#I personally don’t celebrate days like these
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When someone has 100kg of weight crushing them and you remove 10kg of it, it’s natural for their response to be “that’s a start, now about the other 90kg.” That’s not mean; that’s basic self worth.
When we successfully defeated Donald Trump, there was lukewarm relief, a reminder that you were only allowed one or maybe two days to celebrate and then it was back to work.
The United States doesn’t have public healthcare, university tuition is extortionate, and the federal minimum wage is $7.25 unless you’re a server in which case it’s $2 and let’s hope all your customers are generous enough to toss you a percentage of their bill. Of course Americans wanted better.
The only post I saw about Juneteenth was reminding us that there were enslaved people who were killed instead of freed and therefore celebrating the end of chattel slavery was wrong, and besides, we have prison labor so nothing really changed or got better and there’s nothing to celebrate anyway.
I don’t know if you’re black, but as a white person I don’t expect black people to just be grateful that they’re not plantation slaves anymore.
So of course when we have a major setback, we fall apart and have to start frantic damage control.
People are falling apart because their situations were already precarious and now it’s about to get worse.
Frantic discourse ensues over how much people are allowed to unplug before it becomes bad and selfish. Yes, maybe you can have this one day off Mr. Cratchit but you better be here and miserable early the next morning.
As someone who has dealt with charities a lot, charities and activists come on strong because they need all the help they can get. You have to be able to be confident in your “sorry, I can’t, but I wish you the best” without getting validation from them, because they have bigger priorities.
Like abusive bosses always insisting you squeeze out more, more, more, and any achievement is just proof you were lazy the other times and impetus for more work.
It might feel the same, but this really isn’t an OK comparison to make. Bosses are doing it from a place of power and with the purpose of leeching more from you to give themselves more privilege. Oppressed people are doing it from a place of desperation, and that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to let yourself drown, but you have to get your validation about it from someone other than them. Redirect your anger to the people in our respective countries who voted us into these situations and just took for granted that people like you and me would step up and give more help to the people who are getting fucked over through these people’s selfishness.
The harsh truth about activism is that the people you’re doing it for are in shitty situations, which means you’re going to see a lot of anger about those shitty situations and a lot of pressure to do more. You have to get confident about your own boundaries and recognise who is really causing the stress you’re under.
I’m sorry but if there is one thing the Tumblr left needs crucially, it’s the ability to celebrate.
I remember when marriage equality was called and there were waves of rainbows and love wins posts. When we successfully defeated Donald Trump, there was lukewarm relief, a reminder that you were only allowed one or maybe two days to celebrate and then it was back to work. That is if you were even a good person for voting Biden. We never did settle if he was better than Trump. (We did.). We didn’t celebrate student loan debt relief or any of the accomplishments of the Biden administration, or any of the times Trump was blocked, or other countries succeeding in keeping fascists out of office. Who cares if we had successes? It’s not good enough. Back to work!
And this anti-celebratory attitude stretches back to the past. On the 100th anniversary of female suffrage in America, we were reminded that not all women had the vote and so we weren’t allowed to celebrate. The only post I saw about Juneteenth was reminding us that there were enslaved people who were killed instead of freed and therefore celebrating the end of chattel slavery was wrong, and besides, we have prison labor so nothing really changed or got better and there’s nothing to celebrate anyway. Trans Day of Visibility comes with Trans Day of Remembrance so that people don’t fill the tags with hate crimes and death. So on and so forth. Nothing gets better. Nothing changes. Back to work!
So of course when we have a major setback, we fall apart and have to start frantic damage control. Frantic discourse ensues over how much people are allowed to unplug before it becomes bad and selfish. Yes, maybe you can have this one day off Mr. Cratchit but you better be here and miserable early the next morning. Like abusive bosses always insisting you squeeze out more, more, more, and any achievement is just proof you were lazy the other times and impetus for more work.
If we are never allowed to acknowledge any of our victories, how are we supposed to survive our defeats?
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OC introduction
[Thank you @haryuwu, @stestylius-arts and @ai-kan1 for the templates they look so clean and organized and I love them 😋]
Personality:
At first glance, Vic comes across as reserved and ordinary, maintaining cordial relationships without actively seeking friendships. However, once she grows close to someone, her brighter, more playful side shines through—she’s witty, bantering, and a bit tomboyish. She dislikes feeling restricted and tends to rebel against rules she finds unfair or unreasonable. While she firmly denies being a "mom friend," (she repulses the thought even) her actions often tell a different story. She’s fiercely loyal, quietly looking out for her friends and always stepping in to support them when they’re in need, even if she doesn’t admit it outright.
Though Vic sometimes comes across as naive or a bit of an airhead, it’s often by design—she purposefully plays the fool, keeping others guessing about her true thoughts and intentions. Why does she do this? Well… whatever the reason, there’s more to her than meets the eye.
Backstory:
Vic was once a naive, pure-hearted child, eager to please and willing to follow anyone’s whims. That all changed after a traumatic incident during a school trip to the woods. A classmate told her, “Wait right here and don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Obediently, she stayed put, unnoticed by her teachers or classmates. Hours passed as she waited, terrified and alone, until she was finally found by school staff after her mother reported her missing. This event left a deep scar on Vic, and the phrase “I’ll be right back” still triggers a wave of unease in her. Afterward, her submissive tendencies only worsened. She believed that by doing everything people asked, she’d be liked and accepted, avoiding the risk of being abandoned or badmouthed. Throughout middle school, this behavior made her an easy target for manipulation and psychological abuse. By her final years of high school, something within her snapped. The years of mistreatment awakened a rebellious, sharp-edged side. Vic stopped letting people walk all over her, becoming grumpier, colder, and more distrustful. She built a fortress around her true emotions, frequently lying or feigning indifference to protect herself. Though she hated the version of herself her pain had created, she learned to survive in her own way.
After graduating, Vic celebrated the end of that painful chapter in her life and vowed to reinvent herself. But just three days later, her plans were upended when she was hit by a mysterious carriage.
After the events of the prologue and her enrollment at NRC alongside Grim, Vic was struck by the mortifying realization that she’d have to relive high school all over again. Adding insult to injury, she remembered that, at the time she was hit by the mysterious carriage, she had been on her way to celebrate her graduation with an açaí smoothie—a treat she never got to enjoy. To this day, she can’t help but lament the smoothie that never was.
Notable relationships:
Jack Howl 🐺
At first, Vic was intimidated by Jack, fearing he’d be as condescending and judgmental as her classmates from middle school. However, once she got to know him, his caring and loyal nature quickly won her trust. Because of her magicless status and petite stature, Jack’s protective instincts naturally kick in around her. He often escorts her across campus, which leads to them spending more time together and growing closer.
Vic admires Jack’s honesty and strong sense of justice—qualities she found rare during her school days. His loyalty and protective behavior deeply touch her, even when he tries to hide it behind his tsundere demeanor (which she secretly finds adorable). Around Jack, Vic feels safe in a way she hasn’t before.
As their bond deepens, they begin to pine for each other, turning what should be simple interactions into painfully awkward moments. Jack’s straightforward and genuine nature makes Vic’s carefully constructed mask of aloofness crumble in his presence, leaving her vulnerable and overwhelmed by her emotions. Her feelings for him force her to confront her fears and insecurities, often leaving her shaken.
"If only there was someone like you by my side back then… maybe I wouldn’t have…!”
Leona Kingscholar 🦁
Initially, Vic and Leona barely interacted. He seemed indifferent to her presence and quietly appreciated that she didn’t nag him or try to change his lazy ways. However, her frequent visits to Savanaclaw piqued his curiosity, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was some kind of thrill-seeker. Her seemingly fragile, harmless appearance contrasted sharply with the boldness it took to linger in a dorm full of beastmen, leading him to nickname her “little mouse.”
Vic usually treats Leona with sweetness, but he sees right through her doe-eyed facade. Her true motives remain a mystery to him, and that intrigue makes him determined to unravel her secrets. To that end, Leona enjoys teasing and flustering her, just to watch her carefully constructed mask crack.
Leona is also keenly aware of Vic and Jack’s feelings for each other, which he finds highly entertaining. He takes great pleasure in cockblocking taunting them about it, using his sharp wit to nudge them closer to confronting their emotions. His teasing is particularly merciless with Jack, often warning him with sly remarks like, “You’d better keep a close eye on your prey, or she might just wander into the lion’s den.” What exactly does he mean by that? Who knows…
Ace Trappola ❤️ and Deuce Spade ♠️:
Vic’s first friends at NRC, Ace and Deuce quickly became two of her closest companions. The trio spends much of their time hanging out and bantering, creating a dynamic full of playful teasing. Her provocations often escalate with Ace, leading to occasional spats, though they’re always quick to reconcile.
With Deuce, Vic adopts a softer, almost sisterly demeanor, though she doesn’t hold back from teasing him—just not as intensely as she does with Ace. Around them, Vic maintains her cool, tomboyish exterior but will sometimes show emotional vulnerability when she needs comfort or support. Ace, however, never misses a chance to mercilessly tease her about her crush on Jack, much to her frustration (and embarrassment).
Idia Shroud💀:
Vic and Idia became friends through the Board Game Club, bonding over their shared interests and similarities. During club activities, they often team up to gently? bully and bicker with Azul, much to their mutual amusement. While Vic enjoys their camaraderie, their interactions mostly happen through DMs, as Idia’s shut-in nature makes face-to-face meetings rare—despite her frequent insistence that they hang out more in person.
Idia has developed a crush on her, which makes him even more hesitant to meet up outside of the club. He’s painfully aware (and secretly salty) about her preference for the athletic types in Savanaclaw, which makes his hopes—if he had any—practically nonexistent. For now, he keeps his feelings to himself, hoping to drown them. Vic, ever the supportive friend, often encourages him and occasionally flirts or gets touchy to tease him, delighting in his flustered reactions. Is she aware of his feelings? Who can say...
Azul Ashengrotto 🐙:
Vic initially had a strong dislike for Azul, finding his sweet-talking, calculating nature, and tendency to demand repayment for even the smallest favors uncomfortably reminiscent of her old classmates. She was openly hostile toward him, often meeting his charm with sharp-tongued, vulgar retorts. Yet, Azul remained undeterred.
Over time, as they spent more moments together in the Board Game Club, their constant bickering and competitive banter began to grow on her, almost without her noticing. She realized Azul was more "relaxed" during club activities, which made him easier to talk to. Vic now views him as a sort of rival, someone who challenges her wit and strategies, though neither likes to show vulnerability or weakness around the other.
If asked whether they’re friends, Vic will promptly deny it with a firm “no,” while Azul confidently responds with a smug “yes.” Despite their clashing personalities and opposing morals, they quietly look out for each other in their own way—remembering birthdays, exchanging souvenirs, and occasionally offering subtle gestures of support. Deep down, Vic knows Azul is an important friend, but she’d rather swallow a rock than admit it. Tsuntsun
Jamil Viper 🐍:
Vic harbors a superficial, puppy-like crush on Jamil, idolizing him and finding everything he does impossibly cool or impressive. Jamil, however, doesn’t seem to return her affections—or trust her, for that matter. He usually cuts her off with polite but firm indifference, which only seems to intensify her fascination, much to his exasperation. To Jamil’s dismay, Vic sighs dreamily whenever he’s cold or sharp-tongued with her (masochist much??) but gets utterly confused and flustered when he shows any hint of worry or care for her.
While Jamil would never admit it, he doesn’t entirely dislike her attention. Her admiration strokes his ego, and perhaps—just perhaps—he’s considering how he might use it to his advantage... t this doesn't seem very healthy...
Rook Hunt 🏹:
Like most people, Vic initially felt uneasy around Rook’s overly flamboyant and romantic demeanor. She couldn’t understand his fascination with her or his flowery praise, often responding to his compliments with pragmatic retorts or modest deflections. However, as time passed and she recognized the sincerity behind his words of encouragement, her wariness faded, and she began to trust him more.
Knowing it’s nearly impossible to keep secrets from Rook, Vic sometimes reluctantly vents her frustrations and insecurities to him. In turn, he offers thoughtful advice and unwavering emotional support. He nicknames her “Mademoiselle Fantôme” (ghost) and seems to see right through her composed exterior.
Like Leona, he’s aware there’s more to her than meets the eye and enjoys analyzing her hidden depths. Rook takes particular delight in evoking various reactions from Vic, describing her as a “kitten with hidden claws,” always intrigued by her blend of aloofness and fire.
Trivia:
While Vic appears tomboyish and sisterly with the first years, Jack is the exception. Around him, she’s notably sweeter and more bashful.
The more nervous or flustered she becomes, the higher-pitched (and more pathetic) her voice gets.
Vic used to be close with her older sister, a prosecutor. Her strong sense of justice and argumentative nature were heavily influenced by her sibling.
When heated, Vic becomes highly argumentative, delivering well-constructed, logical points to dismantle her opponent’s stance—a rare display of bold confidence.
Her dream is to become a detective/investigator.
Vic doesn’t get angry often, but when she does, it’s described as a “cold, merciless ire with sharp words that could make a grown man cry” (Ace’s words).
Though she’s a bit of a coward and dislikes confrontation, her quick thinking and improvisation often help her slip out of sticky situations. (Both Leona and Rook take notes on her sharp survival instinct.)
Despite her unassuming appearance, Vic has surprising leg strength and flexibility from self-defense classes she took as a child. She claims she’s rusty and fell out of practice for the most part, but her kicks prove otherwise.
Her birthday (February 4) is the same as Cater’s, so their celebrations are often combined in Heartslabyul. Cater affectionately calls her his “twinsie” and refers to her as “cute lil sis.”
Floyd nicknames her “Axolotl” and teases her relentlessly about her height. He especially enjoys being overly touchy with her in Jack’s presence.
Vic occasionally treats herself to Mostro Lounge visits to gossip with Jade, often about Azul’s defeats in the board game club. Jade uses this intel to tease and blackmail Azul later.
The Light Music Club adores pampering her and repeatedly begs her to join as a singer, but she always flusteredly declines.
Like Ace, Vic can be mischievous and a bit greedy. She shamelessly accepts Kalim’s generous offers of money (though she hopes Jack doesn’t find out...)
Vil intimidates her to no end with his sharp gaze, but she secretly admires him and dreams of having him give her a makeover someday. Rook frequently (and gleefully) tries to push her to approach Vil, much to her horror.
Malleus believes they are closer friends than they actually are, often due to misinterpreting her words and actions. Vic, too kind or maybe scared to correct him, finds herself roped into his gargoyle monologues during their awkward little outings.
#twisted wonderland#twst oc#twst mc#twst yuu#yuu/mc#twstvic#hi its been almost 3 years since i introduced her properly and i compelled 2 months worth of shower thoughts in this#NEW DESIGN REVEAL *party pops*#i swear im rlly fucking embarrassed about the coffin icon bc i didnt know what else to do. but i also didnt want to leave it blank#''oh shit whats one characteristic that deeply resonates with her character and will make ppl look at it and immediately think of her''#''its......its the ahoge isnt it.......''#is it blatant obvious the mystery novel protagonist syndrome here (coughnhbs not aceattorney or umineko inspired at all 😇#i encourage asks if youre curious about anything else abt her !! hehe#myart
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the forgotten girl (2)
posted originally on my old account. will be posting twice weekly :)
Amelia Scott-Higgins was a person a lot of people looked up too. The winner of the 2019 Ballon d’Or who was just 21 at the time. She was an inspiration on and off the field, so you can imagine everyone’s shock when she disappeared. Only a few know the gruesome details of her injuries, and those happen to be Barcelona players Lucy Bronze and Keira Walsh. Alexia Putellas had always admired her, as a person and a player.
“Do you think we could convince her to join us? We need a striker and she is the best!” Jana excitedly said to Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid as they walked into the locker room.
“No, she was the best. Past tense.” Ingrid said.
“Ale you could totally convince her! You guys were friends no?” Jana’s words were loud through the quiet locker room.
“Who are you convincing?” The English accent through the Spanish was still very clear to this day and unmistakably came from Lucy.
“Amelia Scott-Higgins! She’s living in Barcelona and Ale used to be her friend! We need her Luce!”
“No. Understand what I am about to say. No one here is to contact Milly and ask her to play. No one is to ask her to come to a game or to hang out. She has been through enough and you will all leave her the hell alone.” Keira spoke extremely firmly. No one has heard her talk like that before.
“Kei, come on they don’t know.”
“That’s exactly right Lucy. They don’t know. You all think she’s this amazing footballer and want her to play, but she went through some fucked up shit. She doesn’t want to play, she doesn’t want to watch. She wants to be left alone so that’s exactly what everyone is going to do: leave her alone.” The locker door slammed as Keira left. She would protect Amelia now, since she couldn’t before.
Before it all happened, Keira, Leah and Amelia were inseparable. The group was formed at a football event the first year Amelia moved over to the UK, in 2014, at just 16 years old. Emily played with Man City, alongside Keira, Lucy and Georgia. Despite playing at different clubs, they always made time for each other. The unlikely friendship with Alexia Putellas started in 2017, after both signing with Nike and having to do a campaign. Both girls were socially awkward, they sat in silence for most the day until Alexia invited Amelia to dinner. From there on out, they were very close friends.
Alexia struggled with the fame, Amelia did not. She was able to offer advice to Alexia, sharing ways to keep relationships private, or how to compartmentalise. Alexia didn’t even get a text off of Amelia when it all happened. She had flown to England to attend the funeral. A numb, bruised and bandaged shell of a friend stood before them all.
“You knew Amelia?” Olga asked quietly over dinner the night after their run in.
“Yeah. I knew both Amelia and Emily.” The sadness evident in Alexia’s voice.
“Why’d she quit? I googled her. She won the Ballon d’Or and UEFAs best player. What happened?”
“Her wife was murdered and she was hurt. I don’t even think I can begin to explain the type of player she was. She was easily the best player the world has ever seen. No matter what, she worked hard. She cared, if a person got hurt you’d know because Amelia was there first. After her opponents lost, she wouldn’t celebrate her win, she’d go around and tell them everything they did well, hug them and let them cry. I went to the funeral, she was just a shell. Covered in bruises and bandages, in a wheelchair. Then she just vanished. On the first anniversary of Emily’s death, she deleted every single social media she had, changed her number and quit football. I hadnt seen her since, apparently Keira and Lucy hadn’t either.”
“that’s a lot for one person to go through. Where are her parents?”
“Doesn’t have any. They died when she was little, from what she shared she was in foster care in Australia until they let her come to the UK”
“Maybe you should invite her for dinner? She could use a friend.”
“No. YOU should invite her. You’re someone who she doesn’t know and you two seemed to hit it off.”
Olga didn’t tell Alexia, or anyone for that matter, but Amelia had followed her on instagram that night after they met. Seemingly on a private, almost anonymous account. Olga had no plans to force Amelia back into football or back into Alexia’s life, but the more she learnt the more she wanted to ensure she wasn’t alone in this world.
Every morning, Alexia would run along the beach. It was usually quiet and calm since Spain generally didn’t wake up until later in the morning. Every morning, she would watch the same surfer. Scars scattered on her legs, one long scar from the back of her hip, across her torso. Alexia knew it was Amelia, but she never stopped to say hello, not until that morning.
The morning that would change things.
#alexia x reader#fcb femení#woso fanfics#mapi león#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso community#ingrid engen#keira walsh x lucy bronze#lucy bronze x reader#lucy bronze#keira walsh x reader#keira walsh#claudia pina#alexia putellas fanfic#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#alexia putellas imagine
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From Ice to Fire
Leah Williamson x Reader Enemies to Lovers | Happy Ending
The wheels of the plane touched down at Heathrow, and the hum of the engines died as you peered out the window at the grey skies over London. It was a far cry from the snow-dusted landscapes of Scandinavia that you called home. But here you were, ready to embark on the next chapter of your footballing career. Arsenal FC had been a dream for years, and now you were one of their newest signings.
As you stepped out of the taxi at the training grounds, nerves prickled at your skin. You had achieved so much to get here, yet a voice at the back of your mind whispered that the hardest part was still to come. Meeting the team, proving your worth, adapting to the intensity of English football—all of it loomed large.
The team welcomes you warmly on your first day at Meadow Park. The first person to greet you was Beth Mead, her grin wide and her energy infectious. "Ah, the new signing! Heard you’ve got a killer left foot. Let’s hope it’s true." Vivianne Miedema followed with a calm nod, and Kim Little, the captain, offers a handshake that carries a quiet authority. But then there’s Leah Williamson.
The Lionesses’ captain greets you with a polite, almost perfunctory nod. Her reputation precedes her: confident, charismatic, a born leader. But something about her intensity feels off. The Lionesses’ captain carried herself with a quiet intensity. Her eyes assessed you from head to toe, and her polite nod felt more like a formality than genuine welcome.
For the rest of the day, her presence loomed. During the first drills, she was the one who barked out directions, corrected positioning, and, more than once, seemed to single you out for criticism.
"You need to stay tighter to your mark," she said sharply after a defensive drill.
You clenched your jaw. "Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you’d tracked your runner."
Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension.
It was going to be a long season.
Your integration into the squad is smooth… except when it comes to Leah. The rivalry between you two grew over the weeks. On the surface, everything seemed fine. You worked well enough together during games and even exchanged the occasional word of praise when necessary. But in training, it was a different story. She seemed to find faults in everything you do. A misplaced pass? She’s the first to point it out. A moment’s hesitation on the field? She’s already barking instructions.
"That’s not how we press here," Leah said during one particularly gruelling session, her tone clipped. "Maybe in Scandinavia, you can take your time," she snaps after one particularly tense drill, "but here, we move fast."
You wiped sweat from your brow, shooting her a glare. "I’ve been playing football since I could walk. I think I know how to press."
"Not in the WSL, you don’t," she snapped back. You glare at her, chest heaving from exertion. "Maybe if you passed the ball sooner, I wouldn’t have to clean up your mistakes."
The tension between you was palpable, and the team could feel it. Beth smirked knowingly, muttering, "Oh, this is gonna be fun to watch."
During the next weeks, your Scandinavian coolness continued to clash with her fiery intensity at every turn. The team, much to your dismay, seemed to find your friction entertaining. Beth Mead started taking bets on when the two of you would finally explode, and even the usually reserved Vivianne Miedema would smirk when you and Leah squared off during drills.
It wasn’t that you disliked her—at least, that’s what you told yourself. But her constant nitpicking, her relentless need to push, got under your skin like no one ever had before.
And yet, you couldn’t help but notice her. The way she commanded the field with such confidence, the way she celebrated every goal like it was her first, the way her laugh—rare as it was—lit up the room during team dinners.
But noticing wasn’t the same as liking.
One evening after training, you stayed late to practice free kicks. The floodlights cast long shadows across the empty pitch as you lined up ball after ball, aiming for the top corner.
"You don’t rest much, do you?"
The voice startled you, and you turned to see Leah leaning against the goalpost, arms crossed.
"And you don’t know when to leave people alone," you shot back, though your tone lacked its usual bite.
To your surprise, she didn’t respond with a snarky remark. Instead, she grabbed a ball and joined you. The two of you fell into a rhythm, each taking turns at the goal. There was an unspoken competition in the air, but it felt different this time—less antagonistic, more playful.
When you finally stopped, both of you breathless, Leah gave you a small, genuine smile. "You’re not bad," she said.
"Coming from you, that almost sounds like a compliment," you replied, earning a quiet laugh.
For the first time, the tension between you seemed to ease.
The match against Chelsea was a turning point. Arsenal was down 1-0, and the clock was running out. You intercepted a pass from Sam Kerr and drove forward, weaving through defenders before threading the ball to Leah, who was perfectly positioned. She scored with a thunderous strike, and the stadium erupted.
Before you knew it, Leah was running toward you, a wide grin on her face. She wrapped her arms around you, her excitement contagious. "That was all you," she said breathlessly, her forehead briefly touching yours.
For the first time, her words felt entirely sincere, and something shifted between you.
After the Chelsea game, the team celebrated with a night out. You found yourself seated next to Leah, and to your surprise, the conversation flowed easily. She asked about your life in Scandinavia, and you told her about the snowy winters, the northern lights, and the small village where you first fell in love with football.
"You’re full of surprises," she said softly, her eyes searching yours.
"So are you," you replied, feeling a warmth you hadn’t expected.
A few weeks later, after a late-night training session, you and Leah ended up alone on the balcony of the team’s hotel. The city lights glittered below as silence stretched between you.
"I was wrong about you," Leah said finally, her voice quiet.
You turned to her, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I thought you were just another hotshot here to make a name for yourself. But you’re more than that. You care about the team. You push me to be better." She hesitated, her usual confidence faltering. "And I… I think I like you."
Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.
"I like you too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
She leaned closer, her hand brushing yours. When she kissed you, it was soft and tentative, as though testing the waters. But when you kissed her back, it was with all the passion and fire that had burned between you from the start.
The shift from enemies to lovers wasn’t seamless. You still bickered during training, but now it was laced with humour rather than hostility. The team noticed the change immediately.
"You two are ridiculous," Beth teased one day. "Just get a room already."
Leah rolled her eyes, but her hand found yours under the table.
On the field, your partnership flourished. Leah’s leadership and your creativity drove the team to new heights, and Arsenal climbed to the top of the league. Off the field, your bond deepened through late-night conversations, stolen moments, and an unspoken understanding that you had found something rare.
The season ended with Arsenal lifting the trophy. As confetti rained down, Leah pulled you into her arms, her smile brighter than ever.
"We make a good team," she said, her forehead resting against yours.
"We always did," you replied with a grin.
In that moment, surrounded by your teammates and the deafening cheers of the crowd, you knew this was just the beginning—for Arsenal, for your career, and for you and Leah.
From enemies to lovers, from ice to fire—you had found your home.
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I've basically given up on the idea of rep for us, maybe Arcane really is the best treatment our allies can give us
I wouldn't be surprised if Dropout thinks drag queens count as rep for trans women honestly
well don’t give up. the reason you can’t find good “representation” for trans girls is because you’re looking for it in a netflix show and a company of lab-grown mcelroy brothers and children of career politicians. that isn’t to say we shouldn’t demand more — we should, this shit is dire — but there is plenty of tabletop stuff being made out there BY trans women ABOUT trans women BEING trans women and it’s not even that hard to find if you go on itch or just ask a girl who makes tabletop rpgs on this website. you could probably find dozens of transfem exclusive actual play podcasts — they just won’t have the same overproduced feeling or lost of snazzy special effects and celebrity guests (well. tme celebrity guests. it’s pretty easy to get Chelsea Manning on your podcast so i hear).
and that’s just actual play! like, this website in particular is full to the brim with independently made transfeminine art. webcomics have also often historically been spearheaded by (sometimes then-closeted) trans women — like here’s some webcomics about/by transfems that i personally like; Haus of Decline, close your eyes look at the mountains, Homestuck, Shencomix (well we’ll get him one day) — i hear Questionable Content and Dumbing of Age are made by the two biggest eggs in webcomic history and both comics have transfems galore in them too (go figure)
i… do really wish there were more transfems in animated tv though! the scraps we get are fucking dire.
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feeling sentimental so can i get hcs of Jason meeting the fam for the first time for Christmas and like. them being really sweet and supportive (cause mine is) n yk ☹️☹️ idk i just want the best for him and also to introduce him to my family
— under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.
♪ ༘⋆ on the radio… christmas tree farm by taylor swift!
warnings: none just hcs! :) pairing: jason grace x gn! reader a/n: I’m not a big xmas girlie but I had so so much fun writing this I hope you like it ☺️
*ੈ🎄✩‧₊
୨୧ okay, so we all know that jason was thrown to the wolves + his mother was a drunk so it could be assumed he never did celebrate holidays let alone christmas with his family or anyone at that.
୨୧ and you, on the other hand, had a loving family that always spent the holidays together.
୨୧ so when jason first told you he never celebrated christmas you were surprised (well not really but still yes) and offered for him to spend it with you and your family.
୨୧ he said yes, solely because you would be there, yet at the same time he was nervous to meet them.
୨୧ it took a lot of reassuring, but eventually you got him to fully agree so on december 25th you took him to your home to meet your family!
୨୧ and this didn’t mean he wasn’t still mortified that your family would hate him
୨୧ I mean it took, like, three mental breakdowns, five minor panic attacks, and loads of comforting words for him to relax.
୨୧ then eventually he calmed down at last.
୨୧ but, when you arrived at your home he found that your family was totally welcoming to him, and happily accepted him.
୨୧ the fondness of your family was nearly unbearable at first, because really you had been the only person who treated him as gently as they did.
୨୧ queue happiness-mental breakdown- part two…
୨୧ anyways, he’s totally got a death grip on your hand the whole day, like at some point you’ll leave and never return
୨୧ and it’s not like he’s scared of your family, it’s just that he likes the silent reassurance that you’re there with him
୨୧ let’s queue the scene now…
you attempt to stand up from your seat atop the couch, though when you stand, you find a hand chaining you from leaving. you turn around with a frown.
“jase… you gotta let go of my hand, angel.”
“how long will you be gone?” you feel his hand tighten around yours.
“I’m literally just going to the bathroom!”
“for how long?”
“I’m just peeing!”
୨୧ he lets you go, of course, because he wouldn’t like it if you wet the couch.
୨୧ n e ways… unsurprisingly, he gets long well with your family members, the same for them who are, by now, begging you to bring him back for every holiday.
୨୧ they may like him more than you…
୨୧ they don’t say it verbally… but there are signs… LOL
୨୧ (you do end up brining him back)
୨୧ and you’re 99% sure your parents begged him to put a ring on it so he’d officially be apart of the family.
୨୧ he’s not saying no to that
୨୧ but, overall, to wrap this up, by the end of the day, jason is pretty sure christmas is his new favorite holiday
#xoxochb#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo fandom#percy jackson#pjo#percy series#percy jackson x reader#jason grace imagines#jason grace pjo#jason grace#jason grace x reader#jason grace x y/n#jason grace x you#riordanverse x reader#riordan universe#riordanverse
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Can we get birthday smut with Sam for his birthday tomorrow!!! Please
I think I got this request yesterday, so that would make today Sam’s birthday! 🖤
Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, kissing, hair pulling, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, creampie, fluffy filth
Word Count: 1.8k | unedited
.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅
“Don’t sweat it okay?” Sam assures, “It’s okay. Your job is.. complicated sometimes.”
You let out a sigh, “I know, but tomorrow is your birthday Sam.. I just.. I hate to miss it.”
“Listen.” Sam pauses, “The only person I really care about spending my birthday with, is you. And if I have to celebrate it another day, that’s fine by me. I’m okay, baby. I promise.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, y/n.” He chuckles, “I’m sure.”
“You’re sure you’re sure?”
“Y/n.”
“Okay.” You laugh, “I’ll let you know when I land in Florida. We’re about to take off here soon, so..”
“Safe travels. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I love you.”
“I love you.”
You hang up and look at Tara, “He’s going to be so mad at me for lying to him.” She shakes her head, “I don’t think he’ll be mad. You’re lying for good reason.”
“Yeah.” You nod, “I think you’re right.”
You rest your head back, staring out the window as you see people move down on the ground by the plane. You felt bad, but also, you felt proud.
You managed to get out of work early enough to make it home for Sam’s birthday, but you, Tara, and Colby managed to keep it under lock and key the last few days.
You knew Sam sounded sad, but he was trying to be happy for you.
You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he seen you, specifically on his birthday.
.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅
“So he doesn’t want to do anything?” You look at Colby and scoff, “I know I didn’t.. ruin it.. but I feel like I did.”
Colby shakes his head, “He just misses you. You’ve been gone a week, and it’s not your fault that you had to be away when it was his birthday, he knows that.”
You sigh, “I know, but I just hope that me coming home actually helps.”
“Oh it will.” Colby chuckles, “He spent hours last night rambling on about how he feels bad for being sad, but I told him the same thing as I told you, don’t feel bad. It’s normal.”
You take a deep breath as you see the house come into view and you can’t help but shake a little with excitement, “So where is he?”
“Upstairs. He chose to edit our video. Jake wanted to take him out but he refused.”
“I’ll get him out of the house.” You smirk at Colby, “Don’t worry.”
You get out, stepping back to the back passenger door and Colby walks around, talking quietly, “Go. I’ll bring them in.”
You nod, looking towards house, and you can’t help but smile. You walk to the front door, quietly sneaking inside and looking around.
You hear music playing from upstairs, and you make your way towards the steps. You tiptoe to Sam’s door, peaking around the opening.
His back is facing you, laptop on his lap as he clicks away.
“How are you going to celebrate your birthday if you’re too into that video?”
Sam whips around, laptop falling to the floor as he stands up, “Oh my.. god. How are you-“ he rushes over to you, wrapping you tightly in a hug, “How are you here!?”
Your arms wrap his neck, “I just am.”
“What about work, you won’t get-“
“Sam.” You lay a hand over his mouth, “I took care of everything..” you raise your brows, “okay?”
He nods and tilts his head back to get his mouth uncovered, “Fine, then give me a kiss.”
You smile, leaning in to press your lips to his.
It instantly deepens.
Sam reaches behind you, pushing his door closed as he walks backwards towards the bed. He sits down, your legs on either side of his hips and you grind down.
He lets out a low groan against your lips, “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
You kiss back his jaw, “I’ve missed you, too, birthday boy.” You nip his ear with your teeth, “since that’s what you are, I’ll let you do anything you want to me.”
You feel his body tense at your words, his hands tighten their grip on your hips, “Oh, really?”
You lean back, your hands sliding down his chest to grip the hem of his shirt, “oh really.” You smirk, pushing his shirt up his chest and pulling it over his head, “Anything you want.”
He bites his lip, tilting his head as his eyes trail down your body on his lap, “I can think of one thing.”
You reach down, gripping your shirt to pull it up over your head, “Ooh, do tell.”
His hands slide up and down your sides, “Mm, in a minute.” He pulls you back in, leaning back to lay down as your lips meet his.
His hands slide down to your ass, gripping tightly.
He rolls over, his hand sliding around your hip to slip his fingers into the band of your leggings, “I think..” he bites his lip, eyes meeting yours as he slides his hand in to press his fingers to your clit, “I want to fill that perfect little pussy of yours.”
You let out a quiet moan, “Yes.”
“Yeah?” Sam raises his brows, his fingers adding pressing as they circle, “You alright with that?”
“So alright with that.” You pull him in to close the space, biting down on his lip which earns a gasp from him, “Can I do something first?”
“Of course.” Sam pulls his hand out, moving to sit up, but you stop him with a hand on his chest, “Lay back.”
He smirks, knowing exactly what you’re about to do.
“Just lay back, and enjoy this.” You look up at him, “Birthday boy.”
“I’ll do anything for you.” He smiles and you playfully roll your eyes as you shrug his pants and boxers down his thighs.
You were gone a week, but it felt like years.
Your lip pulls between your teeth as your eyes scan up and down his hard cock that springs free from its hold, “I’ve missed you.” You look up at Sam and he nods, “I can agree to th-“
He gasps as your lips wrap around the tip of his cock, tongue swirling over it, “F-fuck.” His hand moves to lay on your head, “That’s it.”
You take more of him in, tilting your head forward as your tongue flattens around the underside.
Your hands press to his thighs as you work your head in a steady rhythm.
“Oh shit.” He groans, “So good at this, baby. Fuck.”
You hum slightly, sending pleasure to radiate through his lower half. He moans louder, bucking his hips as he holds your head still, “Just like that, sweetheart.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, moaning around him as his fingers tangle your hand around them, pulling hard.
He lifts your head up, pulling you towards him with the grip on your hair. His lips connect to yours as your hands move to push down your pants.
You lean back, kicking them off before straddling his lap. His lip pulls between his teeth as he watches you line yourself up with him, “God you are so beautiful.”
You smirk, jaw falling slack as you sink down onto him slowly. A long moan leaves your lips as your nails dig into his shoulders, “Fuck, Sam. I’ve needed you so bad.”
He nods, “I’ve needed you.”
He reaches up, pulling you down to kiss you once more, “You feel so fucking good.”
You move your hips up and down, rolling them forward and back, moaning with each movement.
Your hand slides up to his hair, tugging to tilt his head back as you kiss down his neck. He groans lowly as you bite and suck a mark into his neck, bucking his hips upward which earns a moan from you.
Your pace quickens, slamming down onto him as your nails drag down his chest.
He groans, gripping your wrists and pinning them behind you to your lower back. He holds you in place as he thrusts upward into you.
Your moans ring through his ears, causing him to moan, “You sound so beautiful.”
“I love making you feel good.”
“I love making you sound like this.”
“Your pussy is going to look so pretty with my cum dripping out of it.”
His words make you gasp, “Fuck, yes Sam. Please.”
He groans into your neck, letting go of your wrists before rolling you over onto your back. His thrusts pick up, hard and fast, “Yes what, baby?”
Your back lifts off the bed, pleasure radiates through your body as you approach your peak, “F-fuck, Sam.” You moan out loudly, “I want you to fill my pussy.”
He groans at your words, “They’re so much hotter when you say it.”
His lips attack yours, quickly moving down to litter your skin with purple marks. Your nails drag up his back, leaving red lines in their path, “Fuck, fuck don’t stop, don’t stop!”
You cry out repeatedly, your legs tightening around his hips as he guides you through your high.
“That’s it, baby.” Sam groans, “You feel so good, look so pretty when you cum.”
You whimper at his words, your body jolting with each thrust of pleasure that enters your body over and over again.
All you can do is moan.
“Right there with you.” Sam moan, “Fuck, fuck.”
He pushes his weight up, holding himself up with his arm by your head. His hand lays on your cheek as his eyes lock onto yours.
His thrusts grow sloppy, slowing down as you feel his cock start to twitch inside of you.
This was something you and Sam were always so careful about not doing, but you had a feeling that this was the first day of something that wasn’t ever going to end - and you didn’t want it to.
You moan at the feeling, biting down onto your lip as his slow thrusts come to a stop.
He sits up, staring down as he slowly pulls out of you.
He smirks, biting down into his lip, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”
You feel your cheeks turn warm and you laugh slightly as he gets up, “Was it everything you’ve ever hoped it would be?”
“Oh baby.” Sam walks back over with a towel, “It was everything and more.” He leans down, pecking your head before he lets you wipe off.
You watch as he looks around for his pants and you tilt your head, “Ready to celebrate your birthday now?”
Sam shrugs, “I mean.. what do you have in mind because it’s probably something a lot different than what’s in mine.”
You smirk, getting up onto your knees, “I mean.. I want to take you out.. but..” you reach out for him, “Another round couldn’t hurt.”
Sam smirks and drops his pants, “Maybe you can read my mind.”
.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅
Thank you so much for being patient. I kind of rushed through this one so my apologies if it seemed that way. I love you so much, thank you for reading my work! I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤
Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!
#samandcolby-ownme#sam Golbach#happy birthday Sam#birthday boy#sam Golbach x reader#sam golbach x reader smut#sam Golbach smut#sam golbach fluff#sam golbach one shot#sam golbach fanfiction#sam golbach fanfic#dirty sam golbach#sam Golbach smut one shot#sam Golbach dirty one shot#smut#fluff#smut one shot#smut one shots#dirty one shots#dirty sam Golbach#smut sam Golbach#xplr#xplr sam Golbach#sam Golbach xplr
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hello^^ i have a slightly odd request
would you be willing to do something with Hannibal where like the reader is just off-putting constantly? like always has a blank expression and is just really morbid to the point of weirding out other people- (also whether or not reader is another killer and their relationship is up to you :]) ((and if possible could reader have an obsession with rats? if not its fine!^^))
thank you and no pressure!!! :3
Birds of a Feather (Platonic! Hannibal Lecter x GN! Reader)
Thanks for the request. Since you gave me creative liberty with what relationship the reader has with Hannibal, I'm expanding my creativity and trying to write platonic fanfics. Due to this, and my heart belonging to Hannigram, Will makes an appearance (not Abigail though, never got into her character.) Hope you enjoy it!
Hannibal Lecter had long believed himself immune to the bonds of familial connection. His life was one of solitude by choice, his relationships shallow performances for an unknowing audience. Yet with them—the peculiar, morbid teenager now under his guardianship—something had shifted. He hadn’t planned for this. He had taken them in because he saw a reflection of himself, unpolished and raw, with the potential to be something extraordinary. What he hadn’t anticipated was how deeply he would come to care for them, not as a mentor or an observer, but as a father.
They had first come to Hannibal at their parents’ insistence, dragged into his office under a banner of concern that barely masked their parents’ disdain. They hadn’t even tried to soften the language of their complaint: “They’re morbid. Obsessed with disgusting things like rats and death. They don’t have friends, they don’t smile. They’re weird. Can you fix them?”
Hannibal had known immediately what kind of parents they were—shallow, image-obsessed individuals for whom their child’s uniqueness was an inconvenience to be smoothed over, rather than a gift to be celebrated. He despised them almost as much as they seemed to despise their child. The teenager, however, had been fascinating. When Hannibal asked why they were there, they answered with a flat, emotionless voice.
"Because my parents don’t like me. They think I’m broken."
"And are you?" Hannibal asked, his tone warm, though his eyes studied them sharply.
They had tilted their head slightly, their gaze piercing and calm. "I don’t know. I don’t care if I am."
That first session had been an exercise in subtlety. Hannibal, as always, sought to probe beneath the surface, to see the layers of a person’s mind unfold before him. But with them, there were no layers—no artifice, no carefully constructed mask. They were disarmingly blunt, their morbid interests laid bare without shame.
"I like rats," they said when Hannibal asked what brought them joy. "I have nine of them. Bubonic’s my favorite."
"And why rats?" Hannibal inquired, his curiosity piqued.
"They’re smart. Loyal. They don’t care if you’re weird. They’ll eat a corpse if you leave it there, but it’s not personal. It’s just what they do. Survival instincts."
Their answers were a study in pragmatism, unvarnished and unfiltered. Over time, Hannibal learned more about their life—how their parents had ridiculed their passions, belittled their intellect, and dismissed their feelings as irrelevant. How they had found solace in the company of creatures most would find repugnant, and how they had begun to retreat into themselves, building walls not out of fear but out of indifference.
"My parents said they’d throw them out if I didn’t stop," they admitted one day, their voice betraying the faintest tremor. "The rats. They don’t like them. They don’t like me."
"And how does that make you feel?" Hannibal asked.
They paused, their blank expression unchanging. "I’d kill them if they touched my rats."
Hannibal had smiled faintly at that, sensing not a hollow threat but a declaration of what they believed was justice. Hannibal saw his relationship with the teen as one purely beneficial to him—some form of entertainment during the stagnant moment his life had fallen into. But when the teen arrived one day in session visibly shaken and on the verge of tears, Hannibal felt immense anger.
"Tell me what happened." he said, his voice calm but edged with steel.
The teen sat down at the chair and looked at their hands, fingers trembling. "My dad killed Bubonic," they said quietly. "He was going on again about how weird it was for a person my age to be such a recluse, how disappointed he was in me for not being the child he envisioned. I didn't care, I screamed at him to leave me alone. That all I needed was my rats, he didn't listen," They sputtered, tears finally escaping their eyes.
Hannibal's hands rested lightly on the arm of his chair, though his grip tightened imperceptibly as the teen’s words sank in. Their voice, typically steady and detached, was cracking under the weight of their grief, and Hannibal found himself unprepared for the surge of emotion it evoked in him.
"What did he do?" Hannibal asked, his voice gentle, though his mind already painted the scene in vivid detail.
The teen sniffed, struggling to steady their voice. "He grabbed Bubonic. Said if I loved those 'vermin' so much, then I’d learn what happens when I waste my life on them. He threw him. Against the wall." Their hands trembled in their lap, and then clenched into fists. "I couldn’t stop him. I tried, but I couldn’t—"
Hannibal interrupted softly, his voice firm yet soothing. "It is not your fault. Bubonic’s death lies entirely with your father. You mustn’t take the blame for his cruelty."
They nodded, though their tears continued to fall. For a moment, the room was silent, save for their quiet sobs. Hannibal remained perfectly still, his expression a mask of calm, though inside, a storm brewed. He had long mastered the art of restraint, of hiding the depths of his emotions behind a practiced façade. But now, the threads of that mask were straining.
His anger was not the fiery, impulsive kind that consumed lesser men. It was cold, methodical, the kind that calculated every step of its revenge with precision. He had no doubt about what he needed to do. Bubonic’s death was an affront to the teen’s spirit, an insult to their resilience and individuality, and Hannibal would not allow such an act to go unpunished.
He rose from his chair, moving to kneel in front of them, a gesture of rare intimacy. Gently, he placed a hand on their shoulder, grounding them. His touch was firm yet comforting, like the anchor they so desperately needed.
"You loved him," Hannibal said quietly. "And that love was real. It is not diminished by what your father did. Bubonic mattered, and his memory will not be forgotten."
They looked at him, their tear-filled eyes meeting his calm, steady gaze. For the first time, Hannibal saw a flicker of something beyond their usual detachment—trust, fragile and hesitant, but there. He gave them a faint, reassuring smile, careful to keep the rage simmering inside him hidden from view.
That evening, as Hannibal sat alone in his study, the weight of his decision settled over him like a second skin. He had already made up his mind; there was no room for doubt. The teen’s father was an unworthy man, cruel and petty, whose actions had irreparably harmed his child. The wife was not better, for who would allow such affronts to happen to your child? Hannibal would ensure neither had the opportunity to inflict such pain again.
The deaths were orchestrated with Hannibal’s usual elegance. The scene was staged as a tragic home invasion, violent enough to mislead even the sharpest investigators. The teen’s parents were swept away as easily as pawns on a chessboard, leaving Hannibal free to step into the role of guardian.
It was an arrangement he presented to the authorities as a matter of practicality—after all, he was their trusted psychiatrist, a respected member of the community. And with no other family member willing to take in the 'troubled' youth, Hannibal was seen fit as a caregiver. But in truth, it was far more than that. It was an act of reclamation, a way to give the teen a life they needed and deserved.
Under Hannibal’s guidance, they began to flourish. What had once been a life of isolation and condemnation was replaced with warmth, curiosity, and purpose. Hannibal nurtured their sharp intellect, encouraging them to explore philosophy, art, and science. He fed their fascination with decay and life cycles, finding ways to weave their morbid interests into lessons that expanded their understanding of the world.
Their rats, once crammed into a small cage hidden away from disapproving eyes, now thrived in a custom-built enclosure—a miniature ecosystem of tunnels and habitats that Hannibal had crafted himself. The teenager spent hours tending to them, speaking softly to each one as though they were old friends. Slowly but surely, they grew more confident, their once-detached demeanor softened by the security of knowing they were finally, unquestionably accepted.
So, when Will Graham entered their lives, Hannibal saw an opportunity to complete the family he hadn't realized he was building. At first, Will’s presence unsettled the teen. He was different from Hannibal—more empathetic, less polished. But there was something grounding about Will’s quiet intensity, his ability to understand without needing words.
Their relationship began cautiously, with the teen watching Will from the corner of their eye during his visits, studying him as though he were one of the rats they loved so much. But Will, ever patient, allowed them to come to him on their terms. Over time, the cracks of their tentative bond filled with shared silences and soft-spoken observations.
"You remind me of my rats," the teen said one day, tilting their head at Will as they sat together in the study.
Will blinked, unsure if it was meant as an insult. "How so?"
"You’re always watching. Thinking one step ahead compared to everyone else."
Will glanced at the teenager, amused. "I don’t know if I should be flattered or mildly offended."
They shrugged, their gaze steady and calm. "It’s a compliment. Rats are survivors. They’re smart, and they don’t waste energy pretending to be something they’re not. You’re like that."
Will leaned back in his chair, folding his arms thoughtfully. "Smart and a survivor, huh? Could be worse."
"Definitely worse," they replied, their tone so matter-of-fact that it made Will laugh softly. "You’d be terrible at being fake, anyway."
SMALL TIME SKIP
Hannibal leaned back in his armchair, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest as he observed the scene before him. It was a tableau of quiet intimacy—his beloved Will Graham, seated cross-legged on the floor, and the teenager sprawled out beside him, their rats darting around like tiny, mischievous shadows.
Will had one hand resting lightly on the floor to keep himself steady while the other hovered hesitantly near one of the rats. "So, uh," he began, his tone unsure but willing, "what happens if I try to touch it? Am I going to lose a finger?"
The teen smirked faintly, their usual neutral demeanor softening just enough to give away their amusement. "Maybe. Cholera’s got a temper, but the others are fine. You just have to be calm."
Will huffed a quiet laugh, his tension easing slightly. "Calm, huh? Should be easy enough."
"You’re always tense," the teen said bluntly, tilting their head as they watched him. "The rats can tell. You should probably breathe or something."
Hannibal’s lips curved into an indulgent smile at their candor. He adored how effortlessly they spoke their mind—so different from the guarded subtleties most people employed. And Will, bless his complex mind, seemed entirely charmed by it.
"I am breathing," Will retorted, his tone carrying a note of mock indignation. "Maybe I’m just…different from rats."
"That’s debatable," the teen quipped, though their smirk grew into something warmer as one of the bolder rats sniffed at Will’s hand before scampering up his arm.
Will froze, his eyes wide, and Hannibal chuckled softly. "It seems you’ve been accepted," he remarked, his tone rich with amusement. "An honor not given lightly, I assure you."
The teen nodded solemnly, as though Hannibal’s words were gospel. "Yeah. If Cholera likes you, you’re okay."
Will glanced between them, his lips twitching into a bemused smile. "Well, that’s a relief. I’d hate to be rejected by…Cholera."
The rat in question perched on Will’s shoulder, chittering softly, and the teen gave a rare, genuine laugh—a sound that caught both Will and Hannibal off guard. Hannibal’s chest swelled with warmth at the sight of the two bonding, the sharp edges of their respective personalities softening as they found common ground.
For Hannibal, this was more than he could have hoped for. Watching Will, the man who had captured his heart with his brilliance and empathy, and his ward, the child who had become the unexpected center of his world, grow closer felt like the culmination of something profound. He had orchestrated many things in his life, but this—this was pure serendipity.
Will, still adapting to the chaos of rats scurrying across him, glanced up at Hannibal. "You’re awfully quiet over there," he said, his voice light but curious. "Enjoying the show?"
Hannibal’s smile deepened, his eyes warm as they met Will’s. "Immensely," he replied. "It is rare to witness such harmony. You’ve both surprised me."
The teen, still laughing softly, looked between them and said, "You’re both weird, but I think that’s why this works."
Will raised an eyebrow, glancing at Hannibal. "Weird, huh? I guess I’ll take that."
"As will I," Hannibal added smoothly, his tone affectionate. "Weirdness, after all, is simply a deviation from the ordinary. And I would have no other way for our family."
The word hung in the air—family—and for a moment, all three of them sat in a comfortable silence. The fire crackled, the rats chittered, and the connection between them felt solid, unshakable. Hannibal, watching the two people he cared for most in the world bond so effortlessly, allowed himself a rare moment of unguarded happiness. This was it. This was home.
#slasher fandom#x male reader#male reader#gender neutral insert#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral reader#hannibal nbc#hannibal lecter#nbc hannibal#will graham#murder husbands#hannibal fandom#hannibal x will#hannibal lecter nbc#hannigram#will graham nbc#will graham hannibal#alana bloom#jack crawford#beverly katz#jimmy price#silence of the lambs#slashers x reader#slashers x you#slashers fanfiction
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literally woke up OVERPOURING with love 😭😭🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍 HAPPY THANKSGIVING ! i seriously love each and every single person who follows me and i interact with. like genuinely from the bottom of my heart i love you guys all so much thank u for making this app so fun !!! i hope u all have a great thanksgiving if u celebrate <3 and if u don’t i hope ur day is amazing anyway !!
also waking up to see i have 4.5k followers AND have my second ever full fic hit 1k is crazy 😭😭🤍🤍🤍🤍 thank u guys sm i love u ALLLL ♡︎♡︎
also i’m super super grateful for my bffs @mattsdolll @55sturn @sirenedeslily @sweetangelgirl7 @mattserenity @mattslolita @mattybsgroupie AND SO MANY MORE 🤍🤍🤍 u all make this app so fun <33
LOVE U ALL HAPPY THANKSGIVING ౨ৎ ࣪ ˖
#��˚࿔ rylee yaps .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆#i feel like that meme of that kid sobbing at the table bc he loves his family#LIKEE I LOVE YALL#🤍🤍🤍
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Friendsgiving
Hi so we are going to ignore the fact that it is nearly 2 am but here I am with a fic that I started today because of this tik tok that I saw a few hours ago and I immediately went 'fic'. So, here we are
Warnings: none
WC: 5845
Enjoy!
__________________________________________
“Why and how are you in Vancouver?”
“Don’t hate me.”
“Oh, my god, did you move to Canada without me? You moved and didn’t even tell me.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at what you hoped was Lena’s unnecessary panic that you heard through your phone speaker, trying to navigate your way through the airport that you had never been to before. “No, I’m just probably doing something stupid.”
“And you’re doing it without me?”
“Leen, I’ll catch you up later, ok?”
“Am I going to have to make sure you don’t end up in a ditch?”
“You should probably watch my location for the next few days,” you say, in all seriousness. “But I have to go, I love you, bye.”
You hang up on your best friend as you hear her screaming on the other end about calling the authorities, knowing that she wouldn’t actually do that. Actually, she might. But you can’t think about that right now.
You were trying to find Brock, despite the fact that you had never met him in person and stupidly agreed to fly to Vancouver on a day's notice from your home the week of Thanksgiving.
You couldn’t believe the last couple of days of your life. You had posted a silly photo of you and your friends at your annual Friendsgiving. You always got together the Friday before, and had been doing so since middle school when your parents still had to either make the food for you, or had to be in the kitchen with you heavily supervising the entire time. This year was the 15th year in a row that you had all gotten together, celebrating in a much bigger fashion than you had in years past; you all dressed up, you all brought the food in the best serving dishes you had instead of the Dollar Tree tin dishes you all normally brought, you had the fanciest bottles of wine you could afford littering the table, and you had even all planned to stay over together for the first time, continuing the event into the morning.
Brock had messaged you because of the photo. You were mutuals, having some of the same friends in college but never actually interacted with each other.
All of your friends talked about how you two would get along so well, but it seemed like every time you were supposed to meet, something happened that prevented you from doing so. There was the one party you were supposed to go to with your friends, that you had been planning on going to all week until you got food poisoning from the dining hall. There was the class you were supposed to take together until his practice times got changed and ended up conflicting with the class. You were supposed to go to a formal together as each other's dates until he slept through his alarm and missed the bus to the venue.
You were always supposed to meet, until you didn’t.
But then you got the message from him a few days ago asking if you wanted to come to his Friendsgiving that he was going to with his American teammates.
It was easily the craziest thing you had done in your life, saying yes to flying out to Vancouver the next day to meet a guy you had never actually met in person, or really talked to before those messages.
It made you realize you really hadn’t done much with your life.
You walked through the airport, trying to see if you could find the guy you would be spending the next couple of days with by the baggage claim where he told you he would meet you.
You finally see him, the blonde head of hair sticking out to you for an unknown reason.
You knew from his pictures on his account that he was attractive, but, shit, he was gorgeous in person.
He was also dressed up way more than he should be for someone to be waiting for a stranger in an airport; he was in a full suit and tie, his hair looking like he had just gotten out of the shower and styled it immediately.
“Hi,” he says to you when he sees you, a smile on his face making your heart skip a beat.
You didn’t even know this guy. “Hi,” you manage to get out as he pulls you in for a hug. “You look good, all dressed up.”
Brock reaches for your bag, taking it off your shoulder and walking you out of the airport. “Thanks.”
“Why are you dressed up?”
“We’re on our way to the game.”
“We?”
“I didn’t tell you?”
“Do I look like I’m dressed for a hockey game?”
Brock looks at you as the two of you approach his car, opening his trunk to put your bag in. “You look great to me.”
“I’m in sweats, fresh off a plane. When do you think you told me?”
“Uh,” he lets out as you get in his car. “Yesterday?”
You take out your phone, scrolling through the messages the two of you exchanged. “You told me you had a game, not that I was going to one.”
“Who did I tell that to yesterday?” he says, staring out through his front windshield, wracking his brain. You couldn’t help but laugh. “I can take you back to my place, if you want.”
“Would that make you late for the game?”
He glances at the clock, pulling out his phone. “Very late, yes.”
You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile that you couldn’t help. “I’ll go to the game. I’m sure I have something I can change into stuffed in my bag.”
The two of you fall into easy conversation, much like you had when he first reached out to you. There was something about him that was easy to talk to.
He pulls up to the arena, still talking about one of the parties you were both supposed to go to in college.
“Do you remember that one kid, Chris, who somehow threw up at every party he went to?” he asks you, leaning against his car as you rifle through your bag in his trunk, searching for any semblance of an outfit that was better than the sweats you were currently in.
“Hold on,” you tell him, climbing into the trunk and pulling the hatch closed, trying your best to change in the cramped space. You managed to find jeans and a black shirt that could pass as a non-airport outfit that you were smart enough to pack as a spare since Brock didn’t really give you a ton of information as to how the week was going to go. You could see him standing outside the car, dumbfounded by the abrupt nature of you practically commandeering his car as a changing room for yourself. “Ok, I’m good,” you say, opening the door back up in what you were sure was record time for changing in a car trunk.
“Wow,” he says, you noticing the slightest shade of red appearing on his cheeks.
“Better?” you ask. Your foot catches on part of the trunk as you try to get out, practically falling out of his car.
You feel Brock’s hands catch you, spreading across your back and under your legs. “Much,” he says, his face inches from yours. He clears his throat, his face turning bright red as he puts you down.
He wasn’t about to kiss you, was he? And why would you have been ok if he did that? “Thanks for that,” you tell him, embarrassment seeping into your voice.
“So, uh, Chris?” he asks, walking you into the arena with his hands now firming shoved into his pockets.
“He really did somehow end up in the bathroom at every party.”
“Even if he didn’t have anything to drink that night.”
“I wonder what he’s up to now?”
“He just got engaged, actually,” you tell him. “His fiance was one of my lab partners back in college.”
“Wow. Never would have known that,” he tells you. The two of you walk through what you could only describe as the tunnels of the arena, Brock showing you around and trying to explain to you what everything was.
“You’re gonna be in here,” he tells you, showing to a room that was filled with women and children who all seemed to know each other. Before you can ask anything, he checks his watch, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Shit, I’ve gotta get ready. I’ll meet you right here after the game.”
Brock runs off, leaving you standing at the entrance to this room that you could see was at ice level, filled with people you didn’t know.
You couldn’t enter the room. This was already ridiculous, you being here in the first place with a guy you just met for the first time in person less than an hour before. Now you were apparently supposed to go into this room with a bunch of people and do what? Talk to them?
No thank you.
You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, leaning against the wall next to the entrance of this room as Lena calls you again. “Ok, you did not fly all the way to Vancouver to see a Canucks game.”
“I’m going to stop sharing my location with you,” you laugh.
“Ok, spill, why the hell are you in Vancouver?”
You recount the whole string of events to her, realizing how ridiculous the whole situation sounded now that you were actually verbally articulating everything. “And now, I’m outside of this room with a bunch of women and I think this is where I’m supposed to be for the rest of the game.”
“Are you in the WAG room?”
“The what?”
“The WAG room.”
“No, I heard you,” you sigh, “What does that mean?”
“The wives and girlfriends.”
You stare at the wall on the other side of the hallway as people you ignored scurried around you. “But I’m not a wife or a girlfriend?”
“Well, as long as you have that established. I heard there’s supposed to be amazing food in those rooms for the families.”
You peek your head into the room, seeing a line of the women forming on the other side of the room in front of what looked like an incredible spread of food. “I can see that.”
“Go in!” Lena shrieks in your ear. “Have fun, make friends, and bring me some food when you get back.” She hangs up before you can say anything else, leaving you there with your phone pressed against your ear and no one on the other end of the call.
You finally work up the courage to go into the room, trying to slip in and stay in the back, out of the way of anyone who would feel the need to come to talk to you. You stay along the wall closest to the door, trying to take in the room around you. There were children seemingly everywhere, running and shrieking as they played with each other. Toys were scattered all over the floor, bags lined against the wall. You probably looked like a freak the way you were moving through the room, trying to find a seat that you could sink into and become invisible in.
“Shit,” you let out, slamming down onto the floor, tripping over one of the toys you were somehow too busy to notice.
“Are you ok?” one of the women asks you, crouching down on the floor to meet you at what was now, embarrassingly, eye level.
You could feel your face getting hot. “Other than my ego being bruised, I think I’m good.”
“I haven’t seen you before,” she says to you. “I’m Lexie. I’m Thatcher’s wife.”
You had no idea who Thatcher was, but it probably wouldn’t look good for you if you admitted that.
You introduce yourself, finally getting up off the floor and dusting yourself off. “I’m here with Brock.”
Lexie’s eyes light up with excitement. “You must be Brock’s mystery girl.” The room seems to go silent when Lexie practically shrieks that, even the children making no noise. “He had been telling us he was seeing someone, but we never thought he would bring you to a game early.”
“Oh, I,” you start, getting nervous now that all eyes were on you. You had no idea what he had told these women, or their husbands, or boyfriends, or whoever these people were. “Here I am.”
“I can’t believe Brock would just throw you to the wolves like this,” Lexie says, linking her arm with yours and walking you over to the food table.
“Are you kidding?” another one of the women chimes in. “This is exactly something Brock would do. I’m Natalie, by the way, J.T.’s wife.”
The two women start chatting your ear off, you unable to comprehend what they were saying. Brock had a ‘mystery girl,’ that you had now taken on the identity of. Brock was probably seeing someone who couldn’t be there this week and now he was going to look like an awful human when you suddenly disappeared and were replaced with another person next week.
But, why did you care? You barely knew Brock.
You had no idea how much time passed by when they all start filtering out the seats near the ice, the players skating around in circles.
You join them, unsure what else to do. You pull out your phone, getting an idea and starting to type in a new note, trying to wave Brock over to the boards when you finally get his attention.
They think I’m your ‘mystery girl??? you show him with your phone screen pressed against the glass when he comes over. The color seems to drain from his face, mouthing ‘I’m sorry,’ and shrugging way too casually for your liking before practically sprinting away from you to the other side of the rink.
You head back into the room, beelining for the exit and pulling up Lena’s number.
“Brock told everyone he and I are dating?” you try not to scream too loudly, hoping that none of the people in the room or in the hallway
“Oh,” Lena says. “That’s not great.”
“Not great?” you say, running your hand through your hair, feeling yourself panic. “This is crazy. What if this turns into a psycho killer situation?’
“He’s way too high profile in the area to get away with killing you.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“I’m just saying he wouldn’t get away with it.”
“Adelena,” you stomp your foot like a child out of frustration, using your friend's full name.
“Ok, calm down,” she says. “There’s no need for the government name here. I think you just need to talk to him after the game and figure out what’s going on. I will fly out there and save you if I have to.”
You take in a deep breath. This was the dumbest thing you could have done, regret seeping into you with every passing moment that you spent in Vancouver. “I’ll let you know.” You go back in the room, trying to pay attention to the game as the people around you milled about, trying to get to know you and about your ‘relationship’ with Brock.
“How long have you two been going out?” Lexie asks eagerly.
“Um,” you panic, “Not that long, honestly. This is all really new.” That wasn’t a total lie.
“How did you two even meet?”
“We went to college together.”
Before Lexie could ask you another question that you probably didn’t have an answer to, a toddler runs up to her, crying. “Gotta go,” she says to you, lifting the toddler and trying to comfort them.
You sat and tried to watch the rest of the game, writing down everything you told Lexie in hopes that Brock would have said something similar. You spent the rest of the game on your phone texting with Lena, thankful that no one else in the room came up to you to talk to you or ask questions the way Lexie had, only going back to the ice and looking up from your screen to see Brock scoring.
You wait outside the room for Brock once the game was over, his teammates coming out much faster than he was as the hallway and the room behind you slowly emptied out, leaving you alone in the hallway.
“What the fuck,” you ask him when you finally see him.
“I’m sorry, I know,” he tells you, walking out to his car.
“I don’t care if you need me to pretend to date you, but I would have liked to know about it before you threw me into the Gossip Grotto.”
Brock exhales when he gets into the car, resting his head against the steering wheel while you stared at him with your arms crossed in front of you. “The guys keep bugging me about not dating anyone so I told them I was seeing someone to get them to shut up.”
“And you didn’t think that was relevant to mention when you invited me here that there was a good chance they would think I’m the girl you’re dating?”
“No. I figured they would have forgotten about it by now.”
“Well, their wives didn’t.”
“So what do we do?”
You stare at him. “I could leave on the next flight and get out of here and probably be mad at you forever. Or, we pretend we’re together.”
He whips his head to you, his eyes crazy with shock. “What?”
You shrug, pulling out your phone and showing him the notes you made during the game about you and him being together. “We fake date. I’m only here until Wednesday, and you said we were only going to be seeing your friends on Tuesday night. We have plenty of time to figure this out.”
“We have a day and a half.”
You scoff. “You think I haven’t figured out more complicated things in less time? I got a plane ticket and got myself here on twelve hours notice.”
“So, we fake date?”
“We fake date.”
_____________________________
“What are you doing?” you ask, walking into Brock’s kitchen the next morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You spent the night in his guest room, sleeping in what was probably the most comfortable bed you had ever slept in. You spent the night before starting to hash out the story you would tell his teammates and their partners, agreeing that you would only share information about the two of you if you were directly asked about it.
“Debating whether or not to make us breakfast,” he tells you, one hand on his hip, the other holding open the fridge door. Brock had on no socks, boxer shorts and a t-shirt, all of which showed off to you just how unfair his entire physique was. His hair was messy in a somehow perfect way that would have made you drool under any other context. You could pretend to drool over him, but real drooling was out of the question right now.
“What’s the other option?”
He closes the fridge door, turning to face you. “I don’t make breakfast and we go out for food instead.”
“How good are you at making breakfast?”
“I make a mean bowl of cereal.”
“We’re going out for breakfast, get dressed.”
“Wow, my girlfriend is bossy,” he smirks as you walk away, looking over your shoulder at him and sticking your tongue out.
Was that too flirty? You had agreed last night that flirting was ok so you could ‘get used to it.’ How could you flirt in front of other people if you had never done it before?
You call Lena while you were getting ready.
“You could just real date him,” you hear her suggest, crunching on something on the other end of the line.
“You could just give me real advice and not chew on something in my ear.”
“It’s morning, let me eat my apple,” Lena says, obviously with her mouth full. “What are you guys doing today?”
“Right now, getting ready for breakfast. Beyond that, watch my location.”
“Yeah, I have no job. I can just stalk you all day.”
“If I end up dead how are you going to know?”
“Ugh, fine,” she sighs. “Have fun, don’t die.”
She hangs up, leaving you alone to get dressed for a day you didn’t know the details of. You pull on leggings and a sweater, your sneakers on and grabbed a jacket that you didn’t even know if you needed. You head back out to Brock’s kitchen, finding him leaning against the counter on his phone.
“You need to change,” you tell him. He had on black jeans and the same color sweater as you.
“This could be a cute couple thing,” he jokes. “We could take a picture together and post it, or something.” You hesitate, walking over to Brock as he extends his hand with his camera open. “At least pretend to like me,” he tells you, plastering a smile on his face as he starts taking photo after photo.
You rest your hand on his chest, leaning into him and smiling at his camera. You did look good together, if you had to admit.
“Can you do one where you kiss my cheek?’
“What?”
“Don’t couples do that?’
You stare at him for a second. Would it be weird to do that? He asked you to do it. “I normally scroll past those photos.”
“Me, too.” The two of you stand in silence for a second, neither of you sure how to go on. “Maybe we don’t do that. Too much, too soon.” You nod in agreement.
“So, where are we going?”
Brock smiles at you, leading you out the door.
_____________________________
The breakfast he took you to was amazing. He said that he had an entire day for you planned as a thank you for coming out here in the first place.
“How are you with hiking?”
“It depends.”
“On?”
“How long the trail is.”
Brock laughs, putting his car in park in front of a water front.
“If we don’t stop, it’ll take two hours.”
“That seems like a long time.”
“That’s how long my games are.”
“Yeah, that was a long time,” you tease him, getting out of the car.
The trail was beautiful, a breeze off the water cooling you down as you walked alongside Brock. This could easily have been a real date if the two of you were actually together.
You shake your head slightly of the thought. This was just supposed to be you helping him out, even though that wasn’t the original purpose of your trip. “So what are you supposed to do for Friendsgiving tomorrow night?”
Brock stops walking, the person behind him nearly knocking into him as he scolds Brock for stopping in the middle of the trail. You pull him over to the side of the walkway, ignoring the spark that you swore ran through you as laced your fingers in his.
“I have no idea, actually.”
“So you’re off to a great start.”
“I think I was told to bring something in the group chat,” he says, using his free hand to pull out his phone and start scrolling through the message thread that seemed to go on forever, your hands still intertwined. You weren’t sure he even noticed at this point, but part of you didn’t want to be the one to break the connection between you. “Ah, mac and cheese.”
“Have you ever made homemade mac and cheese before?”
“It has to be homemade?”
You roll your eyes, starting to walk again with your hands still locked together. “Did you think it would just magically spawn in front of you once you got to Quinn’s place?”
“I only have boxes of the store brand of mac and cheese.”
“Oh my god,” you sigh, pulling out your phone and finding the recipe you make for yourself when you have motivation. “Can you use Quinn’s oven when you get there or will he not have space?”
He quickly types on his phone as the two of you keep walking. “Yeah, we can as long as it doesn’t take too long,” he tells you, showing you the message from Quinn.
You nod, scrolling to the recipe on the website. “What do you have from these ingredients?”
Brock quickly scans the list, nodding along and mouthing each component to himself. “I have the flour, salt, and pepper.”
“So you were supposed to be making mac and cheese and you had neither the mac nor the cheese?”
“That would be correct.”
“Oh my god,” you groan again. Brock stops walking, pulling you off to the side of the trail again. “What?” Brock gestures to the water in front of you, the sun making the ripples shine, the sky absolutely pristine. “Wow,” you let out.
“What do you think?” you hear him ask, not taking your attention away from the sight in front of you.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It is.” You look over at him, seeing him tuck his phone away into his pocket, his eyes on you instead of the view.
_____________________________
“Why was getting all of this way harder than I thought it would be?” Brock asks, putting the bags of groceries on the counter.
“Because you had no idea where anything in the store was and we had to keep doubling back for things we missed the first time.”
“You really have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“We’re dating, isn’t that something you’re supposed to know?”
Brock laughs, pulling out pans and bowls from his cabinets as you start to get everything prepared for the mac and cheese. You tell him what to do, giving him step-by-step instructions.
“This is nice,” he tells you.
You think for a moment, shredding the cheese into a bowl. The recipe called for more cheese than any recipe you had ever made before, and somehow the mountain of cheese in front of you still didn’t feel like enough. “It is.”
“My mom and dad used to cook like this,” he tells you, his voice somber as he comes up behind you.
“Yeah?”
“She would tell him what to do and he would do it. Badly, but he would try his best.” You laugh along with him. He had told you that his father had passed away a couple of years ago, but you didn’t know anything else about him other than what she could find with a quick google search that now, in a weird way, felt like an invasion of privacy. “We could always tell which things Dad helped with because they tasted just a little off.”
“You miss him, don’t you?” you say, slowing down your shredding and turning towards him. He was facing you again, his arm around you but not touching you, resting on the counter on the other side of you.
“Always.”
You swore he was going to lean in, his eyes flickering down to your lips. You clear your throat, turning back to the cheese. “You should check the pasta to see if it’s almost done or not.”
Brock nods, smiling and winking at you before doing what he was told.
_____________________________
“This is all fake.”
“And?”
“It doesn’t feel fake.”
“Well, you aren’t a great actress, are you?”
“Lena,” you whine.
“I saw you try out for The Little Mermaid in middle school.”
You had texted her once the mac and cheese was done and you were back in what Brock now referred to as ‘your room,’ panicking that he had almost kissed you again. What if you were just reading into things? You felt stupid to think that he was doing anything more than pretending for the sake of getting used to things for tomorrow, right?
“Is there a chance for this to turn into something not fake?”
“Considering he lives in a different country, unless you want me to actually move to Canada without you, no.”
“Do you want it to be something that isn’t fake?”
You hesitate, knowing that Lena had a stupid smirk on her face that would turn into some sort of ‘I told you so,’ later in the conversation. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it does.”
You sigh. “He’s great, but I’ve known him for two days. You don’t fall for someone like that in two days, it’s absurd.”
“Jack and Rose did in Titanic.”
“And that’s fiction, not real life.”
“Ok, if you had more than two days, then what?”
“Then, I don’t know. Maybe?”
“So, what do you do about it?”
“What can I do, Leen?” You flop down on the bed. “I’m here for less than two days before I leave and probably never talk to him again. The best this can be is fake.”
_____________________________
“Are you ready for this?” Brock asks you, handing you one of the trays of food you made. “No.”
He smiles at you. “Me neither.”
You head towards the door of Quinn’s place, ready to be as overwhelmed with the people you were about to encounter as you were two days prior at the game, even if you had already met most of these people.
Lexie is the first one to greet you, somehow, through the chaos of everyone else around you. She leads the two of you into the kitchen, even though Brock already knows his way around. “I’m stealing her,” she tells Brock, grabbing you by the hand and leading you off to another room while all the guys stand around the kitchen island, somehow the ones in charge of the food.
“It is so good to see Brock so happy,” she tells you, handing you a glass of wine as she poured one for herself. The two of you were alone in the room she pulled you into, leaving you amazed that with that many people in the house, there was even an empty room to begin with. “I mean, those photos he posted of you? You are the most photogenic person I have ever seen.”
“Uh, yeah,” you tell her, knowing that you have to stop stammering everytime you try to give someone an answer.
“You don’t know about the pictures?” You shake your head. She prompts you to pull up Brock’s page, the most recent pictures one from yesterday.
You scroll through the carousel. The first one, as you saw, was the one of you two before you went out for the day. The second one was one of you in the airport, looking for him. You thought you looked awful, but somehow, he made you look good. The third from the game the other night, one of the photographers probably captured a photo after he scored of him looking at you and smiling at him before he heads to the bench. The fourth and fifth were ones you had no idea he took; when you were looking out at the water yesterday, smiling at the sight while your hair somehow perfectly framed your face, and while you were hunched over the cheese, grating too many cups of the stuff for today.
“He’s in deep,” Lexie smirks, drinking her wine.
You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you looked at the photos, which he captioned, Thankful for you, with your handle tagged.
“Now it makes sense why I’m getting so many notifications,” you joke, setting your glass down on the table in front of you. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go find the bathroom.”
You head back towards the kitchen, hoping to find Brock there.
“I’m surprised you actually are dating someone,” you hear someone’s voice in the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Brock responds.
“I thought you made her up,” another voice agrees with the first.
“I’m not Quinn, I wouldn’t do that,” Brock lies.
“That was one time when I was in sixth grade,” the first voice argues.
You hear Brock laugh, your heart fluttering at the sound, immediately hating yourself for that. You’ve known him for a few days, why did you have to remind yourself about that?
“How long have you guys even been together?” Your heart stops,hoping Brock remembered all the things they talked about the last few days. She knew what he should say, but that didn’t mean he would say it.
“Only about two months, I think.”
“You think?”
“Petey, you know he’s not good with time.”
You finally work up the nerve to walk into the room, seeing Brock’s face light up at the sight of you.
He was faking it.
“Hey, babe,” he says, pulling you close and kissing the side of your head.
“God, you two aren’t going to be the kind of couple who overdo the PDA, are you?” Petey asks.
“Only if you piss us off,” Brock says, not taking his eyes off you.
“So, um,” you say, coming back to reality and turning to the other two. “Everything looks great.”
Quinn looks at the clock on the oven. “We should probably eat soon. The food should be in a couple of minutes.”
“We’ll get everything on the table,” Brock volunteers the two of you, grabbing one of the plates and handing them to you.
“Everything is going well, so far, I think,” you whisper to him once you’re out of earshot of the others.
“Everyone thinks we’re actually together. I think we might pull it off.”
_____________________________
The rest of the night went surprisingly well, the attention largely kept off the two of you most of the time as the team seemed to be more interested in teasing each other while their partners rolled their eyes at the guys’ antics. Brock drove you back in silence, a smile on his face the entire time.
You headed to bed, knowing that you were going to be leaving when you woke up the next morning, part of you dreading the moment Brock would drop you off at the airport.
He pulled up to the terminal, neither of you moving once he put the car in park.
“Can I admit something?” he asks.
“Sure.”
“I don’t think I want you to leave.”
You look at him. “I don’t really want to leave.”
“But,” he starts.
“I have to.”
Brock gets out of the car before you could say anything else, heading to grab your bag from his trunk.
“We were good at fake dating, though,” he says, handing you your bag.
You nod as he pulls you in for a hug. “Was all of it fake?” You don’t know what compelled you to ask that, other than you not thinking before you speak.
Brock smiles, his arms still wrapped around you. Before you can fully process it, his lips find yours, a sweet, slow kiss as your lips moved together, his hand on the small of your back pressing you into him.
“No.”
#brock boeser#brock boeser fic#brock boeser imagine#vancouver canucks#vancouver canucks imagine#vancouver canucks fic#canucks#canucks fic#canucks imagine#nhl#nhl fic#nhl imagine#hockey#hockey fic#hockey imagine
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Bones - Part 7 - [Mack x David]
A/N: In the spirt of American Thanksgiving... and family... I give you David Carlson in Switzerland. I'm giggling. You'll know why when you get through this one 😁
Word Count: 6.0k
“Okay, so David, anyone who is anyone is going to be at this dinner. AND there is a quiz after.” Sophie Hischier teases her sister’s boyfriend. Tonight is their first family dinner since they arrived in Switzerland a couple days ago. The Meiers and Hischiers rented out a private room to celebrate everyone returning to their homeland.
“Shit, I didn’t bring my flashcards.”
Sophie giggles like its the funniest thing in the entire world, then looks over at her sister.
“He is so funny.” She hums in Swiss German. “I love him. We’re keeping him.”
“Soph, English.” Mack chuckles, rolling her eyes. Sophie looks back at David.
“I said, you’re funny. I love you and we keep you.” She reiterates. She squeezes his waist in a quick hug, then floats up to where her parents are walking towards the restaurant. Sophie laces her arm through her dad’s and the three of them take the stairs together. Behind them, Lucie and Connor walk with their daughter. Stella skips with her mom to a beat only the two of them know.
“Twirl!” Lucie exclaims, cheering when Stella’s gorgeous rainbow skirt flares out in a circle. “So beautiful, baby!”
“Woo!!!” Mack hears a cheer from behind her. She turns around, seeing her aunt and uncle strutting across the parking lot looking as posh as ever.
“Expensive.” David gapes at the fancy sports car Timo clicks the remote to lock.
“Oh you don’t even know.” Mack chuckles. “Actually, he probably didn’t even have to pay for that. He’s all sorts of famous in this country.”
“Your dad?”
“Uh huh. Him too. My first car was a Mercedes. Mom tried to talk him out of it. Dad said I was the only one responsible enough to get one. Lucie had to have a BMW.”
“Say that sentence back.” David teases.
“They’re not the same.” Mack holds her hands up. “Like Chevy and Ford.” David snorts.
“Also not the same. Your family is like.. royalty in one of the world’s most expensive countries.” Mack looks at him, contemplating. Then turns away without acknowledging that. What is she supposed to say? He isn’t wrong, but it’s weird to admit to.
Instead, she smiles at her aunt and uncle’s approach.
“This is my Auntie Em.” Mack introduces David to her aunt.
“Oh! Hi! It’s so nice finally meeting Mackie’s boyfriend. You look better like this. You know, when you’re not hurting my kid.” David pauses, mouth dropped open preparing to greet her. He laughs sheepishly.
“It was an accident. I…” He laughs again nervously, looking over at Mack.
“Honey, I’m kidding.” Emma teases. Her lips tilt up in a sly smile, then she pats his chest.
“Oh good.” David sighs in relief as she continues striding past him to greet Lucie and Connor. Timo continues on with his wife after giving David a firm handshake.
“Isn’t she something?” Mack smirks. Behind her parents, Liv Meier hustles forward with Luca Fiala on her arm.
“Yeah. We all want to be her when we grow up.” Liv chuckles as she comes up to the two of them, wrapping her arms around Mack.
“Oh, Hi, Livia.” Mack drawls. “Look at you. You’re stunning. And sooooo blonde!? I love it!”
“Thank you! I just got a touch up from Auntie.” She shakes the long, blonde waves that are cascading down her back. “I feel like we got the exact blonde I wanted.”
“It looks great. You look so much like Auntie Em. Wow.”
“The best compliment!” Liv giggles. “Hi David, it’s so good to finally see you!” She goes to hug him.
“Oh my god, I forgot you two haven’t actually met in person.” Mack and Liv have done plenty of FaceTimes that David has participated in. But the schedules of Liv being in New York and David or Mack too have not lined up at all.
“I feel like we have though.” David smiles, hugging Liv as Mack greets Luca.
“Hey, good to see you, man.” Luca extends his hand to David. “For the record, loved the hit.”
“Shhhhhh.” David shushes Luca. “I do not wanna upset Mama Meier.”
“Lio should be thanking you for that hit. Fixed his whole damn life after that.” Mack insists. David places a hand on Mack’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He loves when she stands up for him.
“Shall we?” Luca asks, extending his hand forward. The four of them walk up into the restaurant, finding their large family chatting in a private room. Stella is in Nico’s arms, pointing at all the pictures on the wall, making up names for the Swiss Alps peaks together. Lexi and Emma are catching up. Lio and Timo drink whiskeys together, listening to Savannah tell an animated story. Lucie and Connor are whispering to each other, lost in their own word as per usual. The twins are out on the balcony with glasses of wine, checking out their options for the night, Mack is sure.
Liv and Luca head towards the bar with Mack and David. The boys grab beers while Liv and Mack decide on martinis.
“So how are you doing?” Mack asks Liv as they wait for their drinks. Luca and David dove immediately into shop talk about the latest trade rumors and free agency rumblings.
“Good. Ready to be done with Grad school and this book.”
“Our little overachiever.”
“You should talk. Ms. youngest ever to be nominated for Travel Writer of the Year.”
“I didn’t win.” Mack shrugs.
“Yeah, but you were in the conversation. That’s huge, Mackie.”
“Yuck, I don’t want to talk about me. What about your new book? When can I read it?”
“Oh! Speaking of, I was going to ask, will you be one of my reviewers?!”
“Yes! Oh my god, yes!” Mack grabs Liv’s forearm, squeezing and grinning excitedly.
“Okay, perfect! I thought, since I get to do whatever I want without a dumb team telling me what to do… it would be so fun to have you on the back cover with a review.”
“I am so excited. Yes. Absolutely.”
“Okay but it is a romance. You have to like.. try to like it.”
“Stop.” Mack snorts. “I have a man now. I’m not jaded.” Mack strokes her hand down David’s chest. He looks at her, then smiles, running his hand along her lower back to hold her while him and Luca continue discussing.
“Careful… You look too happy.” Liv winks at her cousin. “I’m thrilled for you.” She whispers quietly. “Love looks good on you.” Mack sighs happily, dragging her cousin into a big hug.
“Learning from the best.” Mack bats her lashes dramatically. “Your parents.” Mack finishes, when she sees her aunt and uncle smooching like teenagers outside. “Look at them.”
“No, they are disgustingly in love. Just be like.. demure instead.”
“Big word!” Mack exclaims. “Okay, I am going to grab this drink and my man and take him outside so he can see the view while the sun is still kind of out.”
“Yes, go.” Liv grabs her drink too.
“Come with me?” Mack asks David, sliding her hand into his free one. They both step outside onto the terrace. Mack sighs immediately at how gorgeous the view is. The sunsets here are so unique and breathtaking. It’s like nothing else has been able to compare and she has seen sunsets all over the world. But this is still her favorite one.
“Wow.” David whispers. He grabs her hips, pinning her between him and the railing so they can hold each other while taking it all in. The cold glass of David’s beer rests on her forearm. Mack’s eyes scan along the horizon, drinking in the jagged peaks of the Alps. Sometimes, its hard for her to believe this is real, that she got to live and grow up in such a magical place. “How did you leave this place?” He asks her.
“Sometimes you have to leave to appreciate where you come from. I was at that point.” Mack murmurs back to him. She takes another sip of her drink. “As you’ve probably noticed, everyone in this town knows me.”
“Mhm.”
“I wanted to be anonymous for once in my life. What better place to do that than in New York.”
“Would you move back here?”
“I might. When I’m older and feel like I want a slower life. Would you come with me?”
“Hell yeah. I’d sell the farm and we could buy some land here. Figure out how to make stuff grow…” He trails off dreamily.
“Always a farmer.”
“Yeah, honey. It’s how I grew up. How I made the farm work too. I knew enough to get by, but when my dad died, that responsibility pushed me to figure out how to make it all successful, not just get by.”
“You’ve done a great job.”
“I’m not fishing for compliments. Just saying.” He shrugs. He takes a long sip of his beer, then rests it back against her arm. “Figuring out alpine farming would be fun. Good retirement plan.” He smirks against her temple, then kisses her there.
Mack has no plans to move back to Switzerland, but knowing David would live here after only a two day taste has her feeling content.
When the lighting of the sunset dims, Mack and David walk back into the restaurant with linked fingers. The warm summer breeze swirls Mack’s hair around as she takes in her family. She loves them. They’re a loud, crazy, hilarious bunch, but they are hers. She loves how David already fits in like a missing piece of them that found it’s way back home. Dinner is served, wine is poured, and laughs are shared all around. The usual suspects are made fun of- Lio and the twins. Everyone swoons when Sophie talks and then grows quiet when Nico speaks.
The dynamics are there, even with Lucie and Connor who disappear during dinner for awhile. Lucie comes back looking way too put together, almost purposefully. Mack catches her eye and shakes her head. David squeezes her thigh under the table. Dessert is decadent chocolate mousse that has David’s eyes rolling back into his head.
“The best.” Mack tells him. He nods.
“Yeah. American chocolate sucks.”
The Swiss at the table cheer proudly. “Okay, he can stay in the family!” Sophie yells.
“Thanks, Soph.” David smiles at Mack when he says it. Mack threads her fingers over his hair then pulls him in for a kiss while everyone watches. David cups her cheek, moving his lips against hers as everyone cheers.
“To family.” Nico raises his glass. “Proscht!”
The room fills with clinking glasses. Mack and David clinks theirs together too.
Proscht, indeed.
- - - & - - -
Two weeks into being home with David and Mack is more relaxed than she has ever been in recent memory. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to run off to. Everyone she wants to see is here and everything else can wait.
Beneath the mountain sun, she lays out in a chaise, quietly reading a book while the boys are bopping around in the lake. Stella is learning how to swim with her dad while Lio and David cheer her on from beside him.
“That’s it Stell!” Connor cheers as she rushes towards him. Mack glances up, seeing the flailing arms and legs of her niece. It looks less like swimming and more like drowning to her. But Connor’s arms wrap around the little girl’s body, pulling her up and out. Stella’s hair is slicked across her face, held over her cheeks by the pink, sparkly goggles she has on.
“Good job!” Lucie cheers from next to Mack. “I’m trying to let go of all my anxiousness, but it’s a little hard.” Lucie sighs to Mack. She scratches at her cheeks then takes another sip of the mocktail she made earlier in the day.
“Connor has her.”
“I know. It’s just…” Lucie shakes her head. “Hard with my pre-birth anxiety.”
“I can see that.” Mack acknowledges. Although she isn’t pregnant and doesn’t plan to be, she can certainly see how life-changing moments like pregnancy and birth can alter your brain chemistry and world outlook. Lucie waves at Connor and Stella in the lake.
“Mom! Did you see!?”
“I did, baby! Good job!” She yells down again. “Where is Soph?” Lucie asks Mack. “I thought she was supposed to be back by now?”
“I think they were boating to town for lunch, then she would be back.”
“Oh. She better not be on a boat with someone who is drinking and driving.”
“Really?” Mack purses her lips. “Like you never got into a boat with Lio after he had been drinking.”
“I was dumb. She is smarter than me.” Lucie insists.
“I don’t think anyone is smart at 19.” Mack reminds her. Lucie sighs.
“I’m going inside. I need a break from life.”
“Okay.” Mack waves to her, then settles back into her book.
Mack gets through several more chapters of her book before the group in the lake gets tired from swimming lessons. David comes to sit in Lucie’s vacated chair while Connor heads inside to grab Stella a well-earned snack. Lio and Savannah disappear down to the dock to join Liv and Luca there.
“That was super fun.” David sighs. “She really got the hang of it at the end.”
“She has the best coaches and hype boys down there.” Mack smiles, putting a book mark in her book then closing it.
“Stella is such a firecracker. I love it. At one point, she sucked up some water and we were like ‘take a break!’. She refused. Just said ‘again’ and cruised right through that water to try again.”
“She worked up an appetite too.”
“Oh yeah. Needed a jelly sandwich.” David grabs one of Mack’s ankles, bringing her foot into his lap so he can massage it for her. “How is your book?”
“Good.” She smiles.
“Let me guess you’ve read it like 20 times?”
“Yeah and it get better every time.” She grins at him.
“My girl hates surprises.” He chuckles.
“Yep.” She strokes her big toe down the center of his abs. She then lets it skirt over the ties of his board shorts before resting it back on his thigh. David licks his lips, slowly looking over at her. His green eyes sparkle, a slight smirk lifting a corner of his mouth up. It’s a warning. Mack purses her lips and looks away.
“I’m going to head inside.”
“Will you be back?” He asks.
“Yeah I feel like I need a snack and a bathroom break.”
“Okay.” David releases her foot. Mack slides it from his lap then stands. She stretched her arms high into the sky, shaking her head at the way her boyfriends eyes are clearly on her boobs.
“Obvious.”
“Not trying to hide it, honey.” He says, leaning back in his chair.
Mack walks in through the sliding glass door, smiling as Stella has jelly smeared all over her face.
“Grape!” She exclaims, holding a half eaten portion out to her.
“Ooo, looks good.” Mack tickles here wet, ruffle covered belly then goes the the fridge to grab a sparkling water. She cracks the bottle open then glugs down a few sips.
“Okay, are we ready to go back out?” Connor asks his daughter. “Maybe do some back flutters this time?”
“I’ll come with babe!” Lucie calls from the living room.
Mack smiles, watching the Woods gather one another then head back out into the lake. The house is quiet, everyone out enjoying the hot summer sun. Mack leaves her water bottle on the counter, then heads upstairs to the guest bathroom. She quickly does her business, then washes her hands. After, she fixes her pony tail and double checks her sunscreen coverage still looks good on her face. She should probably grab a hat while she is inside.
The thought barely gets across her mind as she opens the door. Outside the bathroom, her boyfriend sits, bare-chested, board shorts swelling with a glint in his green eyes. Oh.
“What are you doing?” Mack asks as he steps forward. His hands on her hips push her back into the bathroom. He shuts the door, flipping the lock.
“I don’t trust Stella.” He explains. Mack closes her eyes, laughing and nodding her head. True.
“Bend over that counter.” He points to her. Mack scans his face, beginning to drip into her bikini bottoms with how damn possessed he looks.
“That one?” She asks, jerking her hand over her shoulder. David turns her shoulders, then forces her to bend over the counter. Mack exhales in surprise. “Okay…” She laughs, then pulls her hair over one shoulder. She looks up in the mirror at him. “Now what?” David smirks at her.
“Your dad followed me into the house.” He tells her as he grabs the edges of her bottoms. Mack stills. She glances towards the door as the cloth falls to her ankles. “He thinks you’re the tamest daughter. The non-chaotic one who would never do something like beg her boyfriend to fuck her in the bathroom while he’s downstairs.”
His fingers glide over her puffy lips, gliding to her entrance to gather up her wetness then spread it across her sex. Mack swallows her moan, keeping her face neutral.
“I don’t know if I want it right now?” She tilts her head, challenging. David raises his eyebrows at her. He begins to undo the ties on his swim trunks, making Mack’s eyes lower with pleasure.
“You don’t want this?” He asks, gathering his hard erection in his hand. He strokes her core with his swollen head. Mack sways from pleasure but shakes her head no. She breaks eye contact when she does this. David grabs her face, squeezing her cheeks for her to open her eyes. Her lashes flutter as she does, looking almost innocent in the mirror. “Say it again.” He eases just the tip of his cock into her. Mack tries to close her eyes and David squeezes her cheeks harder. “Baby. I asked you to do something for me.”
Mack sags into his body, causing her to swallow more of his shaft. David pulls out of her, letting the hardness slap against her outer lips as he waits for her answer.
“I want it.” She moans as his fingers twirl her clit.
“Yeah. Beg.”
“Please, I want your cock.” She whispers. She turns away from their reflection in the mirror to look at him. He leans down, kissing her lips, devouring her mouth like she is his lunch.
Then he grips his shaft, rolling himself through her slit once, before plunging in.
In her haze, Mack completely forgot about David’s statement.
Her dad came in with him.
It isn’t until she is two minutes into getting fucked on the bathroom counter that it hits her. The handles of the cabinets bite into her thighs and knees. David brings her up on her tip toes to get better leverage. Then footsteps hit the stairs.
“Shit.” Mack whispers, reaching back to stop David’s thrusts into her. David looks at her in the mirror, then shakes his head. He leans more forward over her back and fucks deeper into her. The sounds fills the echoing bathroom and Mack shakes her head at him in the mirror. David stops, seeing her clear panic and discomfort.
“Trust me?” He asks her, slowly puling out then pushing back in. The elicit allure of pleasure blurs rational thought from her brain. Mack can only describe what happens next as pure insanity. She nods that he can continue. Then David puts his foot up on the toilet lid before pushes her down onto the counter again. He brings her hand to his balls to keep them from thrashing against her skin. Now his long, deep strokes hit into her without any crude clapping. Her ass nudges against his inner thigh and abdomen instead, allowing deep thrusts but eliminating the risk of being heard.
Mack clenches around him, shoving her mouth into her forearm. She bites down hard as her breasts sway into the cool marble from David’s hard fucks into her. He brings a hand to her neck, close to her shoulder, pulling her back onto his thick cock.
“Shhhh.” He mouths to her in the mirror when she looks up at him.
The closet door by the bathroom opens, they can hear rummaging around. Mack bites her lip, eyebrows squiggling together as she holds back a deep, primal moan.
“Good girl.” He mouths to her, barely audible.
The closet door shuts and the footsteps lead back towards the stairs, clomping down them.
Once the coast is clear, David begins to fuck harder into her, long, strokes while his hands move to cup her breasts. He massages them, tweaking her nipples as he connects his chest with her back.
“Baby watch me make you cum in that mirror.” He demands. He grips her chin, forcing her gaze back in front of her.
Mack raises her brown eyes to him and watches. There, she sees every dip and curve of his hips as he fucks her pussy. She sighs, collapsing into his thrusts, letting his hands maneuver her body to get them both to their high. When she is close, he keeps that demanding pace, licking his lips, hips dipping down to get her at a better angle. His head rubs at her walls in a delicious tease that has Mack coming around him. He fucks her through her orgasm, keeping a tight grip on her hips as he takes what he needs.
He slams into her three more times, hard, unforgiving, then spills into her core. His hips smoosh her ass, forcing her stomach into the counter uncomfortably. The view of his face as he comes has Mack’s muscles fluttering around him again. She exhales a groan, holding his ass so he stays deeply buried inside of her. When he opens his soft green eyes to take her in, she clenches her walls around him again. David grins at her, then cups her ass, giving it a demanding squeeze. David presses his hips into her harder, then rolls her hips against him. Mack squeezes again, David bites his lip then hisses at the overstimulation.
“Fuck.”
David pulls out of Mack, bringing with him a glob of his cum. He grabs toilet paper, wiping it off, then goes to her used, puffy lips. He cleans her off as best he can, before pulling her bikini bottoms back into place. He tucks himself back into his shorts, then grabs Mack’s hips, holding on to her as he sighs.
“Better and better every time. I swear.”
“Yeah, cause you’re a freak in this house.” She chuckles. Her and David have had a great sex life since the beginning, but he has been almost insatiable since they’ve arrived in Switzerland. He shrugs.
“Something about you here has me hooked even more than usual.” Mack stands back up to her full height. David’s hands move to wrap around her stomach, holding her close. His big hands completely cover her abdomen, making Mack’s insides fill with butterflies. He stares at her in the mirror then turns to kiss her head.
“I love you.” Mack tells him. “I don’t want to share you anymore. Let’s go take a nap.” Mack flips her hair back over her shoulder. “You can hold me and kiss me and love on me again when we wake up later.” David smiles.
“Sounds like Heaven.”
Mack goes to the door, unflipping the lock then glancing both ways. When it’s clear, she pushes David out into the hallway. He laughs at how guilty she looks tiptoeing back to her room. She leans against the door, sighing in relief at not being caught.
“Now that I’m not dizzy from your dick, I will literally die if he heard us.”
“He didn’t hear anything.” David assures her. He has no idea, clearly, but Mack finds it adorable that he wants to ease her worries. “If he did, I’ll take the blame. Let him hate me so you can stay perfect in his eyes.”
“My dad definitely doesn’t think I’m perfect.” Mack crawls into bed next to him after changing into a pair of athletic shorts. David collects her to his chest immediately.
“You’re perfect to me, honey.”
David rubs her hair.
Mack rubs his stomach.
Then they do the best thing you can on a summer vacation, fall asleep in a warm cocoon of love.
- - - & - - -
(David)
Exhausted from swimming in the lake all day, Mackenzie Hischier lays curled up into a perfect ball in her boyfriend’s lap. David strokes his hand along her back, careful to keep an even rhythm so she doesn’t wake up. She’s been fighting a nap all day after he kept her up most of the night. It wouldn’t be fair for him to wake up her again when she’s finally getting some good sleep. So slow, continuous strokes over her sweatshirt are what he does.
David has loved everything about Switzerland, but there is something sinfully sexy about fucking Mack in her childhood bedroom. He can’t get enough of it. He’s never been one to wake her up multiple nights in a row, for multiple rounds, but here he is, doing it for almost an entire month. He loves her soft moans, loves the way she bites onto the meat of his palm to stay quiet, loves knowing no one else has ever had her in that room before. Not even her dipshit college “boyfriend” who couldn’t find her clit.
What a fucking idiot. David finds himself quietly scoffing and shaking his head. He blinks away his thoughts, then adjusts Mack a bit on his thigh where her hip bone is digging into him. He tilts his head down to look at her face. Her lips are split apart and the left side of her nose squishes slightly up on his chest. He smiles down at her, loving how comfortable she is here with him. When he raises his gaze back to the room, he catches Nico Hischier studying them. David double checks his hands are in appropriate places on Nico’s daughter then gives him a nod. Nico nods back, a sign of acceptance, then turns back to the TV where a movie plays out.
David hopes to catch Nico and Lexi tonight without Mack hovering around the corner. He thinks she might finally be tired enough to go to bed first. David’s chest starts to pound a little harder in his chest at the thought of the conversation he needs to have with his girlfriend’s parents. He knows they like him, but hopes the last four weeks they’ve spent here has them completely comfortable with giving him permission to marry their daughter.
He can’t imagine life without Mack. She stormed into his life all hot and bothered, overstimulated and under appreciated. He’s gathered her up in the midst of all that and soothed those out of control parts of her by loving her so well. He knows her parents can see that, hell Nico is looking over at them again seeing it in real time. Mack finds David safe and comfortable. No one has ever been able to hold her free and kept at the same time.
David vows to be the only one to do that. Ever.
After her parents give their blessing.
The movie ends and Sophie’s loud yawning makes Mack startle awake. She sighs, gripping David’s sweatshirt tighter. He kisses her head, then begins to work his grip around her back and under her knees.
“Ready?” He asks her. She nods. David stands with her in his arms, carrying her up the stairs to her room. He lays her on the queen sized bed, filled with a deep purple comforter adorned with ruffles. It’s so moody but girly, just like her. He can imagine her laying on this bed as a teenager, head phones in, book in front of her face as she ignored her dad’s second call for dinner.
“I’m gonna grab some water for us. I’ll be back.” He murmurs to her. Mack doesn’t even hear him. She’s already fallen back to sleep tucked into her sheets.
David won’t wake her up tonight. It’s clear she needs the sleep.
Quietly, he tip toes out of the room. Lucie and Connor are saying their goodbyes with a sleeping Stella in her father’s arms. Nico smoothes the little girls curls down, then kisses her cheek gently.
“Goodbye, sweets. We will see you back home okay?” Nico assures the little girl. She nods sleepily in response, then yawns.
“Bye. See you for Fall break.” Sophie hugs the two adults, then skirts around everyone to go up to her room. David nods to Lucie and Connor.
“See you tomorrow at the airport.” He acknowledges them. They’re all heading back to New York on the same flight. Then Connor and Lucie will be heading to Massachusetts while Mack and David jet to Iowa.
Nico and Lexi walk the family out of the house to the car. David waits leaning against the wall in the entry way. He glances over his shoulder, listening for sounds of Mack, but hearing none. Even Sophie has gotten quiet upstairs. The two parents walk back into the big house holding hands.
“Hey, I’m sorry to ah, pounce on you right at the end of the night, but I was hoping we could talk?”
“Sure.” Lexi nods, motioning with her hand back to the living room. David leads the way, sitting back in the chair him and Mack had been in earlier while her parents take the couch. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.
“What’s up?” Nico asks, a slight smile on his face. David smiles back, breathing out heavily as he glances at the pictures on the wall. There are several of Mack when she was younger with varying faces. One in particular he loves because she’s sticking her tongue out while crossing her eyes. She’s carefree like children are and he brings that same looseness out in her as an adult.
“To start, I want to say thank you for letting me stay here with your family. I have really enjoyed my time here. You two have welcomed me here, and into the family, without any reservations. You knew me before as Connor’s teammate but my on-ice personality is a little different than who I am off the ice. I know with your career, you understand that.” Nico chuckles and nods.
“Um, every time I try to get the words together to describe what Mack means to me, I fail miserably, but I’m gonna try to get this right for you two. Simply put, I love her. Unconditionally. With every fiber of who I am, I love your daughter. Every single thing about her, even the parts of herself that she desperately tries to change because she thinks they aren’t good enough for the world. She’s moody, inconsistent, always wanting to run around the world and be anywhere but home. And I love it.”
“Mack can certainly be a little complex.” Lexi acknowledges as the three of them chuckle at David’s description of her.
“I hear you, but not to me. I see her. I know her. I hear her. I heard her when she ran in January. And I heard her when she came back to me too. That doesn’t scare me. I know she needs to go sometimes. She needs to be free to feel and grow and come to terms with what she probably already knows. I’m never gonna cage her in. She will always know freedom and space while also having a home with me.” Lexi rolls her lips together, pursing them as her eyes fill with tears.
Nico brings his clasped hands to his lips, pressing into them until they turn white from the pressure. David swallows hard. How is this going? Is it going good? He can’t fucking read them.
“I hope that what you’ve seen of me in this last four weeks has you believing my words and intentions with her. I want Mack to be my wife. I want to come home, take care of her, love her and support her. I want to have dreams and goals with her that we make come true in our own way- a mix of my grit and her creativity. So…” He trials off, reaching into the inner pocket of his sweatpants where he zipped the ring earlier. He pulls it out between his thumb and pointer finger. “With your blessing, I would really like to marry your daughter.”
“Wow.” Lexi practically hiccups. She looks over at Nico who nods with his eyes closed. “Yeah.” Lexi brings her hands up to her eyes. She wipes her fingers under them then reaches for the ring. “Can I?”
“Of course.” David hands it over to her. Lexi holds it delicately in her fingers, turning it every which way as the light collects in the diamonds.
“I don’t think… we ever really saw this for Mack.” Lexi acknowledges.
“Yeah.” Nico clears his throat. “Mack just… never wanted to be in love. I think she was that way when you first met her too.” David nods.
“Spicy when she doesn’t like how things make her feel.”
“Mhm.” Nico nods. He scratches at his forehead, then continues. “As a parent, all you want is for your kids to be happy. We were happy if Mack was happy. When Mack came home this winter, she was not happy. She was miserable. And even in those tough moments in the cabin with her, she loved you. She loved you enough to try to decide for you that you deserved better.” David shakes his head, smiling as he does it.
“Crazy.”
“Yeah, well you’re the one signing up for a lifetime left of that.”
“Can’t wait.” David beams. Nico chuckles.
“I believe that. Lex and I were talking the other night how good you are at loving her. It’s been a long time since we have seen Mack so comfortable in who she is and her roller coaster. She fights it a lot. She doesn’t like the parts of her that are out of control. But those parts aren’t so scary for her when she’s with you. She embraces them, lets them show and then pass because she’s safe with you. We can’t thank you enough for that. For loving her so completely that she doesn’t want to run anymore.” Lexi hands the ring over to Nico. He looks it over for a moment, then holds it in the air towards David. “She’s going to love that.”
“Yeah, she is.” David agrees.
“I know we don’t know your parents and truthfully, Lexi and I are sad about that as I’m sure you are too. But they would be very proud of the man you have become.” David stills, feeling tightness grip his throat. “They raised a strong, caring, empathetic person who works his ass off for the people he loves. Mack is lucky to be one of those people.”
“Thanks.” David clears his throat. “That means a lot coming from you.”
“You’re our kid now.” Lexi nods her head along with Nico. “And we love you.”
“Big time.” Nico acknowledges.
The three of them stand. Hugs are shared all around, then David dismisses himself to join Mack for bed. They have an early morning tomorrow. As David climbs back up the stairs, he sneaks a look over his shoulder at Nico and Lexi hugging each other. He grins as he walks down the hall.
David is finally going to get his family after all.
Read more Mack and David here.
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Dog Days Diary: Home and the Holidays. Self and Celebration
Hey everyone
Tomorrow, in America, kinda marks the start of the winter holidays, with thanksgiving, and the beggining of the Christmas season. I figured that for anyone still here I should give an update.
I’ve been very lacking with posting, I used to regularly post everyday, but as the world catches up to you, you sometimes have to slow down, but anyway, here’s some things that’s are happening
Tomorrow, for thanksgiving, my mom suggested we have all my trans friends who don’t have places to go over to ours for thanksgiving and homely vibes. We’re a bunch of queer weirdos and it gives me a reason to wear my ears around my extended family
I still havnt heard back from the place that was gonna do a psych evaluation on me. This is frustrating but not surprising.
My mom has warmed up to my being dog actually quite a bit, she doesn’t really react oddly when I get in my gear before leaving the house, and has been laughing at my brothers corny dog puns.
I had my first shift! It only lasted around ten minutes but I was playing and barking and bowing with my dog for a while, just chasing each other and roughhousing, it was honestly magical.
Im questioning whether im one person. This one needs some explaining and may get its own post, but a fragmented bit of myself has a number of distinct traits, when when im in the fragmented state, i like being called a different name? And I don’t feel like me, entirely, like im a different girl. I’ve mostly been calling her “The Other Girl” when talking to my friends and partner about all this. But she has a name I think she likes. It still feels weird to call her it, just as it feels weird to even suggest I’m plural at all. But whatever it is, me and my therapist are talking about it, and it seems my trauma hurt more than I thought. (If anyone has links or advice hmu I’m so fucking lost still)
I finally picked up the pen again, and finished a proper ref sheet for my fursona Bellsi! I’m really proud of myself for that one, it’s been a big win to start doing art again.
I know this has been a long ass slog of a post. But if you read it all
Hi, happy holidays if you celebrate. If youre able to express yourself around your family this holiday season, I’m so happy you found that confidence. If you can’t express yourself, it will come in time, I promise. Stay safe, warm, and full.
And keep your hearts and homes open, wonderful beasts
Run fast, bite hard, bark loud
Peace, love, and gratitude
-Zith Ipeth
#alterhuman#otherkin#therian#therian community#therianthropy#dog therian#otherkin positivity#alterhuman positivity#therian positivity#alterhumanity#plurality#god that’s a scary tag to put there. but fuck it#dog days diary
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Every day is Valentines Day if you champion yourself, your loved ones, and your friends. Make Valentine’s Day be every day but happy Valentines Day nonetheless to everybody. I hope today is kind to you.
#out.#I personally don’t celebrate days like these#because they’re a bit ridiculous to me#and I’m a jaded mf awraxa#but I really do mean#it’s concept should be an every day thing#champion those you care about because life is too short not to#aNYWAY#me getting slightly deep on main aside#will be focusing on valentines stuff today#thank you to everybody who has sent something to my son#very sweet of you and it’s appreciated
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everyone cheer and clap I brushed my teeth today AND yesterday
#blue chatter#I told one of my roommates ‘be so impressed; I brushed my teeth for the first time in months’#and he got very hung up on the fact that it’s been months#and I’m like. B. my guy. my pal my friend my roommate. that is not the point.#Celebrate With Me That I Did It.#I don’t think he was trying to be judgemental akdkfkdjsjfn it just came off that way a bit#bc my other roommate (T) and I both rly struggle with personal hygiene and B does not struggle with that At All#so T is like ‘fuck yeah u go Glen coco’ and B is like ‘??? u haven’t been brushing every day this whole time???’#anyway what did eventually motivate me to do it was getting back into Bluey and remembering I have Bluey themed toothpaste so#smth smth needing to be a bit mentally unwell to get healthy smth smth
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can we go back to when people would make little intro posts for new qsmp members i see people getting excited about the people in purgatory 2 and i’m just. man i don’t even know who many english speaking content creators are [in general, not purgatory specifically]
#.txt#i also don’t know most mainstream celebrities#was watching a video the other day about some weird celebrity twitter drama because it’s fun background noise#and the person making the video was like ‘a few months ago we were ALL over generic celebrity 1 and 2’s relationship’#like miss ma’am speak for your damn self i’ve never heard of these people before in my life#sorry this is genuinely just entirely unrelated
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thanksgiving is the worst holiday there i said it
#WHY does it revolve around food i don’t like most of it#chronic picky eater recovering from an eating disorder so it’s triggering#but i’m starving#plus we are celebrating early bc my brother goes to his in laws on the actual day bc it’s obvious they are the Fun family#so i’m just alone on all the actual holidays#being single is actually oppressive in my fucking family there’s no one else who is#so there’s THAT also. fucking annoying#personal
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