#I know those two are different but who cares

[avonsdrabbles]

The most significant lesson I ever received in Literature classes was that everything is actually about abortion.

My regular teacher was out for the day, so the “this guy works here but nobody quite knows what he’s supposed to do” substitute was in for her. His name was Mr. Moony. I suspect, knowing more now, that Mr. Moony was the special education coordinator for gifted and talented students. But that’s all besides the point.

The only thing that mattered about Mr. Moony for this story is that every student knew you never learned anything when he was in, because he was always batshit insane. He would completely disregard plans, throw them away, and tell us to do something different.

When he came in, we had just finished reading Waiting for Godot. We were well on our way to an AP Lit exam, tired and worried, and we had a practice essay coming up based on this play. And he said, “you’re all burnt the hell out, so I’m going to write an essay for you.” We all cheered because, hell yes, a lecture day. We didn’t have to do shit. We could all tune out and stop caring.

And then he started going.

We were enraptured. This man deconstructed the two act play into a masterpiece, quoting ancient literature on theology and God, as well as personal details about the author, to reveal to us all that, actually, Waiting for Godot was the author’s roundabout way to show the anguish behind the politics of the pro-life/anti-choice movements, and the author’s criticisms of abortion.

He went on for a half hour, writing faster than we could really keep up with. By the end of his rant, we were all nodding along. At the end, he slammed his hand on the board and shouted “ABORTION” to really make his point.

“So, do you all think that’s what this story is about?”

The majority of us nodded, myself included. And this man looked at us, scrunched his face like Kermit the Fucking Frog, and went, “no the fuck it’s not. I made all that up.”

There was a beat of everyone feeling like their time was wasted. Some students very frustrated because they were trying to take notes and just realized it all was fabricated. One or two who were angry about being woken up to him shouting abortion.

And then he looked at us. “How many of you only believe it’s about abortion because that’s what I just told you to think?”

Quite a few raised their hands.

“Then I did English good.”

The rest of the time of class was spent with him teaching us various styles of analysis, though sadly my amnesia has claimed most of this part from me. I remember my belief in English being entirely shaken at this point. But at the same time, I also got what he was saying, and it opened my eyes to new things.

There is no right answer in literary analysis. There’s just answers people want to hear, or answers that are compelling, or answers that aren’t those things. The answer that Waiting for Godot was about abortion was not something all of us wanted to hear, but he made the answer sound compelling — and so we were riveted.

My next essay I wrote for that class was about the setting of the play, and how the entirety of Waiting for Godot centers on the anxieties of losing the modern family — and even modern life as we know it — to technology, and via that idea, the climate crisis.

I got a 100%. My teacher highlighted my (thankfully anonymous to the class) essay, particularly because the first sentence was “compelling,” due to my absence of proper grammar rules; I’d started it off by just saying, “trees.”

That was the day I really knew I loved English — not just enjoyed reading and writing, but genuine love of playing with the language. And it’s this love that I try to instill into my students.

The biggest misconception in public schools is that literary analysis is about proving you can be right or wrong about a book you read

Literary analysis isn’t about the book

It’s not even about being right

It’s about performing an investigation and presenting your case to the jury

It doesn’t matter if your defendant killed that guy or not. If you can convince the jury he didn’t, you’ve won

And the incredible life skill of spinning bulletproof bullshit out your ass with a handful of facts and a prayer is soooooooo much more valuable than anyone’s ever gonna tell you

[heartyluv]

Plz give the girls a full fwb!caleb fic ur little ficlet was so good like it had my cootamunk QUIVERING ‼️

Note: I just want you to know that cootamunk has had me in tears since yesterday. Literally couldn’t stop laughing and now I can’t stop saying it. You’re a hilarious genius and I luv you. This is for you, babe. Enjoy!

Creds to @/anitalenia and @/strangergraphics for the dividers!

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut, Caleb is a little controlling and rough.

Word Count: 2,251

Summary: Caleb finds out that you’re trying to go on a date and shuts that shit down.

Jealous&FriendsWithBenefits!Caleb/Reader

Hey. You up?

The notification that appears at the top of your phone screen stops your doom scrolling. You smile just a little to see that familiar message with the name accompanying it. You look at the time, not surprised that it’s almost two in the morning. You never go to bed at the time you intend to, unintentionally looking and reading through a whole bunch of things from your roulette of consistently used apps.

You open your messages, twiddling your thumbs before you get ready to answer. Tonight could go one of two ways: You’re either about to be put to bed with sex or you’re about be up for another hour or two watching something you’ve already seen before until you and Caleb pass out on the couch.

When Caleb proposed being your first after you shared your fears of giving yourself to someone who didn’t deserve it, you thought he was joking. But when he looked at you with those serious eyes you’ve grown to be able to identify so well, you knew that you were about to tread into some dangerous territory. But you let it happen, and you were convinced that if you ever had sex again, it wouldn’t be what Caleb showed you, what he did to you.

You’ll never forget his gentleness, his praise and respect. The way he put you and your needs above his own. Your thighs always press together just thinking about how you watched him slide on a condom and look into your eyes before he began to slip inside. You worried about pain, but Caleb had prepared you so well, gotten you so wet, that it was nothing but blissful pleasure.

“You’re doing so good for me. I got you, pretty.”

“It’s okay, hold onto me. I’ll make sure it feels good.”

“If you need me to stop, don’t hesitate to tell me. This is about you.”

You were addicted. And you were scared that your newfound desire for consistent sex was because it was Caleb who made you feel so good. You tried convincing yourself that you just wanted to feel that full and taken care of again, but you knew better.

No other man would do what he did—would feel like he did. So when you vented to Caleb about how much you enjoyed yourself, you played it off and said that it was going to be scary showing yourself like this again to a stranger. But, then he said what you would’ve never had the guts to.

“We can still have sex if you want. I mean, neither of us are dating or anything. Friends with benefits, you know? It doesn’t hurt to just feel good and we trust each other enough.”

You didn’t hesitate to accept and it’s been history ever since. He comes over all the time and you still operate like friends, but when he’s hard and you’re wet, you two fuck like a couple madly in love.

He always comes over at some point when he has a break or you go to his place. If he’s up for it—he always is—he’ll make the drive to your apartment when it’s past midnight because he tends to get off work late. Tonight is no different. Finally, you start to write your reply.

Hey. Yeah, everything okay?

Yeah. I’m outside. Open up?

Your eyebrows raise in shock. He’s outside already? That’s a first.

Your oversized shirts falls mid thigh when you stand and you walk to your front door, not needing any light to see since the moon is so bright that it casts a gentle light into your open floored space. When you open the door, Caleb looks at you with a tight smile.

“You sure you’re okay? You texted me like you weren’t here, yet you were standing outside this whole time,” you chuckle. But Caleb doesn’t laugh, he just holds that expression that you can’t read.

He steps inside when you move over and you shut the door behind him, locking it while looking at him take off his sweater.

“Caleb—” you start, but he’s cupping the side of your face and kissing you with so much intensity. You accept it, melting into his hold as your hands snake into his hair, pressing your body close to his as your tongue licks at his mouth.

It must be one of those nights where we talk after, you think. He’s done this before and so have you, where you’re so overwhelmed with something that you need to release physically before you can do it verbally.

He’s eager in his urge to pull your clothes off, tickling your skin with his fingertips as he grabs the hem of your shirt to lift it over your head. You’re just as grabby, pulling his shirt off and tugging at his pants to get them down. You kiss your way to the couch and he falls backwards when you gently push him.

You can see him, but just barely. You don’t feel like cutting a light on, so the moon illuminating through your windows will have to do. You slide your panties off and your pussy squeezes around nothing when you hear how ragged his breathing is and the wet noises that you know is him stroking his cock.

You crawl onto his lap, bracing your knees on both sides of him as you raise your hips. You put one hand on his shoulder and use the other to grip his length to put him where you both need.

“Caleb…Oh my god…” you whine as your body takes him inside, making you two become one.

You feel him twitch inside your walls as you start to move just a little bit, rubbing your breast against your palm as you hold onto him.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally speaks for the first time since his arrival and you nearly freeze, but he doesn’t let you. He keeps your hips moving, keeps thrusting into you from beneath as you choke on your breath from his words and actions.

“The thought of you letting anyone but me get the privilege to see you like this makes me fucking nauseous.” He kisses your shoulder as he moves snugly within your warm cunt, and all you can do is listen to him because he’s not giving you a second to speak.

“Could you deal with me killing a man for you? Because if you ever let him experience this, I wouldn’t hesitate. Tell me what you need from me and I’ll become that and more to fulfill your every desire.”

You whimper as he grabs your ass tightly, keeping you moving so that you take him ass deep as you can.

“Caleb, what are you—What happened?” you say breathlessly, confused and thrown off by his confession. Every time you try to stop moving, he won’t allow it.

Caleb doesn’t want you to stop because if you stop feeling how good he makes you feel, you’ll try and find a way to bullshit him.

“You think I’m going to let you leave me?” he groans when you squeeze him. “I know about your little date. Remember what you told me when we started this?”

You never told him anything, but you’re not surprised that he was able to find this out. Caleb always finds his ways and you’ve never understood how. The date was harmless, setup by a coworker of yours after she told you the guy liked you and he didn’t seem bad, so you figured—why not? Well now, you know you made a terrible mistake.

You do remember what you said, and it replays in your mind like a voice recording.

“If either of us start dating or anything, we have to cut this off. There won’t be anymore sex, but we could still be friends. But if someone can’t deal with that, it’s healthy for us to just cut ties entirely.”

“Yeah, you remember,” he licks your neck. “I never agreed, I just let you try and ignore your feelings because you said you weren’t ready for a relationship. But now?” he abruptly stands with him seated inside of you to the brim.

“It looks like I have to make the right decision for both of us.”

He walks through your dark apartment into your room with your small lamp on. You turned it on before you got up to answer the door and you’re glad you did, because you can see him so clearly now. And he looks hurt—hurt and angry.

“Caleb I didn’t mean—”

He roughly throws you down into the bed, still pulsing inside. You don’t even understand how he’s this fucking strong, but it’s turning you on so much that you know his cock is soaked with your slick.

“What?” he growls, cutting you off, grabbing your hands and placing them above your head as he starts to pound into you so hard that you can’t breathe. Your bed physically moves, you hear the frame grate against the floor.

“To hurt me, huh? To make me have to think that you were going to choose someone else over me? Over us?” He spreads your legs, spearing into you over and over while your breasts bounce in his face. He roughly takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking the peaked nub. He starts to suck on your breasts, leaving red marks that he intends to keep on you so you’ll always look in the mirror and know who owns you.

He angles himself, sitting on his knees and you don’t know how he’s able to make you so flexible right now, but you’ve never been so spread in your life. His hand comes to your throat, not putting pressure but it’s telling you what you two are without it needing to be said.

“Caleb…” you hiccup. “I can’t..I’m gonna—”

You’re going dizzy at how hard he’s fucking you, how he’s punishing your cervix with each brutally delicious thrust. His head falls to your neck while he keeps your throat in his palm, and when you hear him sniffle, you damn near cry yourself. You move your hands from above your head where he put them, tugging on his hair and tracing his back while his hips never lose their momentum.

“I’ll make you see. I’ll make you realize how much I belong to you. I want to live in your body, I want to stay a part of you forever. I’ll do everything in my power, baby. Please take me, please, please don’t make me have to know what it’s like without you.”

“I’ll never do that you,” you whine as he circles his hips to make you feel every thick inch. “I’m sorry…I’m here..”

“Show me how sorry,” you feel wetness of what you believe is a tear drop on your neck as he continues to hide his face in it. “I’m not pulling out. Let me put my cum inside you. I want you to feel it. You’ll let me, won’t you? Please tell me yes, baby… I’m so fucking close..”

“Yes,” you affirm, your own orgasm impending. “Give it to me, Caleb…”

And when he whimpers as he slams into you just a few more times, his heavy load floods your fertile pussy as his cock fucks it into you deep. Even when you cry out from how hard you finished, he’s still slowly rocking his hips, making you and him both feel that mix of pleasure and pain from overstimulation.

You feel the cum start to spill out, falling down and pooling beneath your ass. It sticks to your skin and stains your sheets but you don’t care. If you could stay like this forever, you would.

He finally pulls back to look at you and even if his eyes aren’t red, his face is flushed and you can see the wetness on his long eyelashes. Gently, you take your thumbs to his eyes to wipe his tears. You pull him down, kissing him so sloppily that you don’t care how messy it is. He follows your lead without hesitation, sticking his tongue down your throat and making you both pour the rest of yourselves into one another.

He bucks his hips, his cock slightly moving inside of you as a reminder that he’s still there—that he’ll always be. He’s not giving you a choice but to let him. And you can’t stop clenching, you can’t stop your hole from wanting to bring him deeper, to keep him there.

“Caleb,” you say softly when you two are forced to pull away to catch your breath.

He just stares down at you, his eyes dancing across your face as his breath becomes steady.

“I’m in love with you too.”

He smiles hard, holding you tight as you wrap your arms around him. He’s more than happy that the feeling was mutual, that you want him just as much. Because he wasn’t exaggerating about killing a man for even daring to think that he could have you. He wasn’t playing when he said that you’d never leave him.

But hopefully, you’ll never have to find out how far he’ll go. A man like Caleb in love is a man who has no shame or fear, other than losing you. And he’ll go great lengths to prove that.

“Forever,” he mumbles. “You’re never leaving me.”

“Never,” you kiss his neck. “I promise.”

And he intends to make sure you keep it.

[softsunnyy]

when two people are obsessed.

🚨 oral sex, drugging, some actions that would normally be non-con but it's just how they are. Kinda stalker!Q. Biting. A little bit of blood. Masturbation. And i think that's all. 🚨

poorly written

he couldn't get the idea out of his head as soon as he heard it.

aphrodisiacs, something so simple, so easy to hide.

and he doesn't mind admitting that he did his research, that he looked for different ways to create his plan, until he came across chocolates, the easiest way to make you fall.

he looked for the ideals, ones that wouldn't cause you problems, ones that you'd barely notice the effect... at first, and he started giving them to you the moment you woke up, as if easter had arrived, making you believe it was just a nice gesture, that he just wanted to surprise you with a nice action.

you didn't even notice when the effects started to emerge.

you just couldn't understand why you started to get hot, but you didn't look for answers. You couldn't understand why your tits felt different, more sensitive. Your breathing became heavier, your eyes dilated, your body began to sweat.

you feel everything little by little, and you try to ignore it, pretend you're okay, that it's nothing.

but you keep eating those damn chocolates, unaware that he's watching you, around every corner, through every window. He's attentive, watching your reactions, how you seem more distracted, how you sigh every few minutes and move in your seat.

you try to continue with your classes, but you start to panic when you feel it. Your nipples, now completely hard and sensitive, rubbing against the fabric of your bra, eliciting a small but unexpected gasp from you, which caught the attention of some of your classmates, who looked at you strangely, searching for the reason for your shock, making you blush, freeze, and unable to return their gaze.

this happened a couple more times, while you felt your pussy getting hotter and hotter, and your panties began to feel sticky, clinging uncomfortably to your skin. And you shift, trying to find a more comfortable position, but all you manage is to make the fabric of your underwear slip, nestling between your folds.

your clit throbs harder with each passing hour, and you look at your watch, impatient, wanting to run away, hide in your room and not see anyone.

your face is completely flushed from every time a small, weak moan escaped your mouth, from the wet spot you've left on chairs, from the times you caught yourself rubbing against different surfaces, trying to relieve the sensations in your pussy. Your face is red because you know perfectly well you're acting like a slut in public, and your mind is so foggy that you don't even care enough.

and you tried to talk to Quinn. You texted him, and tried to call him, but he had warned you this morning.

he won't be home early today. He won't be there for you.

and you wanna cry because you need his help, his attention, the way he moves because he already knows you perfectly.

when you got to your bedroom, you moved quickly, going to your bed, taking off your clothes, lying on your back while you enjoyed the cold air hitting your pussy, which glistened and dripped with your arousal.

you'd never felt like this before. You whimpered as your hands touched your body, feeling like you're on fire, so sensitive that everything seemed too much.

maybe Quinn gave you too many chocolates, but can you blame him? it's his first time.

and from his phone, he enjoys it, watching you bring your hands to your tits, playing with your nipples, gently tugging at them as sweet, broken moans escape your lips.

he's grateful he set up cameras, making sure he never misses the fun. He just wants to see what his sweet girl does when he's not around. Especially if he made it his mission to leave her so worked up, desperate, having to touch herself to relieve even a little of what she's feeling.

and he sees, he sees how your fingers play with your nipples, circling them, gently tugging at them. He sees how your lips part, how your eyes close, how your back arches and your legs try to close.

he sees how you massage your tits, how you dig your nails in out of desperation. And watch your hips move, trying to find friction, even though your pussy just pathetically hits the air.

then your right hand begins to move lower, and two of your fingers pass between your folds. The contact alone makes you moan louder. Your hips roll, trying to regain the feeling of your fingers you'd removed in shock. And he watches, with one hand massaging his cock, as you begin to slide your fingers in, soaking them, surrounded and embraced by your completely wet folds.

when you rub your clit, everything starts to get more fun, because it felt incredible, and you began to rub it faster, harder. You move your fingers in circles, slap your clit lightly, and watch your fluids spurt out, showing how dripping wet you are.

and you're swollen, sensitive, and pinching your clit makes you open your eyes, letting the small tears run.

you feel so close, but not close enough, so you slide two of your fingers into your tight hole, feeling your walls suffocate them, receiving them, letting them move in and out, faster and faster, as deep as possible.

your left hand leaves your nipple and starts rubbing your clit. Quinn sees how fast you're moving, and thinks you're about to come.

but something's missing.

your fingers don't go as deep, they don't touch that sensitive little sponge inside you that your boyfriend always touches. The knot forms, but you can't make it explode, because you're not Quinn.

and you moan, you try to be rough, to push your fingers deeper, but nothing works, and you can't come, even though you're so worked up.

Quinn sees then what he's done. How well he's trained you.

god, he ruined you.

he sees how you gasp, how your chest rises and falls heavily, how your eyes now look at the ceiling, how your face is now blank, not knowing what to say or do.

your fingers slowly come out of you, and he's grateful for the camera angle, because he can see your hole throbbing, as if it's calling for him.

and this moment destroys the rest of your day, because no matter how many times you try, or with what. You can't reach your climax, your peak of pleasure that allows you to cum. And your pussy aches, your clit more sensitive than ever, throbbing, not even letting you wear underwear because any touch makes you sob.

you don't understand what's happening to you, what's happening to your body, and only a bubble bath makes you feel a little better, even though your puffy eyes and trembling body could show anyone that you're on the verge of losing it.

and your body, your mind, everything screams Quinn's name, because you need him, because you want him back, to be good to you and give you the attention you deserve for being a good whore.

poor girl, you don't even suspect why you feel this way yet, and Quinn has to hide his smile for the rest of the day, knowing that you're suffering, that you need him. Knowing that he succeeded. You don't even know what awaits you.

so you try to stick to your nightly routine; eating, wearing a long shirt that belongs to your boyfriend, gasping every time the fabric brushes your nipples. And it's when you're washing the dishes you used that you realize something.

a small box of chocolates. Different. With a little ribbon.

you notice a note, and you recognize Quinn's handwriting, so you quickly take off the ribbon and decide to reward yourself by eating one.

you deserve it after the day you've had, don't you?

it's only a couple of minutes after you've eaten it, after you've decided to grab two more. Your head starts to get foggy, your eyelids want to close. Things start to blur and you feel sleepy.

your body feels heavy with every step you take until you get back to your bed, and when you lie down it's as if your body loses a battle you didn't even know you were fighting, quickly falling asleep on the sheets, with the warmth still running through your veins.

and he saw you as he got into the car, leaving his phone in the perfect spot to see you, as if it were a map to home.

he sees you sleeping, how your (his) shirt slowly rides up your thighs with each toss and turn. He sees how your thighs rub together, trying to relieve the heat you feel between your dreams.

he sees how vulnerable you are. Completely ready for him.

so getting home isn't a problem, because he knows you can't hear him. Still, he hurries, taking off his shoes, walking to the bedroom, watching you from the doorway, as if you were his meal for that night.

slowly, he takes off his clothes, until he's naked in front of you. Then he gets on the bed, approaching your body as if you were his prey, like hunting you, until he manages to get between your legs; his hands gripping your soft, warm thighs.

he can see your skin, glistening with your arousal, as well as your pussy, dripping wet, completely soaked. And he feels like he might drool, the scent of your arousal alone being enough to make his cock rock hard.

and he knows you're completely passed out, so he takes his time, leaving small, wet kisses on your neck, accompanied by sucking, which leaves bruises on your skin, until the shirt prevents him from continuing and he lifts it, letting him at least see your tits, perched, your nipples still hard.

he takes a nipple into his mouth, and in your sleep you can feel his tongue playing, his lips sucking, his hands massaging, taking over your body the way he loves it so much, before continuing to leave his mark, gently biting your nipples, watching you shudder, gasp, and your body reacting unconsciously, seeking more contact.

he bites a few more times, watching your body react, and then continues moving down, leaving kisses on your belly until he reaches your pussy, where he left a peck on your clit.

however, he didn't pay attention to you immediately. Instead, he starts kissing your thighs, biting a little harder, watching his teeth dig into your skin, his bites turning into red marks, possibly bruises. And that is addictive, just like the taste of your skin calling to him, so he keeps biting, harder and harder, until one of his bites draws small drops of blood, which he quickly licks, taking it as his limit for tonight.

not because he doesn't want to see you bleed, but because he doesn't think he'll be able to stop if he starts going down that path, and tonight is to make you cry, not bleed.

then he finally reaches your pussy, swollen, irritated, and glistening. His tongue runs between your folds, letting your juices fill his mouth, and he swallows, seeing you arch your back and your brows furrow. Then he licks again, and licks, and licks, and licks, until he can't stop, sucking on your folds, using his teeth to make you whimper, trying to push him away a little in your sleep.

your clit is overstimulated as he sucks it, sucking hard until he hears you moan louder. And he feels drunk, drugged by your taste, your smell, your heat.

he can't tear himself away from your pussy, causing your juices to drip down his chin, down his neck, onto the sheets. He doesn't care; he keeps making out with your sweet pussy, which belongs to him, which has his name engraved in every reaction.

he sees you shudder, and that motivates him to be rougher, to let his beard irritate your skin, making it turn red, making small dots of blood form around your pussy.

he's devouring you, desperate, and he no longer knows if you've always tasted so sweet or if the chocolate has made it that way, but it's too much, and his cock starts to ache, making him have to rub himself against the sheets, trying to relieve some of the tension, of the pain.

your hole starts to throb as the knot begins to form, and he knows what's coming, so he's sucking on your clit once more, faster and faster, harder, until your hips begin to move, thrusting.

your pussy begins to squirt, and he swallows it all, while his eyes roll back and his cock throbs, letting fluids come out of his tip, making the sheets sticky.

and you moan, gasp, arch your back, curl your toes, and react. Yet you don't wake up.

so when he's finished enjoying you, he straightens up, approaching your face once more, but this time to slap your cheek, from gentle slaps to harder ones, until you finally open your eyes, looking at him.

and he sees it, sees your eyes filled with tears, full of arousal, of pleasure. And you whimper, your hands on his body, scratching at his arms, his shoulders, his back, trying to find some stability because your legs are spasming and you can barely comprehend what's happening.

and you think you're dreaming, that you're just imagining he's there, but you realize you're not when you feel his cock against your pussy. You look down and see him, big, swollen, veiny, ready to go inside of you and break you.

and Quinn gives you a few seconds to wake up, to regain some consciousness, until he finally slides inside your pussy, forcing his way into your sensitive walls, and slamming right into that sensitive spot, making you scream, making you hold tightly to his body as tears roll down your cheeks.

you're so sensitive, overstimulated, and it only takes a few thrusts from your boyfriend for you to cum again, suffocating his cock with your walls and making you turn red with embarrassment.

it's like cumming the first time has awakened something even stronger, and Quinn doesn't need much to have you crying in his arms, with your pussy so sensitive that anything would make you cum.

so he's going to take advantage of that. He starts moving hard, hammering into you so hard you have to beg, plead for mercy, while your pussy spasms.

he has stamina, he wants to break you, to use you until your legs can't stop shaking, until you can't form coherent words, until your pussy can only throb and drip. So no. Your pleas won't make him stop.

you'll have to endure it, let him use you, force his way into your warm pussy and make you cum as many times as he wants.

it's what you earn for trusting, for accepting his chocolates, for not noticing the cameras, the stares. For not noticing his plan.

and as you moan his name like a broken record, you understand what happened.

maybe you should also plan a little revenge... but when your head starts working again.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

A Fool For Love (18+ Fic) *PREVIEW*

Pairing: Gangster!Bakugou x Black!Bimbo!Reader

Synopsis: You were just a lowly young woman singing and dancing at your local club to care for your sick mother and a chance at fame. He was just a renowned gangster, building his lonely empire and riches on the bones he broken. And then you two met and suddenly, everything seemed to fit together...until he broke it all apart again. Now, trying to move on, you find affection with another, but your gangster ex doesn't take too kindly to that and will have to find it in himself to make you understand that you're the one for him.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Time Period AU (Roaring 1920s); Gangster/Thug!Bakugou; Bimbo!Reader; Strangers to Lovers/Exes to Lovers; Opposites Attract Trope; Sunshine x Grumpy Trope; Mild Violence; Some Mentions of Racism & Sexism; Love Triangle; Jealous BF!Bakugou; Possession/Ownership; Bondage; Mild BDSM; Marking; Scent Play; Daddy Kink; Spanking; Spit Play; Cum Play; Public Sex; Dom!Bakugou x sub!Reader; Breeding Kink; Unprotected Sex/Creampies; Fluff & Hurt/Angst

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Soooo I had this idea in my head for THEE LONGEST TIME after listening to Lucky Daye's "That's You" back to back for months now lol. I wanted to write a gangster fic for a minute now, but I was having trouble picking WHO to write it for until I did a poll on here & people chose Bakugou for it. I'm so hype to write this because I'm a slut for mafia romance (I'm a wattpad girl stfu) & I love writing period shit. I hope y'all enjoy it! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

I also have a tracklist that I made for this short compiled of songs I think fit the story & the time period it takes place in. You can find it below! If anyone has any idea who the artist is for the fan art in the tracklist, PLEASE let me know! (I found it on Pinterest) 💗💗💗💗 -Jazz

Chapters: PREVIEW. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X.

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PREVIEW 

Bakugou watches you intently sitting next to him in the passenger's seat of his car, the rain pitter-pattering outside, creating a loud cacophony of endless noise.

Your sweet voice nearly gets swept up with the rain. “I don’t understand, Katsuki. I just don’t understand you.”

You won't look at him. Your beautiful, doe-like brown eyes are staring somewhere else outside the windshield, the rain reflecting back in those pools of bewilderment and sorrow that Bakugou could get lost in forever.

'I know, baby,' he thinks, his own sorrow and regret threatening to swallow him whole. 'I wish I could tell you everything. Wish I could make you understand...'

But making you understand would also mean he would have to tell you and show you everything about him, and he dreads that. Because everyone he has ever shown the him behind the designer suits, fancy cars, laser red stares, and cool exterior has abandoned him. Broken his heart. Taken his affection and stomped on it.

He is afraid of what will happen if he does show you who he is because he has no idea what you'll do if he does. That is the reason he separated from you-to leave you before you left him. To save himself the heartbreak and you the horror of seeing that he is nothing like the man you thought he was.

It doesn't make it any better than you're so sweet. So kind. So different from the rest. The temptation to show you everything-the blood, the pain, the scars, the mistakes, the regrets-frightens him so.

"I'm sorry" is all he can say to you now, sitting awkwardly in the driver's seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel for dear life to avoid trembling. He doesn't want to appear weak with you, his dear, precious little singer.

It is so lame, so trivial, but it is all he can muster to tell you now despite the brown liquor fogging his sense of rationality and his filter. He wants so much to tell you how much he misses you.

How he cannot fall asleep without envisioning your face next to him.

How he hasn't washed his pillow since the last time you slept on it just to smell your perfume on it.

How there has been no other woman in his bed or in his arms since you departed.

But he keeps it all back...for now. You look up at him now, turning away from the raindrops to finally put those pretty eyes on him. He nearly swallows his tongue at your beauty-your creamy skin that contrasts his; your baby face and dimples; your curly black hair made even curlier from the rain. The urge to kiss you lingers in the air.

"I don't get it," you say aloud, frustration and confusion evident in your tone and the crease in your brow. "What do you want?"

Bakugou blinks at you, not counting on the question being asked. It should be so easy to reply to, but he can't. Because if he says "you" then he will be forced to tell you the real reason why he ended your relationship: because he is afraid.

The silence must frustrate you more because your cute little lips purse, something you do when you're irritated. "What do you want, Katsuki?" you ask again, your frustration growing.

Finally, Bakugou relaxes his hold on the steering wheel and replaces it with your small, warm hands. You stare at his bigger, calloused, inked ones interlaced with yours as if you can't believe he is touching you. "I want you happy," he answers, true and genuine. "Even if it isn't with me, Y/N. I need you to be happy."

And despite the utter anguish that his response brings, despite the fact that he would be heartbroken if you were to end up with that stupid extra "Todoroki" or some other chump, if you were to be happier than you were with him, that would be the answer to his nightly prayers.

But he would also be lying if he said that he wouldn't be filled with envy for the rest of his days and dying to take the spot of the other man in your arms.

[dior-luxury]

i recently found your writings and IM IN LOVEEE could i request a childhood friends ace x reader? like them growing up super super close and just slowly realizing that the thoughts plaguing them at night about the other arent so platonic anymore and oh this isnt the little kid i used to play with but someone that i might really wanna go out with. if possible maybe a little suggestive but its okay if youre not comfy with it >:D

Childhood Friends

( ✧ ) ────── childhood stories . fluff - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] Ace Trappola

- [𝐩:𝐬] Slow Burn . Friends to Lovers . Childhood Friends . Mutual Pining . Emotional Realization . Suggestive Content (mild—touching, implied desire, kissing, etc.) . Tender Moments . Internal Monologue / Angst-Lite . Fluff with a hint of spice

Note: Hope you enjoy this story anon!! I've gotten back to writing as I usually did~ (*°▽°*). There are also very, very subtle mentions of Ace having subtle freckles (which I head-canon him on) so hopefully your not mad about that!

You and Ace had always been inseparable.

Back in your hometown—far from the twisted mirrors and strange academies—he was just Ace. The kid who used to sneak sweets from the kitchen and share half with you, grinning with sugar on his cheeks. The boy who’d tug at your sleeve, race you down dusty roads, and defend you against schoolyard bullies with that smug, reckless grin only he could pull off without getting smacked.

Your childhood was colored with the rhythm of his laughter, late afternoons sprawled in fields of swaying grass, and fireflies that lit your path home after long days of nothing and everything. You could talk about the stars with him like they belonged to the two of you alone. When you scraped your knee, he was the one who panicked first but patched it up the fastest, his hands clumsy but careful.

Back then, you never questioned the way you leaned into him without thinking. How he'd throw an arm around your shoulders and it just fit. That was just Ace.

Time, though—it plays tricks. You blink and suddenly the summers don’t stretch on forever anymore. Suddenly, he’s a little taller. His voice is deeper. His smirks hit a bit different now, curling at the edges with something heavier. His touches linger just a second longer than they used to.

The weird thing is, it’s not even just him.

Somewhere along the way, your thoughts started tangling, too. You found yourself looking at his hands—not just because they were big and familiar, but because of the way the veins traced up his arms when he stretched. You’d hear his laugh echo behind you in the hallway and feel your stomach twist, like you were on the edge of something you couldn’t name.

You’d wake up at night thinking about how his hoodie smelled after a long day—something warm, just a little like spice and smoke—and wonder what it would be like to be pressed into his chest, not like a joke or a fall, but on purpose.

Those thoughts crept in like fog. Slowly. Silently. And you kept brushing them off. After all, this was Ace. Your best friend. The idiot who once cried because a bee landed on his lunch, who still stole your fries when you weren’t looking and claimed it was “interest.”

But then came NRC. And everything cracked a little wider.

Ace was never one to hide what he was thinking, not from you. But sometimes now, you caught him watching you when he didn’t think you’d notice. Eyes tracking the curve of your smile, the shape of your mouth when you were lost in thought. He’d get quiet in those moments, for just a heartbeat. Not like him at all.

And the way he’d flirt with others? That had always been Ace’s thing—loud, playful, shallow. But lately, those jokes didn’t sit right in your chest. Especially when his eyes flicked to you right after, like he was trying to get a reaction. Like he wanted you to say something.

He leaned against your desk one evening, cocky grin in place, arms crossed like he was just waiting to be challenged. “You know, you’re kinda cute when you get all serious like that.”

You didn’t look up. “If you’re trying to flirt, you should work on your delivery.”

“Who says I’m trying?” he shot back, but the way his voice dipped on that last word, rough and low, sent heat crawling up your spine.

It wasn’t just teasing anymore. Not really.

Then came the moment that changed everything—small, stupid, simple. You had fallen asleep in his bed after a long night of studying. Ace came in late from his dorm duties, saw you curled up there, and didn’t wake you.

Instead, he slid in beside you.

It wasn’t weird at first. You’d crashed together before. But this time, the silence between you was charged. Every brush of his leg against yours felt intentional. His breath was warm on your neck.

You shifted, half-asleep, pressing your back against his chest. And when his arm came around your waist?

He didn’t pull back.

You both pretended to still be asleep when his fingers curled softly against your stomach. Pretended it didn’t mean anything when you sighed and leaned closer, fitting together like muscle memory—but deeper now. Rawer.

And the worst part?

You didn’t want to move.

You didn’t talk about it the next morning.

Ace was already gone when you woke up, and the bed was still warm where he’d been. No smug teasing. No cocky remarks. Just a folded blanket and the ghost of his arm still wrapped around your waist.

But he looked different that day—more reserved. His usual loud presence was still there, but he wasn’t throwing jokes around the same way. His eyes kept flicking to you, quick, like he was trying to solve a puzzle in your face.

You avoided the talk for days. Both of you did. Until it felt like walking around a fire you refused to admit was already burning the floor beneath you.

It wasn’t until a week later, late at night again, that it finally cracked open.

You were both in his dorm, again. Some lame excuse about studying, again. Cards and papers between you on the bed, but no one was really focused. Ace had been unusually quiet, his legs stretched beside you, leaning back on his hands. You could feel his gaze. It had weight now.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, voice low. “Can I ask you something kinda… I dunno, maybe dumb?”

You looked up at him. His eyes met yours and didn’t flinch away this time. “Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about… like, how weird this’s been getting?”

You blinked. “What’s this?”

He ran a hand through his hair and gave that little laugh—the nervous one, the one that only ever came out when he was being too honest for his own comfort.

“You. Me. That night. The way you looked at me this morning when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. It’s like—we’re not kids anymore, y’know? I look at you and it’s just… not the same.”

The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed.

“I know,” you said quietly. “I’ve been trying not to say anything. Thought maybe I was just imagining it.”

Ace leaned in, elbows on his knees now. “You’re not.”

He let the silence stretch again, eyes dropping to your lips before darting back up. He wasn’t smiling. Not like usual. There was heat in the way he looked at you—raw and wondering and maybe a little afraid.

“I think about you too much,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. “Like… not the way I used to. Not just the ‘we’ve-been-best-friends-forever’ kind of way. It’s worse now. Or… better. Depends how you look at it.”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.

His voice dipped again, just a little rougher. “You ever think about kissing me?”

Your heart skipped so hard you thought it stopped.

“…Yeah,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

That was all it took.

He moved slowly, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. His fingers brushed your jaw, thumb grazing the curve of your cheek as his face came close—close enough to count the freckles on his nose, to feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

And then his lips were on yours.

It was hesitant at first, unsure—until it wasn’t. His mouth pressed against yours with more pressure, more heat. A little desperate. A little hungry. Like he’d been waiting for this longer than he was willing to admit.

You kissed him back with everything you had.

When you pulled away, breathless and a little dizzy, he rested his forehead against yours. His hand stayed on your cheek, thumb stroking soft circles.

“Well,” he breathed, “that confirms it.”

“Confirms what?” you asked, your voice shaky with leftover adrenaline and something deeper, something softer.

He gave you that grin—real this time, but laced with something sweeter than his usual smirk. “That we’re completely screwed.”

You laughed, and he kissed the sound right off your mouth.

Maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was scary.

But in that moment—with his fingers trailing down your spine and his lips brushing your neck—you knew one thing for sure:

Ace Trappola wasn’t just your childhood friend anymore. He was something else now. Something more. Something yours.

And gods help you, but you wanted all of it.

[downbad4sylus]

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Proof of Life

(part one)

synopsis: Caught on the King of Onychinus’s lands, you spend a few interesting days in his encampment.

content: sylus x afab!reader; use of Y/N; slow burn; brief mentions of war; general angst; mostly proofread

word count: ~3.3k

a/n: thank you to everyone who’s joined the taglist and to all those who’ve enjoyed the first part! here is part two, hope you enjoy <3

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Fear was not something you were intimately familiar with.

You lived a life of privilege and luxury, protected by your father and the guards that surrounded you. You knew risk of course, sneaking out of your many homes throughout the years in the name of adventure, but the worst you suffered in doing so were some cuts and bruises you’d have to hide until they healed.

You’d never felt true fear until now.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, drawing out everything except for him.

The King of Onychinus. The man engaged in a full out war with your father, hellbent on overthrowing his rule and taking over his country. Your country.

And you, the Princess of Linkon, the sole heir to the country the man before you had set his sights on.

You were dead.

There was no chance you walked out of this alive.

“Cat got your tongue, Princess?” the king drawled. With arms crossed, he stalked toward you.

You took an instinctive step back, your body shaking from the fear coursing through your veins. Was this it? Would he kill you right where you stand?

He was before you in no time at all, forcing you to tilt your head back to look at him. “Don’t you have something you wish to speak to me about?”

Your heart thundered so loudly you almost didn’t hear him. “I—”

He tilted his head expectantly.

You swallowed hard, but your throat felt like sandpaper. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but tremble.

He sighed, as if annoyed by your silence. “Luke, Kieran, bring her to my tent. I’ll be along shortly, I have something to take care of first.”

“You want us to interrogate her while we wait?” either Luke or Kieran asked.

“No,” the King snapped. “She is to remain unharmed until I determine otherwise. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Boss,” the other said, sounding dejected.

You didn’t dare feel relief, knowing the King could change his mind at any point and your life would be forfeit.

One of the soldiers grabbed your bound wrists and led you out of the tent.

Being free of the King’s unnerving gaze allowed you to think somewhat clearer.

You needed to find a way out of this. Needed to somehow convince the King that your safe return to your father was the best course of action for everyone. But how would you convince a man reputed to be a ruthless killer with no regard for human life beyond how he could use it for his own benefit.

However…

If you were to be returned to your father, what fate would await you there?

Your life was already one within a gilded cage that you’d worked tirelessly to escape, albeit temporarily. Your capture meant your father was right to keep you sequestered from the world, and your gilded cage would become an outright prison were you to go back to Linkon. Guards posted outside your door, your windows barred, every aspect of your life under strict scrutiny. You’d never be free again, not until you assumed the throne, accepting the destiny you’d been running from as Linkon’s next ruler.

You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, the only two options laid before you resulted in loss of life, the difference being one was literal and the other was figurative. Which was better? What were you supposed to do?

Lost in your inner turmoil, you slammed right into one of the soldiers’ backs as they stopped suddenly before another tent.

He turned around to look at you, at least, you were pretty sure he was looking at you considering he was still wearing a mask.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” he asked. “Boss will kill us if he finds you hurt.”

“Um…no,” you murmured, slightly taken aback by the panic in his voice. “I’m fine.”

Both men’s shoulders slumped with relief, confusing you further. Not because of the way they feared punishment, but because of the almost comical way that fear presented itself.

Just what exactly was the dynamic between the King of Onychinus and his soldiers?

“All right Your Highness, in you go,” the other said, gently nudging you toward the tent flap.

“You’re leaving me alone in there?” you questioned.

“We’ll be right out here waiting for boss-man if you need us.”

“But don’t need us.”

You were unable to respond as they successfully pushed you within the confines of the tent.

Rather sparse furnishings greeted you upon entry, juxtaposed by the opulent decorations throughout. A double size cot topped with a ruby red blanket that looked to be made of the softest material, a well-crafted chest likely holding refined clothing befit for a king, a bear-skin hide as a rug, and a gold brazier filled with coals keeping the tent warm. It wasn’t extravagant by any means, but there was a quiet luxury to the King’s temporarily living quarters. You wondered idly what his bedchambers looked like at his royal castle.

The rope binding your wrists was starting to chafe so you decided to make good use of the brazier. As carefully as you could, you placed the rope on one of the coals, gritting your teeth as the heat licked your skin. You lifted your wrists when the heat became too much and pulled at the rope, loosening its hold. You repeated this process until the rope snapped and your hands were freed.

You massaged your tender wrists, surveying the interior of the tent once more before plopping onto the surprisingly comfortable cot. The blanket, as you suspected, was incredibly soft. Despite being in the most stressful situation of your life, you lay down atop this blanket, seeking comfort and warmth in a poor attempt to calm down.

It was impossible of course, you might have been comfortable but that didn’t negate the fact you were laying in the King of Onychinus’s bed, awaiting his return.

Listening to the unintelligible whispers of the two soldiers outside the tent, you wondered why you were brought here all of places. There was no denying you were a hostage, so shouldn’t you have been taken to some form of barracks? You certainly didn’t think the King was being kind to you, which begged the question why?

“Made yourself comfortable I see.”

You squealed, jolting upright to find the King standing at the entrance of the tent, arms crossed and eyebrow cocked. His fierce gaze zeroed in on your unbound wrists, his head tilting curiously.

“How did you manage that?” he asked.

You snapped to your feet, realizing that freeing yourself from your restraints might not have been the smartest idea. “The coals,” you muttered, cheeks blazing.

“Very clever, Princess,” he said, a genuine compliment. “Sit, let me look at your wrists.”

Suspicious, but not wanting to defy him, you slowly sunk down. He joined you on the cot, carefully taking your wrists in his much larger hands—

“Ow!”

Those hands wrapped around your wrists, his grip tight enough to aggravate your already sensitive skin.

You stared at him with wide eyes, scolding yourself for thinking he was being sincere. “What are you doing?” you hissed. “It hurts.”

“It’ll hurt more if you don’t answer my questions,” he threatened.

You scowled at him. “Quite an interesting interrogation technique.”

His lips twitched. “Think of it as motivation to answer truthfully.”

“Fine, ask your questions.”

“What was your true purpose in crossing the border?”

You blinked. “I told you already, I was stargazing.”

“Tch, you can’t possibly think I’m naive enough to believe that.”

“I wouldn’t possibly expect you to understand,” you sneered.

His fingers twisted around your wrist and you winced. “You best explain it then.”

Your cheeks heated again and you averted your gaze, unable to look at him as you murmured, “I sneak out all the time, to explore. Ever since the war began, my father has commanded I stay within the confines of wherever we’re living.” You took a steadying breath and met his eyes. “I don’t like it, so I escape from time to time. So, Your Majesty, I really was stargazing when your men found me.”

He searched for any sign of deceit, each passing second feeling like several minutes, until finally his fingers loosened. “It appears you’re the naive one here, Your Highness.”

“Listen,” you snapped, “this is the first time something has gone wrong so you’re the one who ruined my perfect track record.”

He cocked a brow, a smirk teasing his lips. “What an honor I’ve been bestowed.”

Was he…making fun of you?

How easily you had seemed to forget who this man was under the thrall of this…effortless banter. You didn’t even know his name.

“Since I answered your question, will you answer one of mine?” It was a risk, you knew that, you were in no position to be demanding anything.

“I’ll entertain it, yes,” the King was quick to respond.

“Why did you have your men take me here, specifically?”

He flashed you a disarming grin. “Haven’t you heard the saying, Princess? Keep your friends close”—he pulled you to him, breath fanning over your face—“but keep your enemies closer.”

Your mouth moved before your mind could catch up. “I’m not your enemy.”

“Aren’t you though?” he questioned. “You’re the only child of the King of Linkon, heir to the throne. This war is yours to inherit, that makes you my enemy.”

“I never wanted that fate,” you said firmly.

His brow furrowed slightly. “Not wanting it doesn’t change the truth of the matter.”

You tugged on your wrists. “It doesn’t mean I can’t dream.”

He sighed, finally letting you go. You chocked up the strange tingle around your wrists to lingering irritation as that was the only reasonable explanation for such a feeling.

“I sent notice to your father of your capture with the intent to negotiate your return. You’ll stay here until I receive his response.”

“You—” Your brows smashed together. “You don’t plan on killing me?”

He looked at you as if you were insane for suggesting such a thing. “That would spell more trouble than you’re worth, I’m afraid.”

You blurted a laugh, incredulous. “How kind of you, Your Majesty.”

He shot you a cutting glare. “A princess who spends her free time searching the stars for an answer to an impossible future is of no use to me.”

You reared back as though he’d slapped you across the face, tears pricking behind your eyes. It was a low blow, and it frustrated you that it hurt so badly.

Unfortunately for the King, you bite back.

“You know, I should really thank you, Your Majesty.”

His eyes narrowed but still, he asked, “For what?”

“For proving the rumors of your cruelty.”

He chuckled. “I’m capable of far worse than cutting remarks, Princess.”

You grinned, clearly taking him aback. “And yet you debase yourself by hurling such derisive insults at a poor, helpless woman like me.”

He sneered, brows bunching.

“As I said,” you purred, “cruel.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

You maybe would’ve held your tongue had you known you’d be sharing the double size cot with the King himself.

You were as far away from him as you could manage without falling off the edge and yet it wasn’t far enough to not feel the warmth of his body next to yours.

After your spat, the two of you hadn’t spoken much, tension thick in the air. But it wasn’t a tension that made you feel as though your life was in danger, it was something different. Something you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

Curious by nature, and ultimately your downfall, you held out an olive branch to the King.

“Hey,” you whispered into the darkness.

Nothing.

“I know you’re awake,” you continued.

No response.

You rolled your eyes and kicked your foot right into his muscled thigh.

“Oh my gods,” he groaned. “What do you want?”

You turned to face his back. “What’s your name?”

His head whipped to the side, those striking red eyes clear even in the dark. “What?”

“You never told me your name,” you said. “You know mine, it’s not fair that I don’t know yours.”

“I didn’t realize we were playing fair now,” he retorted.

You frowned. “We’ve met each other blow for blow, that seems pretty fair to me.”

He snorted despite himself, then let out a deep sigh as he lay on his back. “Fine.”

You waited, leaning closer to him in anticipation.

“Sylus.”

You blinked.

Rumors of the King of Onychinus had been circling from the moment he assumed the throne. Speculations of his visage—some of which included horns, wings, and a tail—were largely untrue as you now knew. The same could be said for his name, never once had you heard Sylus among them.

“Sylus,” you repeated, wanting to taste his name on your own tongue.

A near imperceptible shiver went through Sylus’s body. “Happy now? Can we sleep?”

You weren’t, not even close, your curiosity now rearing its ugly head.

“Why did you tell me?” you asked.

Sylus just stared at you.

And for some reason, you stared back.

“Because you asked,” he finally answered.

“Will you answer more of my questions?”

“No.”

You smiled. “You like me, don’t you, Sylus?”

He scoffed, giving you his back again. “Clearly you’ve read too many fairytales, Y/N.”

You were struck stupid hearing your name spoken for the first time. Sylus seized on the opportunity and pulled the blanket up, covering his ears. A clear message: conversation over. Not that you could form a coherent sentence at the moment anyway.

There was something about this man—Sylus—that grated on your nerves. Perhaps it was his arrogant attitude or his flippancy. Or perhaps it was how simply interacting with him stirred something long buried within your soul. A desire for more, to be more, to do more. To chase the danger laying mere inches away.

Who was this man, truly? This King of Onychinus? And why were you so drawn to him?

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Two days had passed since your capture with no word from your father. You’d barely seen Sylus, which, though not shocking, bothered you greatly for some inexplicable reason. He only came to the tent at night where he skillfully dodged any attempt at conversation. You didn’t understand why learning his name had made him so avoidant of you. And yet he was simultaneously ensuring you were taken care of and, on your second night, even offered you a bath.

That same night you’d awoken some time before dawn broke only to find yourself far closer to Sylus than when you had fallen asleep. The both of you had migrated toward the middle of the cot and were facing each other. To make matters worse, you each had a hand placed between you, the edges of your pinkies just barely brushing.

Waking to such an unexpected position had you scrambling back so fast you fell off the cot. Luckily you landed on the bear-skin rug, muffling the thud that likely would’ve woken Sylus had the rug not been there.

You couldn’t sleep much after that, and hadn’t really recovered since.

Coupled with exhaustion, you were positively bored to tears spending your days in Sylus’s tent. He had of course ordered you not to leave it under any circumstances and for once you’d actually heeded his warning.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t killing you slowly.

What better way to pass your time than to rummage through Sylus’s stuff.

Despite having taken a bath two nights ago, you had not changed out of the dress you’d been captured in. You figured the least Sylus could do was let you borrow his nice, clean clothes.

You replaced your dress with one of the many plain white shirts within the chest, glad Sylus was much bigger than you so that his shirt covered your more intimate areas. Much of your legs were still exposed, but what mattered was you were comfortable.

“Princess, are you hun—”

You whirled at the sound of Sylus’s choked off voice just in time to catch his gaze raking over your body.

“What are you doing?” he asked, making a point to look only at your face now.

“You said to make myself at home,” you answered with a shrug of your shoulder.

“I don’t recall saying anything of the sort. Or that you could borrow my clothes.”

“Even if you didn’t, you can’t expect me to traipse around wearing the same dress I was brought here in.”

Sylus’s sigh was long suffering, but…you swore there was something almost fond hidden deep within the exhalation. Surely your mind was just playing tricks on itself.

“My pants won’t fit you,” he said.

You grinned. “Who said anything about wearing pants? This shirt covers me just fine.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are not walking around a war camp with no pants on.”

“How chivalrous of you to mind my safety, Your Majesty, but I was told not to leave this tent.”

“Enough.” He spun on his heel, saying over his shoulder, “I will find you a pair of pants.”

You dropped into a deep curtesy, delicately lifting the edges of his shirt. “I am most grateful, Your Majesty.”

“You might very well be the death of me,” Sylus muttered as he swept out of the tent.

He returned some time later looking far more serious.

He tossed you a pair of pants and boots. “Put those on, then we’re leaving.”

You caught the pants but the boots clattered to the ground. “Leaving?” you repeated. “Leaving where?”

“I finally received word from your father,” he said. “He agreed to meet and negotiate your release as long as he has proof of life.”

“Does he think you killed me already?” you questioned.

Sylus shrugged. “It’s unclear, I assume it’s an excuse to be able to hand you off then and there.”

“You speak of me as if I’m merely a pawn on a chessboard.”

Sylus frowned. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

You blinked at the sincerity in his tone.

He turned, giving you a modicum of privacy. “Get dressed.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Your heart beat so fast you were sure Sylus could feel it against his back.

You sat behind him, arms loose around his waist, on a horse flanked by his two soldiers, Luke and Kieran. The four of you waited—ironically enough—near the flower field at the border for your father to arrive.

“Stop fidgeting,” Sylus hissed.

“I can’t help it,” you shot back.

You couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that something was wrong but you couldn’t quite place your finger on why.

Sylus grabbed your hands, stilling them. It was an oddly intimate gesture, especially as the warmth of his much larger hands calmed you.

You didn’t have a chance to process this, or even pull away, as several people joined you by the flower field.

Your father led the charge, sitting proud atop his horse, his sharp gaze landing straight on where you sat behind the King of Onychinus.

And to where that King held your hands in his.

Sylus, entirely unfazed, dismounted the horse. “Stay,” he commanded you before approaching your father who had not gotten off his horse.

Your stomach was in knots as you watched the two kings regard each other.

“What terms do you wish to negotiate for your Princess’s safe return?” Sylus asked, voice cutting through the thick silence.

Your father didn’t do much as glance your way. “I’ve brought no such terms.”

What?

“Oh? Then why are we here?”

“This is a courtesy visit to inform you in person that I have no intention of securing my daughter’s return. You’re free to do with her as you wish, King of Onychinus.”

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

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[inkwelldesires]

𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚅𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 [S. Reid]

𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚍 (𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙹𝚘𝚎 𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚐) 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝 (𝟷𝟾+)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: ~𝟸.𝟾𝚔

𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 | 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 | 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢:

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

You don’t notice me, which is remarkable, considering how people like you always do.

You’re sharp. Hyper-attuned. You carry your keys between your knuckles when you walk alone at night. You cross the street when someone trails too close. You scan license plates. You fake phone calls when your gut tells you something is wrong.

And still… You didn’t see me.

Maybe that’s the problem. You’re used to wolves who bear their teeth. You overlook the ones who wear ties and quote Baudelaire and nod through briefings while calculating where the body was dumped. You don’t see the ones who sharpen scalpels behind smiles. You don’t see someone like me.

Not until it’s too late.

And I don’t say that as a threat.

I say that as a man in love.

I saw you once. Once.

A coffee shop off Mass Ave. You sat in the corner with your knees tucked under your chair like you were trying to take up less space in the world. That’s what caught my eye first—the restraint.

Then the sleeve of your sweater slipped past your wrist as you reached for your drink, and I saw your hand shake—just a little. You were anxious, but not fragile. Tense, but composed. People think those things are contradictions. They’re not. I know that better than anyone.

You were scrolling through your phone's Notes app. I memorized the screen before you even knew someone was behind you. You deleted the note after twenty seconds, but I remember the words.

He is a fever. I shouldn’t want the heat.

I should’ve walked away. I had a case file in my bag—a flight in three hours. I hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. But there you were—shivering from caffeine, beauty, and whatever broken little story you built in your head. Something inside me-the part that I keep quiet in meetings, the part that knots my tie too tightly—lit up.

You don’t know how dangerous you looked.

How right.

I didn’t speak to you. Didn’t introduce myself. Didn’t need to. I work with the best forensic analysts in the country. Garcia could find your birth certificate in two keystrokes.

But I didn’t need her.

I found you the old-fashioned way.

The coffee shop’s Instagram posted a photo the next day—latte art, potted plant, vague caption. Someone commented: “@Y/N I thought you'd appreciate this masterpiece.”

That’s all I needed. The trail began.

I reverse-searched tagged locations and dug through old group photos from friends of friends. You make yourself look small online, too. But you exist.

Barely.

Facebook: private.

X: recently deactivated.

Instagram: public but minimal.

I found more from the digital residue you didn’t even know you left. A Goodreads profile with too many underlined quotes. A cash app transaction with your roommate. A college thesis posted under a different name. You’re careful. I like that.

You were stalked once, weren’t you?

You deserve someone who understands you. Someone who reads the subtext. Who doesn’t need your passwords to know what you want.

I am that someone.

You just don’t know it yet.

You post quotes about loneliness. About wanting to be held, not devoured. About craving a love that doesn’t take too much or ask too loudly.

But I can take everything.

Softly.

Willingly.

And you’ll thank me for it.

The BAU doesn’t know. They can’t. I’ve spent years building my mask.

Spencer Reid: nervous genius, socially awkward, too many degrees, not enough dates.

I play the part well. I stutter in public. I fumble at parties. I quote statistics to keep people at arm’s length.

Meanwhile, I’m building mirrors.

That’s what they call me now: The Mirror Man. The unsub who sees people too clearly. The one who disarms them. Reflects them—the one who kills with surgical precision and leaves nothing behind but an impression of intimacy.

They’re profiling me.

Hotch thinks he’s close. He says the killer is internal—law enforcement-adjacent. JJ says we’re missing something emotional. Emily’s looking at the Bureau access logs. They’re circling. And I’m right there in the room. Leading the briefing and suggesting alternative profiles and planting false links.

They chase shadows.

I lead them in circles.

Because I am the anomaly. The variable they can’t predict. They’re trained to track chaos. But I am clinical.

Purposeful.

And when I leave town? When I fly to Chicago, Portland, or Tempe to help catch the monster they’re afraid of?

I watch you, because I have the right to.

Because I put cameras in your apartment.

I was delicate. You were gone for a friend's wedding. You trust your superintendent.

You should reconsider that.

You shouldn’t let someone in just because they say the correct name. I installed the first on your bookshelf, the second inside a ceiling vent, and the last on a smoke detector I replaced myself.

I tested angles. Audio.

You’ll never find them.

When I’m away—working cases, wearing bulletproof vests, giving press conferences—I stream your feed on a private network. I buried the access under Bureau-level encryption and three layers of fake intel files. Not even Garcia could trace it.

I watch you eat dinner in silence. Laugh softly at your shows. I know what makes you sigh. What makes you cry.

They say love is patient. They’re wrong. Our love is different—it’s surveillance. It’s study. It’s structure. It’s built on the kind of understanding most people never earn.

I watch you because I’m a good guy.

I want to be good to you, for you.

I know what makes you bite your lip in the dark and slip your hand under the covers like you’re trying not to want it.

You’re so quiet when you touch yourself.

So private.

But I know how loud you could be.

Fuck.

I know the way you’d moan for me. The way your body would learn mine, like muscle memory. You’d beg with your whole spine when I whispered the right words in your ear.

Because I know you.

You’re so fucking perfect, it makes me sick.

You don’t want romance right away.

You want control taken away from you, just enough to feel safe inside it. You want someone who knows when to press and when to pull, who can ruin you without ever raising his voice.

That’s what I am.

Not just your watcher.

Your match.

Your mirror.

And I’ll prove it.

[fuyuu-chan]

Hi! I saw that you were open for requests. Could I request Jinwoo and zhigang with a timid reader who sings soft heartfelt songs when they think theyre sleeping?

(Like penelope from Epic the musical. Specifically her part of Would you fall in love with me again

Heres a link of it helps: https://youtu.be/rF5tJ8xuaIc?feature=shared)

I feel like there would be a paralell between hunters and their civilan partners with Odyseus and Penelope. Like how Penelope will love Odyssus no matter what, the same way that reader will love their respective partner no matter what theyve done in the gates to live another day and come back home.

No pressure to do it, but if you decide to thank you so much!

"Would you fall in love with me again?"

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader & Liu Zhigang x Reader (Separate)

Warning: mentioned/implied of killing

Fuyuu-chan: Hii! Thank you for requesting, your idea was really amazing and i enjoyed writing this one! <3 Hehehe i hope i did it right and according to your expectations. I tried my best, also i don't really know much about the musical so i apologize beforehand if i did something wrong or i didn't portray it very well

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Sung Jinwoo:

"You look different, your eyes look tired Your frame is lighter, your smile torn Is it really you, my love?"

He came home feeling tired and a bit guilty(?), he saw how you greet him the moment he entered your shared house with that same cheerful smile. Just earlier he killed someone...a person, not a monster. 

"I am not the man you fell in love with I am not the man you once adored I am not your kind and gentle husband And I am not the love you knew before"

He felt guilty in a sense that, you love him because he was sweet, caring, innocent. Because you fell in love with him even before he was known as the strongest when he was still known as the weakest.

If you got to know whatever is happening to every dungeon he went into? Would you still love him? Or would you be scared of him and leave him?

He greets you back as he returned your embrace.

.

.

.

That night when the two of you finally laid down on the bed, he kissed you on the forehead saying goodnight as you snuggle next to him.

He closed his eyes as she hummed a lullaby. Being with her, laying next to her..its peaceful, he felt safe but yet there's still a lingering doubt, that lingering thought. But maybe he could enjoy this moment for a bit...for a while even though it may change the moment you got to know the person he had become.

.

.

.

You glance up to Jinwoo in which you saw him with his eyes closed, thinking he was sleeping you remain snuggled to him, softly singing a song that you have grown to like. Its a song with such a meaning, words that you wanted to say to Jinwoo but yet doesn't know how to, but thanks to this song you can express your feelings.

As you sang softly, you are unaware that Jinwoo was actually still awake, but he didn't let you know it yet. he simply listens and the lyrics had catch him off guard.

"I will fall in love with you over and over again I don't care how, where, or when No matter how long it's been, you're mine Don't tell me you're not the same person You're always my husband and I've been waiting, waiting"

As you sang those lines, he can't help but felt like you know what has been going through his mind, the turmoil that has been happening inside him. The doubts, the thoughts, the insecurities.

But yet here you are, uttering those words as if to answer all his doubts, to reassure him. sure, you might have just been singing a song that catch your attention but yet he felt like you are saying it to him, like you mean, like it came from your heart.

And knowing you, that is probably the case. you always sang him love songs, meaningful ones, but this one...this one is the one that he needed the most right now. Something he deeply wanted to hear from you, he haven't told you everything that is bothering him inside the dungeons, the things he did inside but yet there was a lingering thought that maybe you already knew. That you had him figured him out. Its no surprise though...you have known him long enough for you to read him like a book.

.

.

.

The next day, Jinwoo couldn't hide it any longer and admits everything. From what happened in the double dungeon, to the system and what has been happening all this time about leveling up. He was done hiding it all from you, not when you didn't question him at all about the changes that's been happening to him. You remained patient and treated him the same after all these years.

"Left a trail of red on every island As I traded friends like objects I could use Hurt more lives than I can count on my hands But all of that was to bring me back to you So tell me"

Then he told you about the things that has been happening inside the dungeons, the first time he killed a person to killing again until now. About the shadow soldiers.

You were shocked to say the least, I mean who wouldn't? What he said was beyond something you could even think about. to think he had gone through all that and kept it to himself all this time...

You were still processing all of it but you just embraced him, tight. you wanted to offer some comfort.

The fact he was the one guilty for hiding these to you, but you also felt guilty for not being there enough for him.

Jinwoo quickly returned your embrace.

"Jinwoo...all that matters to me is that...just come back home to me, safely"

And in that moment, he felt all his doubts and thoughts been washed away. He felt more relaxed, comforted, knowing that you will love him no matter what he had become. No matter what things he had done. 

As for you, Jinwoo is still Jinwoo. your beloved partner, for life. and nothing is gonna change that.

Liu Zhigang:

"I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love"

Liu came home after a long day in the dungeons, since he was a national level hunter, all the high rank gates was the one he handles a lot in China except for the gates that his guild covers of course.

You came up to him and greets him with an excited smile. "Welcome back"

He came closer to you and pulls you in a hug, tighter than usual. You didn't question it instead wrapping your arms around him to reciprocate and pats his back gently.

Silence fell over the two of you until Liu spoke up. "Would you still love me again?" he uttered.

.

.

.

An hour ago before he went home, he just finished raiding the last dungeon for the day, as expected after he exited there were quite some few paparazzi waiting for him outside.

'How annoying' he thought. 'Here are these paparazzi again, when will they mind their own business?'

He walked away, ignoring the flashing cameras and how the paparazzi are following him. He was just about to lose them when one of them spoke up and mentioned your name.

That person asked him questions if he will continue his relationship with you, if he is sure he wanted to be with just a normal person, a civilian. And even went as far as saying someone like you doesn't deserve him as he was basically the second strongest in the world and a national level hunter, that Liu should be someone deserving, someone who could stand beside him on equal footing.

And that was the biggest mistake they had ever done in life. As that moment was how they finally got on Liu's nerve, his last straw. Saying things like that about his beloved partner in front of his face, was a very bold move. And the consequences about it should have been considered by that person.

Liu took them all down in a matter of seconds, no matter if only one person was the only one who says that because the fact that the others was there, they must have been saying things like that too about you. And he wouldn't let it go.

.

.

.

You pulled away just a little bit to look at his face. "Why would you suddenly ask that? You know the answer to that"

Liu looks at your expression. Your soft expression was there but with a tinge of surprise, he did ask it out of nowhere and without context.

"Come on, you must be just tired" you said as you kissed his forehead and led him to the living room. "I'll go serve you your favorite meal I cooked-'

Before you could even take a step away Liu took a hold of your wrist and pulled you down with him on the sofa.

"Please just stay with me here" he mumbles as he wraps his arms around you.

.

.

.

A few minutes passed since Liu "trapped" you with him on the sofa as he rests his head on your lap. You gently run your hand through his hair as you started humming.

His eyes was closed but he is not really asleep. You didn't seemed to notice as you starts singing softly.

"I will fall in love with you over and over again I don't care how, where, or when No matter how long it's been, you're mine Don't tell me you're not the same person You're always my husband and I've been waiting, waiting"

You gaze at his "sleeping" form as you sang the lines quietly but enough for him to hear you.

He listened to you sing, it was soothing. Your voice makes him calm but what caught his attention was the lyrics you were singing.

He was not familiar with the song. But .... it felt like you were talking to him through the song. Are you singing this as to answer the question he asked to you earlier?

Because it definitely felt like it. You would usually sang his favorite songs but this one .... its new for him. But he had a feeling this one would become one of his favorite ones too. because this song, the lines you said, it reassured him.

He had an idea that you probably might have known what he did, but its not surprising as you have known him for years now, and the bond you share ... it was something extraordinary that one of you doesn't need to voice your thoughts for the other to know what you are feeling or thinking. But he had a feeling you still wanted to know what happened from him.

For now, he want to bask in your presence. On how you play with his hair as you continue to sing.

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Please do not copy, translate, repost to any other social media, Thank you.

[hellinistical]

Thinking about how after care with Caleb changed when you got pregnant.

Has this man always given you the fluffiest heartfelt after care 100% but there’s just a different vibe now . Almost like his fatherly instincts have started kinking in already

As Caleb finishes inside you ( cause where else is his cum supposed to go ) it’s like a flip switches

“ is my pretty mama tired “

“ Caleb’s sorry mama, it’s just your so glowy and round can’t help it “ he says caressing your hair leaving soft kisses near your hair line.

After he’s done cleaning you up, he’s just so domestic it’s insane

He’s over here applying your stretch mark cream , your nipple cream like there’s not a step he’s gonna forget

“ “oh ! I almost forgot the stretch mark cream” he says , jumping up to go grab it off the night stand , “ now I want you to know pips i know this is an important step for you but… you know I have such a soft spot for your tiger stripes my girl “

To him your stretch marks are just a testament to you giving life and growing a baby that is made up of the love of the two of you , as soon as he sees them he just wants to kiss them up and down . His squishy tummy girl.

In an odd way it reminds him of when you were little . His pipsqueak who still had her baby fat and little round tummy he just thought you were the cutest little thing ever , even seeing as though he wasn’t much older than you at the time . With his soft features.

fast forward that same tummy is now round with his child who would have thought . He’ll never understand men who think there partners look worse during / after childbirth because when he looks at you he sees every life stage he’s been there for . He’s reminded that although you will be a mother now you’re just the same girl you’ve always been the same goofy girl he fell in love with all those years ago

The same girl who he would catch in the middle of the night sneaking the apples he had just purchased at the grocery store

Now sneaking apples in the middle of the night but not for her lunch the next morning but because she was nurturing the life inside her

The life that blossomed from years of love and sheer admiration and pining.

The same girl who would ask him to get her flintstones vitamins off the top shelf because she couldn’t reach them

Now asked the same thing but lnstead of little sugary chewies that we all know she ate just because she liked the flavor not because she was getting her daily vitamin c , was now asking him to get her prenatal vitamins out of the cabinet before bed because she couldn’t reach them

So sure is he tired 100% but he’s never gonna skip an aftercare session not when he gets reminded of the glimpses of you over the years .

Bro put a whole ass fic here ALSO FLINSTONE VITAMINS???? THE DUSTY ONES THAT MADE YOUR MOUTH DRY???

Caleb would probably be overly pampering, too, to the point it's almost annoying, and ya gotta tell him to tone it down. At least with the first kid. I do think that. But also I don't think he'd be tired from it as he takes great joy in it. Caleb's love language is acts of service. He gets life from providing to you, being of help and of use. And he genuinely takes such good care of himself and by extension you that I think he'd find a way to balance it all and be okay. And I don't think it's fair to use that he's been there since the beginning as a reason cause even if he wasn't it's just not who he is to think you'd look worse- and it's not like men can't have their opinions about this cause even some women think they look worse during pregnancy and it's just one of those things that are subjective between partners and their respective dynamics- Caleb's dynamic with you is just different. He craves that connection to show in some meaningful, tangible way. Ya know?

But ty anon 😊

[keithyp00]

•┈••✦ Timeless ✦••┈•

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings/Tags: romance, slow burn, wistful with a hopeful ending, flashbacks and emotional reflections, kissing

Song Inspiration: Timeless by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 745

Author Note: Hello again! Thank all of you for the continued support on my stories, and I'm hopefully going to maintain a schedule of one story a night if everything goes to plan. But this is one I'm very proud of and it's based off my favorite Taylor vault track. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Please do not copy or translate any of my works. Thank you!

The rain hadn't let up all day. It was one of those soft, steady drizzles that made the world seem just a little but quieter. You were spending the weekend at your friend and her family's house, helping them sort through old boxes in the attic, when you found it: a dusty photo album tucked beneath a stack of yellowed newspapers.

You opened it out of curiosity, not expecting much.

And then you saw his face.

Dark hair, blue eyes, that smile like he knew something you didn't.

He was standing next to someone who looked startlingly like you- different dress and decade though not a relative, but the resemblance was uncanny.

You stared- heart thudding- as you read the small handwritten caption beneath the photo: "James and Eleanor- Coney Island, 1942."

James.

Your breath caught.

______________________________________________________________

You didn't mention the photo to anyone. Not at first.

But that night, you dreamed of it. Of boardwalk lights and laughter. Of a man with eyes like winter skies and a touch that made your heart ache.

You'd never met James Buchanan Barnes, not in that life. But now- now you see him almost daily. Sitting across from you in meetings, walking the compound hallways, nodding politely with a smile that always felt a little too knowing.

Bucky.

It was stupid. You kept telling yourself that. But you couldn't shake the feeling that you knew him. Not from the history books. But from something older. Something deeper.

One afternoon, you found yourself blurting it out before you could even process the words leaving your lips.

"I saw a photo of someone who looked exactly like you. From the '40s, standing next to a pretty young woman.."

He didn't laugh. Didn't call you crazy.

Instead, Bucky stared for a long moment before quietly asking, "what was her name?"

"Eleanor," you whispered.

His lips parted. "Ellie," he said, like a distant memory just coming forward.

And you knew. Somehow, you knew.

______________________________________________________________

Things changed after that.

He started sitting closer. Talking longer. Asking questions that lingered between personal and careful.

You watched old movies together. Danced in the hallway when no one else was around to watch. He took you to a vintage bookstore in Brooklyn and didn't say a word when you held up a photo of a 1940s ballroom dress and smiled softly to yourself.

"I used to dream about nights like that," you murmured.

"I used to live them," he said.

You turned, heart pounding. "Do you think... we would've found each other?"

His gaze burned into you. "I think we did."

______________________________________________________________

Time, as always, didn't stop. Missions pulled you apart. Moments tested the quiet magic that held the two of you together.

There were weeks you didn't see each other. Days when the world seemed too heavy to carry.

But somehow, you always found your way back.

And one night- long after the compound had gone still- you found him on the rooftop. Rain threatening in the air. Moonlight catching the silver glint of his arm

He turned as you approached, something vulnerable in his eyes.

"I've lived a long time," he started.

You took another step closer. "I know."

"I've lost a lot."

"I know that too."

"I think I've loved you before."

You stopped breathing. And then: "I think I've loved you in every lifetime, Bucky."

______________________________________________________________

You didn't need a grand confession.

He just stepped forward, took your face in his hands like you were made of glass and he had been waiting his entire life to just touch you.

And then he kissed you.

It was soft. Slow. So filled with emotion it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

When you pulled apart, neither of you said anything. You didn't need to.

Because whether it was in 1942 or the present, with war between you or peace, vintage dresses or mission gear- the love between you two was real.

It had waited.

And now, it was here.

______________________________________________________________

You kept the photo in your room.

Sometimes, he'd glance at it and smile softly, reliving the fond memory in the sea of trauma he had lived throughout his life.

"She had your eyes," he said once, tracing the edge of the image with his fingertips. "Same way they lit up when she laughed."

You leaned into him. "And you- James or Bucky- you seemed to always have this way of looking at her like she was your entire world."

He pulled you closer. "You still are."

[ginawankenobi]

Shannon Rutherford Defense Squad, unite!

Point #1: Self-deprecation. Shannon's been told she's "useless," stupid, flaky, etc for most of her damn life (I blame Sabrina Carlyle, may she rot in hell), and at some point, she started to believe it. We saw the last shreds of true confidence leave her when Sabrina the Middle-Aged Witch denied her the opportunity to take the internship she earned. Shannon knew she would succeed, she was so proud of herself (and rightfully so!) for having earned a spot, and she had to give it up and listen to her evil stepmother tell her yet again that she didn't have what it takes. It was her breaking point, and from there on out she became determined to be exactly who Sabrina said she was. Why should she try to be anything else? No one believed in her, anyway, not even Boone, who constantly repeated his mother's catchphrases. Shannon was forced into a box, and though she tried to break out of it several times, she kept being forced back in until she stopped resisting.

Point #2: Beauty and Brains. Shannon is smart as hell. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to learn a new language AT ALL, let alone without formally studying it?? She became at least halfway fluent in French just by being around people who spoke it and picking it up. THAT TAKES SOME SERIOUS BRAINS, PEOPLE. I studied French for 5 years and I don't think I was ever as good at it as she was. She is innovative, she solves problems - using Vincent to track Walt when she saw him in the jungle? Genius. Getting Charlie to catch that fish? Hilarious and inspired.

Point #3: Grief and Trauma. Shannon loses her dad very suddenly at an early age - I was just a bit younger than her when I lost my dad in a similarly unexpected way, and let me tell you I would not wish that shit on ANYONE. It changes you. It alters your soul. Shannon's world was turned upside down, and she was left with a stepvillain who truly didn't care if she lived or died. (Fuck Sabrina Carlyle, have I mentioned that?) Even after enduring a trauma like that, Shannon remained optimistic and worked hard to get the future she wanted. Had she had even an ounce of support from Sabrina, things would have been entirely different, but "oh no, the teenage girl is kind of flighty and doesn't always know exactly what she wants, so instead of actually teaching her anything, I need to teach her a LESSON and cut her off completely because I'm an evil bi--" Okay, I'm done, I'm calm, I'm fine. I detest Sabrina Carlyle a completely normal amount.

Point #4: Love. Shannon had such an immense capacity for love! She bonds with Claire and Sun early on, and those two are beloved (for good reason), so why does Shannon get overlooked and hated on? (Misogyny.) She obviously loved her dad pretty fiercely. She bonds with Walt, she takes care of Vincent, and of course, she is so tender toward Sayid.

There is so much more I could say, but we will leave it at that for now. In short, Shannon Rutherford deserves the world, and I will stand ten toes down to defend her any day of the week.

[maxdibert]

there are two lines about Mary in the books we don't know if she is a muggle-born or a half-b lood

I don't know i thin that girl who is inventing lies about me and befriending bullies and harassers just for hating on me that @mrstellmeafuckingsecret doesn't agree with you. And if she thinks different then you're wrong because she's the only who can have hc in that fandom. Their hc are the only only only one valid. If you don't se a character the same way as her and her little minion @vulcajes then you're a racist.

Hey, but you all spend your time talking about Nazi characters, about fascism, trivializing the REAL political terror caused by fascist dictatorships and the Nazi movement just so you can hate on fictional characters, and you don’t care. You also spend your days justifying rich, WHITE, abusive brats, but apparently we’re the racists. I mean, if you imagine a character who’s not described in the books as white, that’s totally fine. But if someone else imagines James Potter, canonically white, canonically rich, canonically someone who stripped people naked in public, canonically violent and abusive, as problematic? Nah, that’s unacceptable. You’ve officially won the progressive jackpot!

Hey, imagining irrelevant characters as white? Racism! The worst! Let’s burn that person at the stake! But defending and justifying an abusive, aristocratic, WHITE brat whose main abuse target was a working-class kid with ETHNIC FEATURES, much poorer and from an abusive family? That’s totally fine! He’s the icon of the wizarding world! Y’all are real social justice warriors, huh?

What I tried yesterday was meant as satire, I thought you’d react to a different kind of headcanon, I didn’t expect you to be this twisted about it. I think you’re just way too young and still think you can use the race card to validate your hatred or to destroy someone. Two things for you:

1) For someone to be racist, they need to do racist things. Imagining a character—who has been represented as white for decades and was white back when y’all still had baby teeth—as white, is not racism.

2) Your little Tumblr community, with its four diehard followers, is not the whole internet. It’s not even the whole Marauders fandom. You don’t represent any majority. You represent yourselves and your four internet friends who go along with your nonsense. Honestly, it’s sad that just because you read and consume the same ten fandom blogs all the time, you think that echo chamber reflects global reality. Like, self-importance is one thing, but you’re seriously overdoing it.

3) Just because I use certain tags @vulcajes doesn’t mean I’m going into those tags. I use tags related to characters I’m talking about or who come up in questions. I’ve used “Harry Potter” a thousand times and never looked at the main tag. I’ve used “Ginny Weasley” a thousand times and never went into her main tag. I know you’re desperate to paint me as the monster under your bed because it’s always annoyed you that I call out your cognitive dissonance—thinking you’re a social justice warrior while defending abusive characters—but that’s not my problem. However you imagine a character who isn’t even relevant to Lily Evans herself (who name-drops her constantly) is totally irrelevant to me. I have no reason to know, because unlike you, I’m not stalking anyone. I only respond when you say something about Snape, that is a tag I do check, and that’s how your posts come up, sweetheart. Keep up.

4) You should know that accusing someone of certain crimes (like offenses against protected groups) and spreading false rumors (as I’ve seen you all doing) is illegal. Saying Mary McDonald is white is not a crime. But believing whatever crap you hear about me just because you need to paint me as the villain, and then reblogging and spreading that crap, is a crime. It’s called defamation, by the way. And it’s reportable to Tumblr. You have zero evidence to back up your conspiracy theories. Meanwhile, I’m calmly collecting receipts and will be reporting you all for harassment as many times as it takes. Not just you either, your little circle of friendly accounts too. And anyone else inventing things. It’s all good.

5) I’m not racist, but you are hypocrites. And when I say “you,” I mean you, your friends, and the echo chamber you live in. You’ve launched an entire hate campaign, full of slander and lies, against me just because I imagine a character—who has been headcanoned the same way for TWENTY YEARS—differently than you do. Like, people were writing fanfics with Mary McDonald as a white girl before you were even born. I was 16, reading Marauders fanfics back then, and she was white in pretty much every one. It’s not my fault there are generational or cultural gaps, but it is your fault for not being able to look beyond your own navels.

It’s absolutely pathetic that you’re going this far, throwing around defamatory nonsense, just because someone disagrees with you. You know what it’s called when you try to silence someone, destroy their reputation, and spread lies just because they don’t think like you? Totalitarian methods. These are the same methods used in authoritarian regimes, including fascist ones—which you love to mention but clearly don’t understand at all. I’d be ashamed to accuse someone of racism without proof when you constantly minimize abuse, sexual assault, and bullying. I’d be ashamed to call someone racist when your favorite characters are WHITE CIS-HET MALE CLASSIST ABUSERS. The double standards you live by are honestly embarrassing.

Clearly, you all still have a lot of growing up to do, but that’s not my job. What I do ask is that you stop using insults, lies, and defamation. And if you don’t, that’s fine too. I have nothing to hide, and I haven’t done anything wrong, so I’ll just keep collecting proof (something you can’t do) and report you all to Tumblr as many times as necessary.

Sending my regards and a little kiss to all of you and your friends—you’ve really exposed yourselves as a bunch of hypocrites who only care about social causes when it’s about fictional characters no one even cares about. Everything else? You don’t give a damn. You’re drawing-room revolutionaries. Keep “boycotting” J.K. Rowling from the comfort of your living room while constantly using her character names and boosting her SEO. You’re really ruining her life, huh? Totally dismantling the system. Just a little more and you’ll reach Robespierre.

[ashen-vulture]

Okay, let me tell you a little bit about Colossal Biosciences.

I first got introduced to them a few years back when they started talking about making efforts to de-extinct the wooly mammoth and my first thought was that it was a neat idea, but the environment they evolved for no longer existed sooooo even if we could why should we.

However, I did recognize that in attempting this task they would probably end up pushing gene editing and cloning tech to new levels, allowing us to do more useful things like maintain the genetic vigor of animals that are already going extinct. Which is a LOT of animals these days. Using big charismatic animals to draw funding to protect the environment that a lot of less appreciated animals still live in is a method. You cannot just save the polar bear, you need to save the ice sheets. Environments and species are interconnected, we have to care about all of them in order to support the star actors.

So what Colossal is doing- they haven't resurrected the dire wolf by the way just getting that out of the way- is making a lot of noise to spark engagement in conservation, to mixed results. On the one hand you have people going "what that's so cool!" but also people who come to the conclusion of "well if we can de-extinct them later it doesn't matter if they go extinct now."

But they didn't resurrect the dire wolf.

The wolves they made are not dire wolves.

They are literally just grey wolves.

So there is this neat thing that happens in species called gene flow, and it's when two very closely related populations interbreed and those genes flow back into one or both populations through this hybridization. For example, a lot of eastern coyotes have grey wolf or red wolf or domestic dog genes, because all of these species are close enough to hybridize and produce vigorous offspring that can go on to have offspring of their own, so on and so forth until the genes diffuse out. Why is this important?

Because when dire wolf DNA and grey wolf DNA were compared, there was no sign of gene flow.

One of the reasons why coyotes have so much wolf in them is because we decimated wolf populations, until the wolves didn't have much other options. Meanwhile, dire wolves went extinct and yet they didn't leave a genetic fingerprint on grey wolves. They were not close enough genetically to interbreed.

So starting from a grey wolf and tweaking a tiny portion of their genes just makes them grey wolves.

So about those changes.

They made the grey wolves bigger, and dire wolves are bigger, therefore, dire wolf? No. Dire wolves were bigger but they were also bulkier. Their proportions are different. Then the other tweaks CB made to make them "look like" dire wolves are ridiculous, too. We don't actually know what dire wolves look like because no soft tissue or fur has been found. For all we know they could have looked more like African wild dogs with their round ears and spotted coats.

What they made them look like was the pop fiction vision of a dire wolf.

They made a spectacle.

These are not dire wolves, they are living proof of concepts for future marketing. They're noise.

And not even peer reviewed noise.

And it's not like this is the first time they've done this.

And it won't be the last, because it isn't their goal to generate usable data available for peer review.

The spectacle is the goal.

Let me get into my blunt opinion now. These programs were never going to de-extinct the thylacine or the dodo or the wooly mammoth. They just aren't.

First off, in order to successfully clone one of these animals, you need a full DNA sequence, which because of the imperfections in DNA preservation, are hard to come by. In lieu of that they have settled for taking existing DNA and hammering away at it to approximate what they think the animal might have been like.

Second, you need a living relative that is close enough biologically to nourish and grow the animal inside of it. You know how big a thylacine was? About 60lbs. You know how big its closest living relative is? It's the numbat and it weighs about 1-1.5lbs. How is a rat sized animal going to incubate a joey that will eventually get to the size of a medium dog?

Third, Even if they can slowly tweak insert mammoth DNA back into elephants and steadily migrate them into colder climates to replace the mammoths, what then? Where do they live? What environment, what plot of land gets set aside for the conservation of a completely novel species? Will the people and animals that live there be okay with this?

For creatures like mammoths and dire wolves, their extinction coincided with the changes in climate, and thus the changes in environment. Their homes do not exist anymore. They would exist in captivity, as a spectacle, and that's it.

They didn't create dire wolves, they just made grey wolf+

They don't prioritize organizing their data into papers for peer review which would allow their field to grow and actually put their work to use

They stamp out flashy headlines saying they've done things they absolutely have not

They make noise, not progress

And what disappointing noise it is.

When your friends know you well enough to know exactly what headline you're about to be ranting about for the next 72 hours

[r0manceplanet]

hallo!!,, ^_^ uuuhh this is my first time doing one of these so my apolocheese if this is worded oddly!! X-(

Fandom: forsaken

Pronouns: they / them

Gender + Sexuality: agender and pan (open to polyamory)

Personality: i'd like to say im a fairly positive and caring person!! i LOVE socializing, but at the same time I have HORRIBLE social anxiety, so it usually takes me a while to actually get the courage to get to know people,, X-[ I'm typically a very quiet and reserved as im not typically that energetic of a person,, but if I know you well, and if i have the energy for it, then I definitely can become very outgoing :-)

Hobbies: Photography, gardening (every flower I've tried to plant has died within a week </3) studying quantum physics, baking, and storytelling (I LOVE CREATING STORIES!!!)

Likes + Dislikes: i LOVE horror stories, i don't care WHAT form of media it even is I JUST LOVE HORROR!!!! same goes for quantum physics!! Though I'm specifically interested in multiverse theory!!!! also I really really like music!! My music taste shifts very often though, so I like a LOT of different genres,, ^_^;; OH also i love, love, LOVE flowers with all my heart!!!! I'll even paint or sketch them occasionally!! I just wish I actually knew how to take care of one AUGH💔 ((as for dislikes,,, surprisingly there's not much i dislike other than, like, basic things that everyone dislikes,, but if I really had to think of something, I guess don't really like crowded places or overly energetic people(like, YouTube family blogger type of overly energetic. they SCARE me) oh and also ketchup i really hate ketchup))

Love language: Quality time and words of affirmation

What i look for in a partner: someone who l can communicate with, and will communicate with me whenever there's an issue going on and will love me no matter if I'm acting reserved and quiet or energetic and outgoing. But overall, someone who spends time with me and shows they really love me <:-)

(AUUGGHHH SORRY IF THIS WAS LONG DUDE!!! D-:)

FORSAKEN MATCHUP #3

Thank you for sending in your matchup! and it was not too long at all! I love the stuff you added too, you seem like a really cool person— AND I think I had the most fun with this one since I matched you up with someone that I felt was *chefs kiss*

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Press “Keep Reading” to see who you got matched with!

I have matched you with… Azure and Two Time!

• Oh boy, you would not believe how excited I was when I matched you with these two, they both just fit you so perfectly in a way I cannot describe!

• You would meet them both before the games took place and before Two Time slowly turned insane, you were the latest member to the spawn cult, and they were both very eager to introduce themselves to you, they slowly got to understand you more through the conversations you all had together.

• Your insane knowledge for quantum physics was the reason why you were recruited to the cult, it was an asking help to help the cult grow more powerful for other people to join, and two time and azure loved learning about it through you, especially your passion for multiverse theory, they got to share a few things in common with you because of those two topics, which eventually leads up to them figuring out how to ask you out.

• They both were a little nervous on figuring out how to ask you out, they didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable, and they didn’t wanna lose you. Two time was the one that brought the idea up to Azure about how to ask you out, and to talk it out if they were both ok with dating you since they were still partners, but once learning they both share the same feelings with you and were on board with a plan, they go on to ask you out, with two time being extravagant about it with bringing gifts to you as an offering LMAO.

• After they asked you out, and (hopefully) with you agreeing they both were through the roof happy about it, and once things are settled with being in a polyamorous relationship with them, the fun begins. It’s so much fun being in a relationship with the both of them, whenever you all plan a home date azure and two time are both bickering about what movie they wanna watch, or about what they wanna do— but once you come up with an idea you wanna do, they throw all of their ideas out the roof and go along with what you wanna do.

• I headcanon that they both don’t listen to music often, with the reason being that they don’t have the time to listen because of how devoted they both are to the cult, but once they are together with you that all changes when you make them listen to a few of your favorite songs through their playlist, and then they both get into it and make their own, Azure seems like the type of dude to listen to soft music, like pop or j-pop (like lamp, ichiko, etc) and while two time seems like the type of person to listen to nu metal and rock. They would both make a playlist with you in there to listen to all of your favorite songs, and they put it on whenever they’re both hanging out with you.

• If you were to ever paint the two of them, they would both be in awe and hang it up, you made a portrait with azure and two time, and another one with you all in there, and they hung it up in the house they share with you, and they love staring at it whenever they’re both bored. And with your love for flowers, I feel like you would have so many colorful portraits of them being surrounded in flowers, and I feel like they would hang up those portraits you give them with a flower themed case.

• About flowers, Azure would give you a bouquet of flowers as a sign of his love towards you, that also goes for two time too, two time would also do the same but tends to get you other gifts than flowers and leaves that up for Azure to do. Azure makes flower crowns for the three of you, and takes a selfie afterwards. I can see the three of you running through a field of flowers without a care in the world, sprinting through the field and then tripping while laughing all together, it is truly a beautiful sight of the love you all carry for each other.

• Since you mentioned that you have social anxiety and it takes the courage to talk with people, I feel like they would easily get you to come out of your shell, and two time is the person that’s the most social in the trio, and even when you met them they were the first ones to introduce themselves, same with Azure but he’s also like you when meeting people, but oddly gets comfortable when he met you.

• You will always get compliments thrown your way from the both of them, and their compliments are super creative, they always compliment how good you look in a certain type of clothing, or pointing out the little details on your face that make you all flustered and fuzzy inside. They’ll always praise you because of how perfect you are to the both of them, and they couldn’t be more grateful to have you in their lives.

• You and Two time have the best horror stories, you both always tell each other them deep into the night, with azure listening to the both of you talk, and him adding in as well. Azure loves the stories you and two time come up with, and even you and two time have a little notebook you share with the stories you both created. Azure reads them while you both are sleeping each night (as long as he can read while being in the chaos of being close together while sleeping).

• When Two Time slowly goes insane, you and azure both notice immediately as they get slowly further from you both, and you and azure ask if they’re alright and they brush it off with a small “Yeah, I’m alright why?”. It didn’t seem like a big deal at first until an incident happened at the cult where you discovered that Two Time sacrificed azure for a ritual order in order for them to receive a second life, you felt like your entire world just crumbled in front of your eyes while screaming and crying at two time about what they’ve done.

• But two time doesn’t kill nor sacrifice you, no, not at all, but they threaten you that if you try to leave them you’ll end up just like Azure which forces you to stay in the relationship, and you will always live two time, of course you will, but your heart can’t fully recover after what they did to azure, you cry about it silently every night while they’re sleeping next to you. And once your in the games, you only have two time and they only have you, your stuck with two time forever there’s no leaving, will you ever see Azure? And when you do will he recognize the both of you? You don’t know, but when you do you’ll give him a hug and whisper secret apologies into his ear about how sorry you are that you couldn’t be there to protect him, and if he does kill you then it’s whatever, but 99% chance that he won’t, but he’ll always feel resentment towards two time, it’ll take a long time for him to mend things with them.

• Even without the incidents that happened, you have a very loving relationship with the both of them, even in the end when two time become demented and azure coming back to life just to be a killer, you will always have their backs even when the two of them aren’t on good terms with each other anymore, they’ll have you and they don’t mind sharing you, maybe things will slowly get better with them, hopefully, maybe someday things will go back to how they used to be.

[a-mel0n]

I really don't like how the kitchen scene keeps getting contextualized "Eddie feels safe to lash out at Buck because he knows he's gonna forgive him." that's. that's not good. in s4 with the Buck and Maddie stuff, sure, that context works, for two reasons: Maddie had actually done something to hurt Buck, and Buck actually made an effort to talk to her about it. he didn't say the words "I'm sorry" but he acknowledged that he was being harsh, that he WAS lashing out, and they actually talked about it.

If Eddie did lash out because he knew Buck would forgive him but then he actually apologized, talked about what he meant, and didn't make Buck feel bad for during to grieve Bobby and being frustrated that no one will talk to him, then that'd be one thing. he didn't. he slapped a bandaid on it, let Buck continue thinking he was in the wrong for having emotions, and let Pepa be the one to ACTUALLY talk to him. that is NOT the same thing.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of conflict in stories. but consequences have to matter. and Eddie isn't facing any. Buck still thinks he's exhausting and making everything about himself when he's allowed space to fucking grieve. He hasn't even really spoken to anyone ABOUT his own grief, they made that clear at the beginning with the Eddie at Hen and Karen’s conversation, how is that making ANYTHING about himself. fuck's sake.

i think it's the fact that buck doesn't really fight back during that scene. he tries to advocate for himself, but eddie shuts it down immediately, and you can see buck start to shrink into himself as the scene goes on.

if both eddie and buck got pissed at each other instead of eddie just laying into buck, i think that scene would have been better. that's the SECOND time this season that eddie has just shouted at buck while buck takes it laying down or brushes it off.

i've seen people compare eddie's shove to buck spraining eddie's ankle in 7x04, and the main difference between those two scenes is how the narrative handles it. in 7x04, we have chim immediately say that buck has "bucked that up," maddie and buck have a full on conversation about the shove, tommy comes over to the loft in the first place to clear up any issues BECAUSE of the shove.

eddie being overly aggressive with buck and making him flinch in that scene is just... skipped past. just, "oh eddie's gone back to el paso. whatever" then "oh no he's back! he just went to the airport to pick up CHRIS!! HI CHRIS!! wow chris is back isn't that great? oh, what were buck and eddie fighting about? who cares, TIA PEPA'S HERE!!!"

that's what i'm mad about, not that eddie got angry, but that eddie being angry and aggressive isn't being portrayed as a negative trait of his. we just get a "heard some guy was being a jerk to you," and that's it. no apology, nothing that would indicate that eddie should MAYBE. JUST MAYBE. go to therapy about his issues?

[lostatsea-blog]

maybe ona is dead set on being cold to lucy, but she softens when she sees lucy struggling with just the one crutch and she remembers it’s her fault. lucy of course is also remorseful of how she acted but shes actually not trying to flirt. yet she can’t help being a natural flirt. lucy being nervous mentions the age gap and ona gets more confused but understands lucys pov. maybe?

Thank you for your suggestion to help break my writers block. As requested the next part of Battle Lines.

Battle Lines Part 3

Lucy Bronze x Ona Battle

No warnings but the ending with get a little fluffy.

Lucy’s POV

I don’t know what came over me or why I asked her to dinner on a not - date (that I am hoping I can turn into a date) but now I am stood in front of my wardrobe wondering what the fuck I have to wear that is the appropriate level of dressed for a non-date – date but the thought of Ona believing that I hated her had been too much.

The truth is, I had been captivated by her since Lucy Staniforth’s wedding. Her perfect smile, the way she crinkles her eyes when she is being silly, the perfect definition in her jaw; it had all made my heart flutter like I was a teenager. While I had dated quite a few women, I did not remember the start of those relationships feeling like this. We had chatted for hours like we had known each other all our lives and when we had danced, feeling her athletic body pressed against mine had set my pulse racing. I wanted nothing more than to feel her writhing beneath me as I explored every inch of her perfect skin but I was brought back down to reality very quickly by my friend Jordan, who reminded me that there was an eight-year age gap between us. Ona was too young for me, at the start of her career with the whole world in front of her; I was at the end of my career with more baggage than a girl Ona’s age needed to deal with.

I settled on a pair of tight black jeans, a white button down shirt and a pair of black boots. Checking myself out in the mirror, I decided to take just one crutch. If the physio’s knew they would go mad but two would get in the way. I had one chance to convince Ona that I was not a complete and utter fucking psychopath with multiple personalities. I glance at the clock and grab my keys to go and get Ona. The thing about playing for Barca is they own an apartment complex and so all the players live in the same building. Ona lives two floors down so I start to hobble my way there.

Ona’s POV

I glance at the clock for what must be the sixth time in the last 10 minutes and feel a fluttering in my stomach. I don’t know why I am nervous, after the way she has behaved there is no way anything is going to happen between us. I am simply going to allow her to say whatever it is she wants to say. We play on the same team, in the same position, we need to be able to get along. Tonight is about sorting things out enough to have a good working relationship – nothing more. I glance at my outfit in the mirror. I had settled on a pair of light blue jeans, white fitted t-shirt and a white shirt over the top. I wish I could say I had picked it out without care but the destruction of my bedroom would tell a different story. I am pulled from my thoughts by a knock at my door and the sudden racing of my heart takes my breath away. My body is reacting against my will because after the last few weeks, I am not letting Lucy off the hook. I just need to fix things enough so that we can work together.

As I pull the door open, I am met with the widest smile and I have to fight with myself not to return it. Instead I give her a friendly hello and grab my keys so that we can leave.

“The uber is 5 minutes away” she tells me. I nod and head towards the stairs. When I reach the door, it takes me a minute to realise that Lucy is a good distance behind me. Looking back, I see her struggling with her crutch. It is then that it dawns on me, she only has one with her. I watch her approach, every step taking a great deal of effort and I am flooded with shame once again. She is struggling because of me, because of my reckless tackle.

“Can I help you” I ask softly watching her hobble while wanting nothing more than to wrap my arm around her waist and support her.

She looks up and smiles at me again “It’s okay, this is not my first time test driving these things” she jokes as she reaches me, “drives a bit slower than I like though.” I can not help the giggle that escapes but I clamp down on it and nod as we continue to make our way outside.  

The restaurant that Lucy has picked is an Italian ten minutes from the apartment building. I imagine if Lucy hadn’t of been injured we would have walked it and with that thought, guilt once again gnaws at my consciousness. I watch Lucy struggle with her crutch as she gets out of the uber and have to force my hands inside my pockets to stop myself reaching out. My plan to stay professional seems to be dwindling fast. There is just something so innately charming about the English woman that sneaks through all of my carefully constructed defences.

Once we are settled at the table, I have to ask her about the crutch and why she only has one. She pauses a minute and I get that signature Lucy Bronze smirk before she replies

“Well, I would usually prefer to not take any on a date but being able to walk was important” she joked. At the words date I feel my face blush and I know she sees it too by the way her green eyes twinkle. Trying to save myself, I clear my throat

“I never agreed to a date – This is just dinner between colleagues” I insist but the heat in my face is not in any rush to cool down.

“If you say so” she winks and my face is now on fire along with the rest of my body. Needing to break eye contact I stare down at my menu – this woman is going to kill me before the night is out.

Lucy’s POV

I would be lying if I said the pink hue currently covering Ona’s neck and face did not fill me with a sense of hope. I can tell that Ona is trying to stay detached and distant but this proves to me that I have some sort of effect on her which is a massive boost to my confidence. I can also see that she feels guilty about my movement. I have caught her watching me a couple of times tonight and she seems to be forcing herself not to react.

I love this place; I found it randomly one night when I had taken myself out for a walk. I had been struggling to adapt to my new home and needed some space to clear my head. When I had stepped in the people had been so friendly and it did not hurt that they had some of the best pasta I had tasted in my life. Once the drinks and food had been ordered (both of us opting for the seafood linguini), I turned my attention to Ona. While I had joked about it earlier, seeing her so out of sorts hurts my heart – This is not the woman I met at Lucy’s wedding. That Ona was confident, charming and unapologetically herself. I wish I could turn back the clocks and handle things differently but that wasn’t possible; all I could do was try and repair some of the damage. Without thinking I reach out and place my hand on her arm to still her nervous actions and she looks up startled not expecting the contact. She doesn’t pull away though and allows my hand to rest on her arm.

“I’m sorry is not enough Ona and I know that” I say with sincerity “That night at Lucy’s wedding, the connection that seemed to be building between us was something I have never experienced in my life”

“You did feel it” her voice is barely a whisper but I catch it. I know my actions the last few weeks would have caused her to second guess out entire interaction and I have that I have tarnished those memories for her.

I waited and searched for her eyes and once she was looking at me I nodded “I felt it” I confirmed because she deserved that knowledge “After we went out separate ways, I felt like a teenager with the biggest crush on a cute girl” my confession makes her blush and I know instantly that I want to spend the rest of my life making this woman blush like that.

“I would have welcomed your attention” she says softly “You were not the only teenager after that night”

“I know you would have and that is why I had to pull away” I sigh and she looked both angry and confused. Gone is the soft smile and gentle eyes replaced by a fiery Spanish temper. If possible she looks even more beautiful when she is angry.  

“That makes absolutely no sense” she throws her hands up in frustration breaking the contact we’d had “You liked me, you knew I liked you so you had to destroy it”

“Ona” I sigh “You are 24 and I am 32” I say this like my point is obvious and this will automatically help her to understand but I am very wrong and her fury just intensifies.  

“So? You think I am not aware of your age or mine?” she demands “What has that got to do with you treating me like shit for months”

“You don’t think that age gap is too big?” I ask “You are at the start of your career and I am at the end of mine. You need someone who is at the same stage of life as you, who you can experience all of your highs with. Ona you are going to be the best in the world one day and you deserve to have your partner right alongside you. I thought if I pushed you hard you would realise, I am not good for you and then just battle me for right back – I never imaged I would cause you to feel the way you do”

The speech comes out rambled and I can see many different emotions crossing her beautiful features at each stage of my explanation but when I am finished, she just seems sad and that worries me. Maybe I pushed too far and maybe I cannot salvage this.

Ona’s POV

As I listen to Lucy’s speech, I am confused by my reaction. To listen to her talk about the end of her career is hard but with starting clarity I realise that she thinks she is not good enough for me. She thinks that she will hold me back.

“Who gave you these ideas?” I challenge with defiance and it is her turn to be shocked by my response “who told you that you were too old for me?”

“No one, Ona it is just a fact” Lucy replies

“merda” I huff out and I am amused by the way Lucy’s eyes wides in surprise. I don’t swear often but this situation makes me want to swear “merda – who?” I demand “The Lucy I was speaking to at that wedding isn’t the one I have had to deal with for months and I deserve to know why”

“A couple of my friends pointed out that it was cradle snatching” Lucy admitted “It made me second guess myself. I felt like one of those pervy older people who goes for women far too young for them”

“Do I not get a say?” I challenge again and again Lucy is startled but I need her to realise that I am not some meek, love-struck teenager. I am quite stubborn and I know my own mind “Did you not think to ask ME how I felt about the age gap”

“If I’d have asked you out, would you have said yes?” Lucy asks, that fucking grin back on her face. The grin that exudes confidence of a woman who knows she is going to get what she wants and I realise that every smile, every grin, every touch, every wink and every second of prolonged eye contact has been moulding me to her will. She has my hand in her own and I feel her fingers gently stroke my palm. I nod my response unable to form the words.  

“What if I ask you out now, will you say yes?” her words echo in my mind and I am lost in her eyes. This is the Lucy that I met at Staniforth’s wedding; this is the Lucy I have been searching for these last few weeks

“I am here aren’t I” I reply softly and it is her turn to blush

“So, this is a date?” she teases

“It is now” I reply gripping her hand a little tighter, in no rush to break contact. I know there are things we still need to talk about. I know we cannot brush the last few weeks under the carpet but I will also not deny myself what my heart and mind so clearly want. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would ever be on a date with my teenage idol or that said person would be looking at me like they wanted to do unspeakable things to me. For now, we would have to see how this date went.