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ellecdc · 1 day ago

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Ok ok may i request a pt 3 to the zombies au where reader is trying to figure out how they fit in the dynamic with the boys. Maybe like halfway through they set traps or something around that the boys don’t know how to do, and the boys see. Also I feel like this would take place kinda shortly after pt 2, so the boys (esp Sirius) would be super protective when reader tries to walk around.

thanks for your request! I think this is the perfect prompt for the next part of this series <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who set up camp for the night [1.3k words]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

CW: zombie apocalypse happening in the background, reader is slightly shy in this, chronic pain, slight angst? but not much

“I think we should stop here for the night.” James declared rather ruefully, wincing after Remus tripped for the third time over the past few minutes.

“No, we’re nearly there.” Remus practically barked; pain and exhaustion intermingling in his tone as he tried to shoulder past James.

“You’re sore, Remus.” James tried.

“I’m fine.”

“Well I’m not.” You declared with a huff, shucking your rucksack off and letting it fall to the ground decisively with a thud. “I want to stop for the night.”

Sirius tried to ignore the protective fire roaring inside of him as he moved his gaze from Remus’ sore leg to take in your form.

He’d been more than a tad reluctant to have you join them on this excursion, but after what took place the last time they’d gone without you, well, there would be no arguing with you (and, Sirius had to admit, rather reluctantly, that he felt better when he was able to keep his eyes on all three of you).

So, while Sirius was already accustomed to keeping a close eye on Remus to see when his knee or hip started acting up, he’d been keeping an equally close eye on you.

He had noticed you'd been quiet today - he wasn’t sure if you were just trying to be particularly agreeable so that they wouldn’t fuss over you (or leave you behind again), or if you really were content - but as he took a quick inventory of you, he couldn't seem to find anything wrong with you.

But it was the way you looked up quickly to make eye contact with him that let him know you were doing this for Remus’ sake.

“Yeah, I’m beat.” Sirius agreed, playing along as he pulled off his own rucksack and sat on a log.

“I know what you’re doing.” Remus spat at Sirius, though it was you who let out a long sigh in response.

“All we’re doing is taking a break, Rem.” You murmured patiently as you dug through your bag, and most of the ire that Remus had been directing at Sirius melted away when he turned his gaze to you.

Sirius wasn’t sure if his capitulation was at your use of his nickname, your soft, calming tone, or just because he didn’t really know you well enough to take an attitude with you the way he did with James and Sirius.

But what really struck Sirius was the fact that he didn’t feel at all bothered by the fact that Remus was willing to argue with him and not with you. He found he couldn’t blame Remus, really; you were difficult to be mad at.

Sirius never had a difficult time being mad at anyone, though, hence his temper with you last time.

“I’ll run back to the river and collect some water, okay?” James offered then, clearly speaking to Remus though the stubborn sod wouldn’t look at him.

“Thanks, James.” You agreed when it became clear Remus wouldn’t.

James shot you a grateful smile and Sirius a pointed look - keep an eye on them - before heading back in the direction of the nearest stream.

“Where do you think we should sleep, Moons?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He grumbled petulantly as he sat down directly on the ground and stretched his leg out.

You and Sirius shared a look before you picked up your bag and moved to sit a few meters away to give them some privacy.

“Don’t be grumpy with me.” Sirius whispered, sitting beside Remus and nudging him gently with his elbow.

“I’m not grumpy, Sirius, I-” Though Remus cut himself off when he realized he was really only serving to prove his point.

“Listen, we take care of each other, okay? James always packs the heaviest stuff into his rucksack. You never let either of us clear the room first. And we make sure you take breaks when you need it. Yeah?”

Remus let out a long sigh and craned his neck until it cracked as he kept his eyes trained on you. You’d pulled out a spade and a rod that seemed to snap together to form a long shovel and were digging into the earth. Sirius found that this was something he'd grown to like about you - the three boys relied heavily on one another, “should I go down to the river and collect water?” “Sure, and I’ll try to find us some shelter”, and nothing got done until they had formulated some sort of plan - but you saw something that needed to be done, and simply did it, unprompted.

Sirius, Remus, and James once came back from bathing in the river to find bowls of soup waiting on the makeshift table; you barely commented on it as you grabbed your towel and walked down to take your own bath. One morning after a trip to town that saw James’ glasses snapping in half after a close encounter with a zombie, they woke to find the bridge of the frames taped back together for him.

Acts of service, Remus had called it one night when Sirius voiced his observation, it’s how some people show they care.

He didn’t know why you would - care, that is - though he certainly found that he (and Remus and James) cared an awful lot about you.

Remus had rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder in way of apology as they watched you work, and Sirius felt slightly embarrassed about the fact that a) neither he nor Remus did anything to help set up camp whilst you and James fussed, and b) didn’t actually know what you were doing, yet enjoyed watching you do it nonetheless. You dug a hole about a foot deep before pulling some seeds from feather reed grass nearby, dropping them, and watching them drift to the east with the wind. You picked the shovel back up and began digging a second hole at an angle nearly a foot to the west from the first hole.

And to both Remus and Sirius’ surprise, by the time James appeared through the brush with two jugs of water, you had a concealed fire roaring in your hole.

“Whoa,” James called rather breathlessly, “did you bury the fire?”

You chuckled at James, though Sirius could tell you were turning slightly bashful. “I, well… it’s called a Dakota fire…it uses the wind to keep it burning, and produces little to no smoke.”

James let out a breathy yet impressed ‘huh’ as he turned to look at Sirius and Remus - both sitting uselessly - as if saying ‘are you seeing this? Can you believe her?’.

“That’s rather clever, Y/N.” Remus called as he stood - hip audibly clicking and eliciting a small wince from the tall boy, though Sirius knew it was good for Remus to keep it moving - and made his way over to inspect your handiwork. “It’s concealed too; we could leave it burning overnight without worrying about being spotted.”

“Right.” You agreed, clearly finding it impossible to look directly at any of the boys. Sirius found it rather adorable.

“You sound surprised by her clever nature, moons.” Sirius taunted, relishing in the way you went from bashful to straight up timid. “Well, since she’s the only one you won’t bark at, why don’t you sit here and help her keep the fire going now that she’s already done the hard work, and Jamie and I will set up camp?”

And before either of you could argue, Sirius stamped a loud kiss right on the side of Remus’ face that he pretended to wipe off in disgust, and a much gentler kiss to the crown of your head before he and James headed back towards their bags.

“So sodding cute.” James whispered gleefully as they pulled out the tarp and sleeping bags from their rucksacks, stealing glances over at the two of you ever so often in a way he knew James thought to be discreet.

Sirius didn’t know whether James was talking about you, shy and bashful from the praise Remus was no doubt showering you with right now; Remus, and his lovesick gaze as you explained the steps of building your Dakota fire; or Sirius being brazen enough to plant a kiss to your head for the first time.

But Sirius found he didn’t need to know, because he certainly agreed.

It really was so sodding cute.

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unorthodoxfaithxx · 2 days ago

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Independence - (Yandere KaijuNo8 Hoshina x Reader)

nsfw, dubcon, yandere, afab, explicit sex, possessiveness, overstimulation

Where Hoshina has enough of your “independence” antics.

———————////////———————-//////—————

The quick, rough clacks of heels stomping the ground permeate the otherwise quiet night. You can hear the soft thuds of dance music beating from a distance from the club you were just brought out of.

“Ow, ow, ow,” You yelp, “That hurts! Let go, will you?”

The man pulling on your hand doesn’t let go, though his grip loosens.

You groan, frustrated at the chain of the events that just occurred. You were at the club with your girls, mingling it up, when your childhood friend barged in and dragged you out, JUST as you were getting friendly with a man who was exactly your type.

The cockblocking pisses you off. “Seriously, Soshiro, what’s gotten into you?”

He lets go of your hand, whipping around to face you.

“What’s gotten inta me? What’s gotten inta you? I’m gone on a mission for a month and then come back to see you hangin’ out with girls you barely know, gettin’ friendly with nasty dudes, at a trashy ass club in the most dangerous part o’ the city!”

“I’m a grown woman, Soshiro. I can do what I want. And I was perfectly safe in there.”

He ignores your words, pulling at your hand again. “Come on, we’re goin’ home.” You can tell he means business by the tone of his voice. There’s no point in arguing when he gets like this. Sighing, you follow him quietly into the car he had ready.

Hoshina lets a random radio station play while he drives. The ride home to your apartment is otherwise silent.

Watching the lights of the city get farther and farther away, you grind your teeth in annoyance. He’s always been like this since you were little. Overly protective and clingy, ESPECIALLY when it came to men trying to get to know you. Growing up, he was always threatening your crushes, getting between you and boys offering their love confessions, even keeping you away from his sport competitions during highschool.

“I don’t like the way my teammates look at ya,” He’d say, “It gets in the way of our game.”

Sure, you may have been frail as a kid and that warranted some protecting, but the both of you are now grown, and he still hasn’t let up on his “big brother” antics. It was ruining your love life, and tonight you were going to chew him out once and for all.

You huff in annoyance, not noticing the way Soshiro practically glares at the cleavage your tight dress reveals through the corner of his eye.

You two eventually make it home, and you fumble for your keys to open the door. You see Hoshina looking over his shoulder, scanning for any potential threats, and you roll your eyes. Once you unlock the door, you usher you in, and he shuts and locks the door behind him with a ‘click’.

You throw your purse on the dining table, waltzing over to the fridge to grab a water bottle in hopes you can cool down. Because right now, you want nothing more than to shove Hoshina down a set of stairs.

After taking a sip, you sigh and turn to Hoshina, who has been standing in the living room with his arms crossed, displeased.

“Soshiro, we need to talk. I’m not a defenseless kid anymore, you can’t keep controlling what I can do or who I can see.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow, a small pout still on his face.

“‘Oh’, yes. I’m a grown woman. And I’m tired of you being a cockblock every time I meet a man who seems even remotely interested in me. We’re still in our twenties! I wanna go meet people and have fun before it’s too late. And to be frank? You going on that Defense Force mission for a month has been great for my social life. I’ve been able to hang out with other friends, go on like 2 dates, and just feel free for once.”

Your expression softens when you see he’s obviously hurt by your words, “I don’t mean to be hurtful, ugh! I just…I want you to understand, I need to live my life.”

Your friend is silent for a minute, and before you can start to get nervous, he says quietly, “I understand.”

“You do?” You perk up, relieved to have finally had this talk with him.

“Oh yeah, I understand alright.” You don’t like the way he says that.

He makes way to where you stand, in slow, purposeful steps.

“While I been risking my life to protect this country, you been hoein’ around, is that it?” Hoshina antagonizes, taking a few steps closer as you back pedal. He stops once you’re chest to chest, your back hitting the kitchen walls with a soft thump.

“Really? That’s what you got outta that? You idiot, that’s not it at all, I—“

“Enough with the excuses.” Hand smacking the wall beside your head, he leans down, whispering in your ear. “I think it’s high time you realize who ya belong to.”

He grabs your chin, tilting your face upwards for a searing kiss, your lips colliding. The young man’s warm tongue snakes into your mouth to explore its walls, and you’re so taken aback that you just let him, the sensation leaving your legs feeling a little unsteady.

He takes advantage of your surprise, slinging you over his shoulder with ease, and speed walks to your room.

Once the two of you reach the door, he swings it open and throws you on the mattress with a “thud”.

“Soshiro, what the fuck!”

“You wanna get with a guy so bad? Fine. But it’s won’t be anyone else ‘sides me.”

He crawls on top of you, planting both hands beside your head as he towers over your form. You gaze up at him, astonished at his words.

“Wait, wait wait — This is all so sudden, I—you—what?”

He growls in frustration, nipping at your neck. The deep rumble of his voice and the sensation of him marking you surprisingly stirs something up in your core.

“Did ya really never notice how bad I wanted ya since we were teenagers? All this time I been keepin’ you away from anyone else ‘cause I thought you were mine, an’ I wanted ya to stay mine. But here we are, with you thinkin’ just ‘cause you’re grown up that ya can up an’ leave me behind.” You don’t notice until it’s halfway down, but Hoshina is unzipping the side of your strapless dress.

“Well I got a news flash for ya, sweetheart—

it ain’t gonna fuckin’ happen like that.” Once he finishes tinkering with the zipper, he pulls your dress off your body, revealing nothing but silicone nipple covers and lace panties too thin to be practical.

“Who the hell were ya gonna show these off to, huh?” He removes the tiny nipple covers, pushing them off to the side of the bed.

“N-no one…”

“Liar,” Your childhood friend is not gentle with your panties. He yanks them off you with a harsh snap of its strings. “No one can see you like this but me.”

He eyes your naked body hungrily, but you can tell he’s not happy. Only now do you understand that it’s not because he’s been worried for you—he’s mad because it’s not him you’re dressing scantily for.

“Fuck…you’re gorgeous. I’m gonna show ya who this body was made for.”

The soldier places a cold hand on your bare pussy, slowly stroking your slit, pulling the folds open and closed in a way that has you choking back a moan.

In no time, your opening grows moist. Hoshina smiles coyly when notices his fingers are coated with your juices. “Already so wet for me, ain’tcha?

The pace of his strokes eventually picks up, and when he opts instead to rub your clit in a circular motion, you can no longer hold back your voice.

You want to deny it, but it feels good. Really good. The feeling of his touch clouds your mind, and logic is thrown out the window. As unwise as it may be, and as weird as it is to be doing this with your life-long friend, your body convinces you it’ll be fine to let whatever happen, happen.

He smirks at your reaction, pleased to see you release the tension in your body, relaxing under his touch. “That’s it, sweet. Lemme hear more of those pretty moans.”

And let him you do. He rubs your clit at an unyielding pace, and when you start squirming involuntarily, one of his sinewy

arms clamps down on your thigh, holding it in place.

“Ah, ah, ah. No closing your legs,” He chides.

“F-fuck, but I’m-ah-gonna come!”

You can feel yourself reach the tipping point, mind going blank. You look your friend in the eyes, and the way that he stares at you so reverently, intensely, is what makes you reach that edge.

“Come for me then, baby.” That was the only encouragement you need, because that has you climaxing with rushing vigor, cunt spasming and pulsing in waves. Tears of pleasure begin to emerge at the corners of your eyes, and you breathe a sigh of contentment.

Happy with himself, the young man barrels his mouth into yours, refusing to separate until the both of you are gasping for air. You use a hand to tug at his hair hoping it’ll make him pull back, but he doesn’t relent, instead grunting a moan. Only when you start pushing on his chest does he separate from you.

“Sorry,” He barely sounds sorry, you think, “Ya just taste so damn good.”

With a trail of saliva dripping from his mouth and yours, he moves down to latch onto one of your breasts.

A warm appendage flicks across your nipple, shooting pleasure down into your core. You didn’t know your tits could ever feel this good. When he proceeds to bite and suckle, you’re washed with a sensation that has you swearing you feel yourself melting away.

Hoshina laps at your other hardened areola, teasing the former with the pinch of his fingers.

But then a thought crosses his mind. “Ya haven’t done this with anyone else before, right?” He mumbles, face nestled between your breasts.

You don’t answer, and he stops what he’s doing, much to your body’s chagrin.

He removes himself from your chest. His hand squeezes your other breast a little tightly, and when he looms over you, he’s dripping with malice. “Right?”

“Ugh,” You’re embarrassed to admit it, refusing to look him in the eye, “Right. I-I’ve never done anything with anyone before.”

And you aren’t lying. Hoshina’s always done a damn good job at keeping all potential lovers at bay. You’ve never even kissed another man before.

That settles his nerves. “Good girl.” He kisses your collarbone.

“If you did, I woulda made you confess which fella it was with and kill him.” He says that so nonchalantly, you worry it’s true. “You don’t belong to anyone but me, got it, sweet thing? You’re mine.”

The possessiveness should scare you, but it doesn’t. In fact, his claims spur on your arousal. When one of his hands warningly wraps around your throat, a shiver runs down your spine. “Say it,” He demands with a dangerous glint in his eyes, “You’re mine.”

“I-I’m yours, Shiro.” As he hears you call him by that stupidly intimate childhood nickname, he feels his cock ache.

“That’s a good gal.” He releases his grip on you, moving to take off his clothes. “I missed you so much during my mission, ya know that? Stayed up late thinkin’ of ya.”

He unzips and removes his jacket.

“Yeah?” You inquire, not sure where he’s going with this conversation.

“Yeah. Stayed up thinkin’ ‘bout how good you’d feel under me. Thought about my cock deep inside ya, right. Here.” He places a hand below your belly button, pressing deep. “Remembered how sexy you looked in that tiny ass swimsuit last summer, and wished I was back at the beach with you again, this time fucking you stupid. Thought about how good you’d sound moaning my name while your tight cunt milks me dry, and that everyone around would know who it is you belong to.”

Fuck, since when was your friend so good with dirty talk? You’ve never heard him so vulgar in your life. The thought of being wanted so badly makes your heart ache, and you feel yourself turning red.

“Daww,” Hoshina coos, “Is someone blushing?” He licks his lips, eyeing you like a tiger would eye a plump rabbit, and you gulp. “Fuck, that’s cute. You’re adorable.”

With his clothes fully removed and tossed to the side, you take in the sight of his body. He’s not a giant of a man, although toned muscles decorate his limbs in a way that make him look bigger than you’d expect.

You don’t want to admit it, but he’s quite the looker. What you’re most concerned with though is how large his member is. It’s hard, veiny and obviously protruding. You gulp nervously, suddenly self conscious of your lack of love-making experience.

Before you can overthink things, the soldier takes the lead. He gives his shaft a stroke and moves your hand to wrap around his dick, getting you to stroke him in a slow, easy motion.

You see his body tremble under your touch, and he lets out a deep sigh, like he’s relieved after holding back for so long.

“Fuuuuuck, yer hands feel so soft. Just like I always imagined.”

You stroke his thick member a few more times, admiring how sensitive his body was under your touch.

“Good girl. Just like that baby, yeah. Fuck, you make it hard to hold back.”

The praises do something to you, and you find yourself eager to hear more from him.

But just as quick as Soshiro was to praise you, he was quick to flip you onto all fours, and with a yelp your eyes stare at nothing but the bedpost.

You don’t even have time to realize what’s going on when you feel Hoshina’s thick head invade your wet hole, stuffing you full as you feel the pressure inside your body build.

“Oh gawwwwwd,” You moan, never having felt such a sensation before.

It’s so overwhelming, taking you by surprise—you immediately crawl forward to move away, only to be aggressively held by the hips and yanked back into your starting position.

“Don’t you dare fucking run away,” The soldier warns dangerously, “I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think about anythin’ else but my cock.”

And fuck you he does. His pace is merciless, thick member pounding in and out of your pussy until your legs are a quivering mess. Your senses are heightened, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth as you feel every veiny inch of his cock stuff you completely. It’s too fucking much.

“Too much, Shiro,” You beg with a sob, “I need a minute.”

“You’ll take all that I give ya, when I give it to ya.” And you yelp as he plants a slap on your asscheek.

“Fuck. The way that ass bounces from my dick is so hot.”

A finger slips into your asshole, gently sliding in and out. If it was overstimulating before, now it’s too much all at once.

“Please,” You plead in between moans. “It’s so much, Shiro. Gawd, I- I can’t!”

“Oh yes you can,” He admonishes, “And you will.”

Another hard slap lands on your ass. “Apologize for trying to abandon me.”

Your mind and body now fully under the influence of lust, you do whatever he tells you.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for abandoning you!”

“You like it in both holes, don’tcha? Slut.”

“Yes yes yes, I like it in both holes! It feels so good being stuffed in both holes!”

“And who do you belong to?”

“You, Shiro! Just you!”

His chuckling is low and deep, sending waves of pleasure down your spine.

“Good girl. My good fucking girl.”

He lurches forward, and your arms and legs give out from underneath you. Laying flat on your stomach, Soshiro’s weight keeps you from moving even an inch. In this position, with him on top of you as he grips your breasts, your friend’s cock buries in you even deeper than before. He humps into you without remorse, and once he moves a hand to your mouth, you instinctively suckle on his fingers.

He moans at the sensation, groaning under your touch. The perversion of the whole scenario drives him wild.

“Fuck, did I tell you yer really tight?” He says through gritted teeth. “Can’t keep this up much longer.”

Now it’s your turn to tell him what to do.

“Cum for me, Shiro. I need you to cum!”

He laughs at your audacity, gripping you tighter.

“Oh yeah?” He grunts with a smirk, hot breath against your ear. “And where does my girly want me to cum, huh?”

It’s risky, but fuck it. You’re so horny you can barely think straight. “I-inside me!”

Your request gets him going, making him thrust even faster, harder than you thought was possible.

“Fuck, girly, gonna cum!”

The feeling of his cum filling you up also is your tipping point, and you cry out as your final orgasm is ripped out of you.

“Shiiiiiiit,” Soshiro whimpers, slowing his piston-ing down until your pussy finally milks every last drop of semen from him.

He slowly pulls out, and you feel suddenly empty once his dick is no longer inside you.

With a quick flip, he’s on his back, arms spread out, staring at the ceiling with much thought.

You roll over to look at him.

“So,” You break the silence, “Does that, uh, I should consider you my boyfriend now?”

He gives you a look.

“Depends. You wanna be kidnapped and locked inside a basement against yer will?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then yes, we’re datin’ now.”

“Oh! Uh. Okay.”

—-////——//////————

That concludes my fanfic, folks! Sorry it took so long to make. I was struggling a lot with writer’s block and some life events that were outside of my control, but I’m here! And alive!

Honestly, what made me finish this story was seeing that the yandere tag on Tumblr was lackin’ in writing as of late, heheh. Anyways thanks for stopping by! Until next time!

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alyssumlovesthecosmere · 1 day ago

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So, the other day, Crash Course uploaded a video in their Religions series, about Judaism. Now, I haven't watched any video other than this one, but if this one is any metric to measure by.... well, it's bad. Really bad.

To start, the introduction starts with "shabbat toothbrushes", where John Green describes to us how (some) jews will brush their teeth on shabbat, while ensuring to not break any of the melachot, or prohibited actions. This, in my opinion, as an orthodox jew, is.... quite a framing to start with. Especially since immediately after that introduction, John Green let's us know that there are other jews! who don't do this! and just... sir, I'm an orthodox jew. Sure, I don't do follow that rule on the shabbat- sorry, the sabbath which you then explain is the shabbat to jews (the word Sabbath comes from the hebrew Shabbat), but I follow a lot of rules that folks find strange! And I do not appreciate a video talking about jews sidelining orthodox jews. Framing the video in that way is clearly an attempt to make Jews seem more "mainstream", but it erases, estranges, and (this happens more later on) villifies orthodox jews. Which isn't fair.

But we just started this 13 minute video. At this point last night, I sighed and figured this was going to be just your regular old "Orthodox Jews are strange and bad" sort of video, and resigned myself to that. And then I looked at the sections of the video. One of which included Zionism in it. And I immediately got more worried, because John and Hank donated through Project For Awesome to UNWRA which are.... very linked to Hamas, including there being evidence of UNWRA employees participating in the Oct. 7th Massacre. But okay. Maybe this video will be fine.

Spoiler alert: It wasn't. It was so incredibly bad. John Green admits at the start of the video that Judaism is complex, great! Now explain tha complexity correctly! no. So he starts off his history with... Ya'akov Avinu, sorry- Jacob. Who's a descendant of Avraham Avinu, sorry- Abraham (John uses the english names and not the hebrew one and it just bothers me). Which like... no, Jewish history starts with Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel. In addition, a large majority of his sources are non jewish sources which is just. Why. There are so many jewish sources on Judaism!

As this is getting long, I'm gonna put a tl;dr here and then a read more cut. The tl;dr is this - the video is a horrendously western view of Judaism video, that seems to be written by non-jews who don't have any expertise in Judaism. It is filled with misrepresentation of jews, especially religious ones, is severely lacking pretty much all of jewish history, doesn't mention MENA/SWANA jews at all, and is quite frankly a disappointment. I'm mad and sad and upset and most of all disappointed with crash course for creating this video.

Still with me? great. I'm wordy and I have twelve minutes of this video to go through still. To make this a bit more organized, I'm gonna go according to the sections that John Green himself gave, and give a summary of what he said and what is wrong or misrepresented there.

The Many Versions of Judaism (aka, somehow not our history nor our story) there are a few things wrong/upsetting here. First off, as I said above, the fact that he uses the English names. Second off, the fact that he, bafflingly, starts the story with Ya'akov getting the name Yisrael, aka when Ya'akov fights with the angel. John then takes this to explain that Jews today still wrestle with Hashem in our own way, but in a... shall I say tumblr style reductionist way. Y'know, the "jews shake lemon at gd angrily behind a denny's" way. This chapter is the only one that will ever mention the ancient Israelites, and never the tie to the land of Israel itself. In addition to this, he describes Judaism as monotheistic, but that "half of religious jews today believe in some other spiritual force, and not the gd of the Hebrew Bible" which had me going what in the what. Just. No. like, sure, i'm a vaguely agnostic-atheist religious jew and uh, no? And I found his source, and well, if I had to guess - the jews who responded assumed that the god they were being asked about was the one in the xtian bible - and so answered no, while John assumed said jews meant the gd of the tanakh, aka hashem. Third, his "devil's advocate" scene is just. Once again, putting down Orthodox Jews, and compares without change Jewish Religious Institutions with Xtian ones. To quote "for a lot of jews, it's more about action than faith", I'd argue, personally, that that line is correct for most jews, as our religion is not really one of belief (orthodoxy) but of action (orthopraxy). And also, I'll paraphrase "many jewish people consider following Jewish law to be the most important thing" yes! yes we do! and not just many, most, that's! the whole! shtick! for us!! (and yes i'm aware this is a simplification). He also manages to vaguely describe Judaism as an ethnicity, and explain that some Jews are connected to the ancestral history (without explaining what that is, no connection to Israel here no sirree), which I guess is fine-ish? (it does not)

The Written Torah So here he starts off with saying that we'll focus on the torah and not the tanakh, as the torah is how we jews conceptualize our relationship to gd and each other. Except that... we also use the rest of the Tanakh for that! (minor kudos to him for saying that the tanakh was written by the ancient israelites. Just no mention of why there were ancient israelites and then we had to come back). The torah gives us most of our rules, but the tanakh expands on them, and teaches us how we choose to treat hashem, how we treat each other. When Jews say the written torah, we do oftentimes also mean the rest of the tanakh. Frankly, going through his sources, I can't figure out what source he used for this claim, except that he uses a lot of non-jewish sources (like the britannica), and very few Jewish ones which is just... why, you can clearly see these jewish sources exist, why not use them? I understand that this is meant to be lighthearted, but he compares the five books of the torah to seasons of friends, which is kinda eeeh. And added to that, his descriptor for bamidbar or numbers is "the ancient israelites wander and suffer through the wilderness" (paraphrased). First off, it was the desert, and second off this is exactly where in the torah we get all of the mitzvot and how to treat each other and hashem. This is it!! why name the book/"season" wrong?? He then continues and talks about how the themes of exile and return are common in the torah, and continue to resonate today, and yet doesn't... explain... the history of us being exiled. Instead, we take a tangent into antisemitism, specifically the plague related kind. Which... fine, I know he's got a liking for that aspect of history, but there's so much more. Of course, he also mentions that the Pope was one of the influential people who pushed back against it and... just... sigh. We're talking the catholic church here. The same catholic church WHO BLAMED JEWS FOR KILLING JESUS TILL THE NINETEEN SIXTIES. If the pope pushed back against it, it was because us jews had more value alive, not because he thought we had inherent value as people. Of course, since we're talking antisemitism, John only talks about xtian antisemitism. The "happy dhimmi" myth is alive and kicking in this video, as there is absolutely no mention of antisemitism within the non-western world. IN ADDITION, by framing the antisemitism the way he did - that the "dumb europeans" attacked the jews but their religious leaders were against it, John inadvertently erases antisemitism by non religious people, and by religious leaders. Both of which are and were alive and well.

Zionism (aka, I had to put this in here otherwise the tankies would yell at me, and I made a mess of it) And then we have this digression, which makes zero sense in the context of the story John is attempting to tell, into Zionism. There is no reason for it, and if it had to be in the video, it should have, quite frankly, gone in at the end. But that is only the start of the woes that I have to say on this section. To start, the amount of sources here are negligeble as compared to the other sections (note the numbers, all previous sources were for the other two sections)

48. Encyclopaedia Britannica | Zionism 49. University of Michigan | Zionism 50. Ben-Israel, Hedva. “Zionism and European Nationalisms: Comparative Aspects.” Israel Studies 8, no. 1 (2003): 91–104. 51. Ghanem, As’ad. “Israel’s Second-Class Citizens: Arabs in Israel and the Struggle for Equal Rights.” Foreign Affairs 95, no. 4 (2016): 37–42. 52. Halpern, Ben (2004) [1990]. "The Rise and Reception of Zionism in the Nineteenth Century". In Goldscheider, Calvin; Neusner, Jacob (eds.). Social Foundations of Judaism (2nd ed.). Eugene, Or: Wipf and Stock Publ. pp. 94–113. 53. American-Israeli Cooperative Enterprise| Zionism: Anti-Zionism Among Jews

[copied from the source sheet]

I haven't read the sources, so I'm not going to talk about them, but the fact that only half of the sources seem to have been written by jews is... not great. At all. And then there's how John introduces and talks about the topic. John compares the themes of exile and return in the Torah and Tanakh to the narrative told by Zionists, and mentions Zionism being a political movement. All of this is correct. However, what John is very obviously missing here is the history of Jews within the land of Israel. He talks about how we wanted a state for Jews run by Jews, but doesn't explain that we wanted it in the land where we came from, a land where we have mitzvot, commandments, that are specific to it. A land that our holidays and calendar center. The fact that this is missing is one of the glaring issues in the whole video. He also mentions that Zionism views Judaism as a nationality, which is true. Judaism is viewed as a nationality in the modern sense through Zionism, but it's also a nationality, or nation, in the older sense, regardless of Zionism. In addition to that, while Zionism is the idea of having a Jewish run state for Jews, it does not preclude the existence of other, nonjewish, people in this state. Which is important for the next bit. He then adds that, quote "this is complicated for lots of geopolitical reasons, but suffice it to say, Jewish people are not the only people with roots or a current presence in the modern state of Israel." Which, I guess does mention our roots in the land, but it also completely flattens the whole story into, what feels to me, "Jews Zionists bad for wanting a state because there are other people". He then mentions the Druze and Xtian and Muslim Palestinians, which is fair but also why specifically the Druze? And if the Druze, why not also the Bedouin? Both are minority groups within Israel, and if you want to talk about minority groups, the Bedouin are equally as important for this discussion! (another friend later pointed out that the likely reason is that the pbs source John uses mentions the Druze (but as muslims, and not as their own religious group which. sigh. Druze are not Muslim), but not the Bedouin. And of course, we get a "not all jews support the zionist movement, but many do" yeah. a huge womping majority. For a reason. At the end of this section he says you can find "much much more" on the topic in the sources and I just have to raise an eyebrow, because I do not count these 6 sources as "much much more" information.

Then, finally, we're off of this ill-placed and wrongly done section, and back to actual religion things. You know. Like how John had said we'd be talking about.

The Oral Torah and the Talmud We start off strong, with an accurate description as to what exactly is the Oral Torah, and what its place within Jewish society and Judaism is. And then... John tells us that there are "two guys who started it". Huh? Who? Hillel and Shammai of course! what. so, to explain to all of you who have somehow read till here and don't know, Hillel and Shammai are just one pair in a long lineage of those who were, according to tradition, in charge of the oral torah. Even more so, they weren't the first in their generation of pairs! (this is the time known as the Zugot, or pairs). Hillel and Shammai are the seventh generation in those who lived during the time of the mishna being slowly worked on and getting codified, and Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi was the one who did all of the codification, FIVE GENERATIONS AND A TEMPLE COLLAPSE AFTER THEM. So I chose to go into the sources to figure this one out, because frankly I'm baffled. And as far as I can tell, this comes from the encyclopedia britannica (again, why) saying that Hillel and Shammai were the last of the Zugot and that they taught the Tanaim (those who ended up writing the mishna), but just. What. Why. John then continues on to explain who Hillel and Shammai are, describing them as "Shammai, the rules are rules type" and "Hillel, the gentle, caring, impossible to anger type". I just- again with the putting down of one side (the stricter side) for the not so strict side. In addition to the fact that that isn't even an accurate description. It would be more accurate to describe the divide and debate between Hillel and Shammai as realistic and unrealistic. Hillel's school of thought, also known as Beit Hillel, worked with and around torah with the understanding that those who will be following it are people, and will make mistakes and need leniency. Shammai's school of thought, known as Beit Shammai, on the other hand, wanted people to strive to following the Torah in the most idealistic way. We follow Beit Hillel nowadays because they were better at taking day-to-day realities into account, but we remember Beit Shammai's halacha because we want to be able to fulfill our mitzvot in that way, and if human life didn't get in the way, we would do so. John Green stop putting those who keep stricter (or more idealistic) halacha as "bad" challange: level impossible. John Green then says, as is correct, that at around 200ce we started writing things down, but once again, he neglects to mention why we felt we needed to shift from oral to written (the answer is the Romans wanted us no longer jewish and we had lost our Temple and were going to be expelled from our holy land again, see, that's two sentences, is that so hard to say?) John Green then correctly explains that they way the Talmud was written down was by layers upon layers, "literally circling each other" however, that's only one portion of the halachic debate, and frankly, the Talmud is definitely not the central rabbinic text today. That's the Shulchan Aruch, which is based off of the Talmud, but collates all of Halachic debate into a masterpiece of a lot of books. It, too, has the layers upon layers thing, because why waste good paper space??? There are more mistakes here, in understanding that the Talmud is The Central Halachic thing, which again - look above I corrected it. I'll also happily admit that he's correct in saying that when we refer to the torah we mean both the written and oral ones. But we still have two sections to go, and I am still as wordy as ever.

Branches of Judaism Here is where I started to go from mildly annoyed at how he treats orthodox jews, to flat out mad. See, instead of explaining the differences between branches in a neutral way, John brings up differences that will make people feel things. He gives examples of questions - can women be rabbis - which will have listeners biased towards those communities that allow it (and yes, it is an issue within orthodox communities, but guess what! these communities are also trying to work within their framework of halacha for women's equality), or "can you push an elevator button on shabbat using electricity when the law says to refrain from creating fires and sparks on that day", which is an extreme oversimplification of the whole argument and discussion about electricity on shabbat, which will lead viewers to, once again, view those who do those things as backward, strange, and weird. And trust me, there are so many other halachic questions that can be used (such as can one heat food on shabbat, considering fire and heat, or how you deal with the dietary laws of kashrut), and idk. Maybe at this point I'm nitpicking, but as an orthodox not exactly a woman, it bothers me! It alienates me from the discussion, and it's really frustrating. He comments that the options you can choose are "unwavering, flexible, or somewhere in between", which to me shows a complete lack of understanding of what the orthodox framework of working with halacha is (too long; don't have time to explain - we can't strictly disagree with stuff but we can slowly push for change that may eventually end up disagreeing with something or another). He then explains Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform Judaism. His way of explaining is, while technically correct, missing an understanding of how we different streams of Judaism practice. John describes the differences as ones of strictness vs openness, lack of change vs flexibility. In reality, the difference between the streams is one of precedence. How much weight do we put on something that was written 2000 years ago? How much weight does our current way of living have? Orthodox Judaism will answer that what was written all that time ago has significantly more weight, that they knew more about halacha than we do, to Reform halacha, which takes halachic rulings from 2000 years ago under advisement, but sees how much the world has changed, and makes the rulings accordingly. I won't touch on his specific examples, and suffice it to say that they were in line with what I said earlier about his examples. They're there to make you feel something about these strange jews he's talking about, and that something is not always particularly nice, especially to Orthodox Jews. He then mentions a few other options, which is fine (though I wish he expanded on the "people who say 'I'm Jewish' but don't identify with any particular branch" as, with everything going on, and his sorely lacking explanation in how Judaism and conversion works, may lead to people deciding to just say they're jewish). After that he says that there "are jewish atheists". Yes. There are also orthodox jewish atheists, I thought we covered the fact that Judaism prefers action over belief at the start? I'm confused as to why he felt the need to add that here near the end of the video.

Next, he talks about the different physical branches of Judaism, and mentions that due to persecution we got to many different places. Of course, he once again neglects to mention the ur-persecution, or ur-reason that we are so spread out - our expulsion from Israel, and the beginning of the Jewish Diaspora (he mentions the Diaspora by name, but not the first reason for it). It's a glaring miss, but not as glaring as what is to come. He then talks about three diasporic communities, and I quote "...unique communities emerged in each new location: Ashkenazi Jews in Eastern Europe, Sephardic Jews in Spain and Portugal, and Beta Israel in Eithiopia". One nitpick and one incredibly important correction. Ashkenazi Jews were originally from ashkenaz, ie France and Germany and eventually got to Eastern Europe as well - the name of the general European tradition is, however, Ashkenaz. The second, and more pressing issue, is that he says that Sephardic Jews are in Spain and Portugal. Those communities haven't been there in a Hot Minute, ie since the Spanish Inquistion. They've been in the SWANA or MENA region, with some exceptions for some Dutch, American, and British Jews. I had to look at his sources, because are you kidding me. Both (all three, if we include Beta Israel) sources are from britannica. Again. My first instinct was that maybe the issue was with the source! I was wrong.

The source for Ashkenazi Judaism (emphasis mine)

Ashkenazi, member of the Jews who lived in the Rhineland valley and in neighbouring France before their migration eastward to Slavic lands (e.g., Poland, Lithuania, Russia) after the Crusades (11th–13th century) and their descendants. After the 17th-century persecutions in eastern Europe, large numbers of these Jews resettled in western Europe, where they assimilated, as they had done in eastern Europe, with other Jewish communities. In time, all Jews who had adopted the “German rite” synagogue ritual were referred to as Ashkenazim to distinguish them from Sephardic (Spanish rite) Jews. Ashkenazim differ from Sephardim in their pronunciation of Hebrew, in cultural traditions, in synagogue cantillation (chanting), in their widespread use of Yiddish (until the 20th century), and especially in synagogue liturgy. Today Ashkenazim constitute more than 80 percent of all the Jews in the world, vastly outnumbering Sephardic Jews. In the early 21st century, Ashkenazic Jews numbered about 11 million. In Israel the numbers of Ashkenazim and Sephardim are roughly equal, and the chief rabbinate has both an Ashkenazic and a Sephardic chief rabbi on equal footing. All Reform and Conservative Jewish congregations belong to the Ashkenazic tradition

As you can see, britannica does in fact mention that Ashkenazi Jews were first in the Rhineland valley (germany) and france, and later moved to Eastern Europe. I have some nitpicking on that as what I said doesn't match but regardless. Ashkenazi Jews aren't in Ashkenaz according to John, they are in Eastern Europe

The source for Sephardi Judaism (emphasis mine)

Sephardi, member or descendant of the Jews who lived in Spain and Portugal from at least the later centuries of the Roman Empire until their persecution and mass expulsion from those countries in the last decades of the 15th century. The Sephardim initially fled to North Africa and other parts of the Ottoman Empire, and many of these eventually settled in such countries as France, Holland, England, Italy, and the Balkans. Salonika (Thessaloníki) in Macedonia and the city of Amsterdam became major sites of Sephardic settlement. The transplanted Sephardim largely retained their native Judeo-Spanish language (Ladino), literature, and customs. They became noted for their cultural and intellectual achievements within the Mediterranean and northern European Jewish communities. In religious practice, the Sephardim differ from the Ashkenazim (German-rite Jews) in many ritual customs, but these reflect a difference in traditional expression rather than a difference in sect. Of the estimated 1.5 million Sephardic Jews worldwide in the early 21st century (far fewer than the Ashkenazim), the largest number were residing in the state of Israel. The chief rabbinate of Israel has both a Sephardic and an Ashkenazi chief rabbi. The designation Sephardim is frequently used to signify North African Jews and others who, though having no ancestral ties to Spain, have been influenced by Sephardic traditions, but the term Mizrahim is perhaps more properly applied.

As you can also see, the britannica also mentions that Sephardi talks about North African Jews. What is that? SWANA Jews exist? and experienced persecution? Couldn't be. Surely all Jews are actually European and are colonizers in the land of palestine (heavy sarcasm and cynicism). I've got to say, I find the fact that using where Jews ended up for Ashkenazi Jews, and where they "originated" (in quotation due to the fact that only the name originated from there) for Sephardi Jews rather disingenuous, as the story being told erases the existence of SWANA jews to an upsetting and worrying degree.

Review and Credits Almost done. Just have to get through the review. John finishes up the story with something that I have mixed feelings about. He describes Judaism as a religion, but that being Jewish doesn't require a religious identity. I find the but annoying. It's not "judaism is a religion but doesn't have to be", it's "judaism is a religion and a people, and a culture, etc etc". Judaism is older than the concept of religion, we're a people, who can also have a set of belief and behaviour, but not doing them does not preclude you from being part of the family (unless, of course, you actively leave the family but that is a nuance not for here). The rest of his review is fine in my opinion. And now, the credits, which have a list of names that don't seem to be Jewish, but I can't find that about all of them (i know at least one of the people in charge of information for either this video or the series in general is definitely not Jewish)

I don’t know how to finish this, other than… Do better, Crash Course, do better @sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog.

#jumblr #judaism #crash course #john green

215 notes · View notes

leahwllmsn · 5 hours ago

Text

here, always

alexia putellas x reader

a/n: a bit late but happy halloween :0

Your routine was the same. You would wake up, get ready, and get to work. This time, you woke up with a headache and the claims from your friends that you had been missing for a month.

You woke up with a headache. That was the first thing you noticed. That, and the blaring ray of sunlight from the window. You must've forgotten to close the blinds last night.

When you sat up, the headache became even worse and you squeezed your eyes shut in pain. You placed your feet on the floor and slowly got up. You tried your best to ignore the pounding in your head as you made your way into the kitchen.

Passing by the clock in the living room, you saw that it was half past eight, which is great, because your work starts at eight. On the dot.

You stepped in the kitchen and began to open each drawer, hoping you'd spot the painkillers–you forgot which drawer they were in. You let out a sigh when you finally spot them, taking one and drinking it without the help of water. You knew the relief wouldn’t be instant, but still, you were annoyed when the headache didn't seem to lessen.

You took a deep breath and got ready for work. It was going to be a long day ahead.

—

You got off the train at your stop, walking the route that you knew by heart.

Up the stairs. Turn left. Right. Pass a coffee shop.

Left. Go straight. Pass by a florist—

A florist.

The smell of the fresh flowers made your heart skip a beat, because it reminded you of Alexia. The colourful array of flowers made you think of her and her gorgeous smile. You decided to get her flowers. You knew how happy it made her every time.

You bought a bouquet of roses. Simple, but it was perfect for Alexia. She had always talked about how if she were to be a flower, she'd be roses, and you wholeheartedly agree. Alexia had grace and joy like pink roses. Her passion in everything she did: orange roses. And despite being so passionate, she had an innocence to her that made her seem oh so sweet–white roses. Lastly, red roses, to represent your love for her.

You smiled to yourself, one hand holding Alexia's flowers, and the other in your pocket. You had a feeling it was going to be a good day.

—

You opened the door to an empty office. There were four desks and two doors, one that led to the head physio’s office and the other that went to the pantry.

As you put your bag on your desk, you heard laughter from behind the door. Your colleagues must be having breakfast.

You walked to the pantry and you were met with some of your friends. However, their reaction wasn't the usual. They stopped whatever they were doing, hands midair, mouth agape. They looked ...confused? Shocked, even. It was like they were seeing a ghost. Even Alexia wasn’t giving you her usual ear-splitting grin at the sight of you. You weren't sure why.

"Hi, Ale, these are for you." You gave her the bouquet of roses you bought earlier.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she got up, slowly outstretching her hands and taking the flowers. "Y/N..." she whispered. "These are lovely. Thank you."

You smiled, satisfied. Anything for Alexia. You could sense that she was about to say something else, so you stayed silent, waiting for her to go on.

"Mi amor…" she started. It seemed like she had trouble expressing what she wanted to say.

Ingrid seemed to sense the same thing, as she went up and stood next to Alexia. She then said something unfathomable, you thought you heard wrong. "You've been gone for a month."

"What?"

"We didn't know where you were." Alexia spoke up, softly as if she was scared that if she spoke too loud, it might make you disappear again. Which was insane, because you hadn’t gone anywhere.

You had been right here all along. Right?

"No... that doesn't make sense. I was with you just last night, Ale."

Alexia opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She was at a loss for words. So were you.

Ingrid cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows. "What date was it yesterday? Do you remember?"

"October 31."

"Well," Mapi joined in on the conversation, scratching her head. "You're right, but you weren't here, Y/N."

You gaped at her, "What do you mean I wasn't here? I was. Right, Alexia? Tell her."

But Alexia just stood there, not saying anything.

"Baby, please." you pleaded.

You looked at them and they were looking wistfully at you, as if you really had gone missing and this was the first time they were seeing you in a month. But that didn’t make sense.

"Amor," Alexia walked closer to you, touching your forearms. Her touch was so light and soft, always the same as you remembered. "I wasn't with you last night."

"When was the last time you saw me?" You directed your question at your friends.

"One month ago," Ingrid answered.

"That's not possible." It really wasn't. "I... I have no memory of going anywhere for a month."

"We were really worried," Alexia sighed, walking closer to you. You knew for a fact that you hadn't disappeared, but why do you have this feeling of… of longing and yearning for her deep in your heart?

"We searched everywhere," Mapi continued. "We couldn't find you."

"I've been right here all along! I don't know what else to tell you guys." You couldn't believe them. It was hard to accept the fact that you disappeared, because you didn't.

"What was the last thing you remembered?"

You looked at her, your sweet Alexia. Alexia whose existence brought so much warmth to your life. You wouldn't know what to do if the roles were reversed and she was the one who ‘disappeared’. You didn't think you could take it.

"I had dinner with you, at that Italian place you liked," you answered, taking her hand in yours and holding it tightly. "You dropped me off at home because you were going to stay with Alba for the night... I received a text goodnight from you, then I replied and went to bed."

Alexia gave a grim smile, "That was a month ago, amor. And you didn't text me back."

"No... no that was last night." You were getting incredibly frustrated.

Mapi seemed to notice your frustration as she cleared her throat, "I think we should leave Y/N so she can process all this."

What? I didn't think I wanted to be alone at a time like this.

They all nodded and were about to leave the room when I grabbed Alexia's arm, "Can you stay with me?"

Alexia smiled, "Of course."

Ingrid and Mapi gave you a reassuring smile and went to leave the room. Then, it was just you and Alexia. She grabbed your hand and you sat down, your hands interlocking perfectly on the table.

"My love," she started. "I know this is hard, but you have to learn to accept things."

You raised your eyebrow at her, "What do you mean? I don’t get it, Ale. My head’s been killing me all morning."

She shrugged. "Just... trust us."

"I don't understand. Is this about my disappearance?"

She smiled… almost sadly? "In a way."

"So I really did disappear?"

She nodded. "You did."

"Where did I go?"

She looked at me and chuckled, "I think you should be asking yourself this question, not me."

You were still confused about this whole thing. It was like your world had turned upside down. "But... how? Why?"

She shrugged again, "I wish I knew. We spent a long time searching for you. You were gone."

Were you experiencing a severe memory loss? Was that it? Was that the reason you couldn't remember anything?

You doubted it, though. You remember what date it was yesterday, and you weren’t in the hospital. Everything was normal.

Everything seemed normal... Until this talk with Alexia. Something was up. Her words were vague... as if it had a hidden meaning. You didn't like it.

As you were about to tell Alexia that none of this felt real, you saw something outside the window. It was... a bird? A black bird. You didn't think it meant anything, even though it felt odd to you.

You let out a big sigh. This wasn't how you imagined your day to go at all. You didn't have the energy to do anything else, but you needed to look for clues as to why this whole thing was happening.

So you got up and left for your desk. Everything seemed normal.

Just like how it was yesterday. Not one month ago.

You sighed, it still didn't make sense. You looked around the room, your co-workers were on their respective desks, typing away on their computers.

Weird.

They hadn’t mentioned anything to you. It was as if your disappearance wasn't a big deal. Shouldn't it be a big deal if your colleague went missing?

"Hey," you whispered to the girl sitting next to you. Surprisingly, it was Ingrid. Why was she even on the computer? "What are you doing?"

Ingrid turned her head towards you, "I'm doing the weekly report."

You scratched your head. “Why aren’t you on the field? You’re not a physio, you shouldn’t be here.”

Ingrid simply shrugged and the confusion must be written across your face because she scooted her chair to be closer to you. "Is everything ok?"

"I don't know, I feel weird,” you decided to be honest. "Like something is off."

And even though Ingrid was smiling, her face looked sad. Why was the atmosphere so sorrowful somehow?

"Well... Maybe you should figure it out."

"Figure what?"

"Figure it out," Ingrid replied like it was obvious. "I know you remember."

"I don't."

"You do. Think, Y/N."

You were about to question her further when your hand brushed the mouse of your computer, causing your computer to light up. The background was a picture of you and Alexia. You realised it was taken at that Italian restaurant that night. Yesterday. Or, one month ago?

As you squinted at the picture, you saw that you had a ring on your left hand—

Wait.

A ring. Alexia gave you that ring.

You looked at your hand now and the ring wasn't there.

A ring... You had that because…

Oh my God.

You stood up suddenly, because you realised that Alexia proposed to you that night. And you said yes. You did. Then you took this picture.

But where was your ring now?

"I'm gonna head home for a bit."

Everyone lifted their heads up and looked at you questioningly. Alexia spoke up, you didn’t even realise she was still in the room. "Are you okay, amor?"

You smiled, walked over to her side and kissed her cheek. "Yeah, I just need to look for something."

"Okay, we'll see you later then."

"See you."

And with that you left.

–

Once you opened the door to your apartment, you stood for a good minute, trying to take it all in. You looked around, attempting to see if something was different. You didn't notice it at first, but the couch in your living room was blue. Blue. You would never choose that colour for a couch. That was weird.

You sat down and faced the TV. The couch was the same as it had always been, just a different colour. You didn't know what was going on but you swore the couch wasn’t blue yesterday.

You turned to the left, where a small table resided beside the couch. It had a framed picture of Alexia that you took one summer. That was the same.

You got up, going forward to the TV and looked around the shelves. Everything was the same. It was all the same—

Until you saw it.

You caught a glimpse of something colourful on the kitchen island. It was a vase full of flowers. They were definitely not there this morning. Did someone break into your home? That seemed to be a plausible explanation. But with the way your day was going, anything seemed possible.

You looked at the flowers and there was a note attached to it.

Y/N,

We're always here for you. Please don't forget.

- Ingrid & Mapi

That was... odd.

There was no way they sent that this morning? They did have the keys to your apartment... but they were at the training grounds this morning with you. There was no way they gave the keys to the delivery guy.

You thought about calling Ingrid or Mapi to ask about the flowers, but you decided against it. You should focus on your task in finding your engagement ring.

You left the kitchen and went to your bedroom.

Everything was still the same there. Your bed was in the middle of the room, with a nightstand next to it that had a lamp and framed picture of you and Alexia.

You opened the drawer of your nightstand but there was nothing except for a pink post-it.

hi :-)

I love you

meet me at our usual Italian place at 6?

It was scribbled in Alexia’s neat handwriting. Your heart swelled remembering she left you this note along with fresh lilies–your favourite flowers.

Yesterday.

Or was it a month ago? You didn’t know if you should trust your memory or your friends’.

You decided to go look in the walk-in closet. You walked inside and looked around, deciding to go to the left side, searching through your jewellery drawer. If anything, a ring should be there right?

But all you found were a bunch of rings you collected over time, not the ring Alexia proposed to you with.

You turned to the opposite side and you saw the section that was usually filled with Alexia’s hoodies was empty. This wasn’t possible, because it wasn’t like this yesterday.

Before Alexia moved in, she would usually spend a night or two and she would leave behind a hoodie. She did that often enough that you could fill up a space in the closet just for her hoodies. When she moved in, she didn’t have any hoodies left from her place because it was already all at your apartment.

But none of them were here anymore.

Suddenly, a shiver went up your spine and an odd feeling settled at the pit of your stomach. It was as if… you could remember why that rack was empty now… but it was like your brain didn’t want you to remember and you ended up with a blank memory.

You tried to shrug it off, but it was futile. The feeling stayed there, making you uncomfortable even in your own home. You decided to call Alexia. Talking to her always made you feel better.

As always, she picked up on the first ring. “Hola, amor.”

“Hi, Ale.”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, considering all the things that have happened so far and it’s not even noon, not really.”

“I’m sorry, I know this must be confusing for you.”

“But I feel better now that I get to hear your voice.”

“Always the charming one, aren’t you?”

“It’s a fact. Even with all this nonsense that’s happening, I still have you, so I’m all good.”

“About that…”

“What?”

“I love you, amor. I always will. I want you to know that.”

“I do. Of course I do know that, Ale.”

“Even if I’m not here, I still want you to be okay.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hypothetically speaking.”

“Was it really?”

“Why did you call me again?”

“Are you changing the subject?”

“No...”

“Don’t change the subject. What did you mean by that?”

“Y/N…”

“Everyone has been speaking as if their words contain a double meaning and it’s frustrating. Just tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“About this whole thing! I don’t know what else to do, Alexia. I tried looking for my engagement ring but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Just tell me what you know about why this is happening to me… Why is there a one month gap in my memory?”

“I’m not here.”

“What?”

“I’m not here, Y/N.”

“Alexia, what the hell are you talking about?”

“That night, the 31st of October. It really was one month ago. It wasn’t yesterday.”

“Are you saying I have amnesia?”

“No. I’m saying that you have to remember.”

“I can’t! God, if I could, I wouldn’t be stressed out like this!”

“I’ll help you. What time did we meet?”

“Six.”

“See, you remember.”

“Ale, I don’t see your point here. Of course I remember that night. It was yesterday.”

“Bear with me. What did we eat that night?”

“Italian.”

“Yup. We shared a pan of pizza—the one with pepperoni, my favourite.”

“I know.”

“What did I do that night?”

“Seriously? I don’t know why you’re asking all this.”

“I told you, to help you remember. This is the last one, I promise. What did I do that night?”

“You proposed.”

“I did. …It was the happiest moment of my life, you know? You, saying yes. I was nervous the whole night and I had this whole speech planned. Then you came and you looked so, so beautiful. Mi vida. You’d think that with all the years we spent together, I’d get used to how stunning you are.”

“Alexia…”

“I think I’ve always known that you would say yes if I proposed. You were never really subtle with your hints. But still, I was nervous. God, I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. When it was time to do it, the speech that I had been rehearsing in my head? It just flew out of the window. I was a stuttering mess and my words were all over the place. Yet, you still said yes.”

“Of course I did. I love you, Ale.”

“And I love you too. Always. You chose to be with me for the rest of my life, but things never turn out the way we want them to be, huh?”

“Alexia… You’re scaring me.”

“You’re going to remember now, and when you do, make the choice that you think is right, okay? I can’t make that choice for you, you have to decide on your own. Whatever it is that you’re going to choose, just know that I’ll always be there for you.”

—

31 October 2023

19:58

“Y/N L/N,” Alexia held your hand on the table, staring into your eyes. “I want to spend forever with you.”

Wait. Was she…?

“I can’t remember my speech,” she gave a nervous laugh. “It was a good one, I swear. But I guess I have to improvise now.”

You looked at her expectantly, your heart racing at the possibility of what she was about to do.

“You’re my soulmate, Y/N. I don’t… I don’t want anyone else but you. You’re it for me. You make me laugh, you make me cry sometimes,” she gave a lighthearted laugh and you rolled your eyes at her, a tear escaping to your cheek. “You make me so happy. I’m so crazy for you.”

She squeezed your hand and reached into the pocket of her blazer. She pulled out a black box and you gasped.

Oh my god.

She opened up the box and it revealed a ring inside. The ring was simple, just how you liked it. It was a silver band and a round diamond was placed on the centre.

You looked at her, back at the ring, and back at her—not quite believing it yet.

“Y/N,” Alexia continued. “I-I promise to love you with everything in me until my dying breath. I will love you the way you deserve to be loved—fearlessly, passionately and gently all at once.”

“Alexia…” you looked at her, tears freely falling down your face now. “If this is you improvising, I don’t know if I can handle your actual speech.”

She laughed and gave you a bashful smile. “Will you marry me? I’m proposing, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

You smiled at her, a huge ear-splitting grin. “Of course I will, Alexia. You’re the love of my life.”

Alexia looked at you with wide eyes, as if she was still trying to process your words.

“Aren’t you supposed to put the finger on my ring now?”

Alexia wiped a tear that escaped her eye and laughed. “Yeah. Yeah. I just—you really… You said ‘yes’ right?”

You leaned forward and captured her lips in yours. “I did, you dummy. It will always be ‘yes’.”

—

ale: I love you

y/n: I love you too, so much

y/n: drive safe, okay? text me when you get there

ale: will do

—

“It never came.”

“You remember now?”

“Your text… it never came. I spent hours waiting for your text, and I was dumb enough to just sit there and do nothing, when I knew it would only take you ten minutes to get to Alba’s.”

“It’s not your fault. It never was.”

“But… but you’re here. On the phone with me. I can hear your voice, Alexia.”

“I’m here, but I’m not really here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You can either stay here with me or leave. That’s the choice you have to make.”

“I don’t understand… What do you mean?”

“Just two simple choices, baby. Stay here with me or leave.”

“If I leave here, where would I go?”

“You know the answer to that. You’re smart.”

…

“So what’s your choice?”

“…I’m staying.”

“You’re staying?”

“I am. I’ll go wherever you are, Alexia, you know that.”

“I know… but I thought that…”

“I know you said that you’ll always be there for me for whichever choice I make, but why do I have a feeling that won’t be the case if I choose to leave?”

“Well, I could mean it in a metaphorical sense.”

“I don’t want metaphors, I want you. Always. I thought you knew that when you proposed to me.”

“Mi amor… I love you.”

“And I love you. Why does it seem like you don’t want me to stay?”

“Because… I know that it’s not the best choice for you.”

“I know what’s best for me. And that’s to stay. It’s final, I’m staying.”

“Okay. Meet me at our usual spot in the park in 20 minutes?”

“I’ll be there.”

—

1 November 2024

21:47

“Babe? Visiting hour is almost over.”

Ingrid turns to the source of the voice and sees her fiancé standing at the doorway. She nods and gives a melancholic smile. “We do this all the time, but it never gets easier. Why is that? Leaving her here, I mean.”

Mapi gulps and takes a step forward to Ingrid and to… you.

“I don’t want to leave her here, María.” Ingrid sighs.

Once Mapi is at the foot of the bed, she braces herself and looks up—towards the girl occupying the bed.

Mapi has always stared at anything but you. It’s been a year since that night, since everything fell apart, and Mapi misses you a lot.

You’re staring back at her, but she knows that you’re not seeing her.

That’s mostly why she hates looking at you. You, sick, pale-faced, and all alone in this hospital bed. Just a reminder that you’re not here with her anymore.

Because although you’re still here physically, every time Mapi stares into your eyes, it just shows that your mind is not—your blank stare confirming that you’re no longer emotionally present.

Mapi tears her eyes away from you and blinks back her tears. Ingrid’s right, it never gets easier.

Mapi clears her throat. “We should go.”

Ingrid looks at Mapi sympathetically. She knows how tough it is to lose not one, but two of their closest friends all in a snap.

Ingrid turns to you and stands up. She leans forward and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re going to go now, okay love?”

As always, there’s no answer.

“We’ll be back next month, don’t worry.”

Ingrid gulps and tries her hardest to not let out a cry right then and there, but the shakiness in her voice betrayed her. “We hope you’re better the next time we see you… Mapi and I are getting married soon, I just want you there next to us.”

“Ingrid…” Mapi walks over and stands next to Ingrid, squeezing her hand.

Ingrid wipes a tear that manages to escape. “I’m fine. And Y/N will be fine too.”

“She will.” Mapi whispers, looking at you, her voice wavering slightly. Mapi doesn’t know whether to believe her own words or not.

Mapi takes your hand with her free one and squeezes it, silently hoping that you can feel her touch, wherever you are, and that you can hear Mapi's silent plea for you to come back to reality.

Ingrid leans down and kisses your forehead. “Sleep tight, Y/N. We miss you so much.”

Ingrid steps back to give Mapi a chance to say her goodbyes.

Mapi holds the railing on the side of the bed and squats down so she is speaking directly to your ears. “Y/N… I know how much you love her, and I can’t imagine how painful it is that she’s not here anymore, but you have to come back to us. You have to…” Mapi trails off, her chest heaving with unshed sobs.

Ingrid places her hands on Mapi’s shoulder, slowly bringing her up. “Hey, come here,” Ingrid whispers, wrapping her fiancé in her embrace. “We’ll try again next month.”

Mapi sighs against Ingrid’s shoulder. “I know it must be tough, losing the love of your life—I don’t even want to imagine losing you,” Mapi leans back and takes another deep breath. “But it’s been too long. Where is she? I just want our friend back.”

Ingrid smiles regretfully. “We can’t force her to snap out of it if she doesn’t want to, my love.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We’ll be patient and wait for her here.”

“What if she won’t…” Mapi whispers, as if she’s afraid to speak those words. “What if she won't come back?”

“Then we let her go,” Ingrid places both her hands on Mapi’s cheeks, caressing them softly. “If that’s her choice, then we have to respect it.”

Mapi nods slowly. “I know. I just don’t know why that’s the choice she’s making.”

Ingrid shrugs. “Maybe she sees Alexia, wherever she is.”

“You think so?”

“Who knows?” Ingrid questions back.

Mapi lifts her hands up and places them over Ingrid’s. “I hope she’s happy then.”

“If Alexia is there, she’ll be happy.” Ingrid smiles wistfully. She turns her hands around, intertwining them with Mapi’s. “C’mon, let’s go. Don’t want to miss our flight.”

Mapi lets Ingrid drag her out of the room. She pauses just at the doorway and turns around to look at you one more time. You have your eyes closed now and Mapi can swear that she sees a faint smile gracing your lips.

Mapi can’t help but smile back. Maybe you’re with Alexia after all.

—

You arrived at the park exactly 20 minutes after your phone call with Alexia. She was there, at your bench, looking out at the lake.

You walked towards her and sat down, your shoulders brushing.

“You stayed.” Alexia stated.

You looked at her. Your beautiful Alexia. Her eyebrows were furrowed slightly, her lips pursed. “I did.”

She sighed and turned to look at you, staring at you with those eyes. “You have to be the one who decides, not me.”

You looked at her questioningly.

She turned back towards the lake. “There’s nothing I can do.”

You were confused. “Are you not happy with my decision?”

“I’m always happy to be with you, amor. You’re the love of my life.”

“Then?”

“You can’t blame me for being sad too, because of what the implications of you being here means.”

What was she even talking about?

Before you got the chance to ask, Alexia continued, “Let’s enjoy this moment,” she grabbed your hand in hers, stroking it softly. “It may be selfish of me, but I’m glad I get to spend another day with you.”

“What?” you still couldn't understand her. Alexia was being so vague. “I’m here, of course you get to spend the day with me. We have tomorrow, too. And the day after that. And so on. Until forever.”

“Sure, baby.” She smiled, although still not looking at me. “Until forever.”

You smiled back at her and placed a soft peck on her cheek, laying your head on her shoulder as you stared into the lake with her. It was a nice day, the sun was shining, although not too brightly—just perfect. The wind was a light breeze and you scooted closer to Alexia every time it blew.

“I love you, Ale.” you whispered. You really did and you wanted her to know it. If you could let her know every second of every day, you would.

The reply didn’t come in an instant, but it eventually did. “I love you, too.” You could feel her placing a kiss on the top of your head. “And it’s only because I love you that I hope you choose differently next time.”

—

a/n: let me know your thoughts!👻

#woso community #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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lucyblue101 · 1 day ago

Text

You get a message from your ex 😡

Satoru x reader

Satoru was sprawled out on the couch with you, one arm casually draped around your shoulders, the two of you enjoying a quiet evening together when your phone buzzed. Satoru glanced at it, reaching to pass it to you, but his eyes caught a glimpse of the message preview on the screen.

“I’m so sorry. I still love you.”

He froze, staring at the words for a second before his expression darkened. You reached for your phone, but he held it just out of your reach, a tense, dangerous look in his eyes that you rarely saw.

“What… the hell is this?” he asked, his voice low, dripping with a chilling calm that belied the anger simmering underneath. Before you could answer, he tapped on the message, his fingers swiftly moving to call the number. He pressed the phone to his ear, his grip tight, his jaw set in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

The phone rang once, twice, then your ex picked up on the other end. Satoru didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“Hey, it’s her boyfriend,” he said, his tone eerily polite, yet laced with a dangerous edge. “Yeah, the one she’s with right now. Let me make something clear—this is the last time I want to see your name on her phone. Oh, and they wouldn’t be able to go find your body because there wouldn’t be a body to find.”

A stammered reply came through, something like an attempt at an apology, but Satoru cut him off with a low, menacing chuckle. “No, don’t even bother. I’m not interested in whatever weak excuse you’re about to give. I’m interested in the fact that you thought it was okay to send that to my girlfriend.”

His voice dropped lower, his tone turning sharper. “You must be out of your mind if you think you have a chance. So let me make it painfully simple for you. Don’t call her. Don’t text her. Don’t even think about her again. Because if you do, I’ll find you. And you won’t like what happens when I do.”

There was a long, heavy silence on the other end, and you could almost feel your ex’s unease radiating through the phone.

Satoru’s smirk grew, cold and intimidating. “Good. Now delete her number, delete her messages, and make sure you get every little fantasy out of your head. Because I don’t repeat myself.”

He ended the call without another word, dropping your phone onto the couch with a look of grim satisfaction. Then, without missing a beat, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you snugly against his chest as if he hadn’t just terrified someone on the other end of the line.

“There,” he said, voice light again, though a touch of that possessiveness still lingered in his eyes. “All handled. Now, where were we?”

You stared up at him, somewhere between flustered and impressed. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

He laughed softly, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Oh, you could never be on my bad side, babe. It’s just that some people need a little… reminder of where they stand.” He gave you a cheeky grin, the darkness gone as he tucked you closer.

“Now,” he said, looking perfectly pleased with himself, “can we get back to our night? I’d much rather spend it cuddling you than dealing with some desperate idiot who doesn’t know when to let go.”

His arms wrapped around you tighter, and he leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No more distractions.”

But as he settled back into the comfort of your embrace, you could see a hint of vulnerability flicker in his eyes. “You know,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, “that made me a little sad. I think I need lots of kisses and affection now to feel better.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his bratty charm. “Is that so?”

He nodded earnestly, his playful demeanor returning. “Yeah, a whole lot. I need you to shower me with kisses—everywhere.”

With a teasing grin, you leaned in, starting with soft pecks on his lips, trailing kisses along his jawline, savoring the way his eyes fluttered shut with each touch. “You need all the love, huh?”

“Definitely,” he replied breathlessly, his cheeks flushing slightly as you kissed along his neck, making him giggle softly. “You’re too good to me.”

You continued your gentle assault of affection, peppering his skin with kisses, and soon enough, he was a giggling, flustered mess, unable to suppress his laughter as you lavished attention on him. “Okay, okay! I’m feeling much better now!” he managed to say between fits of laughter, pulling you closer. “But don’t stop! More kisses, please!”

You chuckled, fully enveloping him in your warmth, lost in the sweetness of the moment as you showered him with all the love he deserved.

Taglist (if you wanna be on it just let me know 🤭)

@canigotosleep--plz

@haruhatake

Let me know what everyone thinks :)

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flemingology · 1 day ago

Text

Too Hot to Handle | Jessie Fleming x Reader

In which: Jessie and you get a little too rough beneath the sheets, with consequences to follow

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), dirty talk, language, mentions of injury but nothing too major

WC: 3.5K

A/N: based on a request I got. Hope you enjoy!

Divider: @cafekitsune

“You looked great tonight,” Jessie said, closing the door of your shared apartment behind her. You turned your body back towards your girlfriend and walked towards her, her arms circling around your waist and head finding solace on your shoulder. “Thank you, baby. So did you. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you half the time.”

Jessie and you had just returned from the end-of-season event organized by the Thorns. Every player and their plus one were invited, so naturally you accompanied your girlfriend. You both dressed up nicely, you wearing a dark green dress Jessie had recently gotten you, the midfielder wearing a matching dark green pair of suit pants with a white button shirt to top it off. You’d received quite a few compliments from teammates and partners on your outfits throughout the night.

“Neither could I. It’s a miracle we made it through without a bathroom break,” your girlfriend chuckled before she disentangled herself from you. “You want some water before we go upstairs?” you nodded, following your girlfriend into the kitchen. The room was quiet. Nothing could be heard apart from the faint buzzing of the fridge and the water that Jessie let run while she filled both of your glasses. Portland had long gone to sleep, the clock nearing 2 by the time the both of you had made it back to your apartment. Neither of you had anticipated to be out this late, having an appointment in the morning for a house viewing. You could feel your eyes getting drowsy.

“Here. Drink this and then we can get some sleep,” Jessie pushed one of the glasses she filled in your hands and ushered you to get it down. Designated driver as usual, Jessie hadn’t drank any alcohol tonight. You, on the other hand, had a few glasses and you could feel it. You weren’t anywhere near drunk, but you knew you’d have a headache in the morning if you didn’t drink some water now. Jessie had already made her way upstairs while you were checking the lights and locks.

You made a quick stop in the bathroom to wash off your make-up and a shortened skin-care routine, and grabbed a couple painkillers from the medicine cabinet before you emerged into the bedroom. “God, you look good,” you slightly jumped at the sudden voice breaking the silence, turning your body towards Jessie and tilting your head. “Thank you, baby,” you couldn’t hide the blush that coated your cheeks, your feelings slightly heightened with the alcohol you consumed earlier still coursing through your body.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, you know. I feel like I’ve said it about a dozen times tonight, but you look incredible in a suit,” you confessed, crossing the little distance between the two of you. Jessie had unbuttoned the first few buttons on her shirt but hadn’t undressed further. You leant your head down and pressed a tender kiss on the exposed skin of her chest. You didn’t miss the slight hitch in her breath at the feel of your lips against her body. You came back up and looked at her with a glint in your eye, one that she’d grown to know all too well.

“It’s late, baby. We shouldn’t be doing any of the things you have going on in your mind right now,” Jessie said. You sighed in mock annoyance, both because she was onto you without even saying a word and because she was already turning things down before they had even started. You tried your luck anyway, tracing your index finger over the exposed skin where she had unbuttoned her shirt. “Are you sure?”

Jessie closed her eyes and tried to ground herself, taking a deep breath in through her nose before speaking. “You know what you’re doing to me,” she breathed. You frowned in confusion and cocked an eyebrow at your girlfriend before you replied. “You’re not getting worked up over this, are you? That’s pathetic, Jess”, you said, knowing the slight hint of degradation in your voice would only work her up even further.

She opened your eyes and you noticed how their color had darkened, her pupils blown with what was obviously lust. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this. It was past 2, after all, and you had to be up early in the morning. You’d scold yourselves over it if you didn’t go to bed right now, but the thrill was growing to be too much – the few glasses of alcohol you had throughout the night not helping your self-control by any means.

Before you could speak up and tease her further, the Canadian surged forward and pressed her lips against yours, hard. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” she mumbled against your lips before you opened yours, allowing her tongue to slide into your mouth to which you let out a soft gasp. “I don’t hear you complaining, Fleming.”

Jessie took the reins in the kiss, pushing the two of you until the back of your knees hit the mattress, carefully lowering the both of you down as she hovered over you, holding herself up on her arms. Kissing Jessie never got old. She knew what you liked and didn’t like and knew how to get you completely at her mercy with barely a few brushes of her lips against yours.

Despite having only just started, you could feel the wetness between your legs growing to a near-uncomfortable level. On another day, you might’ve felt slightly embarrassed at how easy it was for Jessie to get you soaked, but you couldn’t care less at this moment in time. “Jess,” you breathed, a soft whimper escaping your throat as you pressed a hand against your girlfriend’s chest to break the kiss. “I need you,” you said matter-of-factly.

A sly grin formed on Jessie’s face and she got up quickly, ridding her of the rest of her clothes, leaving herself in her underwear before she turned back to you. “Get up baby, I’ll help take off your dress,” you quickly followed Jessie’s instructions as she let her hands roam all over your back before she undid your zipper and the piece of clothing pooled at your feet. “You look incredible, I hope you know that.”

Jessie circled her arms around your waist and you did the same around her neck, playing with the baby hairs that didn’t manage to make it in her ponytail. With Jessie, you were never short of praise. Whether it was about how you looked, how something suited you, how you were doing at work, she always made sure that you knew just how much she loved you, that you never had any lingering doubts about her or your relationship. “Mhmm,” you mumbled, pressing your forehead against hers. You liked the change in pace, compared to earlier. No rushing to get each other’s clothes off, just reveling in the love and adoration you had for one another. “You’ve told me a couple times, yeah”, you accentuated your words with a fleeting kiss against Jessie’s slightly chapped lips. You made a mental note to buy some more chapstick on your next grocery run. The remnants of the couple drinks earlier had now finally worn off, no longer feeling tipsy. “I’m never, ever, getting enough of you, darling,” Jessie whispered. “Well, I’d hope so, because you’re stuck with me, Jess.”

The midfielder chuckled and closed her eyes, brushing her nose against yours. “Wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else”, Jessie let her hands wander back to your front and inched them upwards until she reached your bra. She traced the outline of the garment with her index finger, silently asking for permission to take it off. You nodded, blowing out a breath you didn’t know you were keeping in. Jessie’s arms circled around you once more, now to expertly unclasp your bra behind your back and letting it fall to the ground, bunching together with your dress that was discarded earlier. “You too?” you questioned, forever slightly insecure whenever you were the only one – almost – naked in the bedroom.

You missed Jessie’s body heat the second she took a step away from you, sliding the sports bra she was wearing over her head and throwing it on the growing pile of clothes near the edge of the bed. “Better?” she questioned with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Jessie stepped back towards you and embraced you once more, seemingly not able to get enough of your body pressing against hers. You nodded, pressing a kiss against her exposed shoulder. “I wanna make love to you,” Jessie whispered in your ear. You looked up at her with a look full of love. Your cheeks now coated in a darker shade of red, blushing at the earnestness in her voice, you bit your lip. “Please do,” Jessie brushed her thumb across your bottom lip before kissing it softly, taking your hand and leading you back to the bed.

You propped yourself up against the pillows, getting comfortable. You forgot about the time, about your appointment tomorrow morning, all the valid reasons why you shouldn't be doing this, and why you definitely shouldn't be dragging it out at all. But with the way Jessie spoke to you earlier, the way she handled your body with care and looked at you like you hung the moon and the stars, you wanted nothing more than to be intimate with her.

Your girlfriend settled between your legs and started peppering kisses all over your face and down your neck, switching between her tongue, teeth and lips, making your head dizzy with pleasure. She whispered sweet nothings in your ear every time she came back up, nipping on your earlobe in the process – something she knew would drive you wild. Before long, she slid further down your body and started pressing kisses against the exposed skin of your boobs. She let her tongue glide over one of your nipples before taking it in her mouth, sucking lightly as she pinched the other between her thumb and index finger. The action had you growing restless and you pressed your thighs against each other, something Jessie didn't fail to notice.

"Getting worked up, baby?" She knew what the answer was, but she loved to hear it from you firsthand. "Yeah," you breathed, finally being able to form a coherent sentence as you were given some reprieve by Jessie. "You're making me feel so good," you finished your sentence, locking eyes with Jessie. An earnest smile – it leant towards cocky – grew on her face, before she ducked her head again and continued her assault on your chest. Her licking and sucking on your nipples were a little less coordinated now, you could feel that she too was getting worked up.

A couple more moments went by, her attention shared between your nipples, before Jessie moved further down your body and tapped your hips, signaling you to lift them from the bed. You did so, and your girlfriend slid your underwear down your body, leaving you completely naked in bed. Your earlier comment in mind, she too stepped out of her boxers and made sure you didn't feel conscious about your naked state. She found her spot back between your legs, using her own to spread them. She looked up at you with a glint in her eye. "How do you want me?"

"Can I have your fingers, please? They feel so good inside of me," you bat your eyelashes at Jessie, teasing her a little further. You heard a groan escape her lips and you knew you had her where you wanted, sitting up and pulling her in a passionate kiss before she could even start thinking about her next move. Your lips moved in unison, all tongue and teeth as you tried to pull her impossibly closer to you. "Your fingers, Jess, please," you whimpered the last part in her ear and could feel the goosebumps rising on the back of her neck.

"Anything my lady wants, she gets," Jessie quipped back, before moving back down your body and nestling herself in between your spread legs. She pressed a couple lingering kisses against the insides of your thighs, taking her sweet time before she directed her face to where you wanted her. Jessie decided to tease you a little further, blowing a little air towards your core, which was drenched. "Jess," you said sternly, "please."

She let out a chuckle, but decided not to have you waiting any longer, pressing her tongue flat against your folds, before she licked up a long stripe from your hole up to the sensitive bundle of nerves that was sitting atop your folds, aching to be touched. She sucked and licked expertly at the nub, leaning her head down every now and then to gather some arousal on her tongue that was leaking out of your entrance. You were soaked by now, a moaning mess, and Jessie was sure you would be able to take about anything she wanted to give you.

She manoeuvred her body in a way that she could prop up her arm between your legs, using 2 of her fingers to gather a bit of arousal at your entrance before spreading it all over your folds. "Fuck, Jess," you whimpered, "that feels so good." "I know, baby, I know. Let it all out for me, mkay?" You nodded, leaning your head back into the pillows and your back arching as you felt Jessie teasing your entrance. "Please, please, I need you."

"What do you need, darling?" Jessie teased, pushing her fingers inside of you, no further than a couple centimeters. "Do you need this?" You squeezed the hand you were holding that wasn't holding your thighs apart, trying to form a coherent sentence. "Y-yes," another jolt of arousal coursing through you as Jessie pushed every so slightly deeper. "Fuck, Jess, I need you inside of me, please, I've been so good."

With that, Jessie filled you to the hilt. She pushed inside of you until her knuckles hit your folds, and curled her fingers to reach that spongey spot inside of you. Your back arched at the feeling, a loud moan escaping your lips as you felt the delicious curl of Jessie's thick fingers. Jessie bit her lip as she saw your blissed out expression, a frown etched on your face and your lips forming an 'O' while Jessie pushed her fingers in and out of you.

Her digits filled you deliciously and before you had the chance to register her movements, you felt her tongue licking through your folds again. The added pleasure was sending your head spiraling, no longer able to contain your moans. You were sure you were being way too loud, disturbing the neighbors at this ungodly time, but you couldn't care less right now, not when Jessie's fingers were plunging inside of you and her tongue was making you see stars.

Before you could grasp the feeling that was building in your stomach, Jessie pulled her fingers out of you. A whine got caught in your throat as you were about to complain about the empty feeling, but Jessie was back on you in a second. Her tongue was now stretching you out, digging inside of you deliciously. Her thumb started circling your clit, pressing down firmly on the sensitive nub. You let out a cry at the sensations that were overwhelming you, the added pleasure from her fingers on your clit almost sending you hurtling over the edge.

"Fuck, Jess, please don't stop, you're making me feel so good," you whimpered, tangling your fingers in her hair as she moved her tongue in and out of you. Suddenly, Jessie freezed, her tongue stilling inside of you and her thumb stopping its circular motion. You swore you could see a wince etched across her face, but you didn't manage to give it any mind because as you went to ask if she was okay, she continued her ministrations and you were back on the edge as soon as quick as you'd fallen off it earlier.

"Cum for me, baby, cum all over my tongue," Jessie said, giving your thigh a harsh squeeze as you locked your legs around her head, feeling the coil in your belly snap at the overwhelming pleasure Jessie was giving you. You arched your back off the bed and moaned her name loudly, biting your lip as you tried to keep the profanities in. A couple moments later, you started coming down from your orgasm and Jessie started slowing her actions, before pulling away from your core altogether.

The Canadian had a goofy grin etched on her face, her chin slick with your arousal. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a mess, courtesy of the way your thighs rubbed against her head as she was eating you out. Despite everything, you could tell something was off. Jessie climbed up your body and plopped down next to you, her head resting on her chest as you tried to catch your breath. She hadn't said a word ever since you came and you were growing quite self-conscious about the whole situation.

"Jess, are you okay?" you tried, raking your fingers through her curls, scratching at her scalp with your nails in the meantime. She gave you nothing more than a nod and a hum, not doing anything to ease your worries. You lifted her chin with your front and middle finger, forcing her to look at you. You leant in and pressed a soft kiss against her lips, one that grew a little heated rather quickly. Despite the orgasm, you were still feeling quite worked up. One of your hands found the back of her neck and the other cupped her cheek, deepening the kiss. You slid your tongue across Jessie's bottom lip, asking for silent permission to enter her mouth, but you were confused as the Canadian kept her lips pursed. You tried again, but to no avail.

You pulled away abruptly. "Jess, what's wrong? Don't lie to me." You knew something was up, Jessie wasn't one to refuse a kiss, definitely not after she had just made you cum. She always claimed that she loved it when she knew you could taste herself on her lips and her tongue. In the darkness of the room, you could still make out the blush that crept onto Jessie's cheeks. She opened her mouth a couple times, searching for the right words to say. "Babe, I-" she hissed, closing her mouth again with a wince. "I think I tore something in my mouth," she mumbled, trying to talk without opening her mouth too much.

You sat up straight and cocked an eyebrow at her. "Tore something?" you exclaimed, not sure what she was going at. "Yeah," she breathed, "right before you came, I felt like something tore in my mouth," you started getting worried, a frown etched on your face as Jessie explained what she felt. "But don't worry, I think I've read about this." Of course. If there was one certainty in life, it was Jessie doing research about quite literally everything. So it didn't come as a surprise to you, that somehow she knew what this was. "It's the tongue frenulum. I've read stories from a couple queer couples where it happened before. Apparently, some people even get it surgically removed because it's too much of a bother."

You chuckled, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. "My Goodness, Jess, did you really tear a part of your tongue while eating me out?" You smiled brightly at her, trying to lighten up the situation, but you could tell that she was actually hurting quite bad. "I think so...," she trailed off, digging her head in her chest. "I'm sorry, love, I can imagine it's not a very nice feeling."

Jessie breathed you in and lifted her head back up to meet yours. "Yeah, no, it's not nice. I hope it's not something that lingers, because I can assure you that there is no way I can use my tongue right now. It hurts to move it." You knew what Jessie was pointing at, she didn't want it to be a bother for your sex life.

You tried to come up with something that would make her feel a bit better about herself. "Hey, Jess," you booped her nose, "you made me feel very good, though. And I think this injury is nothing but a testament to just how good you can make me feel." You leaned in closer to her, whispering the next part in her ear. "You fuck me so good, always." You felt her body tense up at your words, grinning at yourself as you realized your words pulled the exact reaction out of her that you wanted.

"Well, I certainly hope that this pain subsides quickly so I can fuck you again, and again, and again," she accentuated every word with a kiss, earning a blush from you. "I love you so much," you said earnestly, pressing a soft kiss against Jessie's lips. "But if this means that I can't properly kiss you anymore, you better get that thing surgically removed, and quick."

#woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #canada wnt #portland thorns

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amazinglyashy · 1 day ago

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hi! First of all - i love the way u write omg😭 i basically went through all your posts last evening and today hahah (procrastinating at it’s finest😌) Second - i wanna request a prompt, but i dunno if it’s too close to the one where ‘reader tells the lads boys that she’s too heavy for them’? if so, just ignore this!🫡💗

If not - could you write something about the boys finding out that reader/mc used to have bulimia(/or unspecified ed) and that she’s quietly struggling again, but not telling them? Maybe something angsty/comforting?

Trigger warning - This involves talk about eating disorders. Please use discretion when reading! Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! That means so much, because I used to write a lot years ago but stopped for a long time. I only got back into it recently, so the love I've been receiving has really done a positive number to my confidence. Thank you, lovely <3 I don't think it's possible for me to NOT write this request, because I'm a long time ED sufferer, and I am currently experiencing a harsh relapse unfortunately... You read me like a book, because 'Too Heavy' was a direct reference to that. It's hard, because it's such an invisible problem that oftentimes you suffer alone. Thank you for the request, hopefully I did it some justice, and for you or anyone who may relate to this post. (Also wrote this while listening to Lullaby - Jhameel on repeat. Give it a listen!)

Love and Deepspace Li's find out about your ED (and your current struggle)

Zayne -

The moment he finds out you live with an ED, he's down at the library finding any books he can, and researching as much as possible throughout the hospital and his old college's database.

He's also finding patient testimonials that have been released, so he can find the most compassionate approach that would help you without causing you any more harm than you already are experiencing at the hands of your own mind.

"I found a new restaurant I want to try. Apparently, they make a certain dish really well, I think we should try it together while we go over the latest mission you wished to tell me about."

He knows what you like, so it makes it easy for him to order things to share together places and ensure you're eating.

He will go out to eat every single day if he needs to, that's not any issue to him. Neither is sharing foods or cooking meals that he knows you love, even if they're not particularly his favorite.

He tries not to talk to you much about it, but does his best to be encouraging and nothing more whenever the subject of professional help comes up.

When you start opening up even more to him, he's all ears, and he's exceedingly careful about his choices of words, like he always is, but even more so now. The last thing he wants is to speak a trigger, especially when he's so focused on helping you get better.

He knows it never truly goes away, your disorder. But that's not an issue. It's more... a fact of being with you. And just like you take his problems and disabilities, he will take every single one of yours as well.

In stride, and with love.

Xavier -

He caught on, mostly because he found it strange that one moment you had eaten every single snack in the cupboard, and the next he heard, you hadn't eaten anything all day. He was wondering if it was something he was just unaware of, but-

Quickly finds out what exactly is going on after a few times of this happening. He was worried it was some strange habit, and now he's even more worried finding out it's been something you've been dealing with for quite a while.

He's upset, to say the least. But he'll keep that to himself.

He just wants to help you now.

He'll ask if there's anything that you feel like sharing with him on how to best help you, and there's definitely a note somewhere on his phone with a list of things you told him. If he can do any of them daily, he will. Anything else is always on his mind.

He doesn't let it get in the way of your day to day, though. You still play games together like normal, read together, and go the arcade whenever you both have the opportunity to win some more plushies for your hoards. He's always conscious about his own comments and behavior, but he doesn't ever let it seem like he's keeping an eye on you or trying to supervise you.

The tightrope of trusting you and helping you deal with your disorder is a thin one, and Xavier dances along it with grace.

No matter what, being around him is a comfort. Whether you're having a good day, or a bad day.

Sylus -

He's pretty internally frustrated when he first find out about it, but he doesn't let it show.

It has nothing to do with you or anything you did. He's just used to... having everything under control. For every problem to have a solution solved easily with money, force, or some compassion.

This is something he can't control.

And he hates it.

Aside from that, Sylus is like a light in the dark.

He had a list of trusted professionals to help you, should you want, and multiple of them at that- just in case you don't feel comfortable with the first one or three.

Any food you genuinely like to eat is available at all times, it does not matter if it is three in the morning. Are you wanting it? Nice, it's right there on your plate.

The frequency of which you see him increases, including the twins, despite both situations being... vastly different.

Where he takes you out for dinners at new and gorgeous restaurants, including ones feature in your favorite media or having special events for a game you like- the twins are throwing bags of snacks at you and yelling at you to throw pieces into their mouths and so they can do the same to you.

You will learn Sylus did not ask them to do this, in fact he explicitly told them not to do that.

It's pretty obvious though, they were worried about Sylus. And not just him, but you too.

Probably because of how much Sylus has been concerned about you, even if just in secret.

He doesn't want his feelings to make you feel anything but loved, so prepare for a speech the second you feel any kind of guilty. You're not getting out of this one.

Not until you know how much he cares about you, no matter what.

Rafayel -

The way he treats it is extremely encompassing. The way he sees it, is if you're sad or not doing too hot mentally, it's going to affect every part of your brain, including the parts that make you feel the way you do with your ED.

Driving you somewhere? He's playing upbeat music pounding out of the speakers of his sports car, singing along goofily or making up new words. You haven't eaten in a long time? Too bad, suddenly he's hungry and wants a snack. In fact, he wants a snack every couple of hours. If you binged and feel like dying, he'll be offering you water and any distraction he can to get your mind off of your appearance or the guilt of your binge.

He will spend more of his own free time at the gym if he needs to to work off any extra weight he gains just to help you eat, if eating with him is what helps you and he doesn't want you to see him change and feel guilty over it. He doesn't care.

Constant, constant praise with him. It is not about your appearance, unless it's something you can change. Clothing you picked out, the way your makeup looks today, a hairstyle you did to yourself, etc. So many compliments on your achievements or work, all with a sweet smile across his face.

If it's really bad, he'll paint you gorgeous works in different sizes, that are conveniently perfectly sized to display directly over any mirrors in your apartment.

Whatever you need, he's on it.

He'll be there for you no matter your highs or your lows.

#.writey #love and deepspace #lads #lds #x reader #lnds #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #tw ed #tw ed discussion #trigger warning

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jetii · 3 days ago

Text

Too Sweet

Part One | Part Two | Part Four

Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader / Fox x Doctor!Reader

Words: 6,514/25,758

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, strangers to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, Fox is a little anxious/paranoid, and he needs a hug, this chapter is more dark/intense than the others oopsie, smut in part 4

Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities.

A/N: Sorry in advance for Thorn and the sads. I'll make it up to you next part. 💙

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

The next few weeks are a blur.

Fox is pulled in so many directions that he can barely keep up. Between the Senate meetings, the riots, the constant flow of paperwork, and the barrage of complaints from his brothers, it's a miracle he's able to sleep at all.

But the time he spends talking to you is a bright spot in an otherwise dreary existence.

It's a welcome relief, and he finds himself looking forward to your messages, eagerly anticipating each new one. You're funny, and thoughtful, and you're able to get him to open up, which is something that hasn't happened in a long time. It's strange, and a little scary, but he can't bring himself to stop, and the longer it goes on, the more he feels like he's starting to slip.

He knows that you're only talking to him because of the grant, and the thought that you could be using him makes his stomach churn. But he doesn't think you would, and the fact that you seem genuinely interested in his well-being is something that he can't ignore. You always ask him how he's doing, if he's getting any sleep, and your concern is obvious, and yet, it still catches him off guard. He's not used to being cared for, and the way you treat him, like he matters, like he's human, is so different than anything he's ever experienced before.

Fox doesn't tell his brothers about you. He's not sure why, but the thought of telling anyone about his friendship with you makes him nervous. There's something special, something fragile, about what you have, and he doesn't want anyone to ruin it.

But, the secret doesn't last long.

One of the guard squadrons is ambushed during a routine patrol, and Thorn is caught in the crossfire. When Fox gets the report, he immediately heads for the med center, and when he gets there, he sees a group of troopers gathered outside the entrance. They're talking quietly amongst themselves, and they all look nervous. One of the men sees him and waves him over, a grim expression on his face.

"What happened?" Fox asks, his heart sinking. "Is he okay?"

"He's stable," Burst replies, and Fox lets out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. "But they won't let us see him."

"They won't?"

"No, sir," he sighs. "Something about hospital policy."

Fox frowns, a cold fury filling him. The fact that they would deny his brothers, his family, the chance to see their brother is infuriating, and the idea that Thorn was sitting in the medical ward, alone and hurt, makes his blood boil.

"I'll take care of it," Fox says, and Burst nods, looking relieved.

He pushes past the group, his fists clenched, and walks inside, heading straight for the front desk. The nurse looks up at him, his expression blank, and the look on his face must be enough, because his eyes widen, and he sits up.

"How may I—"

"Thorn," he growls. "Where is he?"

"I'm sorry, but we have a strict no visitors policy," the nurse says. His voice is calm, but his fingers are tapping on the desk, and the action betrays his nerves. "I can't—"

"Show me where he is," Fox demands. His voice is low, and the troopers behind him shift uncomfortably.

"Commander," the nurse says, a note of panic in his voice. "Please, calm down. If you'd just—"

"No," he interrupts, leaning over the desk. The nurse recoils, and Fox can see the fear in his eyes. Good. He should be afraid. If he didn't show him where Thorn was, he'd—

“Fox.”

The sound of your voice cuts through the red haze in his mind, and he pauses, turning towards you. Your eyes are wide, and there's a concerned crease between your brows. The sight of you, the way you're looking at him, brings him back to his senses, and he pulls back, taking a deep breath.

"What's going on?" you ask, frowning.

"I need to see Thorn," Fox says, his tone sharp. He doesn't mean to take his anger out on you, but the frustration is still there, simmering beneath the surface, and he can't seem to let it go. "They won't let me."

"He's not allowed any visitors," you explain softly. You glance at the nurse, and she nods, scurrying off. "He's in intensive care."

"I don't care," Fox snaps. He's tired, and the stress is making his temper short, and the last thing he wants is to get into an argument with you. "I'm not leaving until I see him."

"Fox." You walk over to him, and he feels his resolve weaken. There's a look in your eyes, something pleading, that makes his chest tighten, and he can't ignore it. You reach out and take his hand, squeezing gently. "I know you're worried, but please, trust me. I'm not keeping you from him. I would never do that."

The anger slowly fades, and the tension drains from his body.

"I know," he mutters.

"He's stable," you say. Your grip on his hand tightens, and the contact is reassuring. "He'll be okay. I promise."

Fox nods, his shoulders slumping. He's not sure what he was expecting, but the truth of your words hits him hard. You're not lying. You would never lie to him, and the fact that he had doubted you, even for a moment, leaves him feeling sick.

"Can I at least check on him?" he asks. "Make sure he's..."

"It's against protocol, but..." You trail off, biting your lip, and then give him a small smile. "Just a few minutes."

"Thank you," he breathes.

"Come on," you say, tugging on his hand. "He's in the surgical ward."

He lets you lead him down the hallway, passing the group of troopers as you do. They watch the two of you go, and Fox knows that the rumor mill is going to be buzzing tomorrow. The thought makes him cringe, but the knowledge that Thorn was alive, and safe, is all he can focus on.

"I'm sorry," Fox mutters as the two of you walk. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."

"It's okay," you say, shaking your head. "You were worried."

"Still." He glances down at your joined hands, and he can't help but wonder why you haven't let go. The thought of it being because you enjoy the contact, because you like touching him, is absurd, but the thought lingers.

"You don't have to apologize," you say, squeezing his hand. "I know how you feel."

"Oh, really?" Fox raises an eyebrow. "How many times have you threatened the staff?"

"Well, I haven't had the pleasure, but I can't say that the thought hasn't crossed my mind," you tease.

"You, threatening someone?" he snorts. "I doubt that."

"You'd be surprised."

You come to a stop outside a set of double doors, and you swipe a card through the reader. The doors slide open, and you step inside, pulling him with you.

The ward is quiet, and the sterile smell of bacta assaults his nose. He wrinkles his nose, and you smile, your fingers twitching around his. The movement is subtle, but he notices, and he gives you a small smile in return.

"This is him," you murmur, stopping in front of a door.

You press a button on the control panel, and the door slides open, revealing a dimly lit room. A bed is pushed up against the wall, and there's a machine hooked up to a figure laying on it. Fox's breath catches, and he lets go of your hand, stepping inside. The door closes behind him, and he stands there, staring at the form of his brother.

Thorn's armor is gone, and his chest is covered in bandages. His face is pale, and his hair is matted with blood, and the sight is enough to make Fox's throat tighten. He's still alive, but he looks so small, so fragile, that Fox has to resist the urge to reach out and shake him, to wake him from whatever nightmare he's trapped in.

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I should've warned you."

"It's fine," he whispers, and the words are almost lost in the silence of the room.

He turns to look at you, and the sympathy in your eyes is enough to break him. He lets out a shaky breath, the tension draining out of him and leaving him feeling hollow. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, his vision is blurry, and the tears spill over. He tries to wipe them away, but they keep coming, and he turns away, ashamed.

You don't say anything, but your hand finds his, and you squeeze, your thumb rubbing circles into his skin. It's a simple gesture, but it means so much, and Fox lets himself lean into you, just a little, letting your warmth ground him.

The two of you stand there, silent, listening to the beeping of the machines. The room is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of sheets, and the only light comes from the monitors and the glow from the hallway. It's peaceful, in a way, but Fox knows it's a temporary reprieve, a brief respite from the chaos. As soon as he leaves, he'll be back in the fray, dealing with the riots, the protests, the Senate. And without Thorn, things will be even more difficult.

"It'll be okay," you murmur, your voice soft.

Fox doesn't reply. He can't.

"Fox."

He looks down at you, his expression grim. Your eyes are wide, your brows furrowed, a hint of concern on your face. You squeeze his hand, as if trying to comfort him, but he pulls away, the gesture too intimate, too close.

"He'll be okay," you insist, your tone gentle.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks, his voice breaking.

He's tired, exhausted, the weight of his duties pulling him down, dragging him into a darkness that he can't escape. He's lost so many brothers already, the loss of one more would be unbearable, and he can't help but wonder if he's cursed, if his luck is finally running out.

"I know," you say, and there's an edge to your voice that surprises him. "Trust me."

Fox swallows thickly and nods. You reach out, your hand cupping his cheek. The touch is light, but the gesture is meaningful, and his heart skips a beat. Your eyes meet his, and your gaze is filled with such conviction, such strength, that he can't look away. "I won't let him."

"Okay," Fox murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

The two of you lapse into silence again, and Fox can't seem to tear his eyes away from you. There's something different about the way you're looking at him, something that he can't quite name, and it leaves him feeling raw and exposed.

He knows you're not lying, but the thought that you could possibly care so much about him is terrifying. You're so warm, so kind, so sweet, and he doesn't understand how someone like you could ever be interested in him. And yet, the way you're looking at him, the concern written on your face, tells him that it's true.

Fox reaches up and covers your hand with his, pressing it closer. You smile, and the sadness in your eyes melts away, replaced by a warmth that fills him with hope. He takes a step closer, and you close the distance between you, your body pressed against his. His free hand finds its way to your hip, and the two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms. It's comforting, and Fox lets his eyes fall closed, savoring the moment.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice cracking. He knows he should let go, that it's probably inappropriate for him to be so close to you, but he can't bring himself to move, and you don't seem to mind. Your hand moves from his cheek to his neck, your fingers lightly stroking his skin, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

"Anytime," you murmur.

The two of you pull back, and the loss of contact makes his heart ache, but the look on your face is enough to soothe him. You smile at him and then step away, walking over to the bed. You check the monitors and smooth out the sheets. “He should be awake in a few days. I'll let you know when."

He clears his throat and nods. "Thanks."

"Do you want me to escort you out?"

"No, no, I can find my way."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay." You give him a small smile, and his chest tightens.

"I'll see you around," he says, and the words feel inadequate, but they're the only ones he can think of.

"You will." You hesitate, and then lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Take care of yourself, Commander."

"I'll try," he murmurs. He gives you a small smile, and then heads for the door, his mind racing. When the door closes behind him, he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The scent of lavender lingers in the air, and the warmth of your lips on his cheek is like a brand. He lifts a hand and brushes his fingers against the spot, his stomach fluttering.

When he turns to leave, the men outside the room are nowhere to be found, and he lets out a sigh.

So much for secrecy.

"Well, well, well, looks like the commander has a new girlfriend."

Fox looks up, his eyes narrowing. Thire is leaning against the door frame, a grin on his face. Behind him, Stone is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

"What are you talking about?" Fox asks, his tone flat.

"Word around the barracks is that you're sweet on a nurse," Thire teases, and he winks at him. "A cute one, too, by the sounds of it."

Fox bristles, offended on your behalf. It had been three days since the incident at the medical center, and Thorn was doing better. You'd been true to your word, and you'd kept him updated on his condition, sending him daily messages about his progress. Fox hadn't expected anything, but the fact that you'd kept your promise, and the fact that you seemed to genuinely care about his brother's wellbeing, was touching. He wasn't used to people keeping their word, and the gesture was more meaningful than you probably realized.

“She’s a doctor," Fox mutters, returning his attention to the report in front of him. "And she's not my girlfriend.”

"That's not what Thorn’s men are saying," Stone comments. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. "You were awfully cozy with her."

"It was nothing."

"You held hands, Commander."

"We were—" Fox breaks off, his face heating up. You’d held hands, hadn't you? You'd touched him, held him, and he'd let you, had wanted you to. He shakes his head. "She was being nice. She let me see Thorn."

"So, the rumors aren't true?" Thire asks, raising an eyebrow. "You're not sleeping with her?"

"No," Fox scoffs. The idea is ridiculous. Him? Sleeping with someone like you? That would never happen. You were too sweet, too kind, and the thought of you with someone like him, someone cold and harsh and damaged, was ludicrous. "She's a friend."

"Right," Stone mutters, exchanging a knowing look with Thire. "A friend."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Thire says, smirking. “Just that you've been spending a lot of time with her lately."

"So?"

"So, she must be pretty special."

"She is," Fox snaps. He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, and he quickly turns away, staring intently at the report on his desk. The words blur, and he frowns, his brows knitting together.

Special. Was that what you were? To him? You'd certainly been a bright spot in his life, a ray of sunshine through the storm clouds that were constantly hovering over his head. You were kind, and warm, and gentle, and the thought of you, and the way you made him feel, was something he was starting to crave.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"Shit," Fox murmurs, closing his eyes.

He'd never felt like this before. He'd never had time for relationships, never had the opportunity, and he'd always assumed that the feelings he'd heard his brothers describe, the butterflies and the warmth and the longing, were exaggerations. But now, faced with the realization that they might be real, he wasn't sure what to do.

He was in trouble. Big trouble.

“Shit."

"Something wrong?" Thire asks, and his voice is filled with amusement.

"No," Fox snaps, glaring at him. "Just go away."

"Sure, boss," Thire chuckles.

Stone smirks and winks at him, and the two of them turn and leave.

Fox sighs, dropping his head into his hands. He'd been trying to avoid this, trying to avoid thinking about the warmth in his chest whenever he talked to you, the way his stomach fluttered whenever you smiled at him, the way his skin tingled when you touched him. Physical attraction was one thing, but this...this was different. And it was a complication he didn't need.

His comm beeps, and he picks it up, his stomach dropping when he sees who it is. He presses a button, and a holo-image of you appears. You're wearing your scrubs, and there's a smile on your face that makes his heart race.

"Hey," you greet, giving him a small wave.

"Hi," he manages.

"I just wanted to let you know that Thorn's going to be discharged tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah," you say, and the smile on your face grows. "He's doing great. We think he'll make a full recovery."

“Get me out of here, Fox!” a familiar voice yells. Fox scowls as the projection widens to show Thorn sitting up in his bed beside you, a wide grin on his face. The bandages are gone, and he looks healthy, if not a little tired. "I'm going stir crazy."

"Thorn, you need to rest," you scold, and you push his face away, but not before Fox catches a glimpse of the darkened shade of your cheeks.

Thorn winks at him, and a wave of protectiveness crashes over him. Of course, Thorn had been flirting with you, it was in his nature. His brother has always had a certain...charm, but the last thing he wants is for him to use it on you.

"I've been stuck in this bed for days," Thorn whines. "I'm not made for laying around."

"Well, it's not my fault you were shot," you tease, and Fox bristles, a strange emotion coiling in his chest. Thorn laughs and pokes you in the side. You yelp and bat his hand away, and the sound of your laughter makes his stomach twist.

"Sorry about that," you murmur. Your eyes are sparkling, and there's a faint blush on your cheeks. "He's feeling better, as you can see."

"I'm glad," Fox replies, and it's the truth. If Thorn was feeling good, and joking around, and being an annoyance, that meant that he was fine, and Fox could stop worrying. Well, he could move on to worrying about something else, anyway.

"Anyway, I'll let you go," you say with a sigh. "I know you're busy. I just wanted to let you know."

"Thanks," he says softly. "For everything."

"Don't mention it." You give him a smile, and his breath catches. Even in a hologram, you're beautiful.

"Bye, Fox," Thorn calls out.

"Go to sleep," you groan. You give him a pointed look, and he laughs, waving you off. Fox's stomach twists again, and he grips the comm a little tighter.

"Take care of yourself," you say softly. You hesitate for a moment, and the corners of your mouth lift into a smile. "Comm me later, okay?"

"Are you free for dinner tonight?" he blurts out. He doesn't know what makes him say it. The words just spill out of his mouth, and before he can stop himself, he's committed. "We could talk about the proposal."

"I..." You look surprised, and your eyes widen. He wonders for a moment if he's pushed it, and the longer you stare at him, the more nervous he becomes.

"I'm sorry, I'm on shift until midnight," you sigh. "How about tomorrow night?"

"That's fine," he says quickly.

"Great," you say, beaming at him. The joy on your face is infectious, and the knot in his stomach loosens. "I’ll comm you later.”

"Sounds good."

"See you soon," you say, waving.

"Bye," he manages, and the call ends.

The silence of the room is deafening, and Fox sits there, staring at the spot where your holoprojection had been. His chest aches, and his skin feels too tight, and he can't seem to catch his breath. He stands up and paces, running his hands through his hair, his thoughts racing.

This was bad. This was very bad. The last thing he needed was to start having feelings for you. His life was complicated enough already, and the thought of dealing with this, on top of everything else, was overwhelming.

But the longer he thought about it, the more the reality set in. There was no denying it. He'd developed feelings for you, strong ones, and there was no going back. And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

You were sweet, and funny, and beautiful, and the thought of having a chance with you was thrilling. Sure, it might not be reciprocated, but the possibility, however slim, was enough. If you felt the same way, he could deal with the rest. He could handle it.

Couldn't he?

Fox groans and throws himself back into his chair.

This was going to be a problem.

The next night, Fox walks into the diner and heads straight for a booth. You're already there, and you stand, smiling. The sight makes his heart skip a beat, and the urge to pull you into his arms is almost overwhelming. Instead, he walks over, stopping in front of you. You smile at him, and the warmth in your eyes is enough to send a shiver down his spine.

"Hey, stranger," you tease, and he blushes, looking away. "Long time no see."

Fox snorts. He’d just seen you that morning. You'd commed him as he was heading to a meeting with the Chancellor, and he'd had to excuse himself to answer you. He'd only talked to you for a minute, but the memory of the sound of your voice had stayed with him the entire day.

"It's been less than twelve hours,” he reminds you, his lips twitching.

"Too long."

"For me, too."

The words are out before he can stop them, and your eyes widen, a light flush coloring your cheeks. He blinks, his stomach dropping. Stars, had he really said that? Out loud? In front of you?

Fox quickly sits down, avoiding your gaze. The waitress droid appears, and the two of you place your orders. When she leaves, the silence between the two of you stretches, and the tension grows. You fidget, your fingers drumming on the table, and Fox stares at the table, his heart hammering.

"So," you murmur. "How was work?"

"Fine," he mutters. He lets out a breath and lifts his gaze. "How was your shift?"

“Fine," you shrug. There's a smile on your face, but it doesn't reach your eyes. You're nervous, and the realization makes him relax. If you're just as anxious as he is, then maybe this will be okay. "Busy."

"You should take a break."

"I will when you will,” you counter, raising an eyebrow.

He can’t help but smirk at the challenge in your tone. You'd always been like this, hadn't you? Teasing him, trying to get a reaction out of him. But now, it seemed more deliberate, and the thought that you might be trying to get his attention sends a thrill through him.

"I could be persuaded," he murmurs. The words are bolder than anything he'd ever said to you before, and the surprise on your face makes him smirk.

"Oh, really?"

"Mhmm."

"Good to know," you grin. You lean forward, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, and there's a mischievous glint in your eye that makes his mouth go dry. "You should give me some ideas."

"Ideas?"

"Yeah," you tease. You wink at him, and his pulse jumps. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Suggestions," he repeats, his voice faint.

"Mm-hmm."

"Well," he says, clearing his throat. He shifts in his seat, the armor suddenly feeling too tight. Your eyes are fixed on his, and the intensity of your gaze makes him squirm. "I suppose we could—"

"Here you go!"

The droid interrupts him, and the plates of food are placed in front of the two of you. You sit up, the moment broken, and Fox takes the opportunity to collect himself. What had he been about to say? What had you wanted him to say?

The conversation moves back to the subject of the proposal, and Fox listens as you explain the details. You're enthusiastic, and passionate, and the more you talk, the more his heart warms.

You were perfect, weren't you? Perfect for him, and the longer he spends with you, the more he realizes it. He watches you eat, your eyes sparkling, and he can't look away. He doesn't want to. He could listen to you talk forever, could spend the rest of his life sitting across from you, watching you, listening to you.

He can't stop himself from imagining what it would be like to have you around all the time, to spend the nights with you instead of alone. It would be nice, he thinks, to have someone to come home to, someone who would make him feel warm, and wanted, and safe. You'd do that, wouldn't you? If he asked. If he said the right things, if he made the right moves.

You would, he realizes, his heart racing.

"So, what do you think?" you ask, and the question snaps him back to the present.

“What?”

"Do you think the Chancellor would approve the funding?"

"Oh," he murmurs, blinking. He takes a sip of his drink and clears his throat. "I already talked to him about it, actually."

"You did?" You look surprised, and his chest puffs up a little. The fact that you're impressed by his efforts makes him feel smug. "When?"

"A few days ago," he admits, shrugging. “And again when you called this morning. I told him how important it was to the city, and the refugees, and he agreed to review the proposal."

"Really?"

"Really."

"That's..." You trail off, your expression stunned. You let out a relieved sigh and sit back in your chair. "That's...wow. That's incredible."

"He was intrigued," Fox explains. "Especially after I told him how hard you were working on it. He wanted me to thank you for your efforts, and for your commitment."

That was an understatement. The Chancellor had been delighted to hear about your plan, and his enthusiasm had surprised Fox. The man had seemed genuinely impressed by your initiative, and he'd promised Fox that he'd look into it personally. Fox had thanked him, but he was still a little stunned.

It was rare that the Chancellor showed so much interest in something like this, and he wondered if there was an ulterior motive. But, the man had always been kind to him, and the praise had made him feel proud, so he'd decided not to question it.

He was far too occupied with picturing the look on your face when you heard the news, anyway.

"That's...wow," you murmur. There are tears in your eyes, and the expression on your face is so happy, so hopeful, that he can't help but smile. "That's amazing. You’re amazing."

The compliment makes his cheeks burn. You're looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and the adoration in your gaze makes his stomach flutter. He's never had anyone look at him like that before, and the rush of affection that follows is dizzying.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, and your eyes widen. The look on your face is vulnerable, and sweet, and he wants to kiss you so badly that he has to clench his jaw to keep from leaning forward and taking what he wants.

"It was nothing," he says, his voice low. He squeezes your hand, and you bite your lip, your eyes dropping to his mouth. "You're the one who put in the work."

"I couldn't have done it without you," you murmur, and you squeeze his hand in return. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he promises, and the emotion in your eyes makes his heart skip a beat. You look away, blinking back tears, and the moment passes, leaving the two of you in a comfortable silence.

Fox lets go of your hand and grabs his sandwich. He takes a bite and watches you eat, a fond smile on his face. You're staring out the window, a thoughtful expression on your face, and the glow of the city lights makes you look even more beautiful than usual. The feeling of warmth spreads through him, and the knowledge that he's responsible for the joy on your face fills him with satisfaction.

You turn and meet his gaze, and the look in your eyes is enough to make his heart stop.

"What?" you ask, grinning.

"Nothing," he murmurs, his cheeks heating up. He looks down at his food, but not before catching the way your face falls. "I'm just..." He trails off, trying to find the right words. "I'm glad I met you."

"Oh," you breathe. The softness in your voice makes him look up, and the smile on your face is bright enough to blind him. "I'm glad I met you, too."

He smiles back, and the two of you fall silent, returning to your meals. The noise of the diner surrounds them, and Fox finds himself relaxing, a contentment filling him. He's enjoying the moment, the peace, and he's surprised by how happy he is. For once, his mind isn't racing, his thoughts aren't plagued by the stress of his duties. There's only you, and the sound of your laughter, and the scent of lavender that fills his lungs every time he inhales.

And for a brief moment, a fleeting second, Fox is almost able to believe that everything is going to be alright.

It doesn’t last.

You’re in the middle of telling him a story about one of your coworkers, and he's listening, enraptured by the sound of your voice, when his comm beeps. He ignores it, too caught up in the moment to care, and it goes silent.

But then it beeps again, and then again, and he sighs, giving you an apologetic look.

"Hold on a second," he mutters.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just—"

Fox freezes, his eyes drifting over your shoulder to look out the window. It’s late, and the street outside should be emptying out, but there's a crowd of people moving outside. They’re pointing and backing away, and the murmuring of their voices is filled with panic. His skin prickles, and a sense of unease fills him. Something's wrong. Very, very wrong.

"Fox," you murmur.

He stands abruptly, grabbing his helmet from the booth and jamming it onto his head. People are starting to run past the windows, and the screams outside are getting louder.

“Stay here,” he orders, and his voice is cold, the tone he uses when he's on duty. You blink, clearly surprised by the sudden change in his demeanor, but you don't protest, and he heads for the door.

Before he can make it far, there’s a rumbling under his feet, and the building shakes. The lights flicker, and the tables rattle, and the patrons let out panicked cries. Fox turns back and sees you standing, looking around in confusion.

"Get down!" he yells, and he crosses the room, reaching you in a few strides. He grabs your arm and drags you under a table, shielding you with his body. He presses your head into his chest, holding you close. Your arms wrap around him, and the two of you huddle there, the sounds of screams and panic filling the air.

"What's happening?" you ask, your voice shaking.

"I don't know."

There's another rumble, and the building shakes again. You tighten your grip on him, and he presses his head against yours, trying to comfort you. The lights flicker once more, and then go out, plunging the diner into darkness. A few people let out panicked cries, and then the building shudders, and a horrible, grating sound fills the air.

The following silence is deafening.

"Are you okay?" Fox asks as his hands move from your back to your face, tilting your head up.

"Yeah, I think so," you murmur. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, his heart pounding, and he keeps his hand there as he activates his comm. "What about you?"

"I'm fine."

The line opens, and a cacophony of voices fills his ears. The noise is chaotic, and it takes a moment for him to understand what's happening.

“—can’t get ahold of him—"

"—need to evacuate the area, there could be more—"

"Thire, Stone," Fox barks. "Report."

"Sir, we've got multiple detonations at Level 5000,” Thire replies, his voice strained. "They knocked out the entire grid."

"Casualties?"

"Unknown, sir."

Fox swears under his breath, and you press closer to him, your grip tightening. A targeted attack on the power grid was no accident, and the implications of that fact send a shiver down his spine. This is exactly what they'd been worried about, what he'd warned the Chancellor about. But he'd never expected it to happen so quickly, or so suddenly.

"Thorn and the others are evacuating the Senate building," Stone informs him. "The Chancellor is sending out an emergency message."

"What about the security teams at the station?" Fox asks.

"We're trying to get ahold of them," Thire says, his tone grim. "There's too much interference."

“I’m on my way. Stay alert, we might have more coming our way."

"Copy that, sir."

"Be careful," Stone warns. “And…sorry for interrupting your date."

Fox rolls his eyes and cuts the connection. He sits up, and the two of you scramble out from under the table. The other patrons are doing the same, and there's a general sense of panic and chaos in the air. Fox reaches down and helps you stand.

"Fox," you breathe, and your voice is trembling.

"It's okay," he assures you, though he's not sure it's true. "I’m gonna get you somewhere safe."

“My apartment is near here," you offer. "If we can make it there."

"We'll make it," Fox promises. "Stay close to me."

"I will," you murmur, and he turns and strides towards the exit, keeping one hand wrapped around yours. The crowd outside has thinned, and the streets are filled with debris and broken glass. You look up at the sky, your eyes widening.

"Fox," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

The clouds are glowing, streaks of red and orange flashing across them. There are fires burning throughout the city, the flames leaping from rooftop to rooftop, and the smoke billows into the air, blanketing the sky. Sirens blare in the distance, and the air is filled with screams and shouts and alarms. It's a scene from his nightmares, a vision of his worst fears realized, and the reality is far worse than he'd ever imagined.

“Come on," Fox orders, pulling you along. "Stay with me."

"Okay," you murmur. Your voice shakes, and he tightens his grip on you, not wanting to lose you. You're his responsibility now, his to protect, and he can't afford to make any mistakes.

The two of you run through the streets, weaving between the groups of people hurrying past. There are civilians everywhere, their eyes wide with fear, their faces smeared with ash and blood. You're moving as fast as you can, but the crowds are thick, and the debris on the ground makes it difficult to navigate.

A group of people runs past, knocking into the two of you, and Fox stumbles, his grip on you slipping.

"Watch it!" he yells, steadying himself. You grab his arm, your hands digging into his armor, and he pulls you close, trying to shield you from the chaos. You're pressed against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "I've got you," he breathes. "I've got you."

The next few minutes pass in a blur. Fox does his best to guide you through the crowds, his focus narrowing to the path ahead. His only concern is keeping you safe, and his body reacts without him even thinking. He doesn't hesitate as he guides you down dark alleys, his eyes constantly searching for danger.

Finally, the two of you reach your apartment building. It's quieter here, the streets deserted, and the sight of your building, standing tall and undamaged, is a relief. He lets out a breath and turns to face you.

"This is it," you manage. You're shaking, your face pale, and he cups your cheek, tilting your head up.

"Hey.” He strokes his thumb over your skin, and the look on your face breaks his heart. "It's gonna be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, and he reaches up and pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. You let out a shaky breath, your hands clutching his shoulders, and the intimacy of the gesture sends a rush of affection through him. "I promise."

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Of course," he replies. The two of you stand there for a moment, your breaths mingling, and then Fox pulls back. He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin, and you let out a shaky sigh. "Get inside."

"Okay," you murmur, nodding. "Be careful."

"I will," he promises. He gives you a small smile, and then replaces his helmet, and you blink, as if waking from a dream.

"Stay inside," he orders, his tone stern. "Lock the doors, and don't open them for anyone but me.”

"Alright."

"Comm me if you need anything," he adds, and the concern in his voice is clear, even through his vocoder. "I'll come back to check on you when I can."

"I'll be waiting," you whisper, and the promise in your voice makes his heart race.

He gives you one last look, his eyes roaming over your face, memorizing every detail. Then, before he can do something stupid, like take his bucket off again and try to kiss you, he turns and walks away.

"Be safe, Fox."

"You too."

And with that, you disappear through the doors, and Fox heads back into the chaos, his heart in his throat.

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#fox x reader #commander fox x reader #commander fox #the clone wars #marshal commander fox #tcw fox #clone commander fox #clone x reader #roy writes #i really can't resist tying these fics to the canon plot #just for my own enjoyment

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sunkissedscribbles · 1 day ago

Text

☆ 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆 𝑅𝑂𝐶𝐾 – 𝐴𝑅𝐴𝐵𝐸𝐿𝐿𝐴 𝐼𝐼.

PAIRING: singer!guitarist!mattheo x arabella!journalist!reader TW: swearing maybe, mentions of alcohol, sex and drugs WORD COUNT: 1.2k A/N: I'm in love with singer!guitarist!mattheo who is still a hopeless romantic SONGS: Lovers Rock by TV Girl // PLAYLIST

☆ MASTERLIST PART1 PART2

✰ Are you sick of me? Would you like to be? I'm trying to tell you something Something that I already said

Mattheo’s been restless ever since you left him there like that, standing alone on the stage as you claimed to work for the Rolling Stone magazine, feeling as if he was in a dream, or on acid – euphoric; the unmistakable feeling wouldn’t have left him alone for even a second for two entire days. However, this euphoria had turned into nervousness over time, but the boys wouldn’t have for god’s sake left him alone. No, they kept teasing him endlessly with you.

“Dude, you need to call her up finally,” Theo started the conversation the other evening, standing by the window, smoking.

Mattheo just hummed at the declaration, reaching into the fridge for the leftover pizza.

“Yeah, man, we need the interview and you need the girl. I mean, it’s a win-win situation,” Dax continued.

Mattheo stayed quiet yet again. He knew this was the opportunity, but also, this was the girl. The girl who made him feel like a giddy teenager again who’d got a crush on the cool, edgy girl. He felt like he was in Freaky Friday, just the other way around. He knew he’d work his courage up eventually because it had been bugging him for weeks. You – you had been bugging him for weeks before he’d even get to meet you. Ever since you had crept into his dreams and he wrote ‘Arabella’, and an only-ever-expanding list of songs.

And he had your number, it was as if the Universe had been shouting at him abruptly to just make that bloody move for a relationship he clearly had been craving.

After a few more minutes of Mattheo’s awful silence, Enzo jumps up from the sofa. “Where’s the paper? I’ll call her if you won’t.”

Mattheo froze. You gave him your number, not Enzo. You wanted him to call, right? Not Enzo. And what if when you heard Enzo’s posh accent you just, boom, fell for him? What if you were into bassists? No, he had to man up and talk to you. And as his insecurities got the best of him, he stepped away from the counter and took his phone out of his pocket, flipping it to take the piece of paper with your pretty handwriting on it out of the phone case. “I’ll call her,” he emphasized the pronoun, maybe a bit too possessively.

☆☆☆☆

“So, how did the name Pureblood Trauma come?”

“We were high,” Theo started but Mattheo took the opportunity from his friend to explain the meaning behind it, shifting in his seat across you, his eyes raking over your features every now and then.

“We had this joke about our parents being obsessed with blue blood and how they weren’t any better than the Aryan or Nazis.”

They all thought back to how Enzo’s suggestion of the band name, who was clearly joking, but still utterly high, had earned giggles turning into hearty laughter from the three other young men.

After a few questions about the band itself, you switched to asking some about their songs which clearly had potential, even if we only looked at the lyrics.

“Your song, Arabella, or a recording of it, has become quite popular on the internet. The muse, Arabella seems quite the mysterious type, and almost over-this-world, and you’ve got some creative metaphors for her personality. How did you come up with her character?” you inquired.

Enzo and Dax managed to keep their cool with only a twitch of their lips and a shared glance, but Theo’s quiet snort came out muffled, muttering a ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ as he looked over at Mattheo whose cheeks had gone a few shades pinker at the question. Because, god, how could he tell you it was about you?

“Um, it’s about a girl I once saw in my dream, and she kept reappearing in my sleep after. The idea of her just had me in a chokehold for weeks. She seemed so real but could never really… grasp her character until somehow I came up with the line ‘And a helter-skelter round her little finger and I ride it endlessly’ after Theo pointed out how this girl seemed to have me wrapped around her little finger,” he explained, carefully leaving out the details about how your hair bounced in his dreams, how your lips wrapped around the cigarette you two shared, and it was you, generally, who had him in that desperate chokehold.

You can’t help but be intrigued by the idea of this girl only being a mere memory of a few dreams, because, hell, she felt like she was so much more than that; real, and you couldn’t help but identify with her vibe, the resonance her personality flooded, what felt intergalactic, almost.

You were also impressed by the way Mattheo expressed his attraction to this mysticism with all the metaphors he used. The one about the helter-skelter ‘round Arabella’s little finger meaning he was under her spell, got him wrapped around her little finger, and also meaning how confusing his love for this girl is. Or how he describes her as prettier than the sunset. You were convinced that was impossible.

☆☆☆☆

You knew doing this, asking him to go out for a few drinks wasn’t very professional of you.

But you couldn’t help it at the same time.

You wanted to know more, and more, and more about Arabella, but also, about the mastermind behind the lyrics. You were certain you could listen to Mattheo talk pretty much all day and night, as well as listen to him sing for the same amount of time.

Or just stare at him.

And you had. Oh, how much you had listened to him and stared at him at the pub, on the way to your apartment, and during the night; while he was rocking his hips against yours and during the aftermath, as in smoking by your open living room window, the candles, the subtle red light of your vintage record player and the end table light by your black leather couch creating an ambient light for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company.

He was growing more and more infatuated with you, and he knew he was walking a dangerous sole, a slippery slope that could lead to heartbreak if his obvious feelings for you had been unrequited.

But they weren’t, and you made that obvious by repeating this night over and over, and by always making coffee for the both of you the next morning, always finding an excuse for him to stay a bit longer, and never missing an opportunity to talk to him.

Sitting by the narrow counter island over your coffee, you glanced over at him while playing with the ring on your thumb that you took off of Mattheo’s index finger the previous night, the one with the emerald-eyed snake. “That night, at the concert. You called me Arabella. Why?” you asked, having no clue how to word it at first.

He took a bit of time before answering.

“Because you are. You are the girl from and of my dreams,” he took your hand in his and pressed his lips to your knuckles.

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batsplat · 16 hours ago

Note

Wait what’s the tea on Valentino’s sleep patterns 👀👀 (fellow insomniac / recent motogp fan always looking for more representation)

oh yeah, if you're looking for representation for poor sleeping habits you've very much come to the right place. his sleep patterns are pretty remarkable you have to say. way too nocturnal for a professional athlete, reliant on naps to get through the race weekend, all power to him for somehow making that work and winning all those titles. pretty sure I've read somewhere that he's still known for doing sim races at ungodly hours these days, just how he lives his life

tbh I can't remember off the top of my head where I'd actually read about his sleeping patterns, but I've cobbled together a decent selection of quotes from the usual sources. the most interesting stuff he's said on the topic is in his autobiography - where he goes into rather a lot of detail about his preference for the night. given that it's quite a lengthy passage, I've chucked it under the cut. he frames his nocturnal inclination as not only suiting his natural body clock better, but also as a way of escaping the rest of the world - of being able to move around in peace and silence and anonymity. plus, he liked to spend his nights in the garage to... *pinches bridge of nose* have some special personal time with his bike, when it was just the two of them. take that as you will

before that, let's just start with a few more general descriptions of his sleeping patterns. from early in his career, jerez 1998 (from oxley's vr files):

The camper only holds two people, but that's okay. I don't like my dad to sleep with me, because when it gets to ten o'clock he starts saying: "Vale, Vale, got to bed!", but I can't go to sleep before one or two. We did share a motorhome in '96 and it made life very, very difficult for me.

and about brno 1999 (from oxley's vr files):

On weekends when I'm not racing, I never go to bed before six or seven on Sunday morning. If it's a party, maybe even later, but going to bed at six in the morning is quite normal for me! Even when I was 14 I used to go to bed at 4am. Quite often I'd be riding around the local minimoto tracks until after midnight! If I go to sleep at 11 or 12 I just lie there, my eyes wide open. Maybe I would be good for 24-hour racing!

and then a few years into his premier class career, valentino says the following (x):

'I have a lot of energy after 2am,' Rossi agreed. 'I like to sleep in the morning. I have some problems at the start of the day.'

we've also got a description of crew chief jb's influence in terms of making sure valentino wasn't slacking off by sleeping in (from oxley's vr files):

Burgess' talents aren't restricted to getting the best out of a 500. The Aussie has been in GPs for decades and knows how to extract the best from riders as well. He expects 100 per cent commitment both on the track and in the pits, and when he doesn't get that, he gives 'em hell. Some other crew chiefs won't do that - they're too overawed by their riders' superstardom. JB laid down the law last summer when late-sleeper Rossi turned up late for practice. Rossi suggested that in future one of the crew should be despatched to his motorhome each morning to make sure he was out of bed. No way, said Burgess, I'll be there to give you your wake-up call. Rossi's not overslept since.

and from 2001, in valentino's own words:

Q: Tell us about your sleeping habits, JB has had to wake you a few times for practice... VR: I never go to bed before 1 o'clock, and there's no limit on when I go to bed, but even when I go to sleep very late I always wake up at 8.30, though when I do wake up I always have a big confusion for the first five minutes, then after that I remember: "Oh fuck, I'm at world grand prix!" So I have a shower and then I'm okay. I never get up too close to riding time because the 500 is a dangerous bike so it's necessary to be awake when you climb aboard. Back in the afternoon after practice at four or five o'clock I'll sleep for another hour.

only semi-related but valentino's also talked about... you know, this generational shift - where the sport has become more professionalised, which is reflected in certain lifestyle changes (from barker's rossi biography):

"The next generation is always stronger. They are more professional, they put more effort in, they make a perfect life, they eat in a good way, they don't drink, they go to sleep early, they train every day from the morning to the night... I come from an era where the riders drank beer and smoked cigarettes!"

also plenty of talk of jet lag obviously... doesn't struggle with it too much headed westwards because he says he basically lives on american time anyway. the other direction is tougher, but in his youth he decided that he might as well try to continue living on italian time. so he essentially went racing at 5 in the morning (about phillip island 1998, from oxley's vr files):

I don't have a problem with jet lag, I always sleep. Last year in Indonesia I stayed on Italian time for the whole grand prix - so I was racing at five in the morning! But the difference is too great to do that in Australia.

how on earth are you racing motorcycles like that. mind you, he won that 1997 indonesia race

so yeah. king of disordered sleeping. given the nature of motogp schedules and how they do kind of require you to actually get up in the mornings, congrats to him for being remotely functional during race weekends. crazy how he even won the odd race

and here's the autobiography passage:

My day, usually, begins in the afternoon. It’s as if I exist inside my own personal time zone. I live at night, because I love the night. Now, this might make you think I do goodness-knows-what in the wee hours, or that I don’t live the life of a professional athlete. It’s true, I don’t live the life of an athlete in the traditional sense — early to bed, early to rise and all that — but this does not mean that I’m not careful about what I eat and drink or that I don’t train. In fact, I train a lot, both in the gym and on the bike. It’s just that I go to the gym in the afternoon, rather than the morning. Equally, when I’m training on the bike, down at the quarry, I always go in the afternoon, never at nine o'clock in the morning. My body has a certain type of metabolism. It is used to living according to a different body clock. That’s why, even if I’m travelling all over the world, I don’t experience jet lag and I rarely go to bed before 3 a.m. It’s much more likely that I’m just tucking into bed as people are leaving for work. As I say, I have a special relationship with the night. I like moving in it, living in it, thinking in it, relaxing in it. The night fascinates me, because it’s the period of least confusion. The world calms down, it goes quiet. And, besides, I’m Valentino Rossi. I’m wanted... I'm a fugitive. Yes, I’m always running away from my _ beloved countrymen. The Italians. I’m proud to be Italian, I'm proud of our merits and I regret our shortcomings. Italians are exceptional people. In every way. Even when they start loving you. Because that’s actually when problems can arise — if it’s you that the Italian falls in love with. Italian people are warm, empathetic, spontaneous. But they can also be excessive, oppressive and disrespectful. I don’t know who said that Italians will forgive everything except for success. Whoever it was, they were right. Because it’s absolutely true. After the 1997 season, I could tell I was becoming popular. Year after year, that popularity turned into fully fledged love. They’re in love with me now and, as a result, since the 2004 season, I’ve been a man on the run. And there’s no escape, no end in sight, because wherever I go they find me. There are simple things, the little pleasures in life, which I simply can’t engage in when I’m back in Italy. I can’t go to the bar and have a cappuccino, because I would not be able to drink it. To be fair, I can do it in Tavullia, but that's the only place. If I go more than a few kilometres in any direction from the centre of town, that's it, everything changes and I become, once again, a hunted man. I can’t walk into a store, look at something and decide what I want to buy. In fact, I can’t stop anywhere, not even at a petrol station. If I stop, I’m screwed. Somebody will recognise me (Italians are exceptionally good at recognising people), make a lot of noise, call other people and then, before I know it, I’ve been swallowed up by the crowd. If I schedule a meeting with someone, we have to meet in a secret, out-of-the-way location and, even then, we can't linger. I can't go to a restaurant if there are too many people inside. And if I do go, I can't go at a normal time, say eight o'clock. I have to go later, much later, when people are leaving. And I can't sit where I like, I have to hide away in a corner, in the shadows. As for places like cinemas or the beach, forget about it. They are just always off-limits.

Having said that, I do mix with people. I do it because I like doing it. It’s just that I wish I could do it as a normal person, because, deep down, I am a normal human being. This is part of the reason why I have to live at night. It would be that much tougher during the day, with all those people about. Plus, I don’t like the traffic, the chaos, the noise, all those people running all over the place, stressed out and out of breath. The night is different. Everything is softer, there are fewer people around and you are much more free. It’s like a parallel dimension. The world is different at night. Everything is different. That’s why I’ve assimilated the lyrics of a song by the Italian artist Jovanotti, “Gente. della notte” (“People of the night”). It has become my personal anthem. Jovanotti is one of my favourite singers and I find myself agreeing with him on most things. I love his work. What else can I say? The night is my reality. And I don’t change just because Grands Prix are scheduled during the day. My way of being and living is reflected in what I do during races. I don’t really change. Obviously, I don’t go to bed at dawn, but let’s just say that when I do, finally, go to bed, there aren’t many people around. Everything is better at night in the paddock. There is silence, the people _ have disappeared and, with them, the chaos. I can wander around freely, most of all I can enjoy the empty pit area and my bike. Yes, my bike. Because at night I often slip into the team garage. At some races I do it every single night, because I love being with my bike. My night-time activities can be traced back to the years racing in 125cc, and are directly tied to my passion for aesthetics and the stickers, which would later become my obsession. I don’t leave anything to chance'when it comes to choosing the colour or the stickers for my bike. That’s why I’ve always been central to any and all discussions when we were deciding the aesthetics of my racing bikes. I’ve done it always, with every bike, at every level, with every team. And, naturally, I still do it today. Nobody has ever been allowed to attach a single sticker to my bike, unless it was the logo of a technical sponsor. Until a few years ago I was totally inflexible about this. Now, Roby takes care of the number: he attaches it because then he needs to cover it in transparent paint. But apart - from -this, which is primarily a technical procedure anyway, I take care of everything else to do with the stickers. And this takes time and planning, which is why I started going to the garage at night. During the day it is packed with people. There are mechanics, technicians and others around. I would just get in the way, if I wanted to get near the bike just to check the stickers. As I got older and progressed from 125 to 250 and then to 500 and on to MotoGP, I maintained that passion for aesthetics and stickers, as well as the habit of dropping in on the team garage at night. I enjoy the bike during the day _ obviously, but my relationship with the bike is so special that I can spend hours with it, just looking and admiring it, making sure that everything is in order. Those are very personal moments which I find difficult to describe. The Japanese guys, both the executives but also the engineers never knew this, not the guys at Honda, not the ones at Yamaha. I don’t think they would really understand. They would probably view it as a waste of time, since I don’t actually do anything concrete. I never touch anything to do with the bike itself, beyond, obviously, the stickers. And yet I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. It’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy.

During the day everything happens so quickly, frenetically, neurotically. However, there is a sacrosanct moment when I need to step away and isolate myself. Once my commitment to the team is over, usually around 5.30 p.m., I retire to my motorhome, relax and take a nap. It usually lasts a couple hours and then I go out. There’s always something to do after dinner. Of course, the range of options depends on how many friends are around. I really start enjoying the paddock around ten o'clock at night. Before going to sleep I check on the bike again and then I go into the team motorhome, which serves as an office. Now that I’m at Yamaha, I have an office all to myself. That’s where I keep all my race gear. I do this for two reasons. My own personal motorhome is an absolute mess, nothing more fits in there and I probably couldn’t find anything amid all the junk. Plus, the office is where I change into my racing suit before going out on to the track. Thus, at night, after going to the pits to see the bike, I go to make sure that all my stuff is where it should be: gloves, suit, socks, boots . . . everything needs to be perfect, because I just don’t have time in the morning to hunt around for stuff. Thus, each morning I have to follow a very precise routine. I’m like a robot, everything is the same each day. Because the truth is that I need to be like clockwork. I just don’t have the time to think. Somebody generally comes to wake me up — usually it’s Jeremy, because he doesn’t trust my ability to wake up on my own! I then get up, wash my face (my eyes are still shut at this point) and try to stay awake as I ride the scooter from the motorhome to the pits. I then go up to the office and get dressed. There too everything is done mechanically. It takes the slightest hiccup to throw everything off, forcing me to be late to the testing.

"I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. it’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy" well -

#some of you lot really should be making more use of -#- the line 'because that's actually when problems can arise - if it's you that the italian falls in love with'#//#brr brr #clown tag #batsplat responds #i can also remember a post-retirement interview where he was up early to watch the motogp race and was suffering? can't find it though #im on the other side of the generational shift on this... the idea of approaching professional sport like that makes me twitchy #like so much of it these days is controlling every controllable variable perfect optimisation and all that. this feels so casual!!#and is honestly one of the things that makes his longevity the most impressive. one hell of a change to have to make mid career

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the-winter-spider · 19 hours ago

Text

Invisible | Part Two

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning: unrequited love, self doubt

A/N: I dont do taglists they stress me out sorry 🫶🏻

Part One

The next morning, you’re yawning over a mug of coffee when Natasha walks into the cafe, a knowing glint in her eye as she slides into the seat across from you.

“Long night?” she asks, eyeing the bags under your eyes.

You shrug, not really wanting to get into it. “Just the usual. Bucky brought up Kate, though.”

“Ah.” Nat nods, her gaze softening. “And how do we feel about this Kate?”

You stare at your coffee, stirring it unnecessarily. “She’s… perfect. Of course. Just what he’d want.”

Nat sighs, leaning in. “Look, I get that you’ve been telling yourself he’ll come around, but maybe it’s time to look out for you instead.”

“I know,” you say quickly, but Nat raises an eyebrow, not letting you off the hook so easily.

“Do you?” she presses. “Because staying with him, being his friend while you wait for him to suddenly wake up one day and realize how he feels about you… that’s not fair to you babe.”

You blink down at your coffee, her words digging deeper than you want to admit. “But I can’t just walk away from him.”

“Maybe you don’t have to walk away completely,” she says gently, “but sometimes, you’ve got to put yourself first. Even if that means some distance.”

The thought of moving out feels like tearing away a piece of yourself. This apartment, these late nights with Bucky, the little rituals and inside jokes… they’re home. But the idea of watching him bring Kate deeper into your world, of hearing about every date, every moment, knowing you’re just a friend—that thought feels like something you might not survive.

You nod, though you’re not sure if it’s to Nat or to yourself. “I’ll think about it,” you say, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Nat gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Just remember, you’re not invisible, not to everyone.”

Natasha’s fingers drum lightly on the table, her gaze fixed on you with that discerning look she wears when she knows you’re holding back. “You know,” she starts, her voice almost playful, “I could set you up with this guy I know from work. He’s got that ‘I could kill you with my pinky but won’t’ vibe. Smart, good-looking. You’d like him.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nat, no offense, but I don’t need a pity date right now.”

“Who said anything about pity?” She smirks. “I just think you need a distraction. You deserve someone who’s actually looking at you.”

Her words hang in the air, and though you try to brush it off, the weight of them settles on you. “Maybe,” you admit, chewing on your lip. “It’s just… Bucky’s been in my life for so long. It’s hard to picture letting anyone else in.”

Natasha’s expression softens, understanding in her eyes. “That’s the thing with comfort zones—they feel like safe havens, but they can also be prisons. And I don’t think you want to be locked in a place where you’re always second to someone else.”

Your heart aches at the truth of her words, but you manage a half-hearted smile. “When did you get so wise?”

She rolls her eyes, pretending to brush imaginary dust off her shoulder. “I’ve always been wise, you’re just finally listening.” She pauses, then tilts her head, as if she’s remembering something. “So, tell me—why haven’t I met this Kate before? Didn’t we all go to the same college?”

You shrug, looking down at your coffee as if it holds the answer. “She and Bucky had one class together, last year. That was it. We never really hung out with her… or anyone he dated, really.”

Nat nods slowly, piecing things together. “So, she was part of your little world, just on the outside. And now…” She lets the sentence trail off, understanding that this is different, even for Bucky.

“Yeah,” you murmur, feeling that ache return. “Now, it feels like she’s pushing her way into something that used to be… ours. My life with him.”

Natasha leans back, her gaze sharp but empathetic. “Maybe she is. But that doesn’t change who you are to him. And it doesn’t mean you have to let yourself be pushed aside. Just… remember, you’ve got people who see you, really see you.” She gives you a small smile. “Like me, and Steve, Sam and Wanda.”

You swallow, a knot of gratitude and sadness in your chest. “Thanks, Nat.”

“Of course.” She reaches for her cup, taking a sip before giving you another mischievous smile. “But I’m still setting up that date. You need someone who’s going to look at you like you’re the only person in the room.”

You laugh, but something about her words sticks with you.

Back at the apartment, Bucky’s in the kitchen, humming to himself as he attempts to cook. You lean against the doorway, watching him juggle the spatula and frying pan, the sight as familiar as it is painful. He catches you staring and flashes a grin, waving the spatula with a playful twirl.

“Caught you,” he teases, his blue eyes dancing. “What’s up, creep?”

You place a hand on your chest in mock offence, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Creep? Ouch, Buck.”

He laughs, his head tilting as he gives you that roguish smile. “Sorry, sweetheart.” He clears his throat and corrects himself, “What’s up, doll?”

There it is again. That name that no one else calls you—just him. And every time he says it, it feels like he’s pulling you close, holding you in his orbit. You try to ignore the way your heart flutters, pushing it down. “Better,” you respond, with a forced lightness, trying to keep things playful. “Just wondering how much of a disaster you’re about to make.”

He scoffs, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know I’m a culinary genius.”

“Sure, and pigs fly.” You smirk, stepping into the kitchen to stand beside him, nudging his shoulder as he focuses on flipping whatever’s in the pan.

He rolls his eyes, but there’s that look again—the one that feels like he’s studying every detail of your face, like he’s seeing you as more than just his best friend, even if it’s only for a second. “Seriously, though,” he says softly, his gaze meeting yours, “thanks for putting up with me, couldn’t ask for a better best friend.”

You swallow, feeling that flicker of hope you know you shouldn’t hold onto, quashed in an instant. Best friend. You manage a small smile, not trusting your voice to sound casual. “Couldn’t ask for a better one, either.”

But even as you say it, you can’t ignore the ache in your chest. The line between you has been so blurred over the years, with the easy touches, the names he only calls you, the looks that feel like something more—until they’re not. Because he never seems to notice the way he lingers too close, or how his teasing feels like something deeper. Maybe, you think, it’s time to face that your friendship is just that: a friendship.

Lost in thought, you don’t realize Bucky’s speaking again until he nudges your shoulder, his voice low and warm. “Earth to y/n?,” he murmurs, breaking your reverie. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just… thinking,” you reply, smiling faintly as you avert your gaze. He leans down, peering up at you, an amused expression on his face, like he’s trying to coax you out of your thoughts.

“About me, obviously,” he quips, flashing a wink. “Go on, I get it—hard not to think about this face.”

You laugh despite yourself, the sound spilling out before you can stop it. “Don’t flatter yourself Buck.”

He grins, reaching over and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so casual but so personal that it sends your heart racing. His hand lingers, his thumb brushing against your cheek for just a beat too long before he pulls away. “Can’t help it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me, doll.”

Your heart skips, and you force a laugh, hoping it sounds natural. “Get over yourself, Barnes. You’re lucky I even let you call me that.”

He chuckles, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, still looking at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room. It’s moments like these, the soft laughter, the playful teasing, that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, there could be something more—until reality crashes down with the way he looks away, casual as ever, turning back to his cooking.

“So, what do you say?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “We take off next weekend, you and me? Get out of the city, do something stupid?”

He says it so easily, the idea of just dropping everything and being with you. It’s the kind of offer that would mean the world if it came from anyone else, but with Bucky, you know it’s just him being Bucky—your best friend who doesn’t know the half of what’s inside your heart. You nod, forcing another smile, feeling like you’re breaking in two. “Yeah… sounds good.”

He grins, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, a softness that makes your pulse quicken. “That’s my girl.”

The words are simple, tossed out casually as he stirs the pan, but they hit you like a punch to the gut. His girl. The irony isn’t lost on you—that’s all you’ll ever be. Watching him turn back to the stove, humming again, you wonder if it’s finally time to start protecting your heart, even if it means letting go of this impossible hope.

You stay quiet, watching him as he finishes cooking, every movement so familiar that it aches. The way he hums off-key, that little wrinkle in his brow when he’s focused. And yet, with each passing second, you feel the weight of Natasha’s words from the morning before. Putting yourself first. Even if that means some distance.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice when Bucky turns around until he nudges your arm, holding out a plate with a lopsided grin. “For you, my culinary masterpiece.”

You smile and take the plate, though you barely feel the hunger anymore. “Thanks, Buck.”

He tilts his head, squinting at you, studying you the way he always does when he senses something’s off. “What’s up with you, doll? You’ve been quiet.”

You quickly shake your head, putting on a brighter smile. “Nothing, just… tired.”

It’s a half-truth, and from the way he’s looking at you, you know he can tell. But he just nods, brushing it off as he leans against the counter beside you. “Well, you should get some rest, maybe skip that shift tomorrow. I don’t like seeing you so run down…plus its the 2nd Friday of the month you know what that means”

The concern in his voice stirs something painful in you, and you bite your lip to keep it together. Because it’s just like him to care, to look after you like this, but never in the way you want. You manage a nod and quiet “I know, bar night” not trusting yourself to say much else.

But Bucky, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart, reaches out, ruffling your hair with that effortless smile. “I mean it, you work too hard. You’re allowed to take it easy sometimes, you know?”

Your smile wavers, and you look down at your plate, poking at the food to avoid his eyes. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

There’s a comfortable silence as the two of you eat, and for a moment, you let yourself forget the ache, just enjoying this small, simple moment. But then he starts talking about his weekend plans, and you feel the familiar twist of jealousy when he casually mentions Kate. How she texted him about some new art exhibit, how they’ll probably grab lunch afterward. Each word feels like a pin prick, a reminder that he’s drifting further away, letting someone else into a space that you’ve guarded for so long.

You take a steadying breath and look up at him, forcing yourself to speak casually. “So… you and Kate, huh? Sounds like things are getting serious..”

Bucky laughs, but there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. “Nah, I don’t know. She’s cool, but… you know me. Not exactly the settling-down type.”

The words sting, but you force yourself to smile. “Right, of course. Why settle when you’ve got the world at your feet?”

He chuckles, taking another bite, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. But then he glances over, catching the faint trace of something in your expression, and for a split second, his smile falters. “Hey… seriously, are you okay? You’re not your usual self.”

You force a laugh, waving him off. “I’m fine, Buck. Just… I dunno. Life, I guess.”

He watches you, a furrow between his brows as if he’s trying to piece together something he’s missing. And for a split second, you almost consider telling him. Telling him everything—that you’re tired of waiting, tired of pretending, tired of being his second choice. But before you can even open your mouth, he sighs and reaches over, squeezing your shoulder.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” he says softly. “Whatever it is… I’m here.”

The tenderness in his voice is almost too much, and you have to look away before he can see the tears threatening to spill. “Yeah, I know….of course”

There’s another silence, and he finally pulls his hand away, turning his attention back to his food. You sit there beside him, the air thick with unsaid words, wondering how much longer you can keep this up.

When you finish eating, you start gathering the dishes, feeling the need to escape the kitchen, escape the weight of his presence. But Bucky stops you, taking the plate from your hands.

“I’ve got it,” he says, nudging you toward the living room. “Go relax, i’ll clean up.”

You give him a small smile, grateful for the reprieve, and you make your way to the couch, curling up with a blanket. But as you sit there, staring at the flickering light of the TV, you realize with a sinking heart that this—him, the late nights, the quiet moments—has become everything to you. And that maybe, no matter how much you want it, he’ll never feel the same.

From the kitchen, you hear Bucky humming again, blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside you. And as you pull the blanket tighter, Natasha’s words echo in your mind: Sometimes, you’ve got to put yourself first. Even if that means some distance.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky fanfic #bucky banres #bucky barnes x reader angst #Spotify

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dwaekkicidal · 3 days ago

Text

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: 'My Love. Mine, All Mine' ༄࿔ K.S.

⤷ Slapping | Pet Play | Collaring

♱ word count: 1k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, rough sex, hard dom seungmin, use of “sir” from reader and “pup(py)” from seung, pwp but it starts in the middle of it lol, p in v, slapping (face,pvssy,hip,thighs), collars, choking with said collar, mentions of one of the other members but out of jealousy, aftercare lightly mentioned, reader calls him stupid at the very end in jokes

♱ notes: not my best work but ive been starving you guys the last few weeks because of school >< also i wanted to write this soft and then my brain said meandom so i changed this completely 🙃 one day i will write soft seung. if its the last thing i do...

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

“Who do you belong to.”

It’s not a question, you know better than to think that. It’s more like a command when it’s under these circumstances: a hard reminder for you to remember your place. And you know it’s true when his voice is so gruff and his hands are so rough on your body.

“M-Minnie..” You’re given a sharp slap to your cunt for your disregarding one of his earlier commands. The sting makes your eyes water and your legs try to squeeze together to ease it, only for him to shove them open. Your arms, currently tied to the bed frame, tug at the fabric in dismay.

“S-Sir! I’m sorry-” “I asked you a question, Pup.” You blink your tears away and lock eyes with him, huffing at the prominent frown on his beautiful features. His eyes are dark, narrowed, and full of fury. You still don’t answer his question and he rolls his eyes, harshly bucking his hips forward and shoving the tip of his cock into your G-spot, making your oversensitive cunt ache.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“I’m yours, Sir. A-All yours.” He hums and bucks his hips again, this time not as roughly. Your legs shake around his torso, squeezing him between your thighs as he rolls his hips against yours. One thrust sends him into your G-spot again and you squeeze your legs together too tightly for his liking, causing his hand to come down on your thigh.

“‘M Sorry!” The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he fucks into you harder. “I promise we were just talking- fuck!” He angles his hips better and starts fucking more aggressively, his hands finding home on your hips and pulling you into his thrusts.

“I don’t give a fuck. The old man should know better than to be so close to my pet. And you should know better than to whore yourself out to him like that. Dressed all fucking hot and whispering in my hyungs ear.” The insinuation makes your eyes snap up to his face and your face turn sour.

“I was not-” His palm meets your cheek, cutting you off. It’s not enough to hurt you too much, but it’s just enough to break your focus and turn your head to the side. He doesn’t give you time to recover and grabs your cheeks, forcing you to face him again.

“I. Don’t. Care.” Each word is punctuated with a thrust and he leans down, finally allowing you some sort of closeness. “You are mine. My girlfriend to dote on, and my dumb pup to fuck.” His hips are bruising as they slam against yours and you can only nod in agreement.

Your orgasm is dangerously close and it turns your brain to mush, making you melt into a mindless puddle in the sheets. You’re grateful for his hand on your cheek releasing you, letting you regain some sort of awareness only for it to break once more as his hand falls between your legs.

On its way down he lightly slaps your inner thigh again. Then he moves to your clit where he rubs fast, rough circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your legs struggle around his hips again and he’s merciful to ignore it, opting to lean his forehead against your calf as he rips another orgasm out of your body.

He fucks you through it, heavy pants against your neck and powerful thrusts that make your body jump up the bed each time his hips meet yours. And he has no plans to stop. He only leans back and positions himself to hover over you, smirking down at you devilishly.

His eyes flicker the slightest bit downwards to your neck and before you can react, his finger is looping into the collar around your neck. The same collar that you had forgotten he all but ordered you to put on when the two of you had gotten home earlier. He yanks at it hard, pulling you up with him and uses it as leverage to force you into another position.

He pulls out for just a second, just enough time to flip you over onto your knees and shove you forward. His palm flattens against your lower back and he pushes you to angle your back for him, presenting you to himself so he can shove his cock back into your puffy cunt. Then, he’s fucking you fast again in just seconds, barely giving any thought to your overstimulated gasps.

The telltale signs of his orgasm were the breathy huffs leaving his lips and the tight grip he had on your hip. The hand still on your lower back sneaks to your nape and slides a finger through the space between your neck and the collar. He tugs again, less aggressively this time, and hovers you just barely above the bed, using his grip to slightly choke you.

“This is my pussy. Don’t you fucking forget that.” The broken moan that leaves your throat in response was enough to get him going, but the way you clenched around him so snuggly at the pressure around your neck was exactly what he needed to topple over the edge.

He did so with a deep groan, his teeth gritted and his hips moving sloppily. He bottoms out one last time, the finger in the collar forcing you up and flattening your back against his chest. The hand on your hip slaps the area one last time, 'for good measure,' as he cums deep.

Your body shakes in his hold, mind numb from the lack of air and pussy swollen from his onslaught. Still, you manage to cum another time thanks to the warmth filling you combined with the pleasurable sting on your side. His breath is heavy on your neck and you can’t hold back the moan as he slowly pulls out, peppering your neck in kisses in apology as he does so.

You also can’t help but zone out after the fact, mind still spinning as he helps you into the shower, then into the bath. You only regain your senses when he coos your name into your ear, blowing on it teasingly trying to bring you back.

“Hi, pup. You okay?” It’s only then that you notice the hot bath water that surrounds you and the feeling of his soft skin caressing yours.

“Mhm…” You rest your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes in order to let the warm comfort sink in.

“Minnie?”

“Yes, love?”

“We were talking about your Christmas present, stupid.”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed

@dreamingaboutjisung @everythingboutkpop @velvetmoonlght @4l17h4

@felixsangelicfreckles

#sian’s writing #stray kids smut #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz drabbles #skz x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin x reader #seungmin drabbles #stray kids imagines #skz x reader smut #seungmin x reader smut #sian’s 2024 kinktober <3

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sasheemo · 1 day ago

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When we collide

Chapter 3

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: Returning to the forest the morning after Agatha’s outburst, you attempt to restore order. Agatha soon appears, sparking a tense confrontation. Tensions flare as past assumptions are shattered, and under the weight of vulnerability and unresolved questions, Agatha reluctantly begins to open up, hinting at a depth neither of you fully understands yet.

Word Count: 2.3k

As you enter the familiar woods, the cool morning air greets you, filling your lungs with the earthy scent of damp leaves and moss. Each step crunches against the carpet of foliage, a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded here just the day before. But something feels different today, heavier. The remnants of Agatha’s magic hang in the air like an invisible veil, tinged with her raw emotion.

You shake your head, trying to silence the conflicting thoughts. "You’re not here to check on Agatha” you tell yourself, but deep down, you know that isn’t entirely true. You reason your apprehension is directed just at the sake of the forest, trying to remind yourself that the fragile ecosystem deserved better than the mess Agatha left behind. You’d been using this place as an escape and you refused to let it be tarnished by the fallout of someone else’s turmoil.

Finally, you reached the clearing, your stomach twisting into knots at the sight before you. There, piled high, was the wreckage of broken branches and uprooted plants that Agatha had carelessly discarded. Your disappointment morphed into anger as you approached the pile, an unimpressed scoff escaping your lips.

This is her idea of fixing it?

With a flick of your wrist, you summon your magic, the air around you buzzing with energy. You focus on the pile, envisioning it engulfed in flames. “Back to the earth” you mutter softly as you channel your frustration and, as the flames flickered to life, you feel a sense of satisfaction washing over you. You are watching the flames dance in a controlled fire, when a rustling sound echoes through the trees behind you, followed by a voice that cuts through the air like a knife and makes you turn immediately. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You hold her gaze and despite her coldness, or maybe because of it, there’s a part of you that refuses to back down. “I didn’t think you’d come back to fix it, Agatha” you reply, watching her closely. “Thought I’d finish what you started”

She narrows her eyes, clearly not amused. “I didn’t ask for your help and I don’t want you here” she mutters, arms crossing defensively as if shielding herself from an unseen threat.

You cross your arms in return, mirroring her stance. “And yet, here I am.”

The silence stretches, tense and unyielding, you can feel her indifference trying to chase you away but you don’t move. You wait, watching the way her fingers twitch, the way her jaw tightens. This isn’t the same Agatha you’ve seen before in passing glances—poised, composed, a picture of confidence.

She stands there, the hood of her deep purple cloak partially covering her features and you can’t help but search her face, remembering fleeting memories of times you’ve crossed paths. She was always at the edge of your life, a presence looming just out of reach. You can clearly see her, walking through the coven’s halls with that same proud gait, her head high as if carrying secrets you could only guess at. In all those moments, she’d barely looked your way, barely spared a glance, addressing you only when necessary or required. And yet, you realize, you always knew where she was. Her figure was a fixture in your periphery, a silent reminder of the path you’d been expected to walk.

But in the last 24 hours, seeing her like this, almost brittle, that image started to shatter. You feel a strange sense of satisfaction in piercing her armor, but there’s something else too. A nagging feeling that makes you want to reach out, to make her drop the pretense. But why should you care?

She’s watching you with a mix of suspicion and something you can’t quite place, and for the first time, you wonder if she’s hiding as much as you are. Her shoulders seem tense, and though she tries to stand tall, there’s a slight slump that betrays her exhaustion. You wonder if she spent last night lying awake, haunted by whatever had brought her here to begin with.

“So, you’re here to gloat? To judge me for—“ she suddenly accuses, her jaw tightens as she looks down, studying the ground as if it could give her an answer.

“No.” you cut her off, surprised at your own intensity. “I’m not here to gloat.”

She meets your gaze again, and for a moment, the hard lines around her eyes soften. There’s a question in her stare, one she doesn’t seem willing to ask aloud. You find yourself wanting to answer it anyway, but the words elude you. What are you supposed to say? That her tears made her seem…human? That seeing her break apart the way you sometimes feel on the inside made you feel less alone?

“I didn’t tell anyone” you say, unsure why you’re bothering to reassure her.

Her shoulders relax a fraction, though her eyes remain guarded. “Why not? I thought you’d use anything you could against me.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Believe it or not, Agatha, I don’t have time to waste on plotting your downfall. I have my own life, my own things to deal with.”

She watches you, skepticism etched into her features, but you can sense her defenses faltering, the slightest crack in her armor. You can’t help but push a little further, hoping to get to the truth, though you can’t explain why it matters so much.

“What happened yesterday?” you ask quietly. “What was so terrible that it…made you do all this?” you gesture around, your hands pointing outwards to the remains of her outburst.

Agatha’s face hardens again, but this time, the mask seems thinner, almost translucent. “You wouldn’t understand” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

You feel a pang of frustration, mixed with something else—something softer. “Try me.”

She lets out a sigh, and for the first time, you notice how small she looks against the towering trees, her defiance shrinking in the morning light. “It’s…complicated.” she murmurs, almost to herself. Her voice holds a vulnerability that for some reason makes you want to reach out, to say something, anything, to make her see you’re not the enemy she’s built you up to be.

You take a hesitant step closer, feeling the weight of her words pressing down on you. “We both know our mothers have their own agendas” you say slowly, testing the waters. “But that doesn’t mean we have to live by their rules. Maybe you don’t owe me an explanation, but…you don’t have to keep pretending, either.”

Agatha glances at you, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, then hesitates, her fingers brushing against the frayed hem of her cloak as if grounding herself. Your words settle between you, fragile and raw. You swallow, feeling your own walls begin to crack, pieces of yourself you’ve hidden away for so long resurfacing in the silence. You want to tell her you understand—that you, too, feel trapped beneath expectations that aren’t yours. But the words remain lodged in your throat.

Agatha seems to relax, if only slightly, her gaze lingering on yours as if searching for something she’s not sure she’ll find. You can feel the tension ebbing, neither of you says anything but there’s something that feels like an unspoken understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the burden you both carry. Finally, Agatha lets out a quiet breath. “I don’t need your pity” she murmurs, but her voice lacks its usual bite.

“I didn’t come here to pity you” you reply, and for once, the words feel entirely true. The moment hangs in the air, thick with tension, until you continue “I just assumed—”. Before you can finish your sentence, Agatha raises her hands, her magic swirling around her. With a flick of her wrist fire leaps from her fingertips, merging seamlessly with the flames you already conjured.

You turn back around just in time to see the pile bursts into a roaring inferno, both of your magics entwine feeding the flames with vibrant intensity, the fire still controlled yet wild. Entranced by the view, you can’t help but reflect on the striking contrast between the two versions of Agatha that now live in your mind. One is the girl you had seen yesterday—vulnerable, trembling, tears spilling as she mourned the chaos of her actions. And the other is the Agatha Harkenss you’re used to see around Salem, the version that everyone knows, radiating power and confidence with a fierce smirk on her lips. How can someone be so broken yet so … mesmerizing? It is unsettling, and you find yourself wrestling with the realization that maybe she is far more complex than you initially believed.

With the heat of the flames casting flickering shadows around you, you can feel your heart racing—not just from the exertion of magic but from the tumult of emotions swirling in your chest. You are angry, yes, but there is something else simmering beneath the surface: a growing curiosity about Agatha, about what makes her tick, about the real girl hiding behind the confident façade.

While you are lost in your thoughts, Agatha takes a few steps closer until she is standing beside you. The crackling fire roars around you, its brightness illuminating both your faces, creating an almost surreal atmosphere where everything else fades into the background. The ash dances in the air like tiny fireflies, swirling in the breeze, and for a moment, it feels as though the world has narrowed down to just the two of you.

You both watch as the flames finally begin to settle, turning into a smoldering pile of embers. Agatha huffs, snapping you out of your thoughts and brushing her hands together with a satisfied face. “There. I fixed my mess.” she states, a hint of finality in her tone as she turns to leave.

Suddenly, as she starts to walk away, an inexplicable urge wells up inside you and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out “How are you?”. The question surprised you as much as it did her.

Agatha freezes in her tracks, her back still turned to you, leaving a heavy silence hanging in the air between you. The moment stretches on, filled only by the soft crackle of the dying fire. Your heart races, anticipation coiling tightly in your chest as you wait for her response, not sure it will ever come, making you instantly regret the vulnerability of your words.

After a long pause, Agatha slowly turns around, her expression unreadable. “What does it matter to you?” she asks, her voice sharper than any blade. The defiance in her eyes sparks like the last embers of the fire, but behind that fierce façade, you catch a flicker of something else—insecurity, perhaps? A hint of fear? You can’t tell.

You feel frustration boil inside you again, igniting a fierce determination to break through her barriers. The words slip out before you can stop them, the image of her vulnerable figure holding the injured animal instantly surging back in your mind. “Yesterday I- I saw your face. I saw you crying. You weren’t okay.”

Her eyes narrow, the defiance morphing into something darker. “It’s none of your business.” she snaps, but the edge of her voice wavers slightly, betraying the vulnerability she is trying to hide.

You are tired of her games, of her dismissiveness “It is my business when it spills over into the only place where I can find peace!” You step closer, the ambers casting a fierce glow on your face, mirroring the intensity of your emotions. “You made it my business!”

Agatha shifts uncomfortably, the bravado slipping for just a moment as she glances away. “I’m not here to justify myself to you” she mutters, but the words lack conviction. You can see the internal struggle playing out in her eyes, as if she is caught between the impulse to retreat and the urge to reveal the truth.

“Then what are you here for?” You press, your curiosity sharpening your resolve. “To burn your problems away and pretend yesterday never happened?”.

“Pretend?” she shoots back, her voice rising. “I’m not pretending! You think you know me, but you have no idea!”

“I don’t think I know you, I know I don’t, I just want to understand.” you insist, your voice less sharp but equally steady and firm.

Agatha falls silent, and for a moment, it feels like the air itself thickens. You can see her breathing deepen, her eyes darting away, searching for something to anchor herself. “Why would you even care?” she finally asks, tentatively, as if your interest is a foreign concept.

“Because I don’t … I can’t, believe you’re just some spoiled girl throwing a tantrum” you reply, surprising even yourself with the fierceness of your conviction. “I saw you yesterday, Agatha. You were… real. Vulnerable. And it’s like you’re trying so hard to build a wall around yourself and pretend it didn’t happen”

Agatha’s jaw clenches, and she seems to shrink in on herself, the defenses she erected feeling more like a cage than a shield. “You don’t know what you’re talking about” she hisses, but you catch the tremor in her voice, the way it cracks just a little.

“Then tell me” you said softly, your anger dissipating like smoke. “What was it? What happened?”

The silence stretches out again and you can almost see the battle raging in her mind, the urge to spill everything battling with the instinct to protect herself. And then, as if she finally reached some unspoken conclusion, Agatha lets out a sharp breath and sinks to the ground, sitting cross-legged amidst the remnants of the smoldering fire.

“Fine” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You want to know? Let’s get this over with”

You follow suit, sitting across from her, the embers crackling softly between you. “I’m listening” you encourage, your heart racing with anticipation.

#agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #aaa #agatha harkness #agatha all along #kathryn hahn x reader #when we collide

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octoberautumnbox · 2 days ago

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Happy Anni-box-sary!! :DDDD

Whew! It's been a year since I've started writing on this platform (and in general fsgsdjkfghjadskfh), and what a wild ride it has been. Ups and downs scattered throughout the year, but I really wouldn't have it any other way :uwuge:

All that said, let's move onto the box 2024 recap!

Yuri fics I've written: 8

Fly in the Night Trip

Love in the Night Train

Juicy Juicy

Friday

Adrenaline

Enjoy

I Got All I Need

Like It Like I Love It

buncha drabbles I didnt count, some of them fluff, some of them angst, all of them box 📦‼

Yuri fics other people have written: 6

@fillinforlater's Friends that can Keep a Secret

@birchleavesdawn's Bitter Taste

@xshadowdelta's Former Manager pt. 1: Back in Town

@usedpidemo's Cruel Flower

@prael's Reality

@leafostuff's Operant Conditioning

Non-Yuri fics I've written: 11

in my best attempt not to double count when there was more than one idol in the fic (lmao),

1 for soloist Chaeyeon

1 for Kiss of Life

2 for woo!ah!

2 for tripleS

2 for Kep1er

3 for fromis_9

Funnest fics to write:

Hell Week: despite not doing sins's prompt justice, I really did enjoy how I built Yubin and OC's character, even as the writer i fell in love with how sweet Yubin came to be, and while I do think the sex could have been fluffier, i do like how i wrote the ending :DDD

Cute and Caring Noona from Apartment 424: i think deep down inside i knew the apartment thing was gonna come back, even at the time, though i had to promise myself it wouldn't be a series. Yujin and Xiaoting are still a killer duo i'd love to write but it wouldn't fit that well with what i've decided on what the apartment fics will be, instead i'm going with the direction that The Sultry and Pervy Soda in Apartment 307 went and go from there

Like It Like I Love It: EASILY my top 1 from this year. it was everything reader box would have wanted in a yuri fic: a casual relationship, a possibility that there's something more in it, hot sex (literally), and just the right amount (maybe a bit too little) of showing off babygirl yul. i really hope this isn't peak box but going back to why i started writing in the first place, which is that i wanted to see more quality yuri fics, this was something that if i were still a reader would have sated me for at least another year. good job box!

Idols/Groups I've come to know:

Kiss of Life: I think they debuted before me? I noticed Natty first bc ofc I did 😭 but quickly fell in love with how Bobsky just vibes so well with them aaaaaaa

tripleS: I started paying attention around Girl's Capitalism but I knew of them since Generation. I still know only like ten of them and still need to look up whether they're of age or what number S they are but I've written the group thrice now so worth :DDDD

Kep1er: zozi was tough for wizones and I'm not exception, so there was a lot of animosity to this group starting out. I only really started loving this group because of choiyuj, and it was me falling in love with that tiktok that cookies n seggs noona was ever made and it's been upwards ever since

Collabs:

One Heck of a Joyride with @leafostuff: simultaneously this took way too long and not long enough LMAO we started in Feb and released in May, if u can remember Best Job Ever and Like It Like I Love It came out in May too so that was hectic for me. but it's my first and to date only long fic and I hope someday to surpass it in terms of word count and idol nuguness :sitt:

Prompts:

@i-am-lifeform24's Curated Companions: this first major prompt I took part in, where I wrote Dito Muna Tayo :nolookk: it got me attention I didnt know how to feel abt (I still don't tbh) but it was a major step in the right direction to temper my expectations of myself: it reminded me to write for me

@msafterhours's Seasons: this was a major L for me jfkgjslahhf I wrote A Little Goes a Long Way, misunderstanding the prompt "Seasons" for "Seasoning" and making a cooking fic instead. it was a great laugh with him tho, and a memory I come back to fondly

@mintwithchoco's Favorite Song: I wrote Orange-Tinted Sunset with Sticky in mind but promising mint I'd break Belle's heart lmao, at the time my current favorite song switched from that to Nothing and it all just fell in place. I had the idea a long time ago for Haneul but this was the perfect chance to broaden my horizons yet again, and to my dismay it proved @0cta9on right that I kinda was okay at all three genres of fics that touched on after all :bearlazy:

Growth:

can't remember if I said it out loud on the tl but im not a serious writer! that just means that I dont consciously aim to improve how I write and I'm totally fine with the skills and style I have now, and any exp gained or skills learned is has been passively achieved

that said, I'm really so so happy with Fly in the Night Trip and Love in the Night Train. In my first ever fic i said i wanted my next work to be a smut, and that i would be able to write more of what i wanted on my blog soon. Enjoy was both of those, and i even got to write so much more of my ult bias throughout the year and then some. you could call it self-serving, or as @capslocked so eloquently put it, unconsidered readers, all of you. :sitt:

thats why im really happy to be able to come full circle with another fluff in Love in the Night Train, because i feel like it concludes such an awesome year in such an awesome way. id tell 2023 box that just keeping at it wouldve worked out so well, but the extra effort to write just a tiny bit better, to listen to @midnightdancingsol's advice, to stick with it even though work fucked us up (and still does) is going to be well worth it

Hiatuses: 2

ok obviously im not as proud of this one. but each time i did, it was me reevaluating how I run the blog and what sort of stuff I'm getting myself into. it was well worth taking a step back from writing and just figuring out what exactly I wanted to do, and the breaks did wonders for how I paced myself.

these were me asking myself questions that struck the very core of how I conduct this cacophony of a kpop smut blog. it made me aware of arbitrary rules I was holding myself to, and gave me a chance to do away with them. everyone has to clear out their inventory every once in a while, and these were mine :DDDD

Everything else:

ive stopped tracking notes bc I learned since I occasionally write nugu and non-smut to never expect 100+ and I'm always pleasantly surprised when I get there slfjglah but yeah, there's better things to keep track of like what I did above

these are what really matter to me: yuri, writing, and the community i've become part of. while I do think the 1022 club is a fun milestone to celebrate, anything else is a bit more work than i care to make a separate post about (except maybe on bluesky lmao)

at my core, im a glassy, a true fan of the little ball of sunshine that is jo yuri. i keep saying that as long as im able to make one of you lovely readers a fan of her too, i'll know i'm doing good! so to all you box followers, all you honorary glassys, please tune in to yuri! she just released her tenth(!!!) OST entitled Spring Days Pass, will appear in Squid Game season 2 which premieres on Dec. 26 on Netflix, and is bound to have a comeback lined up soon :cuteplead: please join me in supporting her! :DDDD

Aaaaand that's it I think? A wild ride for sure, and I'm happy to have spent it here doing what I love. Hopefully all you readers also show greater support to my fellow writers and friends on here, and as always, stay tuned for more box fics in the future!

Thanks for reading, and see you all in October Autumn Box season 2!!

#thought box #1022 club

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kaybreezy3000 · 3 days ago

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Inside of You ~A Five Hargreeves / Female reader insert request

(5714 words) Rated Mature for sexually explicit content, so stay away if that isn't your jam.

While joining Five for family night at his brother's house, he gives you an unexpected treat to add to the fun, ending the night by leaving you feeling more loved than you ever thought was possible.

Warnings and more summary: Five and Reader are adults, Smutty smut, Cock warming, Dom Five, cocky Five and sweet vulnerable Five, s4 setting-assuming that all that sort of went down only with a twist in brief mention that Five in the end saved the day (because he's the man of course and I can't do it any other way), also Lila and Five never got stuck in the subway-so no worries on triggers for that-pretending that didn't happen, this one's all about you and Five 😉

2 days ago, Anonymous asked:

Hi! Thank you, that other fic was amazing! Can I request maybe a dom five smut where he's really cocky at how quickly he can make the reader cum, maybe with overstimulation and cock warming? Thank you!

Answer: Sure, here you go. 😊😉 TY for the kind words.

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

Inside of You

“Mommy!!! Daddy! we can’t sleep!”

“Me either!” Grace yelled.

“Bloody hell.” Looking tired, Lila glared at Diego. After finally agreeing on a movie to watch, it had only been quiet for about thirty minutes into the film, and this was the third time a little voice had called out, needing something.

“I’ll take Grace this time, if you take the twins,” Diego grumbled, already getting up. Stomping down the hall towards the kid’s bedrooms like a dad sized Godzilla, he turned back, looking at Five as he said, “I know you two kids are getting serious, or you never would have subjected her to one of our family nights, so I’m going to give you a little piece of advice. Unless you want to be interrupted every five minutes for the rest of your life, put a rubber on it.”

Casually swirling his drink between his legs as he sat there across from you on their couch, Five’s usual mask indifference was the only reply Diego got, but as soon as they were gone, he turned his attention to you, a playful smirk making him look so handsome but also so characteristically smug and dick-ish.

He knew that he didn’t need to wear a rubber with you, but he’d also made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t opposed to somewhere down the road performing the act of breeding with you with the intent of starting a family, not just to get you screaming his name.

All night long, Five had been looking at you like he was up to something, and knowing he was probably up to no good, you decided to stay in your chair on the other side of the room.

He quirked a dark brow at you, and his dimple deepened. Leaning back, his thighs spreading wide, undeterred, Five padded his lap. “Join me?”

A rush of wetness leaked between your legs from just looking at him over there, dressed in his slim-fitted dress shirt with his long silk tie dangling down between his legs.

You knew about the Hargreeves family and their powers and how they’d saved the world multiple times. Everyone knew about them after they averted The Cleanse, but even so, you swore Five’s real power was not in his ability to blink, or time travel, or in how he and a deli full of other versions of him had figured out how to destroy new elemental forces that were set to bring on the end of the world. His gift wasn’t even in his ability to have a cocky answer to everything.

No. All that was true, but Five’s real power was in how easily he could take away your ability to think of anything other than pleasing him, all with nothing but one of his mischievous smiles.

As if drawn to him by a magical force, you stood up, coming his way as you anxiously ran your hands down the front of your skirt to press out the invisible wrinkles.

As soon as you were within arm’s reach, Five reeled you in fast, knocking you off balance, making you land on top of his thighs, straddling him, face to face. The second you were touching him, he nuzzled his face into your neck, inhaling deeply.

“I love when you wear these girly little skirts, and the way you smell,” he whispered as you delighted in the sensation of his lips pressing against your skin, and your bare thighs resting against the softness of his wool dress pants.

Springs, squeaking from two very naughty twins jumping on their beds down the hall, accompanied by the sound of glass smashing, and Diego and Lila simultaneously swearing, your head swung that way.

“Sounds like they might be busy awhile,” Five chuckled as he continued placing slow kisses in a carefully charted line along your throat.

Unable to help yourself, you tilted your head to the side, giving him more skin to work with as your hands ran up his arms, your fingers digging into his shoulders, shaking him a little. Your mouth dropped open. “We really shouldn’t- “

“Shooooosh.” Five laughed, cutting you off as his hand slid up your thigh, moving under your skirt. When his mouth reached your collar bone, he started sucking, making the blood rise to the surface of your skin.

Forgetting any argument you had about why this wasn’t a good idea, a soft moan fell from your lips. The feel of Five’s semi hard cock under you had you craving more friction between your legs, so you began to rock your body against him. The movement got Five growling so cutely in response, but it was the painful points of his teeth biting into you where your neck met your shoulder that made your entire body go completely still.

His firm hand moved further up your leg, blazing a predatory trail of warning along the creamy span of your flesh. Then one of his fingers glided along your underwear, playing along the slightly damped slit splitting the mounds of your arousal.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart. You are too easy,” he mocked, his lips spreading in a wicked smile against your neck.

With that shit, you no longer cared that Five’s brother’s family, all seven of them when you included Lila’s parents, were on the other side of the house. All you could think about was that unbelievably sexy jerk who was laughing at you for wanting to jump his bones.

Five wasn’t wrong. You never could get enough of him. You’d been dating for months, but almost as soon as you’d taken your flirtations past antagonizing each other daily while in passing, and into the more physical joys of getting to know each other, as soon as his hands were on you, a desperation like you’d never experienced before felt like it was going to consume you if you didn’t have him.

“Please, Five,” you moaned.

Giving in, Five’s fingers shifted the thin swath of material covering you to the side, so he could slide his finger up and down your soaking folds. Your breaths soon turned to pants as his thumb found your clit, circling the spot over and over.

Your forehead limply fell to Five’s shoulder. His erection was so hard underneath you, and as pathetic as it was, you were about to beg for him to take you, right there, hard and fast, on someone else’s couch, when you could be walked in on at any second.

To your relief, he seemed to be thinking what you were thinking because his thumb moved away, and just as fast, he was gripping your embarrassingly wet underwear.

“These need to go,” he gently whispered in your ear, just as he tore the small piece of lace from your body.

Your startled yelp was quickly followed by the sound of Five unzipping his trousers and your shocked state was made no better when his cock sprang free.

Knowing Five could blink you both out of there if you couldn’t finish fast enough, you eagerly attempted to rise to mount him, but he stopped you, gripping your hips, so he could forcefully turn you, so you were sitting on his lap, facing away from him. Your sudden change in position momentarily threw you off balance, but as soon as his hands gripped the outside of your thighs and his lips found your neck again, it grounded you to him.

The tips of Five’s fingers dug into your backside, his palms against your thighs as he urged your hips to move. He’d purposefully wedged his cock between your legs from underneath, and the sight of it being long enough to protrude out from between your thighs, making a little tent in the fan of your skirt, had you cursing under your breath.

Reaching around, Five flipped his hand under the frill of your skirt, and started in again, pleasuring you, only this time by pressing the warm tip of his cock against your clit.

From there, you fell into a smooth rhythm, of you doing the moving, and him letting you use him to get off.

You knew this couldn’t go on. You could hear your hosts tell their kids that this was it; we aren’t coming back in here even if Godzilla comes out of your closet!

You were dying to get Five as excited as you, to suck his dick, to have him fuck you properly, anything to have him inside you, but to your dismay, he didn’t seem to want that.

With what he’d been through with being trapped and alone, and being used and abused, over and over, normally all it took was the go ahead from you, and that chocolate haired menace would be slamming his dick inside you, grinning ear to ear, looking every bit the horny young man he was, while also proving he was the old deprived soul he claimed to be.

Five was always a paradox of extremes, but when he was with you in bed, he was like a man possessed, hell bent on making up for lost time. That was what you were used to. Not this…this poorly timed patience.

As soon as you started shifting your body up and down with any real spunk, Five’s hands flew to your hips, forcing you to slow your grinding.

“And they say I’m the one who has no impulse control,” he breathed in your ear, which earned him a frustrated groan. His chuckled laugh rumbled along your back, but again, he gave in, seemingly listening to your silent plea.

Removing his hand between your legs, Five readjusted your position, leaning back into the couch. He gripped your hips and lifted you, so you were hovering over him. After lining you up to his length, he slowly guided your body down.

He let out the sexiest sounding hiss of satisfaction as his slicked length impaled you.

You mewed and thrashed as the thick head of his cock came to a stop when your ass pressed back down in his lap. You couldn’t stay still. “Holy ff-ah-ck, Five!” you quietly stuttered as you moved up a little, only to fall back down when your legs went weak, causing the fullness of his cock to overwhelm you all over again.

Adjusting himself so the angle of his dick wasn’t quite as jarring had you both panting breaths of relief, but your quiet exclamations were still coming out much more panicked sounding than his.

Again, when you tried to move, Five wouldn’t let you, going so far as to wrap his arms around your waist, causing you to have to lean back against him, fully flush.

“Don’t move,” he warned.

You felt helpless, like you were nothing more than an object put there for Five to use as he pleased, and as messed up as that was, that idea and reality of it happening was making you so aroused it hurt.

At the new sounds of Diego and Lila talking in the kitchen, only a room away, and the popping of popcorn, you were so wound up, just waiting for Five to take you over the edge, and end this, that your body started to tremble. You started rolling your hips, but Five’s hands gripped you tighter, insistently keeping you still.

“We tired the little beasts out this time! We’ll be right out,” Diego’s annoyed voice floated from the kitchen.

To that, you tried to get up, but Five held you tight with one arm, the other reaching for the throw blanket hanging over the back of the couch, covering you both like he planned on staying right there, and he confirmed as much when he said, “I think it’s time I give you a lesson in delayed gratification.”

When he shifted to better kiss your cheek, his cock buried snugly, ended up shifting too, and that didn’t help delay anything you were feeling. You let out a little whine from that reminder of how good it felt having Five moving inside you.

Five adjusted your thighs, spreading you wide, and getting even more aggravated, and knowing he wasn’t going to let up on this, you rapidly started bouncing up and down, your breathy moans of exertion bitten back by your teeth studding into your lower lip.

Behind you, Five’s body tensed each time you tried to fuck yourself down on his cock. Thinking you could get him to see the light, you reached back, running your fingers through his hair in way that usually made him turn into a mindless puddle of goo, but to that, he only started in again, peppering kisses to the nap of your neck, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Letting you do all the work, only not very successfully with the way he had you detained, he moved his hold to your breasts, groping them through your shirt.

“What are you doing!” you huffed at him as you wriggled. He was still refusing to thrust himself up into you, even though you were wildly kicking your heels into his shins like he was a racehorse you were trying to get moving for the win at the finish line.

“I’m enjoying you to the fullest, but I promise I’ll make it worth it if you’re a good girl and you warm my cock until I say you can please me differently,” he calmly explained while dragging the tip of his nose along your hairline.

The feeling of his fingers skimming under your skirt left you burning up in confusion as your skin tickled with the prickle of goosebumps. You could feel the coil inside of you tightening with every second that this denial went on.

Five always felt so fucking amazing, and the things he did to you were, just wow…but holy hell! All he needed to do was…

“Fuck me, Five! Please!” you begged, but he didn’t move, and not being allowed to do more than torment yourself, you defeatedly stopped fighting and flopped back against him.

Of course, that was when he started rocking his hips needily, pounding up into you, doing it hard enough to make the legs of the couch cry out in protest.

Your body strained as waves of arousal washed through you, making it feel like the temperature in the room had just increased by a zillion degrees. Your muscles squeezed around his shaft, trying to make him cum, so you could at least get the satisfaction of milking him dry before they came back.

Not having it, stopping completely, Five said your name in a very strained voice, followed by a hot puff of air blowing past your ear. “I told you to behave, and be my pretty little cockwarmer, and now look what you made me do, you willful little brat.” Five grunted so annoyingly adorably as he proceeded to rock shallow thrusts of his cock into you while you squirmed in his lap.

You were so turned on now as he attempted to punish you in your favorite way, your cries of pleasure rose with each tug and push of his dick. “Daddy, I am sorry. I need it! I need you,” you whimpered.

You gasped as the heels of Five’s shiny black shoes dug into the floor and his dick bottomed out, making it feel like he’d just stabbed you in the stomach.

Pushing his hands into your abdomen, feeling his own cock inside you, tearing you apart, Five’s hips stilled again, making you take it. You felt a pulse of excitement quiver up his length as aching pain filled you, and the breath you’d been holding came out in a flood of fucks.

Five opened his mouth, his warm breath hitting your ear as he started to say something, but he was interrupted by the loud beep of the microwave, and Lila talking about him. “That demented little pervert better not be trying to screw that poor girl on our couch.”

That snapped you out of your daze and both your backs stiffened. The smell of buttery popcorn wafted your way as Diego’s shadow began moving down the hall in your direction.

Your face felt like it was on fire as you moved to get off Five before they caught you, but to your horror, his fingers tightened on your rib cage, digging in so hard that you couldn’t help it when you started laughing uncontrollably.

“Stay put,” he ordered as he attacked you.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wild. “Are you crazy?”

“Yes,” he said, totally straight faced, then he gingerly kissed your shoulder, and removed his hands from under your clothes, just as Diego came around the corner with Lila right behind him.

It was impossible to ignore that Five’s length was still rock hard inside of you. You were frozen like a deer trapped in the headlights, but that asshole just sat there and nonchalantly plucked at the cuff of his shirt sleeve, glancing at his watch, like he was irritated they had taken so long.

You were torn between getting up and putting as much distance between you and him as possible, or proving that he wasn’t the only bat shit crazy one, by staying there to finish what he’d started and making it to where you both were never asked to come over for family night again.

“Sorry. Like I said, kids are-” Diego started, then he paused, eying the blanket wrapped around your laps. He raised his eyebrows to the ceiling. “Well, well, well… You guys look cozy.”

Smiling innocently, Five pulled the blanket around you a little, making it cover a little more of your legs, but it still wasn’t long enough to hide that you were basically sitting not just between his legs, but on his lap.

Giving Five the stink eye, Lila smiled just as fake as him, then sat down in her recliner. “Here,” she said, reaching back, offering you the larger afghan in her hand.

She was way too far away for you to reach it, and not at all thinking, you started to rise, but at the feel of Five’s cock slipping out of you, you quickly sat back down. Your eyes felt like they may have rolled back in your head, and your neck turned a million shades pinker from the feel of it. Also paying for that mistake, you heard and felt Five let out a sharp intake of breath.

“What’s the problem?” Lila asked, scowling at him.

“Just throw it over,” Five angrily grumbled at her, and your stomach quivered from the deep tenor of his voice, and your walls reactively clenched around him, trying to prolong the feeling.

Clearly aware something was up, coming over, taking the blanket, before either you, or Five, did something stupid, Diego kindly handed you the blanket and then Five the bowl of popcorn he’d bought for you to share.

“You think you two kids can be good and watch the rest of this movie?” Diego questioned, “Or do you want to call it a night?”

“We’re good. Start it back up,” Five cooly replied, and again, just the feel of his body inside yours as he spoke was making it hard for you to resist moving your hips. How he could act so relaxed was beyond you. You felt like you were going to burst at the seams, and when he leaned forward to set the bowl on the coffee table you almost came right then and there.

What the hell was he doing!!!!!!!

As the TV screen came to life, there was no way your mind could go back to the romantic comedy that was playing, not with Five moving himself, and you down, laying so your heads were resting on one of the end pillows. His warm, heavy cock slipped in and out from the motion, giving you the slightest friction from the adjustment, but just as fast, with one deliberate thrust, burying himself full deep again, he had you. “Oh! Shoooo.....ooot,” you accidentally cried out, quickly acting like you had your hair tangled under him in a way that hurt.

Pretending like he was unaware of what he'd done, Five kicked his shoes off, and his feet joined yours at the other end of the couch.

“Isn’t this nice?” he whispered in your ear, and again, Lila glanced your way, but this time, you swore you saw her trying to hold in a smile.

You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing. The joy in Five’s voice proved he was thrilled, and that he knew just what he was doing to you, which was driving you insane.

Laying there, mostly hidden under the blankets, Five moved his arm that was draped over your body, his fingers soothingly moving along your side, then your stomach, up and down, over and over.

It felt amazing. This was so sneaky and dirty, but still, you’d never felt anything even remotely like this. All you think about was him. All you could feel was him.

As Five slowly caressed your body, every so often your hips would reactively start moving. You pushed your butt against him, trying to increase the sensation, and just that tiniest movement would make you want to cry because it felt so good.

Planting his feet on the arm rest, doing you even more dirty, Five slowly began to work his hips, fucking his cock into you, so shallow and so agonizing slow. Letting go, you shut your eyes, your pinched breaths falling into cadence with his.

Creeping his hand between your legs, Five was greeted with the fresh wash of wetness of his making. “I could hold you like this forever,” he whispered with his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

His loving words and the feeling of what he was doing made it feel like you were being lit on fire. You were sure that you were glowing with Five’s ethereal aura of blue light, and he was about to blink you out of there, but that didn’t happen.

Instead, gripping your hips to prevent you from grinding back against him, he stopped rutting himself against you.

“Perfect little cockwarmer,” he breathed, so quietly, only you could hear it.

As he worked a single finger, back and forth across your clit, the only sign something was going on over on the couch was the soft, wet sound of movement, but it was too quiet for Diego or Lila to hear it. That was until Five hooked his finger, dragging it up and down even faster. Holding the blanket away from you, so they couldn’t see the quick thrusts of his wrist, the quietest whimper crept from your lips.

Diego looked your way for a second, but Five had already stopped moving his hand, so his brother looked away again, and turned up the volume on the TV. When Five pulled his hand back out from under the blankets, your shamefully slicked thighs helplessly clamped together in protest, then he brought his finger to your mouth, pulling at your bottom lip.

“Open,” he quietly demanded, peering down at you with a glint of fondness in his darkened eyes.

Not wanting him to draw more attention to the fact that you weren’t just sprawled out, spooning on their couch like you appeared to be, you did as he asked, and Five slid himself inside your mouth, the weight of his finger firmly pressing down on your tongue.

“Suck,” he breathed.

Obeying him again, your lips closed, and you were met with the taste of your own lust.

Debasing you as he discretely fucked your mouth with his pussy-soaked finger, Five’s cock twitched with excitement. He was so hard, that he was throbbing. You knew that he had to be out of his mind by then, but then just like that, he pulled his hand away from your mouth and he reached for the bowl of popcorn, instead.

You were going to die.

Yup. This was it. You were dead. Klaus was going to end up being your only company.

On purpose or not, you weren’t sure, bringing a handful back, Five dropped a piece of the puffed corn, and it fell on the couch cushion right next to your face. Going all in with Five in this madness, you shuffled our hand out from under the blankets and popped it in your mouth, chewing angrily.

“I hate you,” you murmured, and Five kissed your temple in reply, then he continued to crunch on his salty treat.

At this point, it had been over a half hour with his cock inside you, stretching your walls, but hardly moving. You were so beside yourself, and you weren’t sure which you wanted to do more, kiss him silly, or slap him sillier. Both seemed like viable options, and knowing Five, he’d enjoy it way too much one way or another.

By the time the movie ended, Five had been quiet for the last thirty minutes, and so had you. You could feel his breathing, deep and slow, as if he was sleeping. When you’d looked back at him, even before the credits had rolled, his eyes were closed, his thick lashes laying in stark contrast to his flawlessly pale cheeks.

He was so beautiful.

Wanting to be with him, even in sleep, you closed your eyes too.

“Should I wake him up so he can get her home?” Diego whispered a few minutes later.

Lila’s reply was just as quiet. “No. Let him have this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that evil little ghoul look so peaceful.”

The sounds of Diego and Lila turning the movie off, and the click of the lights going out, were followed by their feet, treading down the hall towards their bedroom.

You were sure that at some point during all that, you’d feel Five’s dick softening, but you hadn’t. You were also sure that he was out, sleeping just like they thought he was. Then, suddenly, the floor felt like it was dropping out from under you. You were floating through space, crashing through time and space, then thrown back into reality, met with the chill of cold blankets under your back.

Clinging to Five, even though his weight was holding you down, head spinning in a way that wasn't enough to make you sick, but was still plenty alarming, you shivered from head to toe.

Looking around, you realized you were back in Five’s apartment.

“Don’t worry, that feeling will go away in a minute,” he apologized. “You did so good, sweetheart. Now it’s time for your reward.” He pulled out of you, leaving your body bucking, and your cunt spasming from the loss of him filling your hole.

One second, illuminated by nothing other than the dim light filtering in through his bedroom blinds, Five was kneeling between your legs, tearing off his shirt, throwing his tie off in the darkness, and the next, you were blinded by a flash of light and he was back, totally naked, having ditched his pants and socks.

Bearing down on you with his dick bobbing against you, Five frantically worked your shirt up over your head. Once exposed, his lips came crashing down against yours.

“Five, please,” you whimpered as his tongue pushed inside your mouth. You couldn’t take it anymore.

Moving his kisses down your neck, then to your chest, giving your nipples each a few hot licks, Five braced himself on his forearms, then mounted your clit with his mouth, violently and relentlessly sucking you off.

The sloppy sound of him eating you out, and the heat of his breathy growls against your clit, sent jolts of electricity through you. Gripping his messy hair, you forced his face down harder, and Five took it like you knew he would, lapping at you, his tongue and teeth and his whole face fucking you delirious.

He was so fucking good at this, and you were so swollen from hours of him toying with you that all it took was less than a minute and your thighs were quivering around his youthfully smooth cheeks.

“Yes, Five, yeeeesssss!” you wailed as you came, seeing stars as your body writhed and twisted in his sheets and your walls tightened over and over, getting nothing but the empty ghost of him that had been there before. “Five…” you cried, tears streaming from your eyes as you looked down at the dark-haired boy who was giving you a misty-eyed look of his own that was so loving and broken it only made you want him more than you already did.

Barely a moment passed, and you were flipped over, blinked around in the other direction, and Five was entering you, fucking you with a messy pace, so hard and angrily as he slapped your ass, over and over, not hard, but hard enough. “That’s it, baby,” he growled in your ear as he draped himself over your back, using your arm to pull you up from the mattress. “You’re warming daddy’s cock so well.”

At that point, you could only repeat the words please and fuck like a broken record playing a background song of a porno. When Five finally let you drop back down to the mattress and his tightened balls started slapping into your body even harder from the momentum of him fucking you, your hands immediately balled into fists, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were clinging to the bedsheets.

“Your pussy is so fucking tight,” he praised, “Daddy is going to fill you like the perfect little cockwarmer you are.”

Again, you were thrown into space, your entire body feeling like it was being ripped apart, then slammed back together in a blast of blinding light that left tingles zipping up and down your spine and your eyes darting around, trying to understand what had happened.

Slamming you back down on his mattress as you both landed, falling from his portal, but with your body flipped the other way again, Five moved his hand under your thighs, pulling you to him. Once positioned, he gripped himself, giving his entire length a few long strokes.

“All I have ever wanted was this,” he whispered as he slid inside you, letting out a hissed, fuck as his jaw dropped open.

You could feel nothing but every slow thrust of him pushing deep inside you. You could hear nothing but the sound of your heart beating in your ears and the contented moans coming from his gently parted lips.

Rocking his hips harder and faster, Five jerked his head back, trying to whip his hair from his eyes. Looking utterly shattered, completely focused on you, his eyes narrowed with a darkness that you feared would always haunt him, but you weren’t scared of it, or him.

Lifting you from the bed, thwacking his body into yours, he let the bulbous tip of his cock fuck into you just right, before he’d fuck you balls deep again, making you cry out his name even louder.

With the pattern he’d was laying into you, your second orgasm hit you fast and hard, turning your entire body into a warm pool of nothing, and Five followed you right after, his breathy groans and grunts sweet and innocent as he started to fill you.

You purred into his pillow as you felt the hot trickle of his fresh cum running out of you as he moved his hips, shifting back and forth, trying to coax more out of his orgasm and yours by not stopping even though he was spent.

This was your favorite part about sex with Five, him never giving in, of him falling down on you after you fucked, his breathy declarations of love softly caressing your senses as he kissed you sloppily, any where his lips could reach as he rut out his high.

Once the room was no longer filled with the sounds of you both blissfully losing yourself in the other, and the wet slow slap of skin-on-skin came to a stop. Five could no longer pump his softening cock inside you, but still, proudly knowing that he’d drawn out this moment he’d created to the absolute fullest, he finally pulled out, admiring his hot seed as it drizzled out of you until he reached for his shirt, carefully and gently whipping you down.

Reaching for him, Five was silent as he lay himself behind you with his sweat covered chest pressed to your back.

There was no need for words to say what doing this with you meant to him. You knew.

Five may seem all self-assured most of the time, but somewhere inside him there would always be that lost boy who desperately craved the warm feeling of human touch and the feeling of what it meant to be loved that he’d been denied for so long. Your heart felt so full. Out of everyone it could have been, he’d chosen you to finally have this with.

There was no one else like Five Hargreeves, and he was yours, and you were his, and you kissed the top of the hand that he had clinging to yours, for good measure, just in case he needed more proof of your devotion.

The quiet of the room remained, and you were lost in sleepy thoughts of happy things when suddenly your eyes popped open.

“Five? Where are my underwear?”

His adorable titter of boyish laughter shook you, then the cool feeling of his comforter fell over your bodies, and he threw a leg over yours, ensuring you couldn’t get away.

“Nothing says I am the dirty old pervert Lila said I was than the sight of your torn up panties laying on their couch in the morning. I just thought while I was taking full ownership of your heart, and your sweet pussy with my magical dick, I’d own up to that title too.”

“Five!”

Still chuckling, he snuggled himself into you, his smile plastered to the back of your neck as he breathed you in.

Within minutes of you stroking your hand along his arm that was still holding you tight, Five’s body relaxed into your touch.

He did own your heart and he knew it.

With your eyes drooping, and a soft sigh, you both slipped away-together, warm, and safe and loved.

~~~~~Repost an hour after original post because it wasn't showing up in any of the tags. 😉 Hope you find it anon.

Thanks again anon for reading my stuff and the kind words of support. Let me know if I did okay. I love writing for others, dirty or not dirty. It's just nice to know sometimes that people like it. ❤️

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