fare.

It took him almost no time to find Hotch, dressed in casual clothing, surrounded by the massive response team swarming around the bank. But Hotch hadn’t spotted him yet, fully involved with SWAT.

“What’s going on?”

Finally turning to notice his arrival, Hotch gave his normal matter-of-fact report in his simple, succinct manner. “Three people stormed the bank approximately 20 minutes ago and killed two security guards. There are 19 confirmed hostages inside the bank.”

But there was one significant detail that seemed to be missing, and Morgan started to scan the crowd for familiar faces as he spoke. “Hotch, this doesn’t sound like anything we’ve been working on. Why are we responding?”

“The caller alerted us that Reid is inside.”

The words were so unexpected that Morgan actually did a double take, his eyebrows furrowed and bowed as he replayed them in his head. “Wait, how did the caller know that?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said with an equally perplexed look, gripping tighter to the communicator in his hand, “but she referred to us and him by name.”

‘She?’ Morgan thought, his heart stopping for a second as he excused himself from Hotch’s side, pulling out his phone and frantically calling Garcia, who had already made her way to the BAU.

“Hey there handsome.” It was a mild nickname for the famed Penelope Garcia, but Derek knew that she was probably already in a tough spot. After all, it’s not every day that one of their own is in these situations. At least, not unexpectedly.

“Hey Garcia, do you have eyes on the people in the bank?”

He could hear the feverish click-clacking of keys on the other end, followed closely by her equally frantic voice. “I’m working on it but so far I can only see the main lobby. They separated the women and the men for some reason. Why would they do that?”

“Just focus,” he calmly reminded, “Can you see the women?”

“No. All the women and children were moved to the back.”

Rubbing his face to try and relieve the tension that had quickly made its home over his jaw, Morgan glanced over at the entrance to the bank. It was strange to think that so much had happened so quickly.

Garcia had mentioned twice now that the women had been moved to the back, and he was trying to figure out why they would do that beyond the usual control mechanisms.

“I’m trying to see in the back now, but apparently banks take their video surveillance far more seriously than everything else. Last I checked, a camera never stole money or fired a gun!”

“Focus, babygirl.” It was an instruction for himself just as much as it was for her.

“Sorry, I’m nervous, and you know how I get when I’m nervous!” She squeaked, “I don’t like seeing you guys on my screens. I’d much rather see you in person, safe and sound and preferably smiling.”

Trying not to lose his patience, Morgan just sighed. It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault, except that of the bastards who just had to go and ruin a perfectly nice weekend.

“Can you at least tell me who the caller was? Did they call from inside?”

“They were inside and, one second, let me check, it was... oh.” Her voice cut off abruptly, dropping into a high pitched, desperate whisper. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s... the girl from the movies,” Garcia’s voice got faster and more panicked, “Derek, it’s (y/n). It’s Reid’s girlfriend. Reid’s girlfriend is inside the bank.”

Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the information. Because now that he knew Reid wasn’t alone, he felt the need to tell Hotch.

A profiler with a loved one involved was in dangerous territory. It wasn’t just Reid, but Morgan had personally seen just how unhinged Reid could get when it came to (y/n).

“Can you see her?” He asked, his voice lower than it was before.

“Oh, god, yes! I can!” It was not the kind of excited exclamation Morgan had hoped to hear, but at least he had confirmation she was alive. “She was in the bathroom but… They’re dragging her away…”

Morgan had tried not to pry too far in his best friend’s life before, and he took a moment to consider whether his next request was honestly necessary, or if he was just trying to find a reason to snoop.

But he wasn’t. There was something off about that girl. It wasn’t that she was bad or wrong, but she was far too comfortable in situations that didn’t call for it. The way she carried herself told him that she had held her own hand too often.

“Garcia, I know I’ve already done this to you once but... I need you to tell me everything you can find on her.”

—————————————————

My entire body ached; the sensation of an unfamiliar hand clenched tightly around my ankle burned long after I was released. It was definitely sprained, at the very least. I didn’t dare try to touch it, though. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble, and the bristling discomfort kept me where I was.

Which, for now was on my knees in the backroom of a bank lobby. Beside us was a large, heavily reinforced steel door with way too many different contraptions. I decided then that this whole arms race between burglars and corporate America had gotten a little fucking ridiculous.

But however annoyed I was by that, I was far more irritated by the hushed bickering between the man and woman holding rifles on the other side of the room. I could only hear every couple of words, but I got the gist of what they were arguing about.

Apparently, they’d never heard of an alarm system that’s connected to locks, which seemed extremely stupid for people who had gotten this far. In hindsight, that should have been my first clue that something was off about this entire situation.

Still, I couldn’t deal with them making the same fucking arguments over and over, so eventually I blurted out what I’m certain any millennial in the room would know. “The keycard won’t work if they’ve sounded the alarm.”

The statement earned me a gun to my face, and after a brief second of confusion, I flinched away from the cold metal of the barrel.

“What was that, sweetheart?” She was clearly looking to gauge my reaction rather than actually ask me to repeat the information. That was fine. I wasn’t exactly a talented actress, and I didn’t see the point in pretending to be meek.

If she was going to kill me, she was going to do it. Although I was certain Spencer would disagree, I chose to believe that our fate is dictated long before it happens. I was not a profiler; if I survived, it would be because I had been taught to survive through brute force and spite rather than calm negotiation.

“The keycard system is linked to the alarms,” I said, slower now, “Someone hit the alarm, so the cards aren’t going to work. You’ll need to use the old school keys.”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a much lower register as she crouched down to my height. “How would you know? You work here?”

“No, my dad worked security.” It wasn’t a lie as much as it was an understatement, but she didn’t need to know that. I guess that’s one of those good things growing up with the dad I did; I got very comfortable speaking in vague generalities. Spencer hated it.

“Well, your daddy isn’t here to help you now.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. But that didn’t mean I was alone, I reminded myself. Despite being dragged and my vision turned literally upside down, I had caught a glimpse of him in the lobby. He was alive. That thought alone was keeping me sane right now.

“The different keys you need for an override are probably kept on separate people so one person can’t do it alone. Probably the different managers.” I muttered, nodding to the side where one of the employees flinched at my words. Anything to get away from the fucking gun in my face.

“Is she right?” The woman sneered to the manager, turning her full attention to someone else. I felt a little guilty, since the poor manager seemed a lot less put together than I was. But hey, they needed her, too.

“Yes, I already gave you my keys,” she squeaked, holding her trembling hands up, “Th-There’s another set behind the desk I think.”

“Would you look at that...” It was the first time the man in the room addressed me since he had pulled me out of the stall, and I had to admit I wasn’t exactly a fan of his. But at the same time, I knew that he was going to be remarkably more receptive to me than the woman. She seemed to be the one who was actually in charge.

“Little miss problem was actually helpful,” he cheered, raising his weapon to point to the ceiling as he approached me. I chewed nervously on my cheeks, trying to meet his eyes but finding them uncomfortably bare.

“You should turn off the camera too, I’m just saying.” This time I didn’t nod, using one cautious finger to point to the small device that was currently staring right at me. I understood that it was probably helpful to Spencer’s team to be able to see, but I wasn’t really keen on my death being videotaped... as well as anything else I might end up doing.

‘Never leave a trace.’ That’s what I’d always heard.

‘Keep’em guessing. Even if you think it’s gonna kill you, because you don’t want to live with that over your head.’

“Fine. Do that and go get the keys.” He sounded intrigued, and I felt his searing gaze against my face.

“I think you should do it.”

The tension from before, when the two were arguing, had quickly resurfaced. She clearly didn’t trust him to be alone in the room, which solidified my belief that she was calling the shots, and he was just being dragged along for the ride.

In another life, I might have respected her ability to order stupid men around.

“Why the fuck is that?” He snapped, earning a bored roll of her eyes. The next thing out of her mouth was expected, but unfortunately the last thing I wanted to hear.

“I want to talk to her alone.”

Great. And naturally, her idea of ‘talking’ to me included weaponry. Using the end of the gun to tilt my head up to her, she gave a suspicious smile.

“Why are you helping us?”

“I want to go home.” It was my immediate and instinctual answer. It was the truth. I was helping them because I wanted to get the fuck out of here.

But you know, people expect everyone to have a squeaky-clean moral compass, so I decided to give a few more reasons.

“And I don’t give a shit about a massive corporate bank. I was just here to go to the bathroom– I don’t even have an account here.”

Maybe that was too many reasons, because just as her hesitance waned, it was back in full force. Shoving the barrel against my throat, she sneered, “I don’t believe you. You’re too comfortable with a gun in your face. You a cop, too?”

Cop?

I tilted my head to the side, baring more of my throat to her as I drawled, “Who’s a cop?”

For once, I was glad that Spencer had made such a point of reassuring me that he was not ‘a cop,’ because otherwise I’m certain the terror would have been obvious in my eyes. But for now, I could trust the numb apathy that was washing over me.

Please don’t be talking about Spencer. Please don’t know that. Good things never happened to law enforcement in situations like this. Hell, the two security guards had been dead in seconds.

“I think you know.” She was smiling, and I realized that this fucking psychopath was sharper than she wanted me to think.

“I don’t.” The words were said through clenched teeth, and I prayed that she would see them as insistent anger over the fear that lie beneath them, “And why would you kill me if I was helping you?”

She smiled, drawing the weapon up and down my throat until it landed lower at my chest. The movements were slow and light, a playful glint in her eyes when they met mine again.

“For fun.”

I didn’t move a muscle, my body remaining tense under her ministrations as I forced myself to hold my gaze steady. If she wanted fear, she wouldn’t get it from me.

“Then do it.”

The look she gave me told me she had seriously considered it, probably a little annoyed with my presence. But there was something else there, too, that same soft recognition that in another reality we might have been friends. I’m sure she saw herself in me a little bit; or at least somebody useful.

This confirmed my suspicion that I’d never really be able to read a psychopath. I didn’t understand how Spencer could do it every day. It’d only been a few minutes alone with her and I could feel myself losing the happy memories of the day.

Luckily, the man returned at the same time I saw a plan developing in her mind.

“Hey, come help me,” he called to her. Her response was surprisingly swift, the metal that was tracing over my collar bones disappearing without another word. He was holding a small bag of money, which seemed to seriously irritate the woman.

“Did you get that money from behind the counter?” I asked it before she had a chance. I wanted him to trust me. Or at least look at me more. It wasn’t that I wanted his attention as much as I knew I could distract him fairly easily.

He looked over at me, a dumbfounded look on his face. Men are so fucking stupid, I thought. The pissed off expression on his partner’s face told me that she agreed.

“It’s going to explode if you mess with it or it leaves the area. Probably with tear gas. If you’re escaping in a car, you’re not gonna want it.”

“Yeah, we know about dye packs, bitch.” She snapped, grabbing the bag of money and tossing it to the side of the door they intended to use.

I stared at the locks they hadn’t even bothered trying to touch. The same locks they apparently didn’t look up or know anything about when they came. Suddenly it hit me why this all felt so very off.

It was strange enough that no one was wearing a mask, and as far as I’d heard, no one was really trying to get out of this situation. I was certain that by this point there was a large crowd of armored men outside.

“Just trying to help,” I muttered as I started to scan the room, looking for telltale signs of tampering. The anxious whispering of the man distracted me just long enough to get more information.

“Won’t that set off some shit? Chain reaction shit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the woman responded with a swift elbow to his gut as she started to walk away, “you are an absolute moron.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, I heard the faint curses that fell from his lips. As he picked up the bag just to toss it away again, I noticed the presence of odd packages in the corner of the room. He really did not want exploding dye packs near those boxes, which seemed remarkably out of place.

“Why does she think she’s in charge?” I asked, finally ripping my eyes away from the objects that now seemed glaringly obvious. “You two guys outnumber her.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

Relaxing my body as much as I could, I shifted back and forth on my knees, rubbing the tired muscles of my thighs. “I may have been told that once or twice.”

He actually chuckled; his eyes drawn to my legs like the absolute moron he so obviously was. She definitely had gotten that one right. The other women in the room were watching me, but I tried not to pay them any mind.

I didn’t know when or why they decided to let me do whatever I wanted, but I appreciated their apparent comfort in letting me try to kill myself. He made his way over to the boxes, each a specific size and shape. He carried them so carefully.

“I figure there’s no point in being scared if I’m going to die anyway.” I finally said. Shocked gasps and whispers filled the room, but I didn’t divert my attention to them– No matter how much I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up.

They would distract me from the way his mouth curled into a smile when he closed the gap between us, his hand sliding down my head and over my shoulder to follow the braid Spencer had meticulously woven an hour before.

“How about you just shut up and sit pretty for me, sweetheart.” I tried not to let the disgust show as his hand slid behind my neck, holding my head so that I had to look up at him. “You seem like you’d be real good at that.”

Ha! If only Spencer could hear him say that. But I could play the good girl for just long enough.

“Do you need help?” I asked with a tiny shrug, “I might be little but I’m pretty strong.” Strong enough to break your fucking hand if you don’t get it off of me.

“Nah.” He ordered, his hand on my neck getting tighter. “But I don’t doubt that you could be useful. You look real good on your knees.”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might be visible through my ribs. I just needed an excuse to move. If he could give me an excuse to move, I could do so many things.

“Please let me help,” I begged, raising my hand to his forearm against my shoulder. His eyes began to shift, moving just enough to tell me that he wanted to look to the hallway. He could hear her footsteps, too. She was coming back, and I only had a few seconds left.

Once both of my hands were on his arm, I got the feeling he knew something even worse was coming for him.

“I’d love a chance to get to show you how helpful I really am.”

—————————————————

Hotch had spent the past five minutes on the phone with the male unsub in the lobby, and the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. For whatever reason, they just seemed to deflect any opportunity provided to them.

They didn’t seem to give a shit about anything beyond pushing the buttons of each person they interacted with. Which, they did quite successfully.

“Didn’t realize one pig would bring the whole flock of you here,” he laughed, clearly motioning to Spencer on the video, “How bad do you want him back?”

“What do you want?” He responded without hesitation or a surprise. It was such an expected question to ask that he’d barely even thought about his words before they came out.

“Easy. A chopper, and for you to fuck off.”

That was the equally stereotypical response, meaning it was entirely unhelpful to them. From what they could deduce, they were equally confused as to why this heist seemed to follow all the rules, but match none of the motivations. It was like it was a show, a game, rather than an actual attempt to maximize profits.

“We can do the helicopter, but we can’t give you a pilot.”

“That’s fine,” he responded with a shrug, “Don’t need one.”

It was the first piece of useful information he’d gotten so far on the call. Because if they didn’t need a pilot, it meant one of two things: either one of them possessed the skill themselves, or they weren’t ever intending to use the helicopter.

Briefly pulling the phone away, Hotch turned to Morgan. “Tell Garcia to check our list with people with pilot’s licenses or any other connection that might provide them the skills to fly a helicopter.”

He returned to the call, continuing the usual script for these situations, trying not to act like he’d learned anything new.

“Can you release the women and children?”

“Nah,” the guy said with a chuckle, “I’ll wait.”

Hotch listened to the sound of the receiver for a moment, staring at the entrance to the bank like it would provide him the answers he still needed. He had his suspicions of what might be happening, but with no eyes in the back anymore and the trigger-happy group that had formed around him, he wouldn’t have the resources to convince them not to go in guns blazing.

“We’re ready to move in.” Which is exactly what they had requested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stated before finally moving to look at the man next to him, “Something isn’t right here.”

“Yeah, a lot isn’t right here. There’s 19 innocent people in there.”

It didn’t really matter how many times he went through this situation; the results always seemed to be the same. No one listened, even when it wasn’t one of their men inside.

“Storming the building isn’t going to help them. There are three armed perpetrators inside, and they’re each in a different area. It would be impossible for us to take out all three at once. Especially now that we can’t see in the back. There could be explosives in there for all we know.”

The man was unpersuaded.

“If we can’t save them all, minimizing casualties is the name of the game.”

“Wait a few more minutes. I’m waiting to hear back from our analyst. If they have the capability of flying a plane, its highly likely they also have the knowledge and skills to create weapons that we aren’t currently prepared to handle.”

Although still unconvinced, the man grudgingly gave in to the request. Hotch closed his eyes, trying to be grateful for the extremely small victory; they’d gained a few more minutes. But the relief was short lived, with Morgan putting his phone aside for a second to mutter the same thing Hotch was thinking.

“Hotch, these people are way too confident. It’s like they know there’s a way out.”

As soon as he said the words, the two just looked at each other.

“Garcia, can you also check for any other way out of the bank?” He asked, walking back over to the table laid out under the nearby tent. This would have been a great time for Reid to be here, he thought as he stared at the ridiculously complicated schematics.

He understood they didn’t want people to be able to figure them out (so they couldn’t rob the bank), but this was just ridiculous. It looked ancient.

“Sure thing, but… Morgan, I think there’s something else you should see.” The nerves dancing in her voice told him that they were about to switch subjects. “You know how the guy disabled the camera feed in the back room. I was reviewing the footage we do have and it looks like… (y/n) told him to.”

“Why would she do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he glanced over to the ornate bank doors. Part of him wanted to joke that things would’ve been a lot simpler if he didn’t have to worry about Reid’s weird girlfriend, but it didn’t feel as funny when they were both in danger.

Maybe later, he thought hopefully, when they were all together again.

“I… don’t know why. But I did what you asked, and I went through her record and found a ton of sealed files on her and also her dad…”

Morgan’s attention was definitely piqued at that point, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the stunned silence, Penelope spoke again.

“Should… Should I unseal them?”

It was the same question he was debating in his head, and he honestly didn’t know. Although a long shot, he hoped that she could provide at least the bare minimum of context before they made that kind of decision.

“What kind of files are we talking about?”

“I can’t be sure until I unseal them b-but, I mean, they’re sealed for a reason and I’m talking scary sealed. Like, it might take me a minute sealed. Giving me the heebie-jeebies sealed.” She grew more frantic as she continued. Morgan knew they were running out of time.

“I get it.”

“Is Reid okay?” She switched gears, recognizing that Morgan’s hesitance meant it was probably a bad idea. She wasn’t going to push it unless he did. They didn’t even know if she could help even if they unsealed the files. Especially without a visual.

“They know he’s with us,” Morgan sadly admitted, “I don’t know what’s going on. Did you find another way out of the bank?”

“Right.” The conversation was going to give everyone involved whiplash at this point. “Yes! There is an access way through tunnels underneath the bank but it would take a massive distraction for all three of them to be able to get out of there without us meeting them on the other side. I’m talking earth shatterin–.”

She didn’t finish the sentence, her tongue halting the second her mind caught up with her voice. Morgan was equally concerned, recognizing the kind of distraction that this might require and the perfect way to escape with maximum damage.

But that wasn’t what got his attention. There was no fiery explosion or shouted epiphany, because at that same time there were the muffled sounds of gunshots coming from inside.

“Oh my god, what was that?!” Garcia yelled, accompanied by frantic clicking as she filtered through each individual camera to try and locate the source of the noise.

“Garcia, do you have eyes on the main room?”

“Yes! But it wasn’t in the main room, Derek, it was in the back!”

It was a difficult and necessary job, to consider what those sounds might mean for the young girl they’d met only a few weeks earlier. Morgan’s thoughts went even further, not only worried about her safety, but his best friend’s sanity. Lord knows Reid didn’t need another thing weighing on his conscience. Especially not about her; it just might destroy him.

“What does the unsub in the main area look like? Does he look confused? Surprised?” The words were coming, but he didn’t know where from. His body was on autopilot, desperately seeking any validation that they could still save everyone.

“I-I don’t know! He looks grainy! The image is like an inch wide!” She was clearly growing frustrated, which was a feeling they all shared at this point. “This camera is from before I was even born!”

“Try, Penelope,” Morgan pleaded, “Give me something.”

But the other men weren’t willing to wait.

“That’s it. We’re moving in.”

Morgan turned to them, his hand clutching tighter to the phone just in time for her to speak.

“He’s calling for them but they’re not coming out. He looks… Oh no. He’s yelling at Reid now. And... And it looks like someone is coming down the hallway? But he’s not looking–”

It was impossible to focus on everything that was happening, heavy boots and massive commotion as people began to take their positions. But if someone was coming down the hallway, and the unsub didn’t know, that could only mean a few things. Either he was about to be proven disposable, or someone else had fired those shots.

Either way, one thing was clear.

“Wait! We can’t go in there yet!”

—————————————————

There was a point in time where I might have questioned whether I would ever get used to a gun in my face. There was also a point where I actually had gotten used to it. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment, this terrifying realization while staring down the barrel of an assault rifle that I didn’t want to die yet.

I used to think that my life was somewhat disposable. Sure, I was helpful and useful for my job, but ultimately, I considered myself replaceable. The next person to come might not have the same credentials, but they probably wouldn’t also have half the flaws I do.

But now I wasn’t thinking of work. I wasn’t thinking about how replaceable I was, because it wasn’t my life that mattered.

I didn’t want to die yet, because I wanted to see her again.

So I just stared at the weapon, trying to remember that it was still a great possibility that I could. I tried not to think about what was in front of me, choosing to use most of my brainpower to picture what it would feel like when I had her in my arms again.

The vision inside my head ended swiftly, with the sound of rapidly fired weaponry coming from down the hall. Through the commotion of screaming, I surmised that at least two guns had been fired.

Silence followed. It was a stifling, exhausting, painful silence.

What broke it was even worse, with the gun in my face smacking into the side of my head as the man holding it lost his grip at the sound.

“What the fuck was that?!”

He looked at me like he expected me to have the answers, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know. I-I don’t—“ Not only did I not understand why two guns would fire, I didn’t know who had shot them or for what reason. There was one thing I did know. “It sounded like your weapons.”

“Hey, what’s going on back there?!” He shouted, twisting his body just enough to see around the corner.

There was no reply.

“Did your people get in here somehow?” The panic was obvious, and I didn’t know how to calm him down without arousing suspicion. He was continuing to devolve, stepping closer to me as he stuck with his original thought, “How the fuck could they have done that, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

It was a question I’d been asking myself. The longer the silence continued in the back, the more rapidly my anxiety rose. There are only a few reasons why we wouldn’t hear more screaming.

Either someone had managed to get remarkable control over the situation, or all of the hostages were dead. Including (y/n). I forced myself to consider the far less likely, but still possible third option: She was dying, and I could still help her.

“I know that there is still a way for you to get out of this.” I barely recognized my own voice as I rambled, “Is it possible your partners… Is it possible they were planning on leaving together?”

“What?” He sounded disgusted and exhausted, but simultaneously insecure. It didn’t take much effort to realize that he was the weakest of the crew. I’d already had my suspicions that whatever the next step in this journey was, he wasn’t going to be making it with them regardless.

“It was their decision to leave you out here, right? In the place with the most windows and the first access to the door? They put you with all the people most likely to fight back. And now it sounds like…”

I paused, my lips unable to make the next words without a deep breath. “It sounds like they killed the people in the back as a diversion to send in SWAT. Does that sound like something they would do?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was enough confirmation for me. It was definitely something they would do, and he knew it. He probably suspected it himself. Thankfully, it gave me enough courage to push back for the first time in this encounter. “Then go back there and see if they’re still there.”

“And just let you be hero and save all these guys? No chance.”

I wanted to laugh; if only he knew the real reason I wanted him to go back there. As terrible as it was, I didn’t care at all about the rest of these men right now. As far as I knew, they were relatively safe. In fact, they were in a better position if what I’d deduced was true. This man, while violent, wasn’t the kind to murder everyone in sight, even when cornered. He’d more likely be shot by SWAT.

“I’ll come with you.” It was a plea, a desperate attempt to get more information that I both wanted and feared. He watched me carefully, trying to read the terror on my face to determine where exactly it was coming from. He knew the hostages were useless to him if he had me, so I wasn’t particularly scared for my life.

At least, not just yet.

“Fine. Get up.”

I willed my legs to stop shaking; to just carry me far enough that I could see her face. I just needed to know that she was okay.

But then I felt a fine mist over my skin— it almost felt like the noise happened after, but I knew logically that couldn’t be true.

A gun fires before the bullets hit their target.

Time seemed to move slower as his body fell to the ground in front of me. My eyes followed him to the floor, but only until I saw the person holding the gun through my peripherals.

“...(y/n)?”

And there she was, clutching tightly onto a rifle, her body barely upright as she staggered forward. There was something remarkably off-putting about the sight of her holding on for dear life to something so morbid. A jarring contrast I would not soon be able to forget, if I ever could.

There was something even more unsettling about the ease with which she carried the weapon, and the fact that she had managed to fire something that powerful without a single stray bullet.

“They’re dead!” She boomed across the room, dropping the weapon onto the floor before she yelled again, “Everyone get out! Hurry!”

No one moved. All of the men, myself included, stared at the tiny girl who’d just saved all of our lives.

“Get out now! There’s a bomb in the back!”

Those were the magic words to stir a panicked crowd into action, people stampeding to the single double door at the entrance, but my eyes were fixed on her. She staggered forward, her arm around her waist and her eyes beginning to roll back.

Perhaps I was just clueless, my one-track mind too slow to navigate the scene in front of me, but it took me that long to see it. My brain rioted against the visuals it took in, the dark crimson dripping down her body. It looked like it would swallow her whole.

I tried to will my body to move, to run to her and do something, anything to help her. But I couldn’t, frozen in place as her small steps got weaker. It wasn’t until I saw her begin to sway that I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Wait!” I screamed to anyone who would listen, my eyes frantically trying to meet someone in the crowd, “Someone get a medic!”

The woman with a child was the last one to pass. She stopped among the commotion, looking down at the carnage in my lap before bolting towards the door.

I had to trust that she would care enough to do something, because from that point on my attention wouldn’t be leaving (y/n). Her eyes were glassy, staring off into the distance and wandering aimlessly despite my face being in view.

“Hey, hey little girl.” My voice crackled as I held her cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

She was finally able to meet my gaze, her eyes filling with love with a small, delirious smile gracing her lips.

“Hey old man.”

The grin didn’t last long, the sounds of her choking and coughing replacing it as blood filled her mouth. I tried to turn her enough that she could spit it out, but it was obvious she was struggling to get any air at all.

“We’re gonna get you some help, okay?” I said with a false confidence, the twisted curve of my lips not even barely resembling a smile.

“It hurts,” she sobbed, her hands slipping in the blood on her stomach.

“I know.”

There wasn’t anything I could do; all I could do was sit there and stare, trying to decide where my hands should be. She was applying pressure to her wound on the front, but I could see the wreckage that was once her back. My hands wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sleepy.”

“I know.” I was trembling, tears dripping from my face and mixing with the bloody mess; they still couldn’t dilute it, somehow make it vanish. “I know you’re tired. But you’ve gotta stay awake, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

At first, I wanted to say the innocence in her voice was surprising, but it wasn’t. She was innocent. She was just a young girl, trying to live a happy, normal life before she met me.

“You’re doing great.” I tried to convince myself this wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t work. She had said it herself — she wouldn’t have ever come to a bank on her own. The statistics of the rarity of this situation kept playing on a loop in the back of my head, but it was just a low hum beneath the sound of her pained whimpers.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something.” The newfound insistence in her voice twisted in my gut, and my hands held tighter to her arm.

“No, don’t,” I begged, already anticipating what was going to happen. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I have to tell you right now.” And then her voice was calm, a smile on her face as her blood-soaked hand left her stomach, trying to raise to touch me. It didn’t make it.

“No, you can tell me later.”

The words were so slurred and pathetic, I’m surprised she understood them. But she did, taking a deep, whistling breath. It was clear it hurt her to speak, and I wanted to tell her to be quiet, but the masochist in me needed to hear the words all the same.

“Spencer, please. Just listen to me.”

This sounded too much like a goodbye.

“I love you.”

Our bodies rocked as I realized I hadn’t taken a breath of my own in too long, the pain in my oxygen deprived lungs not nearly enough to distract me from the genuine softness of her voice.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, “Do you know that?”

I don’t know how she wasn’t crying, her eyes barely open but too tired to blink. That rosy complexion had faded, her skin blanching the longer she lay in my arms.

“Yes, I know.”

“I love you with my whole heart.”

My mind was flashing images from only a couple hours prior, her warm laugh as she laid on my lap, the way her hair slipped between my fingers while I wove it together.

‘You think you’ll still be around?’

‘If you’ll have me.’

The memories were blurring together, creating a symphony of promises that were about to be shattered in front of my eyes.

‘Forever,’ she’d said. ‘Forever.’

‘A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies. Just a normal, domestic life with Dr. and Mrs. Reid.’

Rejecting the thought, I shook my head, “You’re going to be fine.”

“I understand what you meant when…” Her voice was too quiet, too distant, to be this warm. “When you said it was nice to be able to say it.”

The heavy footfalls and sound of a transport bed wheeling across the floor alerted me that I would have to let her go soon. Whether this would be the last time I ever held her, I couldn’t be sure.

“They’re gonna come take you now, but I’ll be right behind them. I promise.” I barely got the words out before their hands were all over her, those tired eyes shooting wide open as unfamiliar hands replaced mine.

“Wait, Spencer!” She cried out, her body too limp to make a meaningful attempt to stop them, “Don’t leave me!”

Her screams and sobs were ringing louder than the gunshots had, my body slowly making its way upright as I watched them place her on the bed.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise.” I tried not to let the panic bleed through, raising the volume as she started to be taken away from me, “Stay awake as long as you can.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her attempts to scream. If she was calling my name, it wasn’t recognizable. I’m not sure which hurt worse— the sound of her tired lips butchering my name, or the silence that followed.

She wasn’t able to scream anymore.

When I emerged from the bank, the sun burned my eyes just as much as the sight of my team shocked to see me covered in blood. But I couldn’t focus on them at all, immediately bolting after the paramedics without another thought.

The extra time it took them to carefully load her allowed me to jump into the back of the vehicle before the doors shut. There were no words to describe this situation, nor make it any better.

So I just stared in horrified fascination, trying to gauge her odds as they rapidly changed in front of me. Of 107,141 firearm injuries last year, 31% died. How many of the 69% had assault rifle wounds? I couldn’t remember any other statistics. My brain had turned itself off, focusing only on the frantic beeping and scrambled voices.

“Where is he?” Her tiny voice cut through both the internal and external noise.

“I’m right here.” I nearly shouted from my precarious position standing in the back of the rattling ambulance. I wanted to move closer, but I was too scared. There were so many hands on her, and I didn’t want to get in the way.

“I’m scared.” She said, mirroring my exact thoughts.

“I’m right here.” I repeated, closing my eyes to hide from the carnage long enough to put words together that might make her feel any ounce of comfort, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Taking an experimental step forward once the paramedics seemed settled in their places, I came to stand behind her. My hands were tinted red and trembled as they reached out to touch her cheeks.

She took a sharp inhale at the sensation, just barely holding her head up straight. I couldn’t tell if she was leaning into my touch or just couldn’t control her neck any longer. Her skin felt like ice, and although she was still beautiful, the blue tint creeping over her face struck fear in my heart.

“How much longer until we get to the hospital? Her body temperature is dropping.”

If she heard me, she didn’t respond. I stared at the paramedic who was obviously more concerned with other things at the moment. They were kind enough to give me a response, even if it wasn’t a satisfying one.

“Just a few more minutes. We can’t do anything until we stop the bleeding, sir.”

“Spencer…” Each time she spoke was simultaneously terrifying and comforting. It was confirmation she was alive, but also troublesome, because I knew that she should be reserving her efforts for staying alive.

“Hang in there, little girl. We’re almost there.”

She opened her eyes, staring up at me with clouded vision. I could see the pain so clearly it might as well have been me on the table.

“Please help me,” she sobbed, “help me.”

“I-I can’t.” They were the two hardest words I’d ever had to say. Frustration mounted in me, but none of it was directed at her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Myself, on the other hand, I hated myself in that moment.

She was begging for me to help her, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stand here and watch as she bled out in the back of an ambulance, a stranger’s hands practically inside of her stomach.

“I don’t want to die.”

The way her voice cracked took whatever was left of my sanity with it, and I felt my fingertips slip in the blood as I pressed against her face.

“You won’t,” I tried to assure her, “You’re going to be fine. Just stay awake.”

“I can’t.” The usual spunk in her voice had faded, leaving behind the sound of a twenty year old girl with no fight left in her. “I’m so sorry, Spencer…”

‘Sorry?’ I thought below the horror, ‘for what?’

When her eyes shut, they couldn’t even make it all the way. It was an expression I’d seen before on the field. I wasn’t meant to see it on her.

“No. No, no, wake up.” I urged, patting her cheeks softly before closing my hands around them more tightly, “Wake up, little girl, please.”

I was talking to no one, because I don’t think she could hear me anymore. Absolutely nothing in her body changed, even as the paramedics became more rushed.

“I’ve located the bleed!” The woman beside me yelled as the ambulance began to rapidly slow down. “I’m sorry sir, but we need you to move.”

“Whatever you need. Please, just help her.” I’d said the words, but my actions didn’t follow. She stared down at my hands that were still tethered to (y/n)’s face, trying to provide the warmth that she desperately needed.

Somehow, I was able to wrench them away, only then realizing the bloody handprints I’d left behind. Her face still wasn’t moving.

“Please, I—“

Before I could say another word, they were already out of the ambulance. I followed as closely as I could behind them, trying to focus enough to ensure that every word said could be played again in my mind. Because the second she crossed the threshold into the surgery suite, I wouldn’t be able to hear them anymore.

I would have to wait. I would have to wait for her to be better, or wait for a declaration. And in that vast silence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop from torturing myself with every single word uttered in this building before the doors closed.

The doors were ahead of us now, and I wished time could slow down enough that I could give her one more kiss and tell her to be strong one more time before she went into the Schrodinger’s Box that was the emergency room operating table.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, and when the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I’d never said it back. She’d said it three times, but in my adamant denial I’d failed to return it.

It was so much like us, I’d almost laughed. She’d made such a point of worrying about me leaving her, neither of us had ever stopped to think about how I’d live without her.

How would I live without her? The only person I trusted to have an answer was wheeled into the room, the door shutting abruptly in front of me.

In the reflection of the metal door I saw myself, drenched in the dark liquid. I tried to clean my face with my hand only to realize that they, too, were dirty with her blood.

The world had fallen silent, and I let myself be crushed by the overwhelming loneliness of an existence without her.

‘Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.’

It was too late.

—————————————————

| Part 15 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #reid series #dr spencer reid #h2m #spence reid #spencer reid request #reid request

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awed-frog · 3 years

Note

Do you have any tips on how to stop binge eating? No purge yet but i’m close

Hey, sorry you’re going through that. I don’t know if I can help, but here are a few tips.

First of all - if this is something that happens frequently, you might have Binge Eating Disorder (if you purge, we’re going straight into bulimia territory), and that’s serious, so don’t leave it alone. Find a therapist if you can, or at least an online community (and NOT something HAES-based, if they say bingeing is normal behaviour or that you have to stop ‘restricting’ to fix this it, run).

For right now: I’d say, the most important thing is DON’T PURGE. Throwing up frequently will do a lot of damage to your stomach, and taking laxatives will mess with your entire digestive system, which that can be hard to recover from. I know you’re afraid you’ll gain weight if you don’t purge, but you do not want to spend the rest of your life avoiding most foods because you have an extra delicate stomach or become addicted to laxatives because you can’t poop without them. So even if you mess up and have a binge, do NOT purge.

Tips for not bingeing:

Don’t keep foods that trigger you in your home. If you feel like something specific, buy it and eat it outside - not in your car, but outside. In a restaurant if you can, and on a nice park bench if you can’t. That way, you’ll be less tempted to keep eating indefinitely, and instead turn that urge into a normal meal or snack. Don’t buy ingredients for several meals you’re craving (if you’re craving pizza and pasta, only buy a pizza or pasta sauce, not both) and don’t buy multiple packages of whatever even if it’s cheaper (one packet of crisps, one pizza and so on; and, if possible, snack-sized packets of biscuits and peanuts; if you’re craving cake, go to a nice bakery and get yourself a big slice instead of buying a cheap cake from a supermarket).

Be aware of situations that triggers you and plan around them. If you aren’t sure about connections, start keeping a very honest food / mood / events diary so you can spot patterns. Triggers can by situational (a fight with a loved one, your mom being annoying, having to buy new clothes and so on) or physical (PMS, insulin out of whack so even one piece of chocolate will lead to overeating more stuff). Once you know what triggers you, avoid what you can and try to plan ahead for what you can’t.

(For instance, if a weekly review at your job triggers you, arrange to see or call a friend afterwards or go to the movies.)

To make PMS better, there are things you can try: the best ones are exercise (especially outside) and satisfying meals (eat healthy but add fats even if you’re craving sugars).

Distract yourself and get away from passive &screen-related activities. Try putting on some music and dancing, or cleaning the house. Reorganize your closet. Start a hobby you have to do with your hands - knitting, crafts, clay. Go for a walk if you can. Listen to audiobooks. Take a nice shower. Call someone (it can be a support buddy you can talk to about cravings, but also someone who doesn’t know: it’s nice just to talk).

Tips for after bingeing:

Do not feel bad about it. This is a mental health issue. Bingeing doesn’t mean you’re weak or worthless, it means you have a disease and you’re trying to get better. You wouldn’t say someone who’s got the flu is weak-willed, and this is exactly the same.

Clean your kitchen and throw away everything that’s left. I know - it’s not ideal to waste food, but chances are, if you have any leftovers that can trigger you, you’ll start bingeing again tomorrow morning. So put everything in a bag and physically walk out of your house and throw it away.

Make yourself a nice cup of tea - if possible, something that will help with digestion.

Cheer yourself up: this was a stumble, and doesn’t negate your achievements and how far you’ve come in your life.

Go to bed early.

Do not fall into the trap of the ‘I might as well’ mentality. This is called black and white thinking and is common in many kinds of mental health issues: the idea is that if you ‘ruined’ your meal or your day or your schedule, ‘you might as well’ give up for the day or the week. This is your mental health issue speaking, and it’s bullshit. I don’t particularly like Jillian Michaels, but she was right when she said ‘Think of it this way: If you got a flat tire, what would you do? Change the tire? Or get out of the car and slash the other three tires? No! Get back on the road. Don't dwell on it; don't beat yourself up. That gets you nowhere.’

You had one bad meal, or one bad day. It doesn’t feel great, but it’s not the end of the world. Have a good night’s sleep and start fresh tomorrow.

General tips:

Binge eating disorder often starts when you use food as a coping mechanism, so work on that. Many of us are messed up because parents generally associate food rewards to good behaviour and good food to joyful occasions, but that connection needs to be broken down. If you had a good day, don’t reward yourself with food (go to a spa, buy yourself some fun earrings or a nice book) and if you had a bad day, absolutely do NOT console yourself with food (call a friend, go to the movies, go to a fun place like an aquarium, buy yourself something nice that’s not food-related).

Unless you’re underweight (check your BMI and fat percentage), pregnant or breastfeeding, do compensate for a binge - in a healthy, sustainable way. Do not have a water fast day, but maybe cut down on portions, sauces or sweets for a couple of days?

I know people say there’s no bad foods and ‘everything in moderation’, but imo that’s not true. We’re surrounded by fake foods that mess with our hormones and bodies, and cutting them out completely can be a great idea. For instance: junk food sucks. I know it’s made so be enjoyable so we enjoy it, but it is what it is. Sugar is also very bad, and should be eaten very rarely, if at all (my favourite book on the subject is The World Corrupted, but there are many out there).

If you’re craving a particular food, make it yourself or get a ‘good’ version of it. Enjoying a restaurant meal with someone or cooking a nice dish or glorious cupcakes for your friends, spouse or kids is much better and more satisfying than hoarding low-quality food from some 7/11 (it might not feel that way in the beginning, but that will get better).

Try to make your health the priority: eat good food (lots of seasonal veggies, grains and beans, healthy fats, quality source proteins), stick to water, tea and some coffee, move around regularly (we should all do some sport that makes our heartbeat raise, but if you’re not used to that a gentle walk around the block is perfectly fine: the idea is to make it a habit), check your vitamin levels (a lack of something will cause bad moods!), manage your stress (easier said than done, but stress does have a very harmful effect on your entire body, so we all have to try what we can).

If you don’t feel in control of your eating, and if your eating habits are affecting your quality of life or preventing you from having a normal life (rapid weight gain or loss, spending money you don’t have, lying to loved ones, recurrent fights over food, obsessive thoughts, withdrawing from social life etc), then SEEK HELP IMMEDIATELY. Eating disorders are a disease, and it’s very rare that they get better on their own.

Be patient. You didn’t get an eating disorder overnight, and recovery will also take time. That is fine and normal.

Again, stay the hell away from fat activists and HAES groups.

I hope this helped. Please remember you’re not alone. Eating disorders are extremely common, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just look after yourself, and treat this as you would any purely physical health issue. Recovery is possible, managing the disease is possible. Just hang in there and best of luck.

#ask #eating disorders for ts #binge eating disorder #ed #bed #bulimia #purging #mental health #life tips #you can do this <3

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itsblissfuloblivion · 4 years

Text

Torch - Chapter 9: May

enjoy hinny in 10k++ 🤩😱

THE hbp chapter of all chapters! here it is, finally & we truly hope we did it justice :)

enjoy on AO3 // FFnet too

They’re on the Quidditch pitch, fighting tooth and nail for the Cup, the mighty Gryffindor lion roaring, thundering its sheer strength and power at haughty Ravenclaw. It’s 300 to 290 for Gryffindor and Harry’d rather go down spiralling, Snitch toiling underneath white knuckles, than let those feathered gits get one more Quaffle through that post.

A feeling shared by Ginny as well, it seems, if the banshee scream erupting from her throat is any indication, her face the picture of determination as she soars through the air, splitting open the horizon, red mane of hair fluttering behind her like a ripple of blood over the deep blue of the sky.

A great, deafening lioness’ roar and Ginny pelts the Quaffle so hard it bends the goal post where it hits it before scoring -

Harry’s heart sinks instantly, his eyes bulging, fixed on a limp Ginny falling fast to the ground, apparently having fainted after her spectacular throw, and he screams and dives and jumps off his broom to catch her before she hits the cold hard ground.

Everything’s fine, he’s caught her and he’s holding her close to his...naked chest? Suddenly Harry’s without half his Quidditch gear and, oh, so is Ginny. They’re both bare chested and embracing in the middle of the pitch and Harry’s mortified to hear the wolf-whistles coming from the audience, Luna Lovegood commentating the sudden turn of events like there’s nothing unusual, asking the spectators to close their eyes at once for love making requires a certain level of intimacy.

He tries his best to keep his eyes away from Ginny’s chest, but he can’t do anything about the feeling of her breasts pressed to him, her beautiful, freckled hands rumpling his hair, her lips glued to his jaw, traveling down to his pulse point as she whispers how hot, how fit she finds him. Harry nearly faints when he feels her tongue there.

Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of Dean and Ron playing stone paper scissors to establish who gets to hit Harry first and his own mind screams at him to grab Ginny and run.

Only he can’t, he’s petrified and can’t possibly move any muscle in his body when Ginny’s hand sneaks inside the lower part of his gear and grabs his -

Harry’s eyes snap open and he’s brought back to consciousness (and, sadly, also to a Ginny-less reality) with a loud gasp. It takes him a moment to realise it’s his own hand gripping tightly inside his pajama bottoms, something wet and sticky spread everywhere inside them. Shit.

He silently curses everything from his hormone-controlled mind to his lack of a healthy dose of Gryffindor drama and recklessness when he actually needs it (how else is he going to ever tell her that he fancies her, eh?), pulls his battered old bathrobe around him as tightly as possible and, making sure the rest of the lads are still fast asleep, shuffles to the bathroom on his tippy toes.

May’s only started for a couple of hours and Harry can already predict it won’t unlock anything new for him besides probably some fresh, astounding levels of teenage embarrassment, sprinkled with a new found desire to crawl inside a hole and die.

After a long shower where Harry talks to himself more than is the norm, a few well placed Evanescos, and a perhaps ill-advised assist from Dobby, Harry thinks he’s probably in the best frame of mind possible after last night’s episode.

It’s been quite a while since he attempted the ‘Ginny’s like my sister’ method of internal browbeating - the repeated dreams and daydreams made him feel squeamish - but he’s still firmly in the ‘mind over matter’ camp. Yes he clearly fancies her, yes she’s cheeky and smart and beautiful and probably the plain coolest person he’s ever met aside from Sirius or Bill, but she’s off limits. At least that’s what he tells himself.

Most of the time.

Other times, he wonders what it would be like to just give in to it. To drum up some courage, act like he’s flying high on Felix Felicis, and...and do something that ends up with Ginny snogging the daylights out of him.

But those ideas only last so long. Usually crashing down with a confused look from Ron and a wondering question of when Harry became a ‘bleary eyed guppy’, ‘dead faced lemming’, or any other animal based insult that Ron uses to disguise how much he cares.

Which is really the problem. Harry’s not afraid of Ron in the ‘big brother is going to rip out your innards sense.’ They’ve had their share of arguments over the years and Harry’s grown fairly confident in his ability to hold his own in a fight - magic or no. Which is a level of bravado that may be hereditary, and also a good way to get his face punched in.

Nonetheless, if it were just about having it out with Ron about being a nosy git, it’s one thing, but Ron cares so much more than he wants to admit. He’s a protective, overly-invested Molly Weasley trapped in the body of a freckled gangly thing with an inability to admit actual feelings. And among those are the very real instincts that he has to keep his best mate and his kid sister from getting their hearts broken.

Not that Harry’s in any position to judge emotional constipation.

And even with the mess swirling around his crowded head, Harry feels he’s in a somewhat better mindset post-shower and even finds himself able to carry on a mildly coherent conversation with Ron and Hermione later on the way to breakfast.

Yes, he’s feeling quite chuffed with himself as he crunches into a marmalade-drenched triangle of toast until three things happen at once.

Said marmalade decides it much prefers his tie to crispy bread, Harry’s brain decides not to let any of his breakfast go to waste, and Ginny Weasley claims the seat across from him.

So his first non-dream Ginny sighting of May 1997 is a wild eyed glance while he’s sucking orange marmalade from his tie and juggling a half eaten piece of toast in his free hand.

Bloody perfect.

Of course, she’s a damn sight to see, two braids wrapping her hair into intricate patterns, freckles dark against sun-red skin, shirt only partially buttoned, and her tie dangling like a scarf around her neck.

Harry is a different sort of sight, but he earns gawking just as much. So when Ginny bites back a smirk and lifts one brow in his direction, he really can’t fault whatever comes next.

“I see you’ve had a bit of a morning, eh, Harry?”

God, she’s amazing.

“Er - yeah.”

She reaches for the dish piled high with fluffy scrambled eggs and Harry jolts to assist, his fingers brushing hers just barely. Ginny seems fine, completely unruffled, but his idiotic mind jumps right back to the last time they touched. Well - dream Harry and dream Ginny touched.

When dream Ginny’s hand was reaching for something other than eggs and her groan was for him -

Although, technically, eggs were in fact the first touch they shared, Ginny felt so real - but that’s certainly not a thought to be had early in the morning and especially not in the vicinity of older brothers and more or less the entirety of the Hogwarts student body.

She sighs and takes another bite. “If any of you repeat this I’ll deny it, but sometimes I think the elves make better eggs than Mum.”

Ron shrugs and pushes another forkful past his lips. “Dunno, eggs are eggs. ‘Cept those weird Muggle powdered ones Dad made us all eat for the educational value.”

“I can’t help but think about how our food ends up here,” Hermione says, shuffling her oatmeal around absently, “We eat from slave labor - I think that’s why I prefer home cooking,” she blushes and studiously keeps her eyes from Ron when she murmurs, “Especially Mrs. Weasley’s Beef Wellington.”

Apparently, this is quite effective at hooking Ron’s attention. Which anyone who’s known Ron for more than a day can tell you is a feat when seated at any meal. But Hermione’s a clever one to be sure, and she was bound to figure it out after six years.

Harry’s wondering if he’s willing to pass up the opportunity to tease the two of them on the off chance that Ron pulls his head out of his arse and actually makes a move before they’re thirty, when he feels someone nudge him beneath the table.

He glances up and finds Ginny watching him expectantly. “You’re awfully quiet - should I worry there’s a snitch among us?”

“I’m going to need compensation to cross Molly Weasley,” Harry answers, swallowing the last of his tea.

And in the first stroke of luck Harry’s had today, he’s managed to swallow by the time Ginny winks and asks, “What do you have in mind?”

He does choke on his tongue, which isn’t left open for comment because in a simultaneous moment of perfect and horrific timing, Ron decides to obliviously insert himself back into the conversation. “How about pay him back with a good offense against Ravenclaw? They’ve gotten too arrogant.”

Hermione snorts, but Ron misses it, already knee deep in a strategy debate with Ginny. Harry however doesn’t miss a thing. Not the affectionate glance she casts toward Ron before darting her gaze between Harry and Ginny, then lingering on Harry and giving him an obnoxiously knowing look.

She’s too smart to hang around sometimes.

Once Ron’s finished his third helping of eggs, the foursome rise from their seats and Ron begins prodding Hermione for tips on wand movements. A turn of events Harry really thinks he can’t be expected to ignore. It’s low hanging fruit and yet completely irresistible.

He’s about to cut in with some already half-formed jibe because really, wand movement tips, when Ginny sidles up beside him and threads her arm through the crook of his elbow. “This is such perfect material it almost feels too easy to be that fun.”

“Ron’s a bit of an idiot, isn’t he?” Harry says with a laugh.

“At least when it comes to Hermione.”

“Girls in general maybe,” Harry puts in as they exit the Great Hall, amongst the slow trickle of late crowd, “Lest we forget the Lavender trials.”

“Oh hell, that was a bloody nightmare.”

“At least you didn’t have to see it up close and personal,” Harry groans, “You were with - “ he clears his throat, “Busy.”

Ginny bites back a laugh, rolling her eyes when a few Ravenclaws elbow past with impatient looks. “Something like that.”

She grabs the strap of his bag and pulls them off toward the side, a little alcove where the corridor splits between upper and lower classrooms, while Ron and Hermione continue on their way, deep in conversation.

Harry props his shoulders against the stone, arms crossed over his chest and one foot kicked up while Ginny lifts one hand to straighten his tie.

“You know that feint last practice was pretty impressive - sometimes I think you could go pro if you wanted.”

“Only sometimes?” Harry asks, eyes twinkling when Ginny snickers.

“I said what I said.”

“Well, I’ve got to keep my game sharp. There’s an upstart Chaser who’s got eyes for the captainship and my spot on the team.”

Ginny toys with the end of one of her braids before blinking up at him, all innocence. “No idea who you’d mean. Everyone knows Chaser’s the best position. Seekers just want glory - Chasers are the lifeblood of the team and the game itself.”

Her hands are back at his tie, this time fiddling with the end, while Harry somehow finds him bracing his forearm against the wall, looming too close to Ginny for his sanity. Which is why it sounds a little strangled when he responds, “Oh really?”

Ginny flicks the silky fabric between her fingers and shrugs, “Yes, really. Who’d want to sit and watch a couple of skinny gits circling the pitch for hours on end, just waiting for something to happen. Chasers are in it from the beginning, making things happen, getting shit done.”

Harry somehow ends up leaning closer because Ginny Weasley is a damn magnet or a bloody lamp and he’s an idiot fly. Hell, she smells amazing. “Well, Seekers, they play the long game,” he clears his throat when she licks her lips and blinks up at him, waiting, “On the surface it’s like nothing’s happening but they, ah - always show up in the end.”

Ginny bites her lip, her voice almost a whisper when she asks, “Is that so?”

It takes three swallows before Harry’s voice becomes audible, “Mhm, true and plain as the nose on your face.”

Ginny’s response dies in her throat when Ron jogs back towards them and shouts across the now bustling hall - a development Harry’ll wonder how he missed later on - yelling something about being late for class.

Harry misses most of it because Ginny pulls on the end of his tie and winks right at him, before offering a cheeky salute. “See you at practice, Captain.”

Later, when Ron’s down for his pre-practice kip, Harry ends up with Hermione in the Common Room while she works on her outline for their final exam in Potions and Harry reads over his Transfiguration notes. It’s a half-assed attempt, to be sure, and Harry’s expecting this to be the subject of Hermione’s oncoming conversation.

Instead, as she slides a bookmark into place and sets her textbook aside, she says, “So you’ve never really had a girlfriend, right?”

Harry frowns, wondering whether the two worst dates of all time count as having a very short lived girlfriend. Hermione toys with one of the curls escaped from her bun and says, “Cho doesn’t count - neither does the Yule Ball. Cho was just a date and the other was a complete trainwreck of pre-pubescent attempts at wooing.”

“Thanks for the assessment,” Harry answers, dry.

Hermione presses her lips into a thin line, blows out a deep breath and finally seems to settle on what she’d like to say next. “Girls. Well, girls aren’t all the same, of course. I suppose I should just say people - there’s a thing called body language.”

“Hermione, I know what body language is.”

She grunts. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter if you know but do nothing about it. I’ve read a lot about it.”

“I’m shocked.”

Hermione jabs him with her quill. “I’ve read a lot about it and I can say with absolute certainty that we had some major signals being fired today at breakfast.”

“I have no doubt that’s true, Miss Let Me Tutor You In Wand Movements.”

Blushing, Hermione tosses her quill at Harry, splattering ink across his much abused tie. Hopefully Dobby is in the mood to help Harry bleach ink, butter, marmalade, and newt’s eyes out of silk.

“What I am trying to say - I want to help you,” she raises her palm when Harry tries to respond, “I want to help by telling you that all those bottled up feelings seem quite mutual.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes, and you’d be an idiot to let it go to waste.”

“The feelings?”

“The connection,” Hermione corrects, “It’s a special thing, to get each other. To know someone so intimately without even trying. Just, don’t take it for granted. We both know how easy it is to let it slip away, even just a little.”

Sighing, Harry nods and tucks his things away in his satchel. “I’ve got Quidditch.”

Hermione waves him off, “Of course - just think about it? Second chances are easier to come by than third.”

Harry’s tempted to parrot what she’d said but quickly changes tactics when he runs into Ginny, Demelza, and Katie giggling near the portrait hole, bags dangling on their shoulders. He flashes them a wide grin instead.

“Wait up, losers,” Ron hurries down the stairs before they can disappear without him, bleary eyed but somehow also ready for a brawl. “Your King is coming.”

Harry’s always respected Ron’s gameness, his ability to sniff a fight (or the possibility of one) from a distance and jump right into it, damn the torpedoes.

“Who died and made you king, Weasley?” Ginny scoffs, eyeing her brother with a pleased smirk. They were all very happy Ron no longer gave Slytherin that kind of power over him as he’d long since turned the meaning of the word ‘king’ in his favour.

“Last name basis is a no go for siblings,” Ron instructs as he hops down next to them, the entire team having congregated there over the span of the last couple of minutes.

“Why?”

“‘Cause it’s weird, now let’s shift,” Ron grins and Harry too feels pumped, his best mate’s energy infectious.

The team jostles their way through the portrait hole, earning a few choice words from the Fat Lady in her post-dinner wine haze. Harry offers her an apologetic smile and salutes when she lifts her glass in acknowledgement.

Katie saunters up to his side and throws an arm around his neck. “Got an eye for our good ol’ Fat Lady?”

Demelza bounces up and bats her eyes, grasping her chest with an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t tell me our gallant captain is off the market.”

“I will have you doing laps, Robbins,” Harry threatens with a laugh while Ron comes up on his opposite side and nudges his jaw.

“Ickle Harry growing up? Finally going to make good on all those hormones pulsing through his scrawny little body?”

“Shove off.”

As they break out into the golden evening, Ginny joins the group jibing Harry, tossing her braid over her shoulder as she walks backwards. “Don’t tease Harry just because none of you get anywhere with the Fat Lady.”

“I could if I wanted to,” Demelza sniffs, “Well, before she had her heart set on the Boy Who Lived over here.”

“Right,” Harry drawls, “‘Cause we all know that title has gotten me loads of action.”

He slaps Ron’s hand away as it ruffles his hair while they near the changing rooms. Ron’s already stripping his outer robes when he calls out. “That’s not for lack of trying on their part - we all know you could have as much ‘action’ as you want.”

Ginny tosses her practice Quaffle at Ron - and remarkably he catches it without a thought - before she says, “Well, yeah, Ron, but who wants a simpering fool for a girlfriend?”

She leaves it at that and disappears into the opposite end of the changing room, but not before sharing a long glance with Harry. Which he assumes is an unspoken allusion to Ron’s recently ended relationship. But there was something beneath the teasing - like she looked right through him and just knew what he was, what he wanted. Even better than he did.

Shaking his head, Harry followed the rest of the team to suit up, hoping a few hours sweating on the pitch would clear his head.

In his theoretical vision of this head-clearing experience, Harry would work hard, practice some new maneuvers, and yell himself hoarse to get himself back on track.

Instead, he spends a good portion of the evening getting beat up by his own damn team. And not because they’re that good, or because of some ‘Ravenclaw will give us worse’ training technique. No, it’s his own idiotic inability to bloody focus on anything but Ginny in the air.

She’s like nothing he’s ever seen, like she’d never been tethered to the ground like everyone else but born on a broom, born to fly as high as she desires. They’re a great team, Harry’s convinced even Oliver Wood would concede the point. But Ginny’s a class above. Everything flows naturally though he knows Ginny’s expertise is far from some kind of genetic lottery. She works hardest of any of them, spends her summers stealing out into the fields behind the Burrow to toss Quaffles, dodge charmed Bludgers, and dive and swoop through self-made obstacle courses.

And it doesn’t end once she’s back at Hogwarts. Harry’s watched her from his window - in a non creepy way, clearly - many a night as she streaked across the orange sky, bent low over her broom while her hair flew behind her like the tail of a comet.

She’s winding up for another shot at Ron’s weak side when Harry suddenly finds himself airborne in the non-broom assisted way while pain blooms across his right side.

He vaguely hears swear-laden exclamations over the screaming of the wind in his ears while he fumbles for his broom or wand or something that’ll slow his plummet towards the pitch.

What is it with May and people slipping off their brooms, fantasy wise or not.

In the end, he does manage to shout a few spells that somewhat slow his descent before someone grabs his arm and stops him from splattering on the grass below. Luckily, he wasn’t at full speed when his savior stepped in because even with the lessened velocity it feels like his arm is in one place and the rest of him traveled an extra foot.

When he looks up, still too shocked to register whether anything hurts, he finds Ginny frowning at him from her broom. “Hells bells, Harry, what was that?”

“I, er - it’s hard being in the game and being Captain sometimes.”

She furrows her brow and reaches her other hand toward him while they slowly sink to the ground. “I don’t remember it being this hazardous to Angelina’s health.”

Harry winces and rolls his shoulder, glad for the movement, and maybe preening just a bit under Ginny’s attention. However mothering it may be.

Demelza drops down next to them and smirks. “Cap, you’ve got to keep your head in the game if we’re going to beat those swotty Ravenclaws.”

“Least we know it’s not dislocated,” Ron adds as he wanders over, “Charlie’s done that so many times he can pop it in and out at will.”

Katie grimaces, “Ew.”

“Mum hates when he does that,” Ginny says with a chuckle, “But she didn’t know he used it to get Percy to do his chores for him.”

Their laughter feels like a good end to practice, and if he’s honest, Harry’s arm really is a bit sore to go much longer. So seeing as they’re already all earthbound, he blows his whistle and they begin wandering toward the changing rooms.

When Ginny falls into step at his side, Harry nudges her with his elbow, “That was a pretty impressive catch, Gin.”

She startles a little but grins as she pushes stray hairs back from her face. “Thanks. Can’t have Mum coming after me for letting her favourite fall to his death for Quidditch of all things.”

Harry snorts and shoves her shoulder, because he’s a pubescent idiot who makes up reasons to touch girls he fancies like a ninny and now he winces ‘cause of course rapid movements from injured limbs bloody hurt. To keep himself somewhat sane, he begins putting up the balls and Ginny moves to help. He’s quiet a moment before he says, “Seriously though, it was almost as good as my catch first year.”

“Mhm,” Ginny nods, thoughtfully, “I guess catching you in my mouth would have been pretty impressive.”

“You wish you could get me in your mouth,” Harry shoots back, and immediately wishes for a swift death.

For her part, Ginny simply glances up at him and lifts her brows for a moment. The rest of the team’s kept moving towards the castle at this point, with Demelza quarelling with Coote and Peakes over who’s hungrier, and Harry’s stopped dead. Frozen like he’s been stunned. Ginny bites her lip, considering. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I - ”

“Oi!”

Harry jolts at Ron’s voice and they both twist to find Ron shouting from yards away. “Planning on coming back inside before end of term?”

Ginny flips Ron off while Harry summons their robes with a flick of his wand. “I don’t particularly feel like changing again, just to head upstairs.”

They begin walking toward Ron and Ginny smirks, their previous conversation lost. Which is exactly what Harry wanted, right?

“Plus, if you’ve got an excuse to head up to your dorm, you can escape Hermione’s revision schedule for the evening.”

“I like the way you think, Weasley.”

“Learned from the best,” Ginny says, easy, “Good ol’ Gred and Forge. And ha, I knew you were off by a mile when you said siblings can’t employ a last name basis. I win!”

Tales, the truthfulness of which Harry’s not quite sure, bounce back and forth between Ron and Ginny once they’ve reunited, and shared laughter carries them up to Gryffindor Tower and through the portrait hole.

He’s feeling a bit giddy with Ron’s arm tossed around his shoulder and Ginny leaning into his side for support as she doubles over,o when Dean’s withering glare falls on the trio.

Was he waiting for them? Who does that?

...Asks the boy who’s been waiting for the same person late at night, pretending to study alone in the Common Room. Same person as in Ginny, definitely not Dean.

Ginny’s the last of them to notice, and she mostly does because Ron goes still while his entire body tenses for a fight. She’s also the first to recover, offering an unimpressed glance at Dean before she winks at Harry and wishes her best for his injury.

By the time she’s disappeared into the 5th Year Girls’ Dorm, Ron’s still in some weird staring match with Dean that Harry jostles him from with a casual jab to his arm. “Let’s head up before Hermione ropes us in for more revising, eh?”

Ron startles but complies as Harry pulls him towards the dorm. They’re halfway up the stairs when Ron grumbles. “I swear next idiot that so much as looks at Ginny’ll get my fist in his face.”

Bloody buggering hell.

______

Harry’s not sure if the near-duel with a trio of macho Slytherins is a mark of continued bad luck, or simply the universe’s complete investment in torturing him. Sure, he didn’t get detention, which definitely would have happened if they’d dueled. Slytherins inevitably report to Snape and if Harry so much as breathes wrong it seems he finds himself being punished by the former Potions Master.

Sometimes, he thinks perhaps his dad had been pushed and pushed until that day by the lake. Thinks that maybe he understands getting so frustrated, so caught up in the back and forth taunts and fighting that you forget that there are lines that shouldn’t be crossed.

And one day, Harry fears he’ll lose sight of that line and nobody will be there to pull him back.

He’s felt the tickle of that righteous anger before, that whisper in his ear that some people just push and push and maybe -

And maybe Harry’s more like Voldemort than he’d like to accept. Dumbledore swore there was no comparison, that his fears were unfounded. And yet -

“What’s up, Mr Sad Face?”

Harry starts as Ginny drops down next to him on the grass, hair loose and blowing in the wind skirting off the Great Lake. “I can’t really argue with that description.”

Ginny nudges his leg with the toe of her shoe, stray bits of grass falling from the patent leather. “Share with the class?”

Harry’s silent for a moment, hands twisting in his lap.

“Do you think I’m - do you think I could be evil?”

For a moment, Ginny just considers him, then she lets out a loud laugh. “I thought you might be joking. But you aren’t, are you?”

“No - I just. Today with those Slytherins. Sometimes with Malfoy or Snape. I worry where I’d go if I didn’t stop.”

“Well that’s your answer right there,” Ginny says as she loosens her tie and lounges back on her palms. While the sunlight filters through the tree, Ginny lets her eyes drift shut and waits for Harry to consider what she’s said.

“Because I think about it?”

Ginny pins him with her gaze. “Do you think Voldemort or Bellatix or any of them stop to wonder whether they’ve gone too far? Or whether they’re evil?”

“I dunno. I mean probably not Voldemort but - ”

She drops her hand into the grass so the tips of her fingers brush his. “You are one of the bravest, kindest, most loving and selfless people I’ve ever known. Sometimes I worry you forgive too much. So you, Harry James, are the farthest thing from old Moldy Shorts there can be.”

Harry snorts.

“Except maybe Dobby.”

Their attention drifts to the Giant Squid, churning about in the murky waters, before Harry murmurs, “When am I going to help you out?”

Ginny laughs like he surprised it out of her. “Remember my first year? We’re good for a bit.”

Flushing, Harry rips up a handful of grass and watches the shorn blades float away on the breeze. “That doesn’t count.”

“Well, what does, then?” Ginny says, brows raised, “I can’t imagine anything much more ‘helpful.’”

“There was no choice,” Harry shrugs, “You deciding to listen to me whine about my teen angst is an ongoing project.”

“Well that’s what we are for each other - we’re,” Ginny pauses as their eyes lock and Harry almost thinks she leans towards him, like she’s thinking about the same things he dreams about too often.

But before either of them can give the idea much more consideration, the Giant Squid’s aerobics increase in forcefulness and sends a spurt of water directly into Harry’s face.

“Shit.”

Ginny laughs while he swipes at his face, glasses dangling from his fingers, but she soon lifts them from his grasp and dries them on the tail of her shirt.

“See, even the Squid’s on my side.”

He’s content to simply watch her laugh, the thought that she might’ve sought him out today quickly ghosting through his mind before he brushes it away.

________

Harry simultaneously feels like he could break something - Snape’s neck no less - and also poorly, badly, even sorry for what he did. But how could’ve he known?

He should’ve known, he should have. All the signs were there, but Harry wanted, needed to trust the Prince. And so Draco Malfoy almost bled to death after a too easily muttered spell.

He’s about as deep as he can dive down into the pit of self-loathing when Ginny unexpectedly cuts off Hermione’s snappish, smug comments, knocks her off her high horse. It doesn’t make Harry feel any better about himself, though, but it does divert his attention for a bit, his disappointment at having been somehow deceived by the Prince.

Enough to remember that he won’t play the final match, he won’t be there for his team, to cheer them and keep their spirits up. They’d have to play without him. All those hours of hard work…

Some captain he is.

He needs to scream into a pillow.

When the day finally drags along, Harry’s careful to duck his head and disappear before he can meet anyone, miserably carrying himself to Snape’s lair, hatred sizzling above the surface. He braces himself for what’s about to come, steels himself. He can do it.

Harry can’t stop himself worrying about his team, angry thoughts mixing together with hope and fear and guilt. What if Ron’s confidence flounders? And they all somehow forget the defence tactics they’d rehearsed almost obsessively? What if Katie or Demelza get hit and they’re suddenly a Chaser short?

God, what if Ginny’s injured?

Harry battles his mind, troubled as the minutes crawl their way into hours and Snape finally relents. He springs out of there before the slimy git can change his mind.

Harry’s at the portrait hole in a heartbeat, hesitating before he tries the password. If they’d lost, it’ll be his fault. If they’d let the Quidditch Cup slip, it’ll only be his slip. He’s the only one responsible, not them.

He finally summons what’s left of his Gryffindor courage and strengthens his resolve. “Quid agis?”

“You’ll see,” the Fat Lady smartly replies and Harry braces himself for whatever’s waiting for him inside. They’ve lost before, it’s not like he doesn’t know what failure tastes like. Although they’ve trained so hard this year, they were so bloody close -

Then Harry’s yanked inside by several pairs of hands gripping haphazardly at his clothes, people shouting and screaming at the sight of him and for a moment he seriously fears he’s stumbled into the middle of a public execution: his very own.

Irrational fear morphs into plain shock when he sees Ron brandishing the Cup at him, screeching numbers at him, his teammates roaring in delight, calling Harry ‘Captain’, asking him how proud he is of them all.

It’s a whirlwind of colours and sounds in Harry’s mind and at the centre of it all there’s Ginny, a hard, blazing look in her face as she comes running towards him, long ginger hair fluttering behind her, arms spread wide. She’s beautiful, more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

Harry’s heart leaps violently and his mind disconnects.

Years after that day, they’d still debate who kissed who. But right then, Harry couldn’t be bothered. All he cared to know was Ginny, her mouth on his, her warm body in his arms, and that finally - ha, it was even funny to think it, but finally reality was better than his dreams.

The sound returns to Harry’s ears, the giggles and whispers and wolf-whistles buzzing against his eardrums. The monster inside his chest roars triumphantly and Harry grins madly, his eyes shining as they meet Ron’s and he nods, his heart leaping out of its cage in pure delight when he looks at Ginny and her dazzling smile.

Their hands lock as they climb through the portrait hole and Harry feels a sudden spring in his step, a toothy grin glued to his glowing face. The feel of her palm in his, so soft except for one blister blossoming right at the centre of it, ah, it makes Harry’s head spin.

He doesn’t even hesitate when they reach the top of the marble staircase towering over the Great Hall. He simply beams at Ginny and, leaning in to press his lips to hers again, sweeps her up and holds her tightly to his chest as she shrieks playfully against his mouth. The chatter and whiz of the crowded Hall stop abruptly.

“Oi, who’s got their tongue down Weasley’s throat?”

“Oh my god, that’s Potter! Potter and Weasley!”

And the chorus of voices, the general ruckus and chaos of the Great Hall envelop the castle once again and Harry doesn’t even care who spotted them and that people are pointing their fingers at Ginny and him. He’s purely content to put on a show if that means he’s able to hold her like that.

Ginny’s laughing too and she laces their fingers together again, tugging him down the stairs and quickly through the crowds of students gawking at them, out of the Castle through the ancient doors.

They run until breathing becomes hard and they stop, hands on their knees and slightly hunched over, to pant and laugh and grin madly at each other, the late spring breeze lightly whipping Ginny’s hair over her beautiful face, caressing her freckles.

“Shall we?” Ginny nudges over to a sunny patch of grass and wildflowers blooming round the bark of a giant tree. Somebody’s carved a heart and many initials of past lovers have been added inside it and around it and Harry thinks it’s all very fitting.

M.P.+A.W.

J.P.+L.E.

He drops next to her with a thud and Ginny slips her hand inside his. Harry studies her face for a moment, pushes a strand of ginger hair behind her small ear, and, like magnets, he allows his mouth to find hers again. It takes a long time before they break away.

Harry’s stomach fills with something warm when he feels her tongue dart over his lips and instantly opens his mouth for her. He’s never kissed anyone like that, not that he’s too experienced in the kissing department, but Ginny’s tongue rolling over his has his toes curling and, just like that, he’s breathless and desperate to mirror every single one of her actions.

She shifts on her knees, her arms lock around his neck and immediately grip at his hair; lightly, gently at first, then more urgent as their kiss deepens and Harry pulls her onto his lap without thinking.

“I’ve always wanted to see how your hair feels,” Ginny says, a little out of breath, her cheeks tinged pink and Harry fights hard to stifle a yelp. Instead, he concentrates on summoning all the dormant coolness he hopefully has and hasn’t been aware of till now.

“Any thoughts post-hair feel?”

Ginny flashes him a mischievous smile, fingers twirling a couple of dark locks at the back of his head. “It’s glorious.”

Harry knows there’s a new stupid grin plastered to his face and he privately thinks there won’t ever come a day when Ginny’s compliments won’t make him feel like he can suddenly float three meters above the ground.

Then a sudden, irrational panic washes over him. “This isn’t a dream, yes?”

“I’d be very annoyed if it were. You’ve been crawling your way into a ridiculous amount of mine for me to remain sane,” she tells him before dipping her head to kiss him again and Harry purrs. She’d been dreaming about him too, ha!

It’s dark outside and they’re incredibly windswept when they finally stop and realise how much time has actually passed. They’ve been completely oblivious to the chill that fell over the Scottish mountains at sunset, too busy discovering each other, too happy to feel anything else.

“I desperately need a shower, I reek,” Ginny scrunches her nose as they trot back to the Castle, hands holding tightly to each other.

“Yeah, great idea, I’ll join,” Harry chimes enthusiastically. Any day with Snape leaves him feeling filthy and in need of a long, hot shower and a good scrub.

It’s only when she stops dead in her tracks that he becomes aware of how it must’ve sounded to her. Harry blushes furiously, two seconds away from hyperventilating.

“Oh, no, no, no! Not like that - I meant separate showers for us, yeah, not together, er - I was definitely not suggesting. Oh, god. Please don’t break up with me,” he finishes lamely.

But Ginny appears to find him adorable and tells him so, rising on the soles of her Quidditch boots to cup his face and bring him down for another kiss, heated and hard, leaving him dizzy and winded.

Their cheeks are equally flushed as they climb two stairs at a time, expertly avoiding the missing ones, and stealing another couple of quick kisses in front of the Fat Lady, who hides her face, embarrassed by such shameless displays of frivolity. She swings open without requesting the password and Harry and Ginny grin at each other.

“See you in a bit, yeah?” Ginny smiles at him, her hands roaming through his hair one last time before he nods and kisses her and stands at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Girls’ Dormitories grinning stupidly.

He’s hit with an eyeful of Ron’s disgusted look when he turns around, but Harry only shrugs and heads to the showers feeling more relaxed than he’s ever been.

______

“Where have you been?” Hermione throws him a knowing look between two sips of tea and a bite of toast when Harry inserts himself between her and Ginny that morning, successfully earning a filthy glance from Ron.

“Busy coiffing his hair,” Ron mutters but Harry doesn’t balk.

Hermione disguises her giggle poorly, “Really, Harry? I’ve never seen you put any amount of effort into taming your hair.”

Harry shrugs casually, “Not taming. And I’ve been told it’s glorious.”

Ginny winks and Ron pretends to vomit in his milk and cereal.

“Honestly, is that what you’ll be like every time Harry and I are together?” Ginny’s words are clipped though her thumb rubs circles on the back of Harry’s hand under the table before she slides her palm into his, plays with his fingers. His stomach churns wildly; hearing her say they are together, Harry’s chest might actually burst with the sheer force of the happiness he’s feeling.

“Yeah, if it’ll mean you’ll be less gross.”

“Oh, you mean like this?” And Ginny swiftly grabs Harry’s face and kisses him hard on the lips to a chorus of Ron’s irritated splutter and mugs being banged on the long table as Romilda Vane marches out of the Great Hall looking very much like a cat whose tail got stubbed.

“I’m telling Mum about your indecent, well, cavorting.”

“You big baby.”

Harry simply watches in amusement as the Weasley siblings stick their tongues out of each other, brandish threats under each other’s freckly noses. Then Ginny decides she’s had enough and puts an end to the brotherly conversation by pelting a pastry in Ron’s general direction, which sadly plonks right between his bright blue eyes.

“I’m really happy for you, Harry,” Hermione smiles, lightly squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry grins, watching as Ron unsuccessfully attempts to tackle Ginny at the other end of the Great Hall, Filch at their heels with a sopping mop and a maniacal glint in his eyes as he chants the word ‘detention’.

And he means it. Nothing’s able to snuff the pure, complete happiness pumping through him. Not Snape, not the piles of homework he’s been neglecting and definitely not Dean shouldering him as Harry sits alone in the corridor, waiting for Ginny to finish Charms so they can enjoy lunch together outside.

Not even Malfoy and his dirty deeds can occupy Harry’s mind more than a millisecond. There’s not enough room for much next to Ginny, she somehow makes everything else wither.

Harry’s practically skipping towards her when she bursts through the door next to Demelza, waving at Ginny frantically when she greets him with a glowing smile and a kiss.

“Saucy,” Demelza smirks, patting both of them on the back. “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it, then. Later, Captain!”

“She meant me,” Ginny teases, taking his hand in hers.

“Easy there, Gin. Power-hungry doesn’t paint a pretty colour on you,” Harry jibes good-naturedly as they walk across the Great Hall.

“Not trying to overthrow you just yet. I’m just saying, taking into account your tendency to win yourself detentions and all.”

“Oi, I’ve got a reputation to protect. Can’t break my streak now, you know.”

“Ah, so you’re not planning on doing a 180 and returning to Hogwarts for your final year as The Boy Who’s Been Tamed’?”

“Not too much hope for that I’m afraid.”

“Good,” Ginny says as they stop in front of the tree that sheltered them very nicely the day before, “I like you better when you’re bad.”

Harry lets out a lame groan, his legs having turned to absolute jelly when Ginny yanks him by the tie and he lets her snog him silly on the sun-warmed grass.

Naturally, they forget about lunch that day. And the next. And the one after that, trading food for kisses, urgent and heated, determined to make up for the time they’ve lost before they found each other.

And if Harry’s absolutely honest with himself, he can admit that studying has been getting more or less the same treatment - until Hermione puts her hands on her hips and nags him about interfering with Ginny’s OWLs revision. After that, it’s only his own studying that’s neglected, as he gladly spends his time away from Ginny thinking about her.

“Come study with me in the library?” Ginny asks on a Saturday morning, freckled fingers ruffling his hair as he lounges on the battered old couch near the hearth, head in her lap.

“Ha, I knew Hermione talked dung when she said you’d concentrate better without me.” He grins up at her, hands raising to clasp around her neck and bring her down for a short kiss.

“Actually, she’s right.”

“Oh?”

“I just don’t plan on revising much today,” Ginny winks, bites her bottom lip.

“Tell me more.”

“I can’t focus anyway, some messy haired bloke keeps popping into my mind, it’s quite annoying really.”

“Is that right? And what does he say?”

Ginny’s teeth sink deeper into her lip before she leans in to whisper something into his ear that immediately results in Harry hastily reaching for a pillow, subtly planting it over his middle region. “Don’t let your brother discover you know words like that,” Harry says for want of something smarter.

Ginny scoffs. “Want me to shout ‘penis’?”

“Please don’t,” Harry shakes his head, panicked, then steals a furtive glance over at Ron hunched over a table by the window with Hermione, what looks like the entirety of Hogwarts library sprawled between them.

“Just teasing you,” she laughs, cups his cheek between two fingers. “Don’t know why you’re so careful anyway, like you’re always walking on your tiptoes round him. What’ll you do when you're be staying at the Burrow with us this summer?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ll be sharing a room, won’t we?”

“Will we?” Harry’s genuinely not thought that far ahead, content to live in the moment with her. Or probably because he’s utterly terrified of Mrs Weasley and her legendary wrath.

“Won’t we?”

There’s a beat before Ginny breaks character and, giggling, pats Harry’s cheek. “Still messing with you. Mum would probably lose it if I request we amend any of her room arrangements. Although, I will expect you to put your resourcefulness to good use for some midnight visits.”

She winks and Harry needs to press the pillow to his crotch again. The way she’s playing with his heart rate, god, he’s surprised he’s not experienced any strokes yet.

Harry clears his throat. “Weren’t we supposed to be in the library by now?”

Ginny grins.

He has absolutely no clue what books he’d stuffed inside his bag before dashing out of Gryffindor Tower, Ginny giggling behind him as they race towards the library. Harry’s aware he’s never been this enthusiastic about revising in his entire student life but then again revising never meant anything other than last minute cramming or perhaps doodling whilst pretending to read. What the both of them have in mind is much, much less boring.

They find a secluded corner and drop their book bags willy-nilly on the table, Ginny summoning various tomes at random to stack them high in front of them like walls to their citadel. Harry props his chair against the wall and, watching her intently, leans back on it, waits for her to join him.

And then she does, their fingers link together, her calf moving over his as their lips slowly slant against one another, then faster, harder, fervently.

There’s so much heat inside Harry’s body, he has to kiss, to bite, to lick, anything, or else he’ll scream, he’ll go mad. The thought of ripping his own clothes off to blow some steam quickly passes through his mind but Harry waves it away before his other brain can decide it’s a fantastic idea.

“Kiss my neck again?” Ginny asks between their snogs and Harry groans.

His mouth is at her neck, hot air blown there before he licks and grazes with his teeth, his hands in Ginny’s ginger hair, her hands pulling at his messy locks. He sucks a bit and bites and Ginny moans into his ear, tells him he’s good and brilliant and don’t stop as his tongue flicks and rolls over the bruising skin.

It’s when Ginny moves her knee between his legs that Harry finally loses balance and forgets himself. The chair he’d been sitting on bangs loudly against the wall but he doesn’t care; Ginny’s hands are at his belt.

“Who’s in there?”

They freeze, tongues in each other’s mouths, as Madam Pince’s clipped steps approach them.

“Show yourselves,” the library matron fiercely demands.

Harry presses a finger to his lips and, pointing his wand toward his bag, summoning it close enough that he can grasp the Cloak. Gently he slips it over them and slowly, carefully they wait for Pince to calm down - although she nearly faints at the sight of her beloved books stacked in forgotten piles on top of a table, crudely taken out of their respective shelves and plainly, rudely abandoned.

They manage to sneak past her, tiptoeing their way out of the library and behind a tapestry of trolls in tutus to assess the situation.

“Well, you look positively ravished,” Ginny laughs, stretching to plant a chaste peck on Harry’s cheek.

“And you look positively ravishing,” Harry winks, smug, lightly tugging at Ginny’s rumpled hair, highly pleased to notice the blush creeping up her neck, over the swollen patch of skin there.

“You’re lucky all this foreplay’s got me so hungry I could swallow a hippogriff,” she pouts sweetly and Harry feels his ears start to burn for, as far as he’s been told, the word ‘foreplay’ usually implies a following act - the actual play.

He changes balance from one foot to another to subtly arrange things in his trousers while Ginny quickly combs her fingers through her hair, smoothens the wrinkles in her clothes.

“Let’s get you fed, yeah?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

After minimal discussion, they mutually agree on the desirability of avoiding Ron’s disgust, Hermione’s reminders about OWLs, and overall the prying eyes of the Hogwarts student population. Luckily, Harry has some connections in the kitchens and Dobby is more than eager to provide a sampler of that evening’s dinner.

Even as Harry’s stomach fills with rich food, his entire being feels lighter than he can remember, his eyes tear with laughter and Ginny’s chuckles fill the cavernous room. Once they’ve thanked Dobby & co., accepted the packed snack for later on, and promised to return before the end of term, Harry and Ginny slip back out the fruit themed portrait.

Ginny leans into Harry’s chest while they wander clumsily toward Gryffindor Tower, unconcerned with whatever the fastest route might be. Like it’s meant to be there, Harry’s arm wraps around Ginny’s shoulders and he basks in her closeness.

It’s hardly been any time at all, in the grand scheme of his life, but Harry can’t seem to remember what filled his days before Ginny. The oddest part is he feels consumed by it, and yet she hasn’t completely taken over his life - simply slotted in and filled all the missing places he didn’t know existed.

Their steps slow at the moving staircases, which are currently hovering in a formation that doesn’t particularly facilitate use, and Ginny leans back to take in his expression. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Briefly, Harry wonders exactly how much of his flowery internal monologue Ginny really wants to hear, and then figures it’s easy enough to sum up. He shrugs, “I’m just. Happy.”

Her smile is brilliant as she presses it against his. “Me too.”

The second kiss is less chaste, a lingering thing. But on the third, Ginny licks into his mouth and he somehow has the presence of mind to guide them off into a shadowy corner. Ginny’s hands ruck up his hair from the roots, fingernails scratching at his scalp, while her quiet sighs send shivers up his spine.

“Gin,” Harry murmurs against her jaw, not really sure what he’ll say if she responds. Whatever thought skittered across his mind is long gone.

She holds him in place with one hand while her free fingers pop a couple of her buttons open, exposing fields of freckles swirling in patterns Harry would like to spend a week memorizing.

Just as she’s guiding his mouth back to hers, a darkening bruise blossoming still at her collar bone, a throat clears behind them in a recognizable pattern - identifying the interloper as the second worst person who could’ve happened upon them in their current state.

Harry pulls back and turns, grasping one of Ginny’s hands in his and keeping his body partially in front at least until she’s mostly buttoned up.

“Professor.”

McGonagall sniffs, unimpressed. “Potter. Weasley.”

He ruffles his hair, biting back a grimace when he notes this seems more and more likely a genetic trait by the day. “We were, uh - going to practice Quidditch.”

Ginny’s groan is his first clue that something’s not quite right - and is a bit disappointing since her latest groans, moans, and sighs have been for much more pleasant reasons. But he’s a bit slow on the uptake, so it takes McGonagall spelling out the issue for him to catch up. “Quidditch season is over, Potter. I suppose you might have forgotten, given your absence at the game.”

Shit. He’s going to be in detention until he’s forty.

Maybe he’ll get partnered with Ginny…

Professor McGonagall doesn’t mete out a punishment as quickly as usual and instead considers them for a moment in a way Harry does not find particularly comforting. After a pause she says, “You know, I am no stranger to the goings on of hormonal teenagers,” she pauses and Harry’s hands go clammy, “I used to interrupt both of your parents when they decided to…’practice Quidditch.’”

While Harry begins to feel his supper come back up, Ginny groans in disgust, “Professor, why would you say that?”

A ghost of a smile flickers at McGonagall’s pursed lips. “Whatever image you two have managed to dream up is likely worse than whatever I would do in detention.”

There’s a bit of mischief in her eyes as she shoos them towards the dorms, not that Harry thinks either of them could manage to drum up anything close to a mood for snogging at this point.

Still, all the way Ginny holds his hand and leans into his arm, like they’re meant to fit together and the creature in Harry’s chest purrs happily.

“You really are the worst liar ever, Roonil,” Ginny whispers teasingly before the Fat Lady swings.

_______

Ron’s increasing fake coughs and repeated scoffs finally irritate Harry just as much as they do Ginny. It is rather clear to Harry that he either slaps his best mate over the head or simply moves their - erm, physical activities elsewhere.

As a wise young man who values friendship and loves his friends, Harry chooses the second.

Thus he agrees to meet Ginny outside the portrait hole later that evening and find themselves a cosy place to spend a happy hour or two.

“Got your Map?” Ginny asks after he greets her with a short kiss.

Harry nods and adds, “Though we might not need to check it as often. Hermione’s promised to keep Ron busy till 11. So that gives us more or less two hours.” He finds it hard not to waggle his eyebrows or wink but manages to contain himself all the same.

“They’ve finally cracked and begun to snog, then?”

Harry shoots her an amused look. “I wish. Nah, Hermione’s got him on a strict revision schedule. Never too early to prepare for NEWTs, she says.”

Ginny laughs heartily and grips Harry’s hand, her lips pressing a kiss to his shoulder as they walk down the corridor. “I do pity him, you know.”

“I know. Me too, but it’s his own doing. Gotta be a man and come clean, ‘tell her what you’re feeling’ is my personal mantra.”

Ginny scoffs audibly.

“Oh, Harry. You make it too easy for me.”

They volley back and forth as they sneak around corridor after corridor, jumping steps, mindful of the moving staircases, eyes wide open for Prefects or Filch or Snape or all of them combined. They’re on a secret mission and time coupled with the utmost discretion are of the essence.

He’s surprised to notice Ginny’s tugged him inside the same classroom he’d been hiding in from the sickening fluff of Valentine’s Day. The same one where she found him feeling sorry for himself, sat down next to him and laid her beautiful head on his shoulder, made him feel better, cared for even.

Harry swallows hard, his heart swelling. She’d remembered.

“I thought we could spend some time here, if you want,” Ginny starts, a little shy, a little uncertain, her teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip.

Harry can’t find the words to express what he’s feeling so he decides it’s best he shows her.

Smiling, he lifts her chin slightly, enough to press his lips to hers, kissing her as he walks them both inside, stumbles to grip the door knob and close it behind them.

Ginny easily hops onto a nearby desk when she hits it with her back as they fumble their way inside, eyes closed through the ever increasing dark drenching the Castle, smudging the windows a thick black.

“Nox,” Harry murmurs and the room falls prey to nightfall.

He shuffles closer till his knees press into the hard wood of the desk, hips bracketed by Ginny’s thighs, and he discovers once again that kissing sans uniforms is something else entirely. No cumbersome robes in the way, no fumbling over meters of useless material to be able to feel that sweet closeness.

And that’s exactly what he feels when Ginny’s hands sneak inside his black shirt, nails lightly grazing at his skin as he dips them lower over the desk, palm resting at the back of her head to cushion its impact with the wood. He gasps when she continues to map his chest with the tips of her fingers, when she tickles her way to his back, grips at the muscles there. Her touch is like balm to the soreness he’d been feeling.

She pulls him over her, legs clasped around his middle, and Harry hisses audibly when their bodies meet. Her waking things up and her actually being able to feel said things waking up are two entirely different things in Harry’s mind and his first impulse is to panic and stumble away.

But Ginny drags him right back. They’ve had close to twenty days of daily practice and she’s used to his bouts of self-consciousness by now, knows how to tackle them. Harry can’t thank her enough for this.

Emboldened, Harry slants his lips across her neck, touch slipping over her chest before his mouth rests right in the middle, hands clumsily roaming at the hem of her blouse. He dares travel further when her thighs grip him harder, his front pressing into her so much, too much it hurts.

Harry privately forbids himself to let go. There won’t be any subtle, embarrassed shuffling into the showers tonight. Or not until much later, when he’s alone with his thoughts, at least.

He feels the underpart of her bra with one finger at first, then gradually brings the rest of his hand to it, slowly covering it, feeling the cotton beneath his fingertips. Ginny’s tongue slips into his mouth and his hand suddenly jolts to cup her breast sooner than he’d planned and he moans because it’s wonderful and different at the same time. He’s felt her over her robes before, light touches during their snogging sessions, and once even over her shirt. But this is exciting and different, her skin so warm and soft, oh god, it doesn’t even begin to compare.

Harry chances another squeeze, another fondle and instantly groans, ah, he’s about to combust.

Ginny’s hands are in his hair as he roams inside her bra, encouraged by her pants, her moans inside his mouth, the tight grip of her thighs, her nipples hard beneath his palms. His thumb circles one nipple, desperate to feel more, to discover more of her and Ginny calls his name.

“Harry, I -”

“Yes?” He pants, pressing into her over her clothes, drags his mouth to her jaw, behind her ear.

It takes a moment before his eyes adjust to the near darkness; he’d been squeezing them so tightly shut he’d barely realised they’ve been hooked on pure feeling, on the electrifying shocks discovering new patches of skin, new soft places to kiss and grip provided for them.

He raises his green eyes to her flushed face, her burning cheeks, the mortified look in her eyes he distinguishes through the raw black of the classroom and, oh - he understands.

“I’ll - erm,” Harry stumbles for his words and finally settles for silence. He slowly raises himself from her, focused on righting his clothes to give her a moment to recover.

When she looks more comfortable, when she’s not blushing as furiously, Harry smiles at her and gently lifts her chin to capture her lips, guessing their contour through the darkness. He may not have the right words, but he really, truly hopes she knows. Knows how he feels and how much she means to him and that he’d wait any amount of time for her. They don’t need to hurry anywhere.

He brings the back of her hand to his cheek, then to his lips before he helps her down and places a kiss at the top of her head, lingers there, high on her flowery scent.

Harry continues to hold her hand while they take their time returning to the Common Room, stealing kisses and muffling laughter on their way as the echoes of their footsteps reverberate along dark Castle halls.

#itsblissfuloblivion #itsblissfuloblivion writes torch #harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #harry x ginny #hbp missing moments #canon compliant #ron weasley #hermione granger #MAY MONTH BEST HINNY MONTH #snogs ahoy #gryffindormischief #fightfortherightsofhouseelves

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sweet-evie · 4 years

Text

This is My Kind of Ending

Original Publication Date: February 16, 2020

Original Link: This is My Kind of Ending FFN

The world is at peace and has long moved on from its old ways. Now he's free to do whatever he wishes. And you best believe he's going to make the most out of it. [Post-Re;surrection SPOILERS]

Only after accomplishing such tasks like unifying the world could a man truly appreciate the value of a lazy day…

A lazy day mostly spent in bed with an exquisite woman who knew the right buttons to push.

A sound that was somewhere between a heavy grunt and a satisfied sigh left him as he sagged against their headboard, distracting himself with the dull ache of the crescent-shaped marks she'd left on his shoulders. C.C. panted softly on his collarbone, her arms now wound around his back while her body remained in that slight arch.

Hips still joined. Delicious heat and friction still present… The leftover lust sluggishly dissipating, leaving the lovers hazy and a little dreamy.

L.L. will never openly admit it, but his favorite part about sex was what came after. The orgasms were a close second, but he quite liked the tranquility that usually followed after he and C.C. had thoroughly (and enjoyably) exhausted themselves. From there on out, it was usually just her snuggling closer to him to steal his body warmth while he languidly stroked her hair.

But falling back to the wonderful land of nod wasn't an option right now, was it? It was bordering lunchtime, and he and C.C. had yet to leave their messy bed and its rumpled sheets.

He couldn't stop smirking at the thought of his younger self being so mortified over this. Lelouch the Student would probably be panicking over sleeping in, knowing he had all of these responsibilities to tend to. He was worlds away from L.L… And truth be told, he didn't mind one bit.

At this very moment, L.L. didn't give a shit. There was contentment to be had in knowing the world was at peace (well, most of it), and hunting the rest of the Geass fragments could wait another day. (Or until he and C.C. had found strong leads). Now, he had this, and he was going to enjoy the pleasures of the naked flesh, thank you very much.

In his defense, the morning hadn't been wholly dedicated to sleeping. Honestly, he and C.C. didn't get much sleep last night. And when he'd woken to her shifting restlessly at dawn, it didn't take the male instinct very long to take hold. And to say he took her with little preamble would have been an understatement.

"You're getting soft." C.C.'s voice was muffled against his chest as she hitched her knee higher. The slight movement had him twitching slightly inside her, and he knew she noticed. But she didn't comment on it.

After four hours of being in bed, indulging in sex with minimal breaks in-between, he did have a pretty good excuse for his deflating cock. Especially after how vigorous the last round had been.

"I don't care." He mumbled into her shoulder and relished the shudder that left her as he watched his hands knead the plump cheeks of her rear. His fingers sunk into the globes, and with each deliberate stroke, his partner's appreciative moans grew in volume.

He nearly whined at the loss of contact when C.C. rose up on her knees. Biting her lip, she tried to suppress the blush that crept to her cheeks when thick rivulets of semen trickled down her thighs. Smirking with what she could only describe as masculine pride, L.L. cocked an eyebrow and wordlessly offered her the box of tissues that had been forgotten on their nightstand until now.

"Do you ever wonder what could have happened if you and I had already been lovers during the rebellion?" L.L. asked curiously, while C.C. returned to his side and settled comfortably with his body.

"You would have been less uptight, I suppose." She flashed a coy smile at him and gently thumbed the head of his glistening cock.

L.L. wasn't given the opportunity to respond because she kissed his lips and slowly began pumping his cock — that was stiffening quite impressively once again. C.C. smiled at this. Because her lover had been nothing short of eager after he had his first taste of sensual pleasure.

It was almost as if she'd somehow flipped a switch, and now her partner's hormones were in overdrive. Not that she was any better. Of course, C.C. had walked this earth longer than any human alive, and she had had her fair share of lovers (any gender) and ex-husbands, but as far she could remember, she had been mostly celibate from the moment she'd met Marianne and when she had directed the Geass Order.

Jaded and simply disinterested in the touch of another human, C.C. could vaguely remember spending all of that time trying to occupy herself until the day her contractee could finally give her the death she'd craved for.

There was little room there for sex — although she did indulge in pleasuring herself once in a while whenever she felt the need.

So when L.L. had willingly given up his virginity, it was like unlocking something within her too.

It was being reminded of what physical pleasure was like with another human. It was ecstasy and bliss in her lover's arms.

No one could blame her for wanting him in return…

But as much as she would have loved to do it some more, a much more demanding need called. They stopped kissing just in time to hear her own stomach growl.

"I'm hungry."

"I am too… For that wet little—"

What could have been a sexy string of words was cut short when L.L. found her finger laid across his lips, shutting him up.

Grinning like a feline bent on causing mischief, C.C. closed the last few inches and stole a chaste kiss before she simply rolled off the edge of the bed and snagged her partner's discarded shirt off of the floor.

"I'm ordering us some pizza. And maybe pasta since I know you like it."

"But—"

"You're welcome."

She shrugged the article of clothing on (and didn't bother to button the damn thing), ignored him and his footsteps behind her, and hastily padded across the room to head for their kitchen in search of some good food.

vVvVv

She'd barely finished her call with the pizzeria when her lover insisted on bothering her…

And it wasn't the poking-your-shoulder-I-have-something-to-tell-you kind of bother. For some reason the other immortal in the room thought it would be a good idea to distract her with his fingers while she finished up her call. And to say that it was a rather embarrassing 'thank you' to whoever was managing the pizzeria's delivery hotline would be a bit of an understatement.

"Rather scandalous for you to let your pleasure slip like you did." He growled into her ear, nipping the lobe tenderly as she bucked against his touch.

"And who's fault is that?" She managed through a choked gasp when she felt the pads of his fingers rub against her most sensitive spots.

L.L. only grinned sheepishly. "How long until the delivery boy gets here?"

"50 minutes."

50 minutes… Perfect.

It was just enough time. If she would be a good girl and succumb to his coaxing that is. Checking to make sure that she'd replaced the phone in its cradle on the wall, he gestured for her to turn around and face him. To see the wicked grin on his comely face and the lust glittering in his lovely violet eyes. Without further preamble, he deposited his lover atop the granite counters, relishing the slight squeak he received because of his actions.

So insatiable… Absolutely ravenous.

Just a few of the words she would use to describe him and his ministrations. Not that she was complaining.

That promise in his eyes was more than enough compensation for nearly humiliating her on the phone.

"Let's see how many times I can get you to come in 50 minutes."

And how much sperm he could spill inside her lovely cunt…

vVvVv

L.L. was a quick study. This, she had to tell herself all the time whenever he initiated, took the reins, and had his delicious way with her. Gone was the shy and slightly reserved young man who had curiously touched her body that first time on the armchair.

He was replaced with this confident male that had no qualms telling her to get on all fours on the floor, right by the full-length mirror next to a line of bookshelves. She boldly made to ask and demand for what exactly he had in mind, when he swallowed the rest of her question with a heady kiss.

Lips so velvety and moist, capturing hers in a kiss that turned her legs and arms to jelly. His weight against her own body, she began to pitch to the side — ready to fall on her naked back. A sharp yelp escaped her at the realization of this, but it was cut short by an arm slipping around her waist, gently yet firmly bringing her back to a warm body.

Blinking rapidly, C.C. quickly regained her senses and swatted his forearm hard. L.L. was chuckling into her ear, the fingers of his left hand twined in her hair as he peppered the side of her face with kisses.

"I forget that you're heavier than you look, and that says a lot." She grumbled, slowly rearranging her legs that sprawled inelegantly when she had been about to tumble.

The hand at her abdomen traveled upwards and took the liberty of caressing a scarred breast, teasing the pert nipples with his fingers. Growling, he nipped at her earlobe and whispered in a timbered voice that made her toes curl. "Let's try that again, good girl. 20 minutes…"

At the reminder of a time limit, she complied with his wishes without further hesitation. Plus, she also just really needed him inside of her. After he'd tortuously fucked her with his tongue and his fingers; even went as far as tease her clit with the tip of his weeping cock, the universe shouldn't blame her for craving that intrusion. For coveting such pleasure.

How could she resist, when it dangled above her head like some nuisance ripe fruit?

The thoughts in her head were interrupted by a sharp sting at her backside. Another smack landed on her rump and it had her jerking forward with a scandalous moan that put her proper day-self to shame.

His hands smoothed over the plump cheeks, stroking the pale globes and giving each an appreciative squeeze. Smirking deviously, he let a wandering fingertip run over the slit. He pressed harder and the lips parted ever so slightly to reveal enticing pink folds wet with lubrication and his leftover semen from earlier in the day. Some trickled out, pattering into the floor.

"Lelouch, st— op." She struggled to say, night out of breath as she braced herself on her elbows and turned her head to see the smug expression on his face. "Please."

"You've had two orgasms." He rubbed and pressed on her clit, amusing himself with the way she bit down on her lip and groaned. "Do you need a third?"

"Yes…" She breathlessly gasped without hesitation. Yes, she needed him inside her. Yes, she wanted his cock. Yes, she craved the feeling of him buried within her. "Yes, I do. Please, Lelouch. Please… Please. Ohhhh—"

God, he was so good with his fingers. Scissoring her clit like that and dipping one in. She subconsciously pushed her hips back against the lone digit, letting it sink. And L.L. smiled… She wasn't lying about wanting it, that much he could tell. Her inner walls were racked with spasms, squeezing — perhaps even looking for something thicker. Fuller. Harder.

"You're not lying." Strings of her wetness came away as he pulled his hand back. Her body nearly sighed with relief, but was pushed taut yet again when he replaced his finger with the appendage she so desperately needed and wanted.

She called his real name in a pleased voice just as he moaned and let out a string of expletives that were far from decent.

Warm, wet, and snug — fitting around him like a glove.

All sense of touch zeroed in on where their hips were joined. And when he began to move, she wailed her pleasure on the floor. Aroused and filled with glee at the pleasured groans and grunts sounding above her. He was so vocal and she loved it. Their sighs joining together as their bodies created music that was theirs and theirs alone. Until their living room was filled with loud squelching, expressive moans, keening calls, and labored breathing.

After some time, he grew bored with the way their bodies were tangled together and he gently brought her backwards, his arms around her waist. Eyelids at half-mast and gazes clouded with desire, she didn't waste time and aligned his glistening cock with her parted folds in this new position.

So focused on the task of impaling herself on that erection, he smiled at the idea that she was oblivious to the mirror now in front of them — in front of her. Momentarily blind to their lewd reflections on the glass.

Skin flushed with heat, he moaned into her ear as his cock found that deeper angle and rested ever so lightly below her cervix. He saw her eyes roll to the back of her head as he rotated his hips languidly before thrusting. The repeated motions were coupled with fingers teasing her nipples, and her head lolled back against his right shoulder — baring her neck to his lips, his teeth, his tongue.

In the midst of the heady pleasure, he wondered if she was aware of how she looked right now. An erotic visual with her legs spread, her body curving outward, and her pink folds parted around a hard cock covered in her essence as it slipped in and out of her at a rhythmic pace she so enjoyed.

"Enjoying your view, Lelouch?" She purred into his ear, delighting in the response she earned down below.

So she had noticed.

Their tongues twined and twisted together. He could feel her walls tighten — ever so gradually. She groaned at his throbbing cock.

So before they could both tip over into much-wanted release—

"Open your eyes and look at yourself." He whispered through a string of saliva between their mouths. "Look… ngh— at yourself, C*****."

Lovely bullion eyes were uncovered underneath fluttering eyelashes. And just as he commanded, she looked. She looked and drank in the sight of their voluptuous performance — at the reflection of their bodies joined together so intimately, at her flushed folds that accommodated her lover's throbbing sex, at her love's endearing face crumpled with pleasure as he strained for his release and her own.

It was beautiful and passionate, and oh so sexy, and… And—

Her final cry bounced around the four corners of the open living area as her walls tightened, and tightened around him.

Oh it was so fucking good— So hot and good.

Warmth slowly spread within her and at the feel of his body sagging ever so slightly on the floor, she knew he had his release. It was still throbbing inside her, gripped in her own flesh as her body welcomed what he had to give — stream after stream of hot sperm that leaked out of her and made very small puddles on the floor as he carefully slipped out.

"You and I really need a bath." C.C. sighed and snuggled against him, closing her legs as she kissed his cheek and kept her endearing gaze on him.

"How was it?" L.L. panted against her shoulder, nuzzling her neck glistening with a sheen of perspiration.

She smiled at his question… Because he asked the same thing just before they fell asleep earlier this morning.

"It was excellent. Thank you."

The look of accomplishment on his face was one he couldn't hide, and C.C. thought it quite adorable. It warmed her heart to know that he wanted to please her — just as much as she wanted to please him.

And so she stole that giddy smile as she lovingly kissed his lips and willingly lost herself to the simple pleasure of basking in the afterglow with the love of her life — the musky scent of copulation in the air be damned.

vVvVv

"Did he notice anything?"

C.C. shyly asked when L.L. returned from the front door with several to-go boxes in his arms.

Chuckling, he set the items down on the living room coffee table as he discreetly appreciated the view of C.C. wearing nothing but his dress shirt on. "If he cared enough to make deductions based on my appearance, he might have."

Plopping down on the sofa, he reclined against one of the pillows as he reached for the remote to turn the TV on.

"But I kind of doubt it." Grinning sheepishly he peered at the food name written in black Sharpee across one of the boxes before he handed her the pasta she had ordered.

"Oh?" C.C. raised an eyebrow, taking the food from him as she made herself comfortable tucked to his side. "With bedhead like this, it screams that you just had sex."

Suddenly self-conscious, he hurriedly patted at his dark locks, smoothing them down to grant a semblance of normalcy

He didn't know why, but it made her giggle for some reason. And the sound had a more profound effect on him than he first thought, when he realized he paused in the middle of taking out his own food just to stare at his Witch — at her beauty. At the personality and companionship that made him fall in love with her every single day.

After all the despicable things he'd done. In the middle of it all, he must have done something extremely right to be granted an ever after as sweet and delectable as this.

It was just so—

"I love you, C.C."

A secret smile bloomed on her lips. Lightly cupping his jaw, the Witch stretched up the tiniest bit and gently kissed his cheek as she murmured heartfelt words on his skin.

"I love you more, L.L."

#wbad fanfiction #code geass #L.L. x C.C.#L.L.&C.C #lelouch x c.c. lemon #lelouch x c.c.#fanfiction #cluclu #lulucc #lelouch lamperouge #c.c. (code geass)#c.c. x lelouch #code geass fukkatsu no lelouch #code geass lelouch of the resurrection #lelouch of the resurrection

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verus-veritas · 5 years

Text

Interactive: The Great Shift (2)

The cop's gun dropped from his hand as he looked around in shock.

"Oh no!" He cried. "Where am I now?"

I looked down at myself and let out a great sigh of relief. I was still in the body that once I could have only dreamed of having.

"Who are you?" the new cop asked.

"I'm Tony Coletta." I said with a smile. "But you don't need to worry about that. Who are you?"

The cop looked down at his badge and said. "Well I guess I'm Officer Reynolds now."

I smiled again. It looked like I had found an ally who would come in handy if or when Tony came looking for his body. A cop would be hard to argue with.

"If you need somewhere to stay I've got plenty of room at my place." I said.

The cop instantly climbed into the passenger seat and I started the engine. As I drove I watched the new Officer Reynolds check himself out in the wing mirror.

"Very nice..." he murmured. "I can live with this."

Officer Reynolds was a big man, but in all the right places. He had broad shoulders, muscular arms and a face that said, 'Don't mess with me'.

I watched him pull a wallet from his pocket and flick through his I.D.

"Kieron Reynolds", he said over and over again before putting it away. He turned to look at me.

"So you're really you then" he asked a little suspiciously..

"Yes," I lied with determination in my voice. "Why?"

"You're a lucky guy", Kieron continued. "It’s happened twice and you've escaped it both times?."

"Weird shit like this doesn't happen to me", I said with a smirk. "I thought everyone was playing some kind of stupid prank on me at first."

"Nope," Kieron said holding up his hands and studied them. "It happened alright."

As we pulled up outside the house Kieron let out a slow whistle.

"Nice!" he said. "You've done alright for yourself here."

"It's my house." I snarled at his remark.

"Yes, yes of course", Kieron said as he followed me inside. I began to wonder whether bringing 'Kieron' home with me had been the right thing to do. Was he going to mess up my plans of taking over Tony's life for good? I stopped to look at my new face in the hallway mirror. No-one was going to take it away from me now, not even Tony himself!

"So who were you originally?" I asked Kieron as I handed him some chicken from the fridge.

He let out a laugh and almost choked on the food.

"An ex-con down on my luck. Shitty apartment, slut of a girlfriend," he said. "Now look at me! I'm the fucking long arm of the law. Thank you very much Officer Reynolds!"

"What about the real Officer Reynolds?" I asked.

"Fuck him," he said. "Hopefully he’s permanently out of the picture. If not I'll arrest him for impersonating a police officer." He laughed long and hard at his own joke.

"Anyway Tony," he said and I realized I liked being called that. "I need to take a shower now. Get to know the new me properly, if you catch my drift." he winked at me before I guided him upstairs.

I found him a guest room with en-suite and left him to it. As I closed the door he was already half undressed and grinning like a cheshire cat. I dreaded to think what he was going to get up to in the shower.

I went to Tony's, I mean my room and closed the door. Picking up a photo album on the desk, I flicked through it while studying every picture of Tony so as to learn as much as I could about him. I let Tony's face smile smugly as I acknowledged that these were now pictures of me, the hottest jock in town! My eyes wandered to a porn magazine I had seen earlier and I soon felt a stiffening in my jeans. Removing my shirt and revealing my muscular body, I picked up the magazine and was about to take off my jeans when the doorbell suddenly rang again. I cautiously made my way downstairs while repressing my raging erection and opened the door to see Phoebe, our school’s head cheerleader.

"Tony? Is that you?" Phoebe asked.

"Who else do you think it is?" I said in character. "Ain’t no one getting their hands on my body."

"Thank god," she said. "Can I come in?"

I watched her walk into the house. She was hot. Dark-skinned and petite in a Camila Cabello sort of way. Tony's hormone were rushing through my body. I knew what I wanted.

"Is that really you then Phoebe?" I asked.

"Yes," she said with a smile. "What happened to everyone?"

"I don't know," I said wrapping my big arms around her and smelling her hair. "But at least we're still ourselves."

"Yeah..." she said holding me tight. I felt myself start to stiffen but she only pushed tighter and it was pressed hard against her.

"Let’s go upstairs." she whispered and led the way. She obviously knew where Tony's bedroom was.

I lost my virginity as Tony Coletta. I couldn't have wished it to be any better. Me in control of his great body and with the Head Cheerleader as well. I lay back feeling the blood pumping through my veins. I felt more alive than I had ever been.

"Tony," Phoebe said. "You were amazing."

"Well I am Tony Coletta," I said with a smirk. "What did you expect?"

She let out a little giggle.

I lay on the bed and watched her go the bathroom to shower. I looked down at my penis and flopped it about in my hand. I smiled knowing that I was going to have so much more fun with it. That is if the real Tony didn't turn up... But even if he did, there’s no way I would let him take all this back. I was Tony Coletta now!

I went downstairs to find Kieron watching the television dressed only in his boxers. He was studying a tattoo on one of his big arms.

"Had a little action then," he said. "Could hear you both down here."

"Yeah, so what if I did?" I answered him with a snark.

"Nothing wrong with that," he said shaking his head. "Good-looking guy like you must get a lot of girls after you. Mind you I think the same is gonna apply to me now." He let a sneer cross his new face which seemed out of place. Suddenly Phoebe walked into the room.

"Oh I didn't know you had company." she said shyly.

"Hi, I'm Kieron, a friend of the family." Kieron stood up to greet her, shaking her hand.

"Shhhh!" I said as a news report flashed up on the tv screen.

"Scientists have finally discovered a way to return those affected by the recent events to their own bodies. By capturing energy from the recent aftershocks Professor Ian George of the Torchwood Institute has created a device that will attach itself to the residual energy in a person’s body and transfer it to another. It will be a lengthy process but it looks as though things will soon be back to normal," the reporter said from inside the body of a stunning blonde. "And I for one will be looking forward to getting back to my daily weight lifting sessions. This is Bill Masters for CBS news."

There was a moment silence.

"Well that’s good then isn’t it?" Phoebe asked.

"Oh yes, great news." I said.

"Yes, couldn't agree more", Kieron said.

Then there was another moment of silence. Suddenly, my mobile started to ring. I picked it up hesitantly. Someone was trying to contact Tony and I had a pretty sure idea of who it was...

"Have you heard the news?" a strange voice said, but I knew it was none other than the real Tony.

"Sure. Good news alright." I said while trying to hide my dissatisfaction.

"Oh yes, the best news I've heard today! So, are you ready to go?" Tony said obviously unable to hide his excitement.

"Where to?" I played dumb.

"The Torchwood Institute, of course. I think I’m in the body of a wanted criminal, so I want to get out of it as soon as possible." Tony said hastily.

"Uh... okay. Just come here first so we can pick up some stuff, and we’ll go there together." I answered him. He simply agreed and then hung up. Sitting back on the sofa I started to think. If everyone already believed I was the real Tony, there was no need for me to give this body away! I just had to get rid of the real Tony and then I could stay as Tony Coletta forever! And that’s when I knew exactly what had to be done.

"What a weird guy!" I exclaimed loudly to attract Phoebe and Kieron's attention.

"Is everything all right?" they asked in unison.

I then told them about a bad guy who claimed to be me, and demanded I give my body to him. I also lied and said that he threatened to kill me after he got my body.

"What a horrible thing to do! To pretend to be someone else just so he could steal someone’s identity, who could do something like that?" Phoebe shook her head in disbelief.

"Don't worry about that, my friend. Since I’m a police officer now, it’s my responsibility to protect innocent people like you." Kieron reassured me. I simply nodded at him before we all gave each other a knowing look.

When the real Tony entered the mansion, Phoebe, Kieron and I was hiding behind the door. Before he could react we jumped on him and knocked him out.

"I recognize this guy. He was the most dangerous serial murderer in the city," Kieron said. “Thank god he never got the chance to switch with anyone.”

Taking the unconscious Tony to the police station, now in the body of the most wanted criminal, the police were incredibly satisfied with our work and gave us a great reward. As for the real Tony, he tried to explain the situation he was in but nobody believed him. After all, it was three people’s words against one. He was eventually sentenced to death and the execution was held on the same day. Removing one more dirt from the planet.

---

Eventually everything went back to normal, everyone was supposedly sent back into their original bodies, but with a few people missing. One of them was the outcast Evan who’s mind was never found. His parents were miserable, but they got over it soon when the government compensated them for the loss. The students also noticed a few changes in the school jock, Tony Coletta. It seemed as if he had become friendlier, more intelligent and mature. He was also often seen hanging out with the police officer Kieron or went out on long steamy dates with Phoebe. But it’s not like it mattered. Tony was the perfect guy before, and after The Great Shift he still was. It seems as if some people are lucky enough to be completely unaffected by The Great Shift, and Tony Coletta was definitely one of them.

The End

Source: “The Great Shift” Interactive Story on Writing.com

#bodyswap #jock #bully #selflove #permanent #the great shift #interactive

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shikastemari · 6 years

Text

cologne - b&s.

pairing boruto uzumaki x sarada uchiha

characters uchiha family; boruto; some random oc

request

word count 3,740

when it happens they’re 18 here

warnings none i guess i still suck at these

a/n now my notes will be after the text to avoid telling y’all any kind of spoilers!

MASTERLIST

“Boruto, again?”

Sarada dramatically stopped breathing, narrowing her eyes at her teammate who had just gotten out of the shower. Her sharingan wasn’t showing, but it was inevitable her eyes to follow the drops of water running down his chest, to a rigid abs’ muscles, dying on the towel around his waist. His ‘V’ line was marked clearly, and Sarada had to pinch herself to look away.

“Stop picking on my cologne, for goodness.” Boruto threw at her face the towel he was using to dry his hair. “It helps me with girls. You’re the only one that doesn’t like it.”

“Guess I am the one with good taste then.” She teased, taking the towel over her head and throwing back at him. Her glasses were now all fogged up due the hot atmosphere from the bath house. She took it off for a moment so she could clean it up on the closest towel. “I thought you only used this to mask how bad you smell on missions. In case you didn’t noticed, we finished it.”

Boruto took a few steps on her direction, towering over her and placing a hand on the wall after her. It was always hard for him those situations where the only thing between them was a piece of a fabric that could be easily torn off apart. Those times when she was standing wrapped on her towel, Boruto always felt his heart running to somewhere else and it was constantly difficult to hide the power she had over him.

Even when she was so tiny and small, behind him.

“Admit you love it.” He teased, peered down at her and suddenly, Sarada forgot how breathing felt like. A drop of water from his hair fell on her cheek and it startled her, talking a step back and her back encountered the wall. She felt his eyes on her lips as she bit her bottom lip.

“Mama taught me not to lie.” Sarada said, pushing him back with both hands. Boruto tried to ignore the urge to hold and pull her closer to him. He shook his head trying to convince himself it’s not what he actually wanted to do, it was just hormones speaking. But unlike her, it seemed like his mother didn’t teach him not to lie.

“So, anxious about the ceremony tonight?” Boruto changed subjects, to think about something else than kissing his lifetime crush. Sarada breathed out in relief, eager to focus about something that wasn’t related on how angelic someone was looking wearing that towel.

“You should be, not me. It is a big birthday party for your father, after all.” Sarada turned her back on her teammate, searching for her clothes somewhere. They were so used to change on the same room, back to back, and they were always respectful towards each other. But that day, something was really off with both of them and all they wanted was to look back to have a tiny glance over the body they so desperately desired.

“Do you have any date?” Boruto sighed in anticipation, afraid of her answer. It seemed like ages since her voice filled his ears again.

“No, you silly. We arrived only today from the mission. Where would I find a date this late?” Sarada let the towel drop on the floor with a nice thud and Boruto felt his whole body getting rigid. Sighing deeply, he mirrored her action and tried to focus on putting some clothes on. He always drove his mind about things he would consider a big turn off, like his father or even his master doing it. It was one hell of a disturbing scenario, for sure.

“Do you?” Her voice cut the steamy room as a knife. For a moment, Boruto almost forgot she was in the room.

“What?” He frowned, turning a bit to look at her and completely forgetting about the fact they were changing clothes. Although, he didn’t see much, just her naked slim form dressing something.

“Do you have a date?” Sarada wasn’t ready to the answer as she rushed to dress herself. Every cell on her body knew she shouldn’t had asked about it, but her mind tried to compensate by thinking: if he asked, I could do it too, right?

“No, actually. How sad is the fact I am going alone while my younger sister is taking her boyfriend?” Boruto laughed, but Sarada didn’t feel any amusement on his voice. “A new level of pathetic.”

“Stop, you know that’s not true.” Sarada argued, now fully dressed. She turned a bit to see Boruto already looking at her. All it took was an eyebrow raised and the boy shook his head, as saying he didn’t see nothing.

“I know. Why don’t you come with me?” Boruto blurted out, following Sarada out of the room. Her hair was tied on a messy bun and as soon as she let it fall against her back, Boruto smiled. There was nothing in the world that made him feel more at ease that black curtain. His only wish was to spend one whole night next to her, as his fingers brushed it slowly. The boy already knew it smell good, it always did.

“Now, that is a whole new level of pathetic. Bring me is like bring a sister to the party.” Sarada’s heart was flipping inside her chest. Even the fact he was only asking her because he had no better options didn’t help her heart to stop beating as faster as it was.

“Well, I can’t kiss my actual sister.”

Sarada stopped abruptly, and Boruto bumped on her back. Suddenly, the both of them were too aware of the words that came out of his mouth and neither knew what to say.

“I-, I m-, I mean, it would be a little bit less pathetic than taking my sister.” Boruto tried to fix it, but Sarada’s heart was threatening to explode inside her chest.

“Fine, I’ll go with you so you’ll look a little less pathetic than you actually are.” Sarada didn’t turn her head to shoot a glance over him, she just kept walking and later, she heard the steps behind her too. All she wanted was to put a distance between them so she could analyze coldly every single word of his mouth, putting feelings aside, and, mostly, away from his alluring scent. “I’ll go with my parents, I’ll meet you there.”

“Ok.” Boruto answered, not being able to acknowledge what the hell had just happened between them.

Sarada knew that the look on her face was probably indecisive as to decide whether he would prefer Boruto wearing only a towel or a black tuxedo, but the inner conflict was quickly settled as soon as he grinned over her direction. Although all Uzumaki looked incredible that night, it was obvious he was the center of the attention and Sarada didn’t even questioned herself about why.

The fabric was a dark black, which kind reminded her of the color of her own eyes. Each angle was neat and outlined Boruto’s strong figure perfectly. Truth being told, Sarada always considered herself a sucker for a handsome mand in a suit, but Boruto in one? She almost felt it should be illegal.

Boruto didn’t even know how to continue to greet the guests after she arrived. That would be the first time in years they would be at a such formal gathering together. As soon as his eyes laid on her, he knew the dress was her favorite tone of red. But that wasn’t what made his heart twist a little. When she turned slightly, Boruto’s eyes caught a glimpse over her naked back, until her lower back with a fairly high slit on the left side.

He always thought Sarada had kind of an understated beauty. Perhaps it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness, or perhaps it was her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features. When she smiled, or laughed, Boruto couldn’t help but smile along, even if it was on inside. There was a shyness to her, hesitation on her body movements.

During all the ceremony, both of them tried really hard not to stare. They still didn’t have the chance to finally talk to each other, since each of their parents apparently wanted the whole world to know that they had sex and had beautiful and talented children.

So, when everything calmed down and the music started to blast around the huge saloon, Boruto felt like he couldn’t hold himself anymore. To say at least, he needed to have her attention. She was sitting at the same table at them, talking excitedly about their last mission to Mitsuki, who had been spending a lot of time training to become a medic nin, therefore, he hadn’t been participating as much as both Boruto and Sarada wanted. But they were sure happy to see their friend following his dream.

“Dance with me.” Boruto didn’t even find the guts to say hi at first. He didn’t want to waist any time, and sure he was already preparing himself in case she declined his request, which, for him, there was a huge chance of happening.

But it didn’t.

If he didn’t even bother to greet her, she wouldn’t bother herself to actually verbalize a yes. She had been waiting almost the entire night to finally be around him, and she wasn’t even close to let this chance go. Not when she was pretty aware of the number of girls who was staring at him like he was his prey or something.

The song was a slow one and it took some time until both of them realized none had ever danced like that before. So, using all their knowledge based in books – Sarada’s case – and movies – Boruto’s case when Himawari made him watch romantic films with her -, Sarada wrapped her arms around his neck, as he did the same with her waist, worried to keep a safe distance from another part of her body.

At first, he leaded, guiding Sarada through the steps. It wasn’t much until she synchronized to his rhythm, after all, they were already used to each other’s timing. Although, it was quite a simple swaying back and forth. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Sarada decided to press herself a little bit closer to him, their bodies keeping the minimum distance possible, and that was when she realized one thing.

“You’re not using your cologne.” She peered up, her eyebrows arched in curiosity. There was not a day that Boruto didn’t use it during their trip mission.

The band switched to a faster tune, but Sarada and Boruto stayed in their slow dancing. At that point, they weren’t even aware of the surroundings anymore. Sarada’s lips were curled in a soft, content smile and it made Boruto’s heart leaped, while his mind was filled with the utterly selfish thoughts and impulses when he looked at her lips.

He cleared his throat. “I knew it was a fancy ball so I thought about asking you to dance and I didn’t want to bother your sensitive nose with my scent.” He teased with a dramatic eye roll, which just caused to her smile grow bigger.

“I kinda miss it.” She confessed, earning a deadly glare from Boruto in response. Sarada hid her face on his suit, carefully not to stain it with her red lipstick as he shook his head, feeling upset.

“Really? You’re annoying.” Boruto responded quietly. “But I must admit, without it just feels like I am naked.”

Sarada felt the exactly moment her cheeks tinted red. She was way too close to Boruto to start talking about nakedness. Moments on the bath house came back to her mind, the way tiny beads of water rolled so smoothly down his skin, almost as if screaming they could touch his bare skin and Sarada couldn’t.

“Are you blushing?” He stared at her, noticing how big her eyes were, the glittering black that camouflaged her pupils and it almost felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

“What? No!” The blush across her face deepened. “We are dancing and it’s really hot in here.”

“You are blushing.” He narrowed his eyes at her, his voice changing to a mock shocked tone. “Did I just make the stoic, hardcore, badass Sarada Uchiha to blush?”

“It’s just the cold.” She was aware of the shyness on her own voice, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not rid it. Which, if she thought about it, it was a confirmation itself.

“I thought you said it was hot in here.” Boruto actually had the audacity to smirk at her red embarrassed face and Sarada stepped purposefully on his foot as he had led back into the step pattern.

“You-“ Boruto started as the girl giggled. She opened her mouth to say something when a high excited voice cut her off.

“So, it seems the Uchiha girl bent you the whole night. Is that right?”

A red head girl appeared, wearing a black tiny dress. The girl was absolutely gorgeous and Sarada felt the impulse to hide under a rock. She had never seen her before, but a quickly glance over Boruto’s face told her what she needed to know.

“Amira. It’s been a while.” Boruto greeted, separating himself from Sarada and stretching a hand to greet her.

“It has, indeed. You haven’t changed a bit since that night.” She smiled smugly to him and Sarada felt like someone was stabbing her direct to her heart. “Maybe can I have the honor to dance with the Hokage’s son?”

Both Sarada and Boruto instinctively frowned at the title, but the girl didn’t seem to care. Wrapping both arms around Boruto’s neck, just like Sarada was doing a few seconds ago, she started to move with him, one hand holding his chin, obliging him to keep staring at her. Sarada sighed and left the dancefloor, found her way to her table.

The only person sitting there was her father, taking little sips on whatever, he was drinking that night. His eyes were glued on the dancefloor where Boruto was dancing with the red head.

“You know, if your mother gave someone that much attention on our date, I’d probably hunt the poor guy down.” He stated as soon Sarada sat next to him, her eyes following where he was staring at. It took some time before it actually hit her what he meant, her eyes widening.

“No, no, no. You got it wrong, dad. We-“ Sarada swallowed hard before continuing. “We have never been on a date before.”

Sasuke took one more sip of his drink. “I see, so first date and he is giving other girls undivided attention.”

“It’s not a date, dad!” She responded harshly, glaring coldly though her blush was still present. The girl turned her head so rapidly, her glasses almost fell off her face. Sasuke glared right back at her, eyes narrowed into curiosity slits.

Sasuke stared at his daughter, face emotionless, as usual. He knew it was a trace from him Sarada wished she had inherited, but he would always prefer not. For him, it was just beautiful how she could portrait every feeling inside her on her eyes, a pair that looked so much like his, and yet, so different. When he spoke, however, his voice almost revealed the many emotions swirling within him at that moment.

“Sorry, I must have misread something between the endless exchanging glances and the tomatoes cheeks as you were dancing.” Sasuke deadpanned, a smirk playing on his lips as her daughter became whiter than usual.

“He is annoying, dad. There was no way I would fall for someone so dumb, pathetic, hot tempered like him.” She rested her body against the chair, not after glancing the dancefloor again. The girl was whispering something on Boruto’s ear and Sarada had to hold the urge to throw her dad’s cup on the girl’s head.

“Yeah, I just used to tell someone she was annoying too.” He smiled, looking at his child. It didn’t matter if she was eight, twelve, eighteen or sixty. She would always be his little girl.

“Please, don’t say mom.” Sarada rolled her eyes, but a smile blossomed on her lips.

“Basically, my advice is: Go for it.” Sasuke instructed, making Sarada’s jaw fall to the ground.

Sarada narrowed her eyes at her father. “I thought dads in general weren’t so much found of their daughters dating.”

“There is nothing I am more afraid of, believe me.” Sasuke leaned in, pouring her a glass of water. “But it’s going to happen someday and, don’t tell anyone I said that, Boruto isn’t that bad. Although I would rather your type was smart guys, just like Shikamaru’s son.”

Sarada just couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her laugh was so loud, it actually made everyone around to turn their heads at their direction, Boruto included. The blond guy felt his heart in his throat. All he wanted was to ditch this girl in front of him and run towards the raven-haired girl and hug her so tight. He sighed, and continued to dance until the music was over.

“Sorry to be a disappointment, dad.” She smiled wickedly.

“Don’t worry, you are not. At least, not if you finally get your ass from this chair and go after the happiness you deserve.” Sasuke shrugged and once again, Sarada couldn’t possibly believe her father, her jealousy and possessive father, was telling her to open herself to Boruto.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared of you than this moment. Can’t wait to tell mom all of this.” Sarada teased, getting up from her chair.

“If you tell Sakura or Naruto, I will strongly deny it.” Sasuke took another sip, his eyes held a silver of amusement.

“Tell Sakura what?” Sakura appeared behind Sasuke, putting one hand on his shoulder as Sasuke’s eyebrow arched to his daughter, who only laughed at her parents.

Sarada came closer to her mother, smiling. “I’ll tell you next time.” She told her, poking her forehead with her index and middle fingers as Sakura shook her head, watching as her daughter walking towards the dance floor.

“She is too much of your daughter for her own good.” Sakura stated, stealing a sip from Sasuke’s cup.

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing, but about you.” Sasuke grinned at his wife, sighing as his heart shrink inside his chest.

“I heard what you told her, by the way.” She passed her fingers through her husband’s dark locks.

“She deserves to find happiness. Way faster than I did. That’s all I want for her, and if it means dating a blond moron,” Sasuke took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Our blond moron turned out just fine. I have faith on Boruto too.”

Since the loud laugh, Boruto wasn’t able to take his eyes away from Sarada. So, the moment she got up, told her parents something and came to his direction, he found himself very anxious. He was already loosened up his grip on the red head dancing with him – not that his grip on her was at any time tight – when Sarada stopped next to them.

“Who is renting who?” Sarada teased, which only made the girl angrier. “If you excuse me, I am stealing my teammate back. He needs to finish his speech for his father.”

“Speech?” Boruto asked in return as Sarada arched her eyebrows. “Right. My speech. Sarada is the only one who can help me with it. I talk to you later, bye Amira.”

Boruto grabbed Sarada’s hand and pulled her to some big door that led to outside the saloon. The whole place was decorated with different types of trees, and for the first time of the night, he let himself breath.

“You almost seemed you didn’t enjoy the girl’s companion.” Sarada commented, sitting on a rock bench under a tree.

“You almost seem jealous.” Boruto got closer to her, standing right in front of her and peered down. “If makes you feel better, I would rather to dance with you than anyone in this place. That girl stepped on my foot so many times I though I would leave this place without one limb missing.” The slit on Sarada’s dress left out one of her legs, and Boruto wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked like.

“Where did you meet her?” Sarada questioned him, before she could stop herself from doing so.

“Don’t remember, actually.” Boruto glanced away and Sarada knew he was lying.

“Fine, if you would rather lie to me, you can as well as go back to-“

Boruto leaned forward and planted his lips firmly on his. They felt exactly like he had imagined: soft and warm. He explored the contours on her face with his fingers, reveling in sensations that were overriding his senses. Nothing in his entire life felt so damn right.

Sarada was caught completely off guard. It was like she was vaguely aware of Boruto kissing her. She didn’t know if it was real or a dream, but she didn’t want that moment to end. At some point, she could also smell his cologne scent right beneath her nostrils and she realized it wasn’t something on him. His scent had impregnated on her.

Sarada pulled away so that her lips barely brushed Boruto’s as she spoke. “Not bad for this whole level of pathetic, huh?”

Boruto giggled lightly against her lips. “And you thought it would be the same thing as bringing my sister.”

“Oi, I am still your best friend, show me more respect.” She punched him lightly, but Boruto grabbed her waist with both hands, pressing her hard against his body. “I can easily walk away from you.”

“Give me five minutes until I wear my cologne, and you would never be able to walk away again.” Boruto teased, turning his head to kiss Sarada’s jaw. The girl whimpered when he pressed a chaste kiss to the soft spot below her ear.

Somehow, she knew if one day they had a hot make out session while he was using that fucking perfume, she wouldn’t be able to hold herself. Not even a little bit.

a/n

in case you are reading it and be like omg there are so many mistakes here just know i didn’t revise it. also this time i changed up things a little bit and instead of making bad jealous possessive father! sasuke, i went to the good parent that want to see his daughter happy! sasuke. honestly i like both but i do like changing things a bit in my stories. i am sorry about how big this turned out.

i also wanted to stay i am having a major writer’s block and there’s some requests that i just can’t think about anything to write and it makes me very upset because i really like being creative towards what you guys ask me.

hope you guys like this one!

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thehonestmommy · 5 years

Text

What I wish people told me about postpartum life

There is a TON of advise and guidance on what to expect when you are pregnant. Theres even more about how to handle every little cough, hiccup, and milestone that your baby goes through. But theres something in between thats severly lacking in conversation and warning. Postpartum life. Im not talking about how tired you will be or how your house will turn into a toy store. I mean the little things that will likely take you by surprise unless a well meaning friend shares it with you. Because for some reason, we as a society dont talk about the post partum mom, except for breasfeeding, baby weight, and stretch marks. But let me tell you, there is a whole lot more than that.

Well, as the over-sharer that I am, allow me to prepare you for the things that never get spoken about, and might surprise you about life after pregnancy. Here are some of the things I had to learn on my own, and that I wish someone told me about so I was more prepared.

WARNING: I’m gonna get personal and gross right from the get-go. Buckle up.

You will sweat…profusely

Seriously. My first night after giving birth, I was so sweaty. But I passed it off as just part of recovery. I mean, I did just spend 3 days pushing a human out of my body, I’m understandably sweaty. But then the next night, same thing. And the following night, too. For weeks and weeks it continued. I would wake up at night to feed my baby and be soaked, almost like I had the flu! I felt disgusting, and was constantly changing clothes. But the more I questioned other moms (online and in mom groups) the more I realized we all were experiencing this to some degree….we just wen’t talking about it. I mean, sure. It’s a bit embarrassing, especially if you aren’t a person who sweats very much under normal circumstances. But it woulda saved us all a lot of embarrassment if it was something we were told was par for the course! No need to worry, soggy momma. You are normal.

You will smell

This goes hand in hand with being sweaty. But it’s so much more than that. I was constantly getting whiffs of my own body odour…and boy was it bad. And it wasn’t the typical B.O. smell I’d get if I’d done some cardio and wasn’t able to shower straight away. This was a whole other beast. I kept trying to compensate for smelling horrible by saying it out loud and apologizing. But my mom and my husband kept reassuring me that they couldn’t smell a thing. But how couldn’t they?! I was so rank. Im telling you, it was so bad that I would shower, and sniff my pitts after soaping up while SILL IN THE SHOWER and I could still smell myself. Seriously. No amount of soap or scrubbing was making this go away.

But heres the thing. No one around me could smell it (or at least they wouldn’t tell me so) except my baby. You see, this is a special function of a breastfeeding mom. You take on a unique signature scent that helps your young baby identify you. And as they grow and their senses develop, the stench (or strength of it) fades away.

If i had known this before it happened, maybe I wouldn’t have cried in the shower after scrubbing my armpits raw.

Postpartum insomnia is a thing

We all know that new parents have a hard time sleeping. But I always thought it was because

A) The baby keeps you awake with its very loud singing, practicing for auditions on The Voice, B) The baby being asleep makes you freak out that its too still to be breathing , or C) You cant stop watching this adorable little chubby mini-me peacefully sleeping

So, it really surprised me when my baby started sleeping through the night, but I did not. I didn’t feel anxious. I wasn’t plagued of thoughts about my baby’s safety. And even though I loved watching him sleep, I was cool with rolling over and enjoying my much needed rest. But, no matter how tired I was, the sleep wouldn’t come. I would lay awake, utterly exhausted. I would just nodd off and the baby would wake. Every 5 nights or so, I would sleep. Yes, you read that right. I would only sleep after about 4 full sleepless nights. Those 4 to 5 days were torturous cat naps only. After about a month of this, I went to my Dr because I thought something was seriously wrong. She knowingly chuckled when I explained what was going on. “Postpartum insomnia” she said. Apparently, it’s a hormone thing. Not every woman experiences it, but it’s not uncommon. “it will go away when you are done breastfeeding, most likely.” Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me? My kid is finally sleeping for more than 30 minutes at a time, and now I cant, and wont, until i’m done breastfeeding? (I plan to breastfeed for at least a year) Mother nature, your jokes aren’t that funny.

Carpal tunnel syndrome

Exactly the same as postpartum insomnia, some women get carpal tunnel that wont go away till breastfeeding is over. Its not unusual for women to get it while they are pregnant, but even if you didn’t have it then, you could still get it once your baby has left the flesh-building. According to my doc, hormones mixed with weight-bearing hand positions (breastfeeding again, yay!) is the perfect recipe for some inflammation of the nerves in your forearms and hands. My hands didn’t hurt much during the day but at night they would drive me crazy. Think pins and needles to the nth degree. That shit is going to keep you awake #postpartuminsomnia

Breastfeeding + binge eating

breastfeeding burns a LOT of calories. You think you were eating for two while you were pregnant? Thats not nothing on breastfeeding. That baby keps getting bigger and hungrier. Get ready to smash some food.

Breastfeeding + thirst

Breastmilk is surprisingly watery. Baby drinks breast milk, your fluids deplete, the body needs more to make more milk. The process is not surprising. What might surprise you is that you get thirsty IMMEDIATELY after your baby has triggered the let-down (aka within minutes of him/her latching on) Keep a bottle of water handy for every nursing session. You are gonna need it.

Period pains

I think its fairly well established in the way we discuss postpartum that your period may not come back for a while. But what they DON’T tell you, is that you will still get similar pains fairly often. In the beginning, your uterus needs to go back to its regular size, so cramping/contractions will take place for a few weeks after giving birth to contract that uterus back to its old self. Thats right. You will still have contractions for WEEKS. Yay!

If you are breastfeeding, the cramping will happen DURING nursing. Its kinda cool, although pretty uncomfortable. You might notice the postpartum bloat go down in unison with those sessions of cramping. its different for all women, but for me, that intense cramping only lasted about 3-4 weeks. But here’s where people stop talking about it. But guess what? you will still get cramps! Pretty much once a month, I get a day of mild cramping. Its nothing like what it used to be (although my experience may be biased since I’m an endometriosis gal) but it’s still noticeable, and identifiable.

You are still ovulating

Carrying right on from getting those period cramps comes the obvious but often misunderstood fact that you are still ovulating. Many people are lead to believe that if they are breastfeeding and did not get their periods back yet, that they can not get pregnant. This is FALSE INFORMATION #fakenews So many woman end up pregnant again because they are not practicing safe sex under the assumption that no period means no ovulation. Sorry to say, your body goes right back on makin’ them eggs. Life, uh…finds a way #jurassicpark

Hormone imbalances continue (acne, sweats, cravings, mood swings)

Again, no secret to anyone that pregnant women are on a rollercoaster ride of hormones that are challenging at best, and downright unfair at worst. But whats most unfair is that you dont get to just be done with all that after your sweet little bundle arrives. Oh no. no no no. The rollercoaster gets more intense, if you can believe it.

Many people will be familiar with the term Post Partum Depression, which is common and no joke. If you suspect that you or someone you care about might be suffering from PPD, please access help. Start by talking to a doctor. There is LOTS of help available.

But, outside of PPD, it seems a disservice to me that no one explains that mood swings, food cravings, exhaustion, acne, hair loss/hair gain, sweating and the like are almost guaranteed to happen. I don’t mind speaking out about PPD and saying that I suffered, and I still do suffer from regressive episodes from time to time. But for a while, I wondered if all my other symptoms were PPD. My amazing midwife explained that those things are not indicative of PPD but a normal part of your body settling into its new role as a food truck (breastfeeding, again! argh!)

So if you are experiencing things that make you feel like a teenager again, you are not alone. It’s par for the course. But please talk to a Dr to get screened for post partum depression just to be sure.

leaking breasts

So I heard of this before. But I seriously was not prepared. I thought it was a unicorn thing that only happened to the rare woman who’s a breastmilk goddess with an oversupply. So i’m going to do you ladies a service and let you know the real deal here. Even if you think this wont happen to you, it probably might.

You don’t need to have an oversupply, your baby doesn’t need to suddenly sleep through the night. (although both of those things make it even more likely) Your breasts will spontaneously leak; maybe when your baby sleeps through the night the first time and your supply was hoping for a night feed. Maybe when your baby cries because it’s hungry and you don’t immediately get to them. Maybe when a srangers’ baby cries because it’s hungry. Maybe when you are looking at them on the baby monitor or watching them do something especially cute. Or maybe when you are having an intimate moment with your partner (YUP). MAKE PEACE WITH THIS. It will happen, and continue to happen, when you least expect it. You’r boobs now have a mind of their own.

Oh and just when you think that phase is over, it will happen again. #oops

Speedy hair and nail growth

This may be a pleasant surpriuse to some (or a major inconvenience depending on your maintenance level). Your hair and nail growth might speed up. Not sure why that one happens, but wow I feel like i cut my nails every week now. And I am getting 2x more haircuts, too.

Another common thing that happens is the texture of your hair changing. Many women go from luscious curls to straight locks or vice versa after pregnancy. Your body grew, sustained, and continues to sustain life. Those are MAJOR changes, so… Anything is possible!

Dry vaj (masquerading as injuries)

Oh yes. Im going there. If you made it this far, lets just assume you’re cool with how gross I can be at times. okay? Great. :) OKay, You are a mom. You might have pushed at baby out of your body. Or maybe you had someone surgically remove it. In both cases, your muscle structure gets significantly compromised. Under good health care, we are told to limit our activity for 6 weeks while the body heals. I dont know a single mom, c-section or vaginal delivery, who felt like their body was actually ready to get back in the game. It takes MONTHS to heal, and my midwife (did I mention shes awesome?) laid it out for me honestly. She said things are not gonna feel anywhere near normal for the better part of a year. I’m currently 8.5 months postpartum, and yo she was right. My core is weak, my diastases is still present, and I was in some serious pelvic pain for a long while.

So, on the advise of many a Dr and friend, I decided to see a pelvic floor physiotherapist in hopes that she can help guide me into a life where it doesn’t feel like I’m going to lose my uterus every time i squat down.

It was an embarassing and humbling experience. This Dr literally tests out your muscle control from within. Its like the most revealing pap you’ve ever had. But seriously, it was worth it. What i learned was even though i was expierencing pain, my muscle structure was NOT compromised. Where did the pain com from you might ask? Dryness.

Yeah I know. It’s not ladylike to talk about that. No one wants to admit its an issue either. But remember how breastfeeding affects almost every topic covered above? Well this one too. Surprise! Your body’s natural fluids are depleted in a big way when your kid drinks sometimes 200ml 6-10 times a day. (Go measure that our if you’r not familiar with it. Its a lot.) If you are not super hydrated, and extremely well nourished, your body will totally ditch its other systems to provide for your child instead. Its admirable, but dang if your not careful it really translates in so some serious discomfort.

Turns out that some topical moisturizers (coconut oil did it for me, but some people need something more substantial with estrogen in it) and maintaining my body’s hydration brought me back to 80%. Couple that with learning how to do diaphragmatic breathing and activating your transverse abdominus during kegel exercises (okay can we just not cover that? I’ve said enough gross stuff) and you’re well on your way to recovery.

The takeaway

Growing and serving up a baby does a number on your body, but it continues after the birth. It takes work, healthy choices and a lot of knowledge to stay on top of whats happening to your body once your baby is here. Breastfeeding, no matter how long you decide to do it, is a lot harder than people give credit for. It goes far beyond latch and weight peoblems, and not enough people talk about that. Be prepared for your body to continue to go through changes as your baby changes with you. Be kind to yourself, eat well, drink as much water as you can every day, and TALK TO OTHER MOMS about what the heck is going on. You’ll be surprised to know you are not alone. <3

#postpartum #ppd #baby #body #womens health #post partum #postpartum depression

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fourangers · 6 years

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My valentine chocolate is you Part II

Part I

(4 years later...)

Loud, stuffy room filled with annoying fangirls usually wasn’t his preferred choice to visit, much less a place to stay for long hours to no end.

“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAA---NARUTO-KUNNNNNNN!! YOU CAN DO IT!!!!!” Their screams hiked up into a deafening noise when he jumped, smoothly adding more points with a slumdunk.

Sasuke let out an annoyed scowl, looking at the legion of hormonal girls as they screamed with their shrill voices, while whispering between themselves with wistful sighs.

He turned around to focus on the center of their attention (as well as his), with Naruto drying his sweat off with a towel, leaving his hair into a mussed, charming mess.

“He’s so cute.” One breathed out.

“Hot too.” Another cooed.

“Naruto-kunnnn!!! Do your best!!!” One group chorused together, catching his attention. Despite his teammates’ teasing, Naruto glanced back, lifting a small smile and shyly waving back.

This was more than enough to raise another wave of fangirl screams, shaking the whole stadium.

“I so want him to be my boyfriend.”

“I so want him to be in my bed.” This dissolved into playful shrieks and giggles, as onyx eyes narrowed in response.

“I had an eye on him long before you, needy, thirsty harpies.” Sasuke couldn’t contain his disdain, even though he had to begrudgingly admit that their goals were the same. Unfortunately for him though, he was stuck in the friendship-zone the moment he met Naruto.

He had to agree with their assessment too. Long gone were Naruto’s awkward, tiny body as mother nature graced him a growth spurt that compensated his previous years of being the shortest of the bunch. He was starting to attract positive glances of appraisal in contrast to derision few years ago, and as fate continued to throw him lucky coins, they discovered that Naruto played basketball well. Really well. His talent took everyone by storm when even some scouts from the national team was beginning to take an interest on him.

Soon Naruto noticed that he didn’t need any pranks any longer to grab everyone’s attention, when his own self was taking care of everything else. That tall, lean body with sturdy muscles, coupled with laughing eyes and dazzling smile irritated the fuck out of Sasuke because now, these captivated a legion of brainless vapid fangirls when years ago, all these smiles were solely his.

Sasuke sighed. Life was so much easier when Naruto was the class clown and Sasuke didn’t have to compete with anyone for his undivided attention.

“Sasuke!!! Wait up!” A boisterous voice boomed through the corridor, and Sasuke braced himself to receive that tight hug coming from behind.

“What is it?” He muttered.

“I saw you yesterday when we played against the Hokkaido’s team! Were you cheering for me?” Naruto widened a teasing grin.

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “I was cheering for our school’s team, dumbass.”

“Hah, whatever, I know you love me.” Naruto boasted, unnoticing the slight reddening on Sasuke’s ears. “I’m really glad you were there, I know you usually don’t like crowded, noisy places.”

Sasuke thinned his lips, as both young men walked towards the classroom, Naruto’s arm slung around his shoulder. Summoning every ounce of his courage, Sasuke said. “Naruto--”

One of Naruto’s teammate approached him, as the blond teenager greeted him with a high five. They began talking energetically about yesterday’s game, trading possible strategies and special training as Sasuke watched their exchange, feeling a little left out.

Once their conversation was over, his teammate soon left as they entered the classroom, placing their backpacks on their respective seats.

“Oh yeah Sasuke, you were asking me something before right? Before Tanaka-sempai came in. What’s about?”

Onyx eyes drifted from the quizzical glance, grumbling. “Nothing special. You free after class?”

“Yeah, I think!” Naruto chirped out. “Ah...no, wait. Yamato-sensei wanted to talk about some basketball strategies this evening.”

“Fine, tomorrow? You train everyday but maybe Yamato-sensei will give you break after yesterday’s game?”

Naruto shook his head. “Nope, no way. Sorry Sasuke.”

Sasuke ignored the sharp pang of disappointment in his heart. “Hn.”

“Man! We used to hang together all the time back when we were brats!”

“You mean, you used to pester me all the time.” Sasuke smirked.

“Whatever! Gah, I missed this.” Naruto messed his hair. “I’ll find some free time, for sure!” The school bell rang as their teacher arrived, soon all the students rose from their seat to bow in respect.

Watching from afar, Sasuke smiled to himself as Naruto was twirling his pencil with his fingers, head tilted to one side as they paid attention to the teacher. Despite being stuck with the label of 'best friend 5eva' coming from his dumb blond, at least Naruto wanted to stay by his side whenever possible.

"Hey Sasuke, I know you're probably going to reject every girl crawling on your feet, so do you have any plans for Valentine's day?" Naruto asked once the class was over.

Heartbeats drummed violently through Sasuke's chest, but he managed to keep a cool facade. "Why? You have your own fangirls to take care of, don't you?"

The blond teenager squinted his eyes. "What? What are you talking about? Why would I have anything like it?"

Thank God he's one, thickheaded, clueless idiot. For better or for worse. "Nevermind."Sasuke shook his head.

"Yeah, so anyways. Wanna do something that day?" Naruto then grinned, opening his hand. "And remember to give me your chocolate!"

"I bet you're receiving tons of chocolates this year, why should I give mine?" Sasuke teased.

"I'm not receiving tons of chocolates, I'm probably going to get some from the cheerleading squad from our basketball team, nothing else." Naruto answered. “And you always gave me chocolate on Valentine’s day, why do you need to change this anyways?”

“I used to give you because no one else would, but considering that now you have a whole fanclub dedicated to you, I doubt you need mine.”

“Who cares how many chocolates I’ll get this time, yours is different!” Naruto yowled. “It’s like tradition you know? Every year I’d get your chocolate so let’s keep it that way.”

"You're probably saying this just so you can get free chocolate--" Sasuke and Naruto noticed Yamato-sensei waving his arms to catch their attention.

Naruto looked apologetic, patting Sasuke's shoulder. "Sorry gotta go. We'll talk later!"

Staring the retreating back as it disappeared on the horizon, Sasuke sighed, getting ready to go home on his lonesome self.

"Oh c'mon Hinata-chan, you just lost your chance, Naruto left!"

Upon noticing the infamous name, Sasuke stopped at once, noticing three girls at the corner of the corridor, whispering to themselves.

The black-haired girl blushed. "I...I didn't want to bother Naruto-kun from his training Ino-san."

Ino, the hot-headed girl with a blond ponytail rolled her eyes. "You should have taken this golden opportunity before anyone else! You know how it's going to be tomorrow on Valentine's day!"

The third girl, a pink-haired named Sakura warned. "You noticed how popular he's getting now that he's in the basketball team. You better seize this moment before it's too late."

"Sakura-san, you don't mind this?" Hinata asked.

Sakura blinked, before shrugging it off. "Naruto is like a brother to me, so I'm definitely ok with this. I mean, I rather see you dating him than bunch of airheaded idiots who are only into Naruto's fame. You liked him way before he got popular."

"It's true!" Ino nodded. "So you better get your act together."

Sasuke knew enough, heard enough. He soon got away in fast paced strides, trying to take his mind off that conversation even if he noticed the determined glint coming from Hinata's lilac eyes.

--.--

Sasuke's crush was doomed to failure, the moment it started.

They were both guys and a conservative country like Japan were still struggling to accept homosexuality, despite the latest improvements. And even if they manage to ignore society's opinion, Naruto always considered him a close friend, nothing more. To add salt to injury, he didn't appear to take any interest on the same sex. Stupid, oblivious, straight male, but Sasuke had no control of his heart as he had fallen hard and harder towards his blond friend.

He was content being Naruto's closest person, even if it meant that his romantic feelings would never be returned. Sasuke already lost all hope back when Naruto had a mad crush on Sakura, that thankfully slowly died as they were getting older.

But Hinata...Sasuke always attempted to dismiss her since her crush was so annoyingly obvious, and painfully similar to his own. Sasuke didn't want to admit, but she's a good match to Naruto. She genuinely liked him and would shower him with affection, which was perfect for a love-starved orphan like Naruto.

This was ok...this was fine. As long as Naruto was happy, nothing else mattered.

If he kept repeating to himself over and over, maybe this lie would come true.

--.--

Onyx eyes gazed with annoyance as chocolate boxes littered his shoe locker, several ones fell to his feet. He picked most with his hands, throwing uncaringly to the ground, as he grabbed his indoor shoes, closing his locker with a loud metallic noise. He stared his reflection, the bloodshot eyes and heavy bags underneath it.

This was going to be a very long torturous day, Sasuke contemplated with his fists clenched, his steps rigid.

"Um...Naruto-kun!"

Sasuke heard Hinata's meek voice while he entered the classroom, taking note Naruto's confused gaze.

"Uh...what is it Hinata?" He asked.

"Can I...can I talk to you in a minute?" Hinata stuttered while Sasuke narrowed his eyes, zooming on the large package and a heart-shaped box she held behind her back.

Nodding hesitantly, Naruto followed behind her, in midst of masculine groans altogether with Sakura and Ino's excited screams.

His stomach were making painful lurches and turns, cold sweat damping his shirt as Sasuke felt his breakfast threatening to burst out of his throat. He placed his hand over his mouth, ready to sprint towards the nearest bathroom.

Unfortunately, someone stood right in front of him.

"Sasuke-kun." A red-haired girl wearing glasses crossed her arms. "Can we talk?"

(Part III)

AN: Ayyyyy don't you love whenever the story goes out of your control once again?

#NaruSasu #snstext #drabble

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nocteverbascio · 6 years

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lintz - what i left behind (26-27/?)

Pairing: Sydney Katz/Maggie Lin Summary: AU. Post S3, when Sydney leaves, she leaves for good. Without realizing it, Maggie feels like something is missing in her life. The story where Sydney leaves breadcrumbs for Maggie to follow but Maggie doesn’t realize it. A/N: REUNITED AGAIN IN LONDON

ao3 link

xxvi

“Remember that Ms. Bozak is coming for an ultrasound on Thursday, Mrs. Nylander on Friday, and Mrs. Anderson is having a C-section next Thursday,” Maggie ticks off as she stacks the files in front of Billy. “These should be easy enough. If you have a hard time or any questions, refer to Dr. Niehaus, but I’m trusting you with the bare minimum Billy.”

“Of course, Dr. Lin,” Billy acknowledges with a smile on his face.

The simple response raises Maggie’s suspicions and she looks up from her tablet to Billy’s beaming face.

“What?”

Billy takes a moment before responding, like he’s been waiting for her to ask. “So you’re going to London to see Dr. Katz,” he notes cheekily. Maggie scoffs at him before going back to her tablet. “You must be very excited to see her. It’s been almost two months since her last visit. I’m sure you guys have a lot of catching up to do.”

Maggie narrows her eyes at the resident. “I hear a lot of words, but nothing about what I’ve just delegated to you.”

Billy awkwardly laughs at this. “Well, I’m just saying, I’m happy for you and I hope you get some--”

Maggie holds up a finger for him to just stop. Billy stops talking but the look on his face says enough. “If I come back and my patients are dead, you sure won’t be a getting a recommendation from me,” she informs gravely to Billy. She closes her tablet and turns to walk away before she can see Billy’s smile slide off of his face. She smiles to herself mischievously as she leaves.

Zach intercepts her as she enters the ER. “I see someone’s happy about her vacation,” he points out cheekily.

Maggie smiles, lips thinning at the reminder. Her vacation. Her three weeks off from Hope Zion to spend time in London with Sydney. She should be more excited, but something inside of her shivers with apprehension.

Zach instantly picks up on this. “Ooh, not exactly happy?” he points out carefully.

Maggie shakes her head, trying to fight the burgeoning doubt inside of her heart. “I am,” she insists. “I am happy. It’ll be a nice vacation in London, where I can have all the fish and chips I want, drink all the tea, and see Big Ben and the London Eye.”

Zach raises his eyebrows at her.

“What?” she shoots.

He doesn’t have to say anything for her to cave. Zach knows her way too well.

Maggie groans. “Okay, fine, maybe I am...a little nervous.” She takes a breath and tries to formulate her worry into words. “It’s just that when we were talking about me visiting, I was drunk and rambling. There were a lot of emotions going on.”

“Everyone has those moments,” Zach says sympathetically.

Maggie sucks in a breath. “Not like this Zach. I’m not good at talking about my feelings, you know that. I react to my emotions. I do stupid things like drunk dial Sydney and ask her to go to London. What if that was too much for her? What if she doesn’t actually want me there? What if she thinks I’m crazy?”

Zach gives Maggie a look of disbelief before stopping in front of her. “Maggie, you’re not crazy.” He gives her a small smile, the kind that curls at the corner of his lips when he knows something she doesn’t. “You’re in love.”

Maggie stands still in the middle of the hall, taking in Zach’s words. Am I in love? Is that what this is?

xxvii

It’s a Friday when Maggie lands in London. It’s Friday and Sydney is late leaving work from an emergency C-Section and she feels like her whole schedule is thrown off.

Sydney is a pro at scheduling. She works her life based off of a timeline that she’s set up in her mind. While she knows things change and there are unexpected events that she needs to compensate for, it doesn’t mean that she likes it. She was hoping to stop by her apartment earlier to clean up for Maggie (even though her apartment is generally neat - it needed to be immaculate), grab some groceries maybe, and just not look like she came out of work.

Sydney feels out of breath as she reaches the outer gate where Maggie’s plane is docked.

Sydney glances at her wristwatch. In the corner of her eyes, she catches a reflection of herself and pulls her hair out from the ponytail. I look ridiculous. She straightens out her sweatshirt, but it’s painfully obvious that she’s still in her scrubs. Her backpack was stuffed of the clothes she actually wanted to wear to see Maggie.

She debates rushing to the bathroom, but everyone has already deplaned it seems like. So she waits with baited breath. Occasionally standing on her toes to see over the crowd.

Then, Sydney sees her.

Maggie comes down the walkway, standing tall and beautiful like a model with her purse slung over her shoulder and dragging her small luggage along. Her hair has gotten a bit longer since they last saw each other. She remembers when she’d first met Maggie, her hair was short and unruly. But over the years, Maggie’s hair has grown out, in elegant cascading waves.

Sydney feels her heart pounding in her chest as Maggie approaches, unaware that Sydney is already there as she looks around with curiosity and eagerness in her eyes.

She waves to catch Maggie’s attention, but there’s no sound that comes out of her mouth. Suddenly struck by excitement and nervousness, she can’t move when Maggie’s eyes meet hers.

Maggie’s lips curl into a smile. She bites her lip as she hastens towards Sydney.

Without even thinking, Sydney steps towards Maggie as well. There’s a distinct pull in her chest as she makes her way towards Maggie and it grows stronger with each step.

Until suddenly, Sydney is swept up in Maggie’s arms, breathing in her distinct smell of lavender and coffee underneath the sterile soap that Sydney is sure she smells like as well. She smiles so hard until her cheeks start to ache as she clings onto Maggie.

Maggie doesn’t mind at all. Her hand comes up to caress her hair and she turns to kiss the side of Sydney’s head. “Well hello to you too,” Maggie greets softly as she breathes Sydney in.

Sydney shyly pulls back at the way Maggie speaks to her. When they’d first met, Sydney never bothered to read Maggie’s tone because she hadn’t cared much. Then, she started listening more closely, finding the natural playfulness inflections in her speech to discern when she was actively flirting with her.

“Welcome to cheery ole London,” Sydney jokes as she tries to release Maggie from her grasp. She’s sure her body is thrumming with excitement.

Maggie raises her eyebrows. Definitely flirting again. And she slips her arms down to Sydney’s waist before pulling her until they’re flush against each other. Without wasting another breath, Maggie is kissing her.

Sydney feels her body shake at the contact. She can’t help but return the kiss with more passion, like she’s been waiting forever to do this. She doesn’t want to stop because Maggie is there. Sydney can feel her body pressed against Maggie’s, both of them sparking a fire that draws them closer and closer to each other. Maggie slides her tongue over Sydney’s lip and she lets out a moan that she doesn’t know she’s holding onto. Sydney can feel her cheeks warm as Maggie smiles against her lips before deepening the kiss.

Her knees grow weak as Maggie grips her waist firmly. Then a hand grows bold, slipping underneath her sweater, playing with the hem of her scrub top. Maggie’s teeth grazes her bottom lip and Sydney whimpers. Maggie takes this as a sign of approval as she slips her hand up Sydney’s scrubs.

The cool air that accompanies Maggie’s hot hand draws Sydney painfully back to reality. Her hand falls quickly onto Maggie’s roaming one and she breaks the kiss. Maggie sighs painfully at the loss.

Sydney bites her lip as she tries to catch her breath. They were still at the airport, they couldn’t just make out like some hormone addled teenagers.

“Wow, okay,” Sydney breathes out as she tries to get her brain to function again. Because as much as she wants Maggie to touch her, they are very much out in public. “That was--”

“I know,” Maggie adds with that cocky smile on her face. She even wiggles her eyebrows for emphasis.

Sydney lets out an incredulous laugh. “Get over yourself, Maggie.” She pushes at Maggie’s chest playfully.

Maggie doesn’t let her go and pulls her close again. This time her breath is hot against Sydney’s ear as she bends down and whispers, “Quickie in the bathroom?”

Sydney’s eyes widen and she slaps at Maggie. “Maggie!” She hates that she’s blushing but for Maggie to suggest something so inappropriate.

Maggie giggles at this as she buries her face in Sydney’s neck. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” she says as her apology. Her lips are ghosting the shell of Sydney’s ear, this time sending shivers down her spine. “Take me back to your place, Syd.”

Her eyes furtively glance around them to see the growing stares. Instead of letting them get to her, Sydney just nods.

#lintz #maggie x sydney #sydney x maggie #maggie goes to london #slow burn #long distance #welcome to london kisses

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t-p-smythe-blog · 6 years

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Do Women Abuse? My Story by Rayanne Irving

Do Women Abuse? My Story by Rayanne K. Irving I will never forget the earth shattering, panic inducing moment when my own body appeared to have betrayed me – yet again. Roughly six months after escaping from the sex slave trade I was sitting on my mother’s couch in the middle of the night, awake and alone, watching the movie, “Bastard Out of Carolina” . During one scene – the stepfather pulled the main character, a little girl named “Bone”, onto his lap in the car consequently raping her. Now, most people’s reaction to this harrowing storyline would be of outrage, disgust, disbelief. My body’s reaction however was entirely of a different nature. Privately, my body became aroused – stimulated by the sight it was processing. Such a purely primal response, initiated by the unthinkable, was an unimaginable assault on my very sanity. And my 17-year-old logic terrified me. Was I a sexual predator because I had become physically turned on by the rape of a little girl? Truth for me, was that I had never taken part in sober, consensual intimacy. All I had known was coercion, rape, and prostitution up until that point in my life. The very act of my body responding to such a degree of violence despite how I mentally felt about rape and sex, shook my already collapsing core of character and integrity. That dirty little secret was to be the first of many “triggers” that would eventually, over time, rise to the surface for me. Marred by these “quirks ” I possessed yet tried so hard to hide, sparked the recognition that I was indeed more dysfunctional than I consciously knew. This begs the question: why did my body respond to the very things I consciously believed I loathed? Probing deeper to investigate the nature of my new paradoxical personality radically helped to change not only my own recognition of self, but also to find acceptance in my ever-shifting mental clarity. My journey opened me up to the expression of compassion for the oftentimes devastating, as well as maddening experience, it means to be ‘human’. Personally, I feel there is much left to interpret pertaining to the female sexual predator, largely due to a case of the ‘predator’ existing in a complex field of varied degrees. Often going unnoticed, underreported, or worst of all, flat out denied. The simplified dictionary definition would have the word ‘predator’ described as a person who looks for other people in order to use, control, or harm in some way. Then there is the sexual predator definition: “A sexual predator is a person seen as obtaining or trying to obtain sexual contact with another person in a metaphorically “predatory” or abusive manner. Analogous to how a predator hunts down its prey, so the sexual predator is thought to “hunt” for his or her sex “partners.” The majority of public opinion regarding the ‘typecast’ sexual predator has long been saturated in judgment, reducing these individuals down to vile and sick human beings in possession of no moral consequence. Yet objectively lurking behind that stance, has also been some not so subtle double standards. Such as, to be raped is often rationalized as the responsibility of the victim (ie what did she wear, how was she behaving, who was she hanging out with). Another and mayhap far more damaging standard was that rape was generally, as well as during archival times lawfully, considered a crime only committed against women by men. The delusion that women could not be predators and men could not be raped was spoon-fed to the masses by way of gender stigmatization. Encompassing the subject of rape was the common visual association being only that of ‘penetration’. Due to gender stamping, grossly overlooked was the hard hitting actuality that overpowering to steal gratification was not the pinnacle in all abuse cases. Rather just in the reported ones. Emotional manipulation, deception, intimidation, fear, guilt, physical impairment, mental incapacity, manual stimulation and more kept the ever rising number of shame and guilt ridden victims quiet, especially boys who were raised to be men; thought incapable of being raped. To be male was to be the aggressor, the conqueror, virile, and therefore treated as invulnerable. The human body (male and female), when placed under extreme stress, fear, or stimulus, has been known to respond physically by attaining erection and even orgasm, regardless of any true arousal. The physical responses can lead to confusing emotions that, left to grow under the tier of shame, can even call into question one’s sexual orientation. All of this allows for the female predator to slip into myth. If you look at rape throughout history, it has absolutely nothing to do with gender, the way a person dressed, the way they spoke, or even where they happened to be at the time. Rape was and is used as a way to extract submission. A way to exercise one’s dominance and power. Not just over another human being but more often than not – over the perpetrators’ very own life. One of Psychology’s longest standing debates is that of Nature vs. Nurture. The argument takes place around whether a human’s development is predisposed in his DNA, or if the majority of it is influenced by environment and life experiences. But what if we took out the word versus, asserting instead that Nurture creates Nature and Nature configures Nurture. Existing in harmony, they are always transforming one another. I think that we can all agree the brain is the most complex, and often times mysterious organ in the human body. While the brain controls everything we do, not all action is conscious or voluntary. When the dynamic interplay between mind and body becomes compromised, in extreme cases it can destroy one’s whole outlook and experience of the world. Scientifically it has been proven that trauma, at any age, is capable of compromising communication between the limbic system (the emotional brain and home of the amygdala) and the cortex system (responsible for memory, perception, attention, awareness, thought and consciousness). When a synaptic transmission is shut down due to trauma the amygdala fires up, becoming overly reactive, as you are no longer able to find reason, organize or problem solve in the manner that involves conscious perception. The amygdala engages the survival mechanism of fight or flight; creating emotional memory through perception alone. Emotional memory is subconscious, therefore incapable of introspect i.e. ‘act now think later.’ Sometimes, or during repetitive (also referred to as complex) trauma, the brain can become ‘stuck’ in the flight or fight mode. Adaption to the intricate interpretation of information regarding its surroundings includes normalizing the outlook concerning it’s circumstantial habitat while also relying solely on the emotional memory (triggers) to act as an early warning system and ensure survival. We’ve all heard of muscle memory; we know that muscles are capable of storing ranges of physical motion. Were you aware that muscles can also store emotions, even misinterpreted ones? Emotional memory or perceptions of an experience are carried by the neurones in our brain and stored on a cellular level in our body. These emotions can create blockages of energy atop our main organs, causing stress and imbalances. If a stressor becomes ongoing, the body will attempt to ‘adapt’. Adaptation can include the borrowing of other energy resources and the releasing of hormones until all other energy is depleted. When the compensations become unsustainable, unidentifiable illnesses and more psychosomatic conditions can arise. In summary, consistent abuse and enormous amounts of stress lead only in one direction: exceeding normal homeostatic limits, thus initiating corresponding compensations. Change in your brain and body chemistry can lead to specific, subconscious behaviour drawn from implicit memory in order to adapt to the constant stressors. Beginning an actual physical reorganization of its own wiring, entering you into a state called allostasis – the point were you find a new way of ‘being’, ‘escaping’ or in extreme cases, ‘surviving’. You cannot have Ying without Yang, Light without Dark or Nature without Nurture, so why would the term ‘predator’ be so much more commonly appointed to man and not shared equally by the female? To answer the question of my seventeen year old self, did my physical response to rape make me a sexual predator? No. I recognize now that rape, the act or sight of it, at that time, set off physical and mental triggers accumulated from living in a constant state of flight or fight during my time ‘in the life’. However, having been personally recruited into the sex slave trade by a 15-year-old girl, and lastly pimped by a 30 something year old Madam taught me this short, if unscientific lesson. Prey can learn to become Predator in an extreme act of self preservation. If a woman, or anybody really, who comes from generational abuse, who was raised with abuse or exposed to it at any one time seeks to end the cycle of being or feeling victimized, they could or would turn into a predator and use dominance to claim back what could be seen as a portion of control over their life, even by way of becoming an accomplice, an instigator or dominant by sexually exploiting others. Do you want to share our story of female abuse? Email us securely.

http://www.drjohnaking.com/the-voice/do-women-abuse-a-female-survivors-story/

#dealwithitbook #drjohnaking #dealwithit #poetry #americanpoet #ptsdsucks #poetrylives #ptsdawarenes #poetryquote #lovepoetry

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mirandaawesome3-blog · 6 years

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Do Women Abuse? My Story by Rayanne Irving

http://www.drjohnaking.com/the-voice/do-women-abuse-a-female-survivors-story/

#drjohnaking #dealwithit #dealwithitbook #poetry #myptsd #noworkingtitle #lovepoetry #romantic #PTSDTherapy

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lhugbereth · 7 years

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LEXX AU Teaser - Ignoct version

Here’s a little drabble from the Lexx AU I’m working on, as requested by @achryathesecond ;D This won’t necessarily fit into the main plot in any way, but I’m trying to develop the characters a little before I get too involved in the storyline itself.

A bit of background for the majority of you who have never seen the old scifi show called LEXX;

- Noctis is taken from the sorta main character Stanley Tweedle, a pretty worthless security guard who accidentally inherits the key to the Lexx (Rexx) and becomes an unwitting captain.

- Prompto is Zev, a prisoner sentenced to be turned into a love slave, but who only received the physical half of the transformation. Is generally badass and totally in love with the dead guy.

- Gladio is Kai, aka the Dead Guy. He’s an ancient warrior who was killed by the evil overlord, but his body was preserved (for gloating purposes) using protoblood. He’s alive enough to fight and steal the love slave’s heart, but too dead to get it up for the sexy times. Cue obscene amounts of pining.

- Ignis is 790 (renamed IG-N.15 or just “Iggy” in this AU) He’s an android whose head was accidentally separated from his body when Noct was trying to escape the Niff Cluster. His head ended up receiving the latter half of Prompto’s love slave programming, which rewired his circuits to make him extremely flirtatious and unusually “human” in his interactions.

Anyway, you should totally go watch the show, but also enjoy this little bit of IgNoct teaser, too :D Thanks !!

(R.I.P. formatting. Fucking Tumblr)

They were lost. Noctis finally had to admit to it after Prompto, for at least the hundredth time, asked if they were there yet.

“No,” he’d answered with as much patience as he could muster (which wasn’t much).

“Okay, but, like, soon. Right?”

“I don’t know!”

“Wait, you don’t?” Crossing his slender arms over his very exposed chest, the blond went so far as to quirk an eyebrow at him. “You don’t know when we’ll get there? Or you don’t know if we’ll get there?”

The corner of Noct’s mouth twitched and he stared out at the empty blackness of the front panels as if he could will the answer before his eyes. “I...don’t know.”

Prompto’s glare spoke volumes. “You,” he said, transferring his hands to his slightly-more-decently-clad hips. “Are supposed to be the captain of this stupid ship.”

“Uh, yeah, but it’s not like I have a map of the whole universe inside my head. That’s the Rexx’s job, and someone went and broke its navigation port!”

Blue eyes narrowed. “That was an accident. Gladio didn’t mean to hurt the ship.”

“Of course not.” This time, the dripping cynicism came from Noctis’ left, where IG-N.15’s head rested on the dash of the control panel. The flickering green of his eyes rolled in an exaggerated circle. “Anyone could mistake the brain of a living ship for a shadow demon and put their too-large-not-to-be-compensating-for-something sword right through the middle of it. Certainly, happens all the time.”

Prompto narrowed his eyes to deadly slits. “He is not compensating.”

“Like you would know,” came Noct’s tactless retort -- which sent the blond half-raging, half-crying out of the bridge and (most likely) down to the cryochambers to pine over his dead boyfriend.

IG-N.15’s perfect lips curved into a smile. “To be honest, I for one am completely convinced it was an accident.”

Noctis hopped down from the captain’s post and strode over to the dash and the android on top of it. With only minimal manhandling, he shifted IG-N.15 into his arms and settled down on the floor with his head in his lap. “I think you own Prom an apology for that one, then,” he grinned, meeting that brilliant, calculating gaze. “That was a dick move.”

“If only I had one of those,” the android sighed. “The things I would do to that tight, perky little ass if I could.”

“Iggy!” Noct tried hard not to laugh, failed, and ended up bright red somewhere between gasping for air and the image that had immediately conjured up in his mind. “It’s an expression -- ex-pre-ssion. It means you hurt his feelings.”

“Oh.” IG-N.15 went silent for a moment, his face still as he considered Noct’s words. “Do I hurt the feelings of others often?”

“No. I mean, not really.” The young captain’s deep blue eyes faltered for a moment as he thought back. “I guess...not anymore than the rest of us. You just use bigger words to do it.”

“Noctis?”

At the sound of his name on Iggy’s lips -- in that voice programmed to simultaneously command armies and melt entire packs of butter -- Noct swallowed. “What?”

“I’ve never hurt you, have I?”

“...Plenty of times,” he smiled, and brushed his thumb over the soft, silicon flesh of the android’s cheek. “But I still like you.”

“Hmm.” There was something there, something in the pitch of his voice that told Noct if his synthetic skin could blush, it would be a bright pink in that moment. Iggy’s mouth glitched once, twice, the green of his eyes brightened as he turned them up to meet Noct’s own gaze. “I think I feel…flattered,” he explained. “What does that mean?”

Noctis couldn’t help but smile. Never in his life had he imagined androids could experience emotions in the same way as humans, and certainly not such a wide array of them. He knew, of course, that IG-N.15 was a special case, and that whatever recalibration process that turned Prompto into a raging ball of hormones with perfect thighs had also hacked into the android’s initial factory programming. Everything he learned, everything he felt, came out of the parts of his circuitry that had been inaccessible to the original model -- as if he’d been given the key to an unlimited databank of information. A whole new world of knowledge.

Which, Noct mused, meant that someone had bothered to program the IG-N series with emotional display prompts, entire verses of Shakespearean sonnets, and a very real sex drive.

All in all, the exact kind of robot Noctis himself had dreamed of building since he was old enough to fantasize about metal men.

“Noctis?” Iggy asked again. He was still looking up at the young captain expectantly, likely hoping for another lesson on the quirks of human emotions and how to properly emulate them. This time, however, Noct merely smiled and lifted Iggy’s head out of his lap until they were staring at each other at eye level.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I -- what?”

“Kiss. I want to kiss you. Just, go with it, okay?”

Noctis had never been good with real people. They always seemed to be looking past him, through him, never bothering to give him a chance to prove himself beyond the usual awkward first impressions. But not Iggy. Never Iggy. As he felt the cool touch of pink silicon against his own, warm lips, he knew in that moment that he’d been searching for what he needed in all the wrong places. The answer had been right in front of him -- in the form of a cybernetic humanoid robot head whose circuits had been criss-crossed in an accidental recalibration.

Certainly not how he’d imagined his life going, but, hey. Kissing Iggy felt right, and the android was proving himself a fast learner.

Which suddenly had Noct wondering what else he could do with that mouth of his.

#ignoct #ffxv #ffxv au #lexx au #scifi au #ignis #prompto #gladio #noctis #promptio #coming for promptio week !#myfic

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calorieworkouts · 7 years

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How Eating More and Moving Less Helped Me Lose Weight and Change My Life

My name is Julie Fredrickson as well as I am the founder of Minimum Sensible Fitness, a physical fitness and nutrition class created to fit the lifestyle of hectic professionals. I'm also a three-time start-up founder, a powerlifter, as well as an enthusiastic proponent for taking a balanced technique to entrepreneurship.

But I had not been always fit, and I really did not always have the most balanced strategy to my health. When I first tried to transform my life around using diet plan and also fitness, I discovered I was doing it all wrong.

Panic Room

In 2009, when I was 25, I was diagnosed with high cholesterol. My medical professional didn't mince words-- he stated that because I was 20 extra pounds obese as well as had a family record of cardiovascular disease and diabetes, it made feeling for me to take place Lipitor (a frequently recommended statin medicine) promptly. It had not been specifically a bolt from the blue. After several years of staying in New york city, I had become inactive, developed dreadful consuming practices, consumed consistently, and had a host of vague health and wellness issues that left me inactive, scratchy, as well as completely miserable.

Julie Fredrickson, December 2011 After my physician's session, I began taking the prescription, because I understood I needed to do something to improve my wellness. Yet I wasn't actually prepared to take place statin medication (which is usually prescribed to grownups 65 and also older) in my twenties. Rather, I quickly decided to tackle my wellness concerns with great old-fashioned self-control and "treatment" my high cholesterol with nutrition and also exercise. I would simply consume less and also move more-- the classic prescription for weight-loss. I tossed my Lipitor prescription in the trash and also obtained started.

All Work and No Play

My brand-new physical fitness approach was" all or absolutely nothing." I started waking up early to invest 45 mins on the elliptical device prior to job. I additionally enrolled in individual training, attended team health and fitness classes from spinning to yoga, and spent for a meal shipment service that supplied calorically restricted dishes. Everything helped-- I lost some weight as well as my cholesterol degrees enhanced. As well as though I was placing in a lots of work for fairly modest rewards, I felt sanctimonious and proud of my accomplishments. The "eat less, relocate a lot more" concept didn't actually solve my issue. It became a problem.

The 'eat much less, relocate more 'concept didn't actually solve my issue. As a matter of fact, it came to be a problem.

I kept my food intake low throughout the week by consuming only low-calorie foods, yet compensated myself on Fridays with pizza. On Saturdays I pushed (err ... penalized )myself with extended stints on the treadmill. I attempted eating "healthy and balanced" foods like bananas and peanut butter, kale, wonderful potatoes, quinoa, as well as grilled chick bust, but my weight management quickly plateaued, and also I still really did not such as the way I looked. I increased down and also required myself to atone for my" sins" with juice cleanses.

When ravenous cravings (unavoidably) set in, I got damaged down and also ate also much more. It was a savage cycle that continued for over a year. My yo-yo pattern most likely would have proceeded forever if my pal Michael Gruen hadn't pointered in with some wise advice.

Eating 101

Gruen, a fellow entrepreneur and also previous banker, had just recently used up weight training and also slimmed down himself. He did not have stellar fitness credentials, but I trusted his judgment due to the fact that I had actually observed his health and fitness makeover firsthand. He mentioned to me that my" consume much less, move a lot more" viewpoint simply had not been functioning. Amusingly, he recommended that I must try consuming more and also moving less. While I was undoubtedly skeptical, the suggestion stuck.

My previous efforts at health and health and fitness had actually left me with a collection of bad behaviors that I erroneously took into consideration "much healthier. "Because starting my journey, I had relied primarily on ladies' storage locker space chatter as well as mainstream health and fitness publications. According to those resources, the most effective ways to drop weight and also obtain fit were extreme cardio sessions, oat meal for breakfast, tidy foods, and calorie restriction. Considering that those 'tried and real' approaches obviously weren't benefiting me, I started to do my very own research study into nourishment as well as health for the very first time.

One of the initial points I discovered is that fat cells produce an essential hormone called leptin. The body is really delicate to the total amount in blood circulation, so when fat cells diminish( because of caloric limitation), less leptin is secreted. The mind detects this reduction as well as reacts by triggering an increase in hunger as well as a decline in metabolic rate.

By eating much less, I was not only making myself hungrier and reducing my total willpower, I was unintentionally reducing my capability to burn off calories.

By consuming less( during my crash-diet phase), I was not only making myself hungrier and also decreasing my total determination (greetings, Friday night pizza binges ), I was unintentionally decreasing my ability to burn calories. My low leptin degrees indicated I was hungrier than ever. Rather than listening to my body, I compelled myself to do extra workout to burn off the calories, which consequently triggered much more appetite. No marvel I would certainly been spiraling!

I began consuming a lot more protein and fiber-rich veggies( like spinach and also broccoli) at each dish. Much to my shock, eating' much more 'assisted-- I quit really feeling starving at all times, which meant I really did not devour on scrap almost as commonly. It makes good sense, because researches present to that raising healthy protein consumption could reduce the desire to binge on various other( commonly less healthy and balanced) food.

Gaining Weight

As I started to get involved in the behavior of healthier consuming, Gruen urged me to move much less, since, according to him, I was still functioning out way too much. Research recommends that working out for longer periods of time offers little additional advantage when it comes to shedding weight. The body will certainly wind up making up for those added minutes invested at the gym by slowing the metabolic process and stoking cravings. Rather, Gruen advised incorporated lifts like squats, bench presses, and also deadlifts, which could effectively exercise the whole body. Substance lifts could additionally improve endurance, accelerate cardiovascular feature, increase metabolism, reduce coronary danger, and also assist with mental well being.

As an added incentive, striking the weight rack as opposed to the cardio device is a big time-saver. To have adequate time for my morning cardio craze, I needed to cut right into my bedtime. I regularly discovered myself obtaining less compared to 7 hrs of rest to obtain up early adequate to place in time on the treadmill-- I was quite actually running myself rough. This also wasn't doing my body any favors. A recent research study discovered that merely 3 evenings of insufficient sleep( less than seven to 8 hrs )made individuals dramatically less delicate to insulin( Insulin sensitivity can help or prevent maintaining a healthy and balanced weight, given that it influences blood glucose degrees, which in turn control hunger.). With my new weight lifting program, I invested much less time in the health club, even more time in bed asleep, and, incredibly, located myself looking much leaner compared to I carried my previous all-cardio physical fitness regimen.

Healthy forever-- The Takeaway

Julie Fredrickson, September 2013 Offered my busy life, the timeless" move much more, consume much less" was specifically the incorrect strategy to take in regards to physical fitness and also health and wellness. After I allow go of my preconditioned ideas of just what was "healthy and balanced," educated myself about basic nourishment and physical fitness, and also found convenient consuming and also working out approaches, I was lastly able to constantly preserve a habit of health.

This isn't the kind of improvement you see glamorized in the fitness press-- in my instance, it took practically 4 years to find out ways to reach my goals and also maintain my" transformation. "And also while I lost 20 pounds of fat, obtained muscular tissue, as well as obtained my cholesterol back to a healthy location, the real" in the past as well as after" is my mental shift. Because in truth, the only diet plan( or physical fitness weight loss program) that functions is the one you stick with for life.

#exercise #fitness #fitness and nutrition #fitness classes #gym #health #health and fitness #health and wellness #health club #muscle fitness #weight #wellness #workout

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