#I’ve done it before and I can do it again

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

chicken scratches ☆

synopsis : katsuki tries to surprise you...but he's taking too damn long !!

an. merry christmas(if you celebrate) n happy holidays yall !! i love my boyfriend as usual,,btw have yall seen that new hori art ??? dreamy sigh my man so stupid..

cw. itty bitty manga spoilers, but otherwise nun !!

when katsuki manages to hold a pencil again and write with his right hand, it looks absolutely horrendous.

switching from writing with their left hand then back to the right one would've been disorienting for most, and it probably was for him, but he didn't show it much aside from the occasional grumble and scoff at his trembling grip. nothing ever holds him back after all.

you sigh "can i—"

"no. don't look yet." katsuki has his back turned to you, sending you a sharp glare. hunched over his little piece of paper like how he'd hide his page from kaminari's peeking eyes during an exam, always so dramatic. he turns around with a huff and you snort with a roll of your eyes.

you had come over to his room after he’d told you to, mumbling out a quick “come over.” over the phone and hanging up before you could say a word.

and so here you were. waiting.

“katsukiiiiiiii—”

“shut up,” your boyfriend grunts, his scribbling sounds harsher, in a bit more of a rush. “so damn impatient..”

“but i wanna see what you wrote !” you kick your legs up in the air, pouting at his back sitting in his office chair. “i’ve been waiting for decades to see you write with that arm again.”

katsuki scoffs out a snarky laugh “yeah, well how do you think i feel ?” you groan, whining at his dark joke, he laughs again. “just stay put. ‘m..almost done.” he trails off, focusing back on his surprisingly long task.

you do know that despite being able to use his arm again, it had gone slow—surely, but really slowly. then again, he originally wouldn’t have been able to use that arm at all, so you’ll honestly take anything.

but the excitement is getting to you, and you really wanna see what he wrote ! so slowly, surely, you quietly try to sneak the short distance to his desk to peek behind his shoulder. however, your boyfriend has some crazy spider senses.

he sighs “if i turn around and you’re not sittin’ your ass on the bed i’ll—HEY !”

busted. katsuki catches you mid creep, so close to seeing his paper until he swiftly turns in his chair. he reaches out with his left hand, reflexively, and grabs a hold of your arm.

“you can’t ever just—do what you’re fuckin’ told ! knew you were being too damn quiet ! ” he complains between gritted teeth, trying to wrestle you away from him.

“i just—wanna see !” you shriek. when he suddenly remembers he can use his right hand again, and it almost feels nostalgic the way he jams it in your side to tickle you, dropping his pencil in the process. you think you hear it rolling on the floor, but your own noises of surprise overpowered the sound. he’d really gotten better at using that arm again, you could cry if your boyfriend wasn’t actively trying to shove his entire hand inside your ribs and push you away.

during the light scuffle, his hurried movements magically make the paper fly away with a harsh whip of his arm and a gust of wind, you thank every god when you notice it, just a second before he does. you’re half sure the world slowed down as you slide down to the floor and clutch the piece of paper in your grasp like the fate of the world depended on it.

the little piece of paper makes your heart jump, with its crumpled up edges and wonky writing and all.

I love you

both the o’s are too long, his u trails off towards the end and the e looks like he'd written it with the pencil in his mouth. it looks nothing like his usual handwriting.

but it was him, unmistakably, undeniably him and all of him and all of his efforts. all his efforts coming down to this. being able to write i love you and to show you.

your heart does more than jump, it restarts in your chest.

harshly, your flipped over by katsuki. he’s red all the way down to his neck and his eyebrows twitch angrily. but his hands, both his hands are gripping your cheeks hard and pulling at them and you can’t help but laugh.

“little shit. can never jus’ lemme be romantic..” he pouts, pouts like the adorable tryharding asshat he is, and you’re so so happy. your cheeks hurt cus he's tugging at them but his right thumb is digging into your cheek. you can feel the little callous on his middle finger because he holds his pencil with too much pressure on it.

“you’re so adorable.” it tumbles out between a watery laugh before you can stop it, katsuki’s jaw ticks and he gets even redder if that was even possible—he uses his right hand to squish your nose shut mid breath so your ears pop.

“shut it, shut up. ya ruined everything.” ducking down, his teeth make contact with your cheek and your chin knocks against his when you jump with a little scream. "i literally just finished. was just about to hand it to you, but noooo—everythin' has to go your way.." he angrily mumbles into your neck.

you press a kiss to his nape and he stiffens "i'm sorry for ruining your perfect surprise." he scoffs, biting at your shoulder. "i'm really happy though, it was unfortunately very worth it."

"you're a fuckin' fiend." he spits out, and you really can't help but laugh "love you too." you snort out, and his hands, both of them squeeze your sides hard, your cheeks hurt and you can't help but laugh.

[autolenaphilia]

I’ve talked in a post years before about how male/female socialization is a myth, especially if you argue transfems are “male socialized.” But I’ve read and learned since then, so let’s have another go at it.

Of course what I must recognize is that claims that transfems are male socialized are not good faith arguments, it’s a transmisogynistic canard wielded as a cudgel against transfems. What it is is an accusation that transfems are lacking in the feminine virtues, it’s the old accusation that queer women are too mannish to be proper women. Most often “male socialization” is a claim that we are not demure and submissive enough. It’s a club that taken out whenever we dare disagree with our betters, tme people, or dare assert ourselves in any way. It’s then said that we are “talking over people”, “taking up too much space” or even have “male energy.” This is ubiquitous even in supposedly transfem-inclusive spaces. Even cis women are often falsely perceived as talking too much, due to misogynistic biases, and transmisogynistic biases make this effect even worse for transfems.

But let’s humor the argument for awhile, because I’ve seen transfems internalize the transmisogyny of “male socialization.” And socialization is a real sociological concept, which can be use to lend respectability to the claim that transfems are male socialized.

However actually looking at how socialization is defined reveals the problem with the “male socialization” myth.

Socialization as concept is not simply something that is done to the individual, but actually refers to how the individual internalizes the norms and ideology of the society in which they are raised, “the process beginning during childhood by which individuals acquire the values, habits, and attitudes of a society” as merriam-webster helpfully describes it.

This means the individual’s response to society’s norms defines socialization. It’s not just how people treat you, how you are raised, it’s how you react to how they treat you. And this is equally true if we are to speak of gendered socialization, where a person’s internal gender identity and preferred gender expression, not just their assigned sex by their environnment, defines that person’s gendered socialization.

And it’s obvious that any attempt to “male socialize” transfems failed. If “male socialization” has any meaning it must include that it results in the male individual adopting a male identity. And for transfems, the results speak for themselves. A transfem saying “I was not male socialized, because I’m a woman and not a man” is in itself a valid argument.

The fact that transfems prior to transition can for a long time believe themselves to be male doesn’t mean they were “male socialized” either. Because again, the individual’s own response, both in thought and behaviour to how others treat and teach them is part of socialization. It’s not just the end result that is different from cis men, it’s how we get there too. That’s why some transfems speak of “transfem socialization” because even when we are treated like boys, we have different responses to that than boys and men do, and that is it’s own form of socialization.

The thing is, transfems tend to experience their assigned sex and the masculinity socially expected by them long before their trans realization, as deeply unpleasant. It’s gender dysphoria, but we are not given the words to articulate those feelings. We don’t know that gender dysphoria exists, that transition are an option, or even that trans people exist, except possibly as deluded and perverted men in dresses. So these feelings are instead repressed. This results in dissociation from emotions that are distressing and difficult to understand.

It can often be difficult for us to act according to the norms of masculinity and we are often abused by parents, schools and other children for our femininity.

Now of course there are many boys and men, who are effeminate and gender non-conforming, and are often uncomfortable with the masculinity they are expected to perform. But that just further proves the point that to speak of a monolithic “male socialization” is wrong, because even boys and men vary widely in their responses.

And a central problem with neatly divided male/female socialization, is that while expectations are different depending on assigned sex, we aren’t given separate messages about gender. Basically all children in the same culture are taught the same things about masculinity and femininity, and the misogyny that comes with it. Children who are supposed to be boys are taught what girls are like, and supposed girls are taught what boys are like (and the message is, broadly speaking, girls are inferior to boys).

Trans girls can therefore often internalize the message about femininity, what girls are like, and apply it to themselves, even long before we view ourselves as women. Long before we realize we are trans, that transition is an option, we often feel a painful longing for womanhood, and femininity, tinged with unrecognized dysphoria. The unrealistic beauty standards imposed on women can be especially devastating for trans girls who have internalized transmisogyny. We hold our own bodies to standards that are cisnormative and which are so unrealistic that even cis women can rarely reach them, and it’s used as a tool of repression and self-harm, to tell ourselves why we never could be women. Eating disorders are common among trans women even before transition.

This description of pre-transition transfem lives probably seems surprising to people who never listened to transfems describe their own lives, and this includes other kinds of queer people.

The double standard of how transfems pre-transition lives are described and how basically every other queer group’s closeted lives are described is stark. Like it’s now widely recognized that cis gay people who were closeted and didn’t believe themselves to be gay were suffering in that closet from the self-denial that belief involved. Claims that cis gay people were “heterosexually socialized” and that they enjoyed heterosexual privilege by self-denying in the closet are never made because they are obviously absurd and offensive. But not so for trans women’s own experience of repression and the closet. This is of course rooted in transmisogyny. As Julia Serano pointed out, “AMAB trans people are denied the closet”

[chancloud8]

PART 10.

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series masterlist

series summary: you catsit for lee know while he's on tour and unexpectedly develop a relationship with him through texting him about his cats

pairing: lee know x reader

chapter tags: smau written chapter, fluff, making out

Room 98. 

With your heart beating loudly in your chest you stuff your phone in your purse and lift your hand to knock on the door. Before your fist can even touch the wood, the door is pulled open and you’re standing face to face with the man you’ve been talking to every day for the last few weeks. 

Minho is just how you remember him. Tall, lean and insanely beautiful. His black hair is hanging over his forehead, the strands reaching just under his eyes on either side of his face and his gorgeous brown eyes are staring at you so intensely, you actually feel your knees grow weak. 

‘Hey,’ you whisper. 

‘Hi,’ he says back, his voice soft. ‘You’re here.’ 

‘I’m here,’ you parrot, your lips curling up in a smile. 

He seems to realize then that you’re still standing out in the hallway and he steps back, gesturing for you to come inside. You shuffle past him, getting a whiff of his cologne as you do. Your suitcase rolls behind you and you quickly set it aside and drop your purse on top of it, eager to turn towards Minho again. 

He’s there when you do, his arms already open and you waste no time stepping into them. Minho wraps his arms around your body as pulls you against his chest, resting his chin on top of your head. You fit against him like a puzzle piece and for a moment the two of you just stand there in silence. 

‘I thought you were going to jump me?’ Minho says then, breaking the silence. 

You laugh against his chest and swat against his back with the palm of your hand. 

‘All thoughts kind of left my brain there for a minute,’ you admit to him, not moving from your position in his arms. 

‘Hmm, I’ve been told I have that effect,’ Minho teases, his lips grazing your hair as he speaks. 

‘I bet,’ you let out a giggle, tightening your arms around his waist. ‘Glad to know you’re the same tease in real life.’ 

Minho chuckles, his chest vibrating against your cheek. ‘I wouldn’t want to disappoint.’ 

You slowly relax your hold of him to pull back a little, wanting to see his face again. Minho loosens his arms as well and one of his hands comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing the skin just under your eye, while the other stays on your back.

‘Just as beautiful as I remember,’ he whispers and his eyes flick to your mouth. 

Fuck. Is he going to kiss you? You’d lie if you said you hadn’t thought about it ever since he sent you the plane ticket. He wanted to see you, he flirted with you all the time, hell he even told you that in his mind the two of you were already dating, even if he never took you out before. 

‘I’m going to kiss you now,’ Minho says and his other hand comes up to gently take a hold of the back of your neck. ‘If you don’t want me to–’ 

You don’t let him finish and stand on your tippy toes to press your lips against his, successfully shutting him up. His fingers twitch against your neck as he melts against you, his lips soft and gentle. 

You wrap your arms around his neck to get even closer to him and when your fingers glide through the soft strands of his hair, something seems to shift in him. His hands glide down from your face to your hips where his fingers tighten as he pulls you flat against him. Every inch of your body is touching his now and you can feel his heat through your clothes. It feels good, nice, incredible even. 

Minho's lips move over yours like they’ve never done anything but kiss you, and when he nips at your bottom lip, you gasp against his mouth which allows him to deepen the kiss. A noise escapes your throat when his tongue meets yours and your whole body starts to feel like it's on fire. You’ve been kissed before, but never like this. 

You pull back to gasp for air and Minho takes that moment to move his hands even lower, grabbing onto your ass as he lifts you up. A squeal leaves your mouth at the sudden movement, wrapping your legs around his waist while your arms tighten around his neck. 

‘Minho!’ you laugh, holding onto him for dear life. 

‘Now we’re the same height,’ he grins, his hands still on your ass. 

‘Are you sure you didn’t just want to touch my–’ 

Minho’s mouth is on yours again, kissing you like he never plans to stop and you happily let him.

a/n: hehe I hope you enjoyed this cute reunion. Let me know if you'd like to read any other written bits for this story and maybe I'll do a few extra bonus scenes ;)

next chapter will be texts again (and also probably the last chapter aaahhh)

taglist: @royal-shinigami @jeonginplsholdmyhand @blueberrydish @staybabblingbaby @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @4ln-stay8 @katsukis1wife @mushy-mushroom04 @livixcore @jazziwritesthings @realrintaro @theworldofshelby-blog @nightmarenyxx @lailac13 @sungookie @fiest4plum @whiteghostt @bandarkyajaaneadrakkaswad @leeknowinggg @rundontwalkshesaid @hyunjinswrld @miraitstan @brbwritingfanfic @thatgirlangelb @nappynapnaps @solisyeah @luvbangchan @leeknowskittenpaws @elmatadoristhebestplayer @darling-eos @babygirlskz98 @havenwithleeknow @atrioofinsomniacfoxes @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv

[emchante]

carlos with a breastfeeding kink is something i did not know i needed 😵‍💫 i just know it turns him on so much to be walking outside with you and suddenly your t-shirt starts getting wet…… just imagine panicking when you start lactating but its okay cause he’s there to guide you every step of the way…….. and if he can help with the excess milk then it’s all for you of course 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

WELCOME DEAR ANON.. WELCOME 🤭 trust me.. it’s not something i’ve ever written about before but it’s peaked my interest for a long time.. maybe now is time to indulge if i have some takers?? 👀

drabble below about this<3

god, he LOVES it when it happens in public, because he loves watching you all embarrassed that your body is doing things you didn’t expect it to do. carlos isn’t slick, either, often throws you a thin shirt to wear if you’re going out with him.. the thinner it is, the easier it is to leak.

and when it starts, your face is flushed and you instinctively raise your hands to your tits, covering it. carlos pulls your hands away though, tutting quietly in your ear. “cariño, you can’t do that in public. are you trying to draw the attention of other guys, huh?”

and of course not! you’d never do that when you know you’re destined to be with carlos!! so you get a little panicked and upset and oh.. carlos’ pants are tightening even more now. the sight of you so embarrassed, crying over something he is the cause of. it’s delicious, he craves it.

so he takes you into a shop, finding the bathrooms and pushing you inside as he locks the door. you don’t have time to question him, he’s already dragging your shirt over you, and you whine loudly from your sensitive nipples being teased with the t-shirt, and now being exposed to the cold air.

his hands are instantly on your fuller tits, squeezing softly as you whine in response. you tilt your head back, swallowing thickly as you revel in the feeling of carlos’ warm hands on your aching tits. you feel his thumbs run along your nipples, and your legs shake from the amount of pleasure it causes.

“i can help you princesa, you know that. you just need to ask me nicely.. so go on.”

and you’re begging. all you can say is please and carlos for the most part, sometimes able to slip in little i need you’s and that’s what wins him over. you need him, your mind is wired to think he is the only man who can help this mysterious issue, when deep down— it’s all his fault.

he coos at your pleas, beginning to squeeze your tits a little harder, thumbs teasing your nipples until they’re leaking even more, the milk falling from them as you’re left to whine and moan desperately for the release, hoping your full tits don’t start swelling again anytime soon.

but.. this is carlos. big, bad wolf carlos sainz. who’s to say he fully helps you out? because i think.. he leaves you around 3/4 if the way done. tells you that he’ll continue when you’re home, and that he’ll personally clean up all the milk when

[bucketbueckers]

LAYUPS & LAYOVERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 2.9k content warnings: language, fluff, author is southern and doesn't understand how snow or marketing works, plot where there doesn’t need to be plot synopsis: It’s Christmas Eve and you’re in Connecticut, exhausted and just trying to get to Minnesota for a work conference. You could cry when it’s announced that all flights are being halted due to the incoming blizzard. Irritated, tired, and overworked, you pray for a miracle, although it takes an unnatural shape in the form of a six foot blonde athlete who’s just trying to make it home, too. Late night airport conversations lead to something more. notes: merry christmas eve from my delusions to yours! the last chapter of irp was super heavy so here's my apology and christmas gift (do i drop another one tmr...i really dont wanna write chapter 8 😩). i hope you all enjoy this short n sweet lil ramble i threw together and happy holidays 🫶

This can not be your life right now.

It’s actually kind of impressive how all of the stars aligned on this one particular night to fuck you over. You’re not a terrible person. You hold the doors for everyone, give up your seat on the bus for sweet old ladies, and you always allocate a portion of your paychecks to donate to Wikipedia. By all accounts, you should be overwhelmed with good karma, although it seems your luck has depleted on this night and this night alone.

It all started on the 20th when you flew out to Connecticut. You work a cushy job as a marketing consultant for the WNBA, which means you spend a lot of time in the air and across the country trying to unfuck – sorry, trying to optimize and rejuvenate – the state of the league and its teams. It’s a task easier said than done. Nobody seems to want to listen to you until they realize that your master’s degrees in marketing and business analytics actually mean something and aren’t just really expensive pieces of paper that you hang in your office. You spend a couple of days in Uncasville talking strategies to boost ticket sales and to gain more traction; they’re the only professional team the state has – it should not be hard to get people to show up if you can market it right, but here you are.

Connecticut is nearly a bust. It’s cold and you spend two full days in meetings getting talked over by men who think they understand numbers and branding. Then, on the third day, the front office suddenly realizes what you’ve been talking about (this shit was covered in your sophomore year intro to marketing class, but hey, the less people know, the more you get paid, so who’s really complaining?) and the trajectory of your trip makes a sudden turnaround. On the 23rd and early on the 24th, you help the Sun roll out the new optimizations, and what do you know? Ticket sales surge by 17%, including some season tickets, all is well in the world and it’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.

Then, all is suddenly not well and you remember that Christmas miracles are for people not surrounded by idiots. Your boss emails you just before you leave for the airport: The Lynx need your help. I’ve sent you tickets for the first flight out of Connecticut. Meet with them on the 26th. Said “flight” departs from Connecticut at 8:30pm on Christmas Eve, which means you’re not even in Minnesota until 12am if you’re lucky, which means you have to figure out hotel arrangements so you can take a nap because you’ve barely slept in five days, which means you have to figure out how to be nice to people again because the Sun front office has you pissed all the way the fuck off.

So, you’re tired, overworked, extremely irritated, and hungry, although that last problem is solved by airport Subway. You just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, either – you firmly believed that you were better off betting all of your money on black rather than taking the chance on airport food, but you didn’t have much of a choice and your stomach was growling. You eat, settling in a chair at your gate, and patiently await for your plane to arrive.

Then, the overhead PA clicks on with some static noise, announcing, “Flight 932 to Minneapolis and all other flights exiting Hartford will be delayed due to inclement weather. I repeat–”

The blood rushes to your head. Your eye twitches. There’s a crying baby somewhere in the airport and you can’t take it anymore. Honestly, what’s stopping you? Flying a plane cannot be that difficult. You’re pretty persuasive. You can tell TSA you’re just young for a pilot and you’re not wearing a pilot’s uniform because it’s Christmas Eve and what are you, the feds? All you’re really asking for at this point is a nap but there’s no way in hell you’re making it to a hotel in these conditions and the chances of you sleeping in an airport with all of your belongings out for someone to grab are even lower.

A commotion towards the check in counter commands your attention. You turn, dreading the eventual crash out of an airport Karen, but it’s better than the crying baby who still hasn’t shut the fuck up.

“Please, there’s gotta be something else you can do,” a tall, broad-shouldered blonde is begging, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. “It’s Christmas Eve, I have to get home.”

The lady at the check in counter sounds sympathetic when she responds. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our hands are tied. We can’t send our planes out in this weather, but if it eases up, the next flight out should have you arriving in Minneapolis by tomorrow afternoon.”

You hear the blonde groan, her tone sounding something like, I can’t fucking believe this is my life, which is a sentiment you whole-heartedly agree with. “Can you please lemme know if there’s anything earlier?” she pleads. “Like, if by the grace of God this weather clears and we can leave sooner.”

“Of course, ma’am. All updates will be announced.”

The response is almost robotical, but you can tell the receptionist is trying her best, too, and the last place she wants to be is hanging out at the airport on Christmas Eve. The blonde sighs, thanking her, and from the corner of your eye, you watch her hike her bag up over her shoulder and she moves to sit directly in front of you. That’s when you truly get a good look at her, at the dejected blue of her eyes, the chisel of her jaw, the logo on her hoodie. Paige Bueckers is no stranger to you. You grew up watching ball, so obviously you’re familiar with her game – any self-respecting basketball fan is. But by virtue of your job, Paige Bueckers is a name that makes your marketing heart beat just a little faster. Ever since Dallas won the lottery, you’ve been all over their marketing team. Paige’s entire existence and the chance she gets drafted to Dallas is the sole reason the Wings’ tickets are flying off the shelves. She’s the most marketable college athlete there is right now, one of the top rookie prospects for the league, but one look at her face in person and you’re forgetting all about your job. Her jaw is tight with a simmering anger, and honestly, you feel terrible for her – she already spends so much time away from her family and here she is trying to get out of Bumfuck, Connecticut, so she can be home in time for Christmas.

You find a little bit of bravery when you raise your voice slightly to ask her, “No luck?”

She looks up, glancing at you and taking in your features, and laughing slightly when she realizes you’re genuinely just trying to make conversation and not trying to get a soundbite out of her. “You heard that?” she asks sheepishly, sinking a little in her seat to get comfortable. You pretend to not notice her manspread.

“Well,” you begin, glancing over at the receptionist. “The desk is like, ten feet away.” She laughs again and nods, murmuring touche under her breath. “932 Minneapolis?” you ask, referring to your flight.

Paige nods again, quirking a smile. “You stalking me or sum’?”

You shrug your shoulders, a coy smile on your face. “Just observant,” you quip.

Paige grins fully. “What about you?” she asks. “You work for the league?”

At that, you can’t help your surprise, raising a brow. “How’d you know that?”

“Just observant,” she throws your words back at you. You laugh. “Kidding. I see your ID pokin’ out of your bag. You from here, or they got you workin’ on the holidays?”

“Work,” you respond. Paige whistles lowly. “I’m a marketing consultant. Been up here for a few days working with the Sun, then I’m heading to Minnesota to fix the Lynx’s bullshit.” You blink, registering your words, blushing as Paige laughs. “You did not hear that. I’m usually nicer to my employers.”

“They got you workin’ and flyin’ out on Christmas Eve,” Paige points out. “You should be meaner.”

You incline your head in a nod, huffing. “All of this for office potlucks and dental coverage,” you joke. “Don’t quit basketball.” Paige grins again and you’re suddenly reminded of your manners. “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” You do as such, only mildly surprised when she stands to shake your hand and introduces herself, too, which is honestly kind of endearing. Then, she plops into the empty seat next to yours, smiling widely.

“So, marketing consultant,” she says, her tone nonchalant as she gets comfortable next to you, extending her long legs across her suitcase. “How often will I get to see you?”

You glance at her, raising a wry eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me?” you ask.

Paige shrugs a shoulder, smirking. “A little. Is it working?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit. You can see the pride that shines in her eyes. You roll your eyes in amusement, still in slight disbelief, but you redirect back to her question. “Honestly, probably a lot. The league is super messy from a business perspective and their actual marketing sphere isn’t that great, either. As soon as you get drafted I’ll probably have to fly down to whichever poverty team you land at and teach them how to market you.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and despite the tease in her tone, she does seem interested. “How would you market me?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Well…” Paige glances down to her watch, then out the windows where snow falls in heavy sheets. “Looks like a lot.”

You snicker. “Alright. Bear with me, okay?” Paige nods in earnest, her attention fully on you as you begin to ramble. Truthfully, you did like your job when you were able to do it. The issue is and always will be the idiots you have to work with who overlook your credentials. “So, I’m not thinking about your personal brand at all. Like, that one’s already incredible. Your PR team did their big one with you. But the issue with athletes like you, wide-eyed and fresh out of college with an insane resume of endorsements, followers, deals, whatever – the issue is that whatever team you get drafted to is gonna want to rebuild their entire image around you. Think Clark, Brink, Reese, Jackson, Cardoso. It’s textbook – you advertise the person who’s gonna get you the most clicks, the most sales. So, how can we use that to actually grow the game, the league? I’m talking about longevity. There’s so many people tuning in for you that don’t know shit about basketball, and honestly, they’re gonna be scared to ask questions.

“So we push something corny. Social media segments with a catchy name like Ball With Bueckers or some shit where you break down basketball plays, rules, the stuff you’re gonna see and hear when you watch a game. What’s a pick and roll? A screen? Why is she getting fouled for blocking that shot, isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Education, interest, loyalty, and competition sells. Stories sell, too, which is why the league is still trying to push the Clark/Reese rivalry. That’s old news, though. A more compelling story would have been the Fever/Sun rivalry, especially after the Sun beat the Fever and the Fever hired their coach. Or Fever/Wings, for reasons I’m not gonna ruin your night with.” Paige laughs at that, and you smile, clearing your throat and trying to find your train of thought. “So, when I’m undoubtedly called in to fix your team’s mess, that’s what I’d be suggesting. People already love you. Using that connection to get them to love ball, too, is my goal.”

“You’re really passionate about this,” Paige comments, her lips quirking into a slight smile. You can’t help but preen a little, flushing. “Like, about basketball. You really care about the sport. Feels like that’s harder to find lately.”

“Well, I was too short to play it, so gotta settle for something, right?” you joke.

Paige looks you up and down. You’re wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt from college, but her gaze is shameless, appreciative despite your casual airport wear. She chuckles, a disbelieving noise building in the back of her throat. “Nah. You’re what, 6’5?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Try a foot less. But I appreciate you for believing in me.”

Paige smiles, nudging you a little. “I was serious, though. You’re super passionate. I like that.”

“Still flirting?”

“S’not everyday you get snowed in at the airport with a pretty girl,” Paige says, her gaze warm, and you can’t help but blush again. “Gotta shoot my shot, you know?” She mimes throwing a ball, her wrist bent, and you shake your head fondly. Admittedly, she did have you – hook, line, and sinker. You enjoyed the conversation, her company. There were certainly worse people to be stuck with, but you’re glad it was with her.

You shrug your shoulders. “Shoot away,” you say. Her subsequent grin is wide and you find yourself drawn in just a little further.

She asks you virtually everything under the sun – where you grew up, where you went to college, the team you were rooting for, and you answer. You tell her you’re an Atlanta native, born and raised, although you moved up north to study at Columbia. You were 8 when the Dream was founded and that was your team, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. At 10, you watched them win the eastern conference finals on your birthday and that was easily the moment your life changed. Basketball was your future and that much was certain. She asks how you landed the league job (connections, a thick resume, and lots of persuading), how you adjusted to the constant traveling (lots of caffeine and really good concealer), and the hard-hitting question of, are you satisfied?

For that, you really had no answer. Sure, you’re always busy, and that’s better than the alternative of sitting in your office and watching the seconds tick by. You’re good at what you do and your job makes a positive impact on the league. Your colleagues will be who they are; your work speaks for itself and that’s what you pride yourself on. But there’s always going to be a small part of you that yearns for something more, like someone else to share your life with. Someone who sits, and listens, and engages with you; someone who loves basketball just as much as you do (even if it’s a different type of love), someone who’s steady and spontaneous and adaptable.

Then Paige is smiling at you, her gaze warm and soft despite the below freezing temperatures outside; she’s listening, and engaging, steady, spontaneous, adaptable, and probably the only person in the world whose love for basketball could rival your own. You’ve known Paige for all of three hours and it’s nearing midnight in an airport in Connecticut, but it’s Christmas Eve and she feels so right. You would really like to see where this goes, and judging by the way her fingertips brush your knuckles, you think she might like to see that, too.

The two of you talk all through the night, waiting for the weather to ease up. The conversation never slows and you’re certain you’ve never smiled or laughed this much in a long time. It takes you twelve hours of delirious conversation to realize that your luck never depleted. Paige was your overwhelming karma, sent by some sort of Christmas miracle to answer all of the wishes you’d kept to yourself for years. The stars aligned not to fuck you over, but to trap you in an airport with Paige Bueckers, and you find that she’s possibly the best Christmas gift you could have ever gotten.

When the weather finally clears and your plane arrives, you find that your seats are right next to each other – and, well, fate works in funny ways, doesn’t it? You’re both exhausted, but when she lowers the armrest and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into your side, you can’t help your relieved sigh, leaning into her chest. You and Paige sleep through the entire flight. You dream of soft blue eyes, the lingering scent of her cologne, the promise of how this could last.

You land in Minneapolis and you eventually have to go your separate ways. The two of you exchange numbers, saying your goodbyes, although Paige doesn’t let you get anymore than three feet away from her before she’s catching you by the wrist and pulling you into her. Her hands are cold against your cheeks as she kisses you gently, something deep and lingering and a confirmation that tastes like ‘you and I aren’t done here.’ The falling snow lands gently on your cheeks, melting under the heat of your blush, and you can’t help your smile, interrupting your kiss as the both of you dissolve into laughter. Paige kisses you again, something softer that leaves you feeling warm all over despite the chill, and you thank your Christmas miracle for leading you here.

[defmaybe]

Stuffed

12 Days of Christmas: Day 1, December 25th, 2024

ARTMS' Jeon Heejin & Kim Jungeun/Kim Lip x Male Reader

2.7k words

“Hey!”

A sound comes from your back in the long hallway of the hotel. It’s Heejin. She looks as beautiful as ever—brown eyes, sharp nose, and that pretty little mouth—but what could she want at this hour? It’s 11 P.M.!

“Hey,” you reply, perplexed by her antics late at night. You’re in your comfy pajamas right now, and you couldn’t have possibly been arsed with another errand for the women. “What is it, Heejin?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking–” she pauses, letting the anticipation linger in the air. You gulp. “–it’s coming towards the end of the tour.”

She stops again.

Is it something shameful?

“Yes, Heejin?”

“And with all the things you’ve done, I’d like to thank you with something,” says Heejin, twisting her hair with her fingers. Her eyes are darting everywhere else but yours, tiptoeing.

It’s definitely something shameful, but you really have to go to sleep for now.

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself. “Heejin, I do appreciate it, really, but–”

“It won’t be long, trust me,” she pleads, holding onto your hands.

She really needs you to see it.

“Heejin, please, I want to go–”

Your train of thoughts is wrecked as Heejin pulls out her puppy eyes. Fuck, they’re irresistible.

And you just have to give in. 

“Fine, just–take me to the place,” you groan.

She beams before leading you to the reward. She always looks like an angel when she smiles, and you can’t help but smile along with her.

She guides you into her room. It’s spacious and cozy. A television. A make-up table. A bathroom. There’s everything that a hotel room should have.

But there’s something off with this room, and it’s not the fact that Jungeun, in her black dress, is sitting on the bed, joining Heejin in her thankful gesture. Her face is unreadable.

It’s the strap-ons beside her—two of them, to be exact. Your eyes widen at the implications. 

You’re getting pegged tonight, and the flaccid cock inside your shorts starts to grow.

You turn to Heejin. “H–Heejin, what’s this? Am I getting–”

“You’re right! We’ll be pegging you tonight!” Heejin says.

The size doesn’t look compromising for your holes at all. You’re definitely getting gaped by them.

“W–With those?”

Jungeun joins the conversation, expressionless, “Yeah.”

“B–But how? What? Do you guys just carry around lube during the tour and waiting to fuck my ass in the final days?” you have to ask, trying to delay the unavoidable.

Jungeun lets out a small chuckle. “Well, what do you think?”

Your mouth opens wide, not expecting such a gesture from the women. You’re appreciative of it, of course, but just not tonight—when you’re this damn drowsy.

“Girls, I just don’t think–ah!”

Heejin pulls your shorts down in a swoop, revealing your hard cock beneath, already leaking from the thought of being used by these women.

You turn back to her. “Heejin!”

A giggle leaves her pretty lips before tossing the shorts away to the side of the bed. “On all fours, please, cutie.”

“We’re not doing this again after today, baby–” says Jungeun, smirking, patting the space beside her. “–better listen to Heejin.”

You alternate between Heejin and Jungeun nervously, before complying with the request. You climb onto the bed, on all fours. Your ass is exposed to the cold air of the room. You start to shiver.

“Good boy,” Jungeun says, before sucking her middle finger and sticking it into your snug hole.

Pain and pleasure shoots through you like a bullet. You hear a giggle from the women. Jungeun slowly pushes her slim finger into you. You wail and wail from the sensations.

“Fuck!”

“Keep moaning like that, baby. This is just a warmup,” Jungeun says.

Heejin walks towards you, giving your ass a loud smack, sending a shockwave through you once more. 

“Fuck, shit!”

The women chuckle again. You can feel Jungeun’s finger buried inside your ass up to the hilt. Your body shakes and writhes in response.

“Do you want daddy to nudge that prostate, baby?” Jungeun asks.

You suck a sudden, torn between wanting her finger out of your asshole and being stimulated by that lean digit of hers.

And you give in to the pleasure.

“Y–Yes, d–daddy.”

The first flick elicits a loud moan out of you. You feel like some common whore at this point—having your mushy prostate played with. Your body shivers erratically.

“Hmm, good boy,” utters Jungeun before flicking her finger again. Your body tenses up at her touch.

She pushes her finger into your softness again, and again, and again. Your cock twitches and shakes as the rapture is shot through you. You wail and whimper erratically.

From behind, Heejin climbs onto the bed to face your gleefully contorted face, smiling. The finger inside your ass cannot change your opinion on her—she’s still fucking gorgeous.

“Baby boy,” says Heejin, tilting her head just a little.

“Y–Yes, daddy?”

She lifts a finger up before pushing it softly into your mouth. You taste the hint of sweat on her finger, staring drunkenly into her hypnotic eyes, gleaming with desire. You’re moaning into her digit from the penetration from behind. She’s smiling, and you can do this just forever. Jungeun is still playing with your soft prostate. Your body is starting to get sore now from the submissive posture. Each nibbling of her digit brings out an airy moan onto Heejin’s finger.

“You’re such a good boy for us, you know?” Heejin says, inserting another finger into your mouth.

“Th–Thanks, daddy,” you reply, slightly muted.

After what felt like an eternity, Jungeun pulls her finger out of your now-spread hole. It heaves, missing its stuffing. You shriek at the absence of her digit, but you know that there’s going to be something else filling you up.

You keep sucking Heejin’s fingers. She’s salty. You feel so submissive right now, and you’d do anything to let this go on for forever.

“Alright, pretty boy, time for the big thing now,” says Jungeun. She takes off her sweatpants swiftly. You pull off from Heejin’s fingers to look back at what’s going on behind you. Again, your eyes widen at the sight.

Jungeun is putting on the harness strapped with a huge phallus, ready to thrust into your tightness with the object. Your breathing speeds up, excited by her gigantic cock.

And she remembers something.

“Shit, I’ll go wash my hands first.” Jungeun then hastily heads to the bathroom.

“Sure! I’ll watch our pretty boy closely,” Heejin purrs with a smirk. Her free hand forcefully grabs you by the chin to look into her ethereal eyes.

“Are you ready to be fucked by us, baby?” Heejin looks into your eyes, and they’re gleaming with desire. You’re lost in it. Fuck.

“Y–Yes, daddy,” you can only comply, before Heejin pulls her pants down quickly on the bed, throwing it to god knows where. Your eyes are glued to her wet cunt, but sadly (or not), that’s not going to be your main dish today.

You’re still on all fours, holes ready to be abused by these women like a common whore. Heejin puts on her strap quickly. She just can’t wait to fuck your tightness until you’re unable to walk tomorrow. Those people at the airport are going to laugh at you, walking weakly into the immigration section.

“Turn around, baby,” Heejin says softly, such a contradiction to the gigantic cock she’s wearing. You comply with her request, slowly turning around for your ass to sit against her plastic hardness. You can see a faint reflection of you two on the television.

Suddenly, Heejin grips onto your waist with her soft hands, and you shiver at the coldness of it from the air conditioner. Perhaps they’re a bit too cold.

“I–It’s so cold, daddy.”

“You’ll be fine, baby. You’ll forget how cold my hands are when my dick is in your ass.” And you hear her giggle.

Heejin then pours a generous amount of lube onto her cock, while also plunging her wet finger inside your tightness, painting your inner walls with lubricant. Your body trembles in response. Fuck, she even plays with your prostate just like Jungeun did.

“I’m going to get you nice and wet, okay? Don’t be so tense,” says Heejin, finally pulling her finger out after a while, before pushing the tip into your asshole. She’s fucking you now. So soft, yet so confident in her strokes.

“Fuck!” you cry out in pleasure. Your ass is getting gaped by Heejin’s strap. She’s so big, and you can’t help but shake and writhe as the phallus slowly finds its place inside you.

“Good boy, moan for me like that, baby. Your moan is like a song to me, a damn good one,” Heejin coos.

Her length is slowly pushed and pushed inside you. Its artificial veins graze the walls of your tight asshole. Her grips on your waist grow harsher, but you forget the coldness of them now. With this dick inside your ass, you just can’t think straight.

“You’re s–so big, daddy. I’m so dizzy, hhgnn,” you moan, your mind is going haywire now. You’re at her mercy.

“You’re doing this so well, baby. You’re taking my cock like a champ. Just one more inch and I’ll be fully inside you!”

Her dick starts to press into your prostate gently, sending unbearable pleasure through you. You moan and wail like a slut as it puts a pressure onto your softness until she halts her movement. She’s there. She’s at the hilt.

“I–Is it all inside me, daddy?” you ask; your body is still shaking from the divine rapture Heejin is giving to you.

“Yes, baby, I’m pulling out now.”

Heejin then pulls her enormous cock out of you, slowly. And when it’s half out, she rams it back into you, causing you to moan like a cock-drunk slut.

“Daddy! Ngh.”

“Good boy, good boy,” Heejin coos. Her cock contradicts her gentle words.

“Alright, guys, let’s get this done–” Jungeun walks out of the bathroom, and you see her gasp in shock. “This is not what we’ve agreed on, Heejin.”

Again, you hear Heejin giggle. “Come on, Jungeun. You got to play with his ass, let me!” she purrs.

“Aside, he still has another hole you can fill.” Heejin then reaches for your mouth, inserting her fingers into you and pulling your head up gently from the inside of your hole. Your body arches.

“Ugh, fine, Heejin. But next time, I want to fuck his ass for real, alright?” Jungeun growls before walking towards you. Her artificial cock bounces with her movement before she stops right in front of you.

“Take it, baby, say ah,” Heejin coos.

You play along with her, “Ah.”

Jungeun’s cock is dangling against your face, so lengthy, so thick. Globs of your spit are going to leak out of your mouth when she fucks it roughly.

She grabs onto your head as Heejin lets go of it, leaving your head swaying freely from the force that she fucks you. Jungeun holds her plastic dick in front of your needy lips. You’re still letting out an ‘ah’ sound, ready to take her hardness inside your mouth.

Languidly, Jungeun pushes her length into you, and you start to gag as it reaches the inside of your mouth. You won’t complain, of course (aside from the fact that Jungeun’s cock is in your mouth). You’re happy to be freely used by these women like this while calling them daddy and such monikers. Drool leaks out of your mouth like a fountain. Your eyes flutter with unmatchable pleasure from the women. Your holes are abused roughly, and you’re ecstatic to be their prey.

Jungeun’s cock is slowly pressed into your slutty throat. You gag loudly, but they don’t care, seeing the wanton eyes and all.

“Yes, take my cock like that, you slut,” Jungeun says, grabbing onto the side of your head roughly. Her nails are digging into your scalp. Pain shoots through you. “Such a good boy for daddy.”

You scream into her cock, but it goes unheard, as she starts to pick up her pace quickly. She thrusts and thrusts into your needy mouth. Globs of spit leaks out of your mouth onto the bed. The sound you make is intelligible.

You absolutely adore the way these women are using and abusing you like this–Jungeun pressing her cock into your needy, wanton mouth, and Heejin plunging her dick into your tightness from behind. It’s an ecstatic feeling, really, to be used and abused like this.

“What a cockslut,” Jungeun says sternly. Her cock still ravaging your throat. You gag and gag endlessly, but you’re damn happy to take all of her. Your eyes can’t see anything straight now; they flutter and flutter and Jungeun rams into your hole. Her scent fills your nostrils—musky and tart. It’s like an aphrodisiac.

She then grips onto the back of your head, as if taking it to the hilt isn’t just enough. Suddenly, Jungeun presses herself onto your nose, making your air just the scent of her, all while Heejin is hammering into your prostate. Your mouth is full of her plastic cock.

You can barely breathe. Your eyes water. You make gagging sounds. Though that means shit. You’re revelling in the way you’re sucking Jungeun’s cock, buried inside your slutty mouth. Heejin is fucking your asshole from behind, chasing your orgasm like a prize.

Her tartness is filling your nose. You’re hypnotized by it. You’re so ready to follow any of her commands. Her eyes then meet yours. They gleam with unmatchable sinfulness. She wants this, and you want this.

After a short while, Jungeun pulls her cock out of your used mouth. Your body is shaking and writhing from the pleasure ringing inside you, all while strings of saliva connect your mouth with her phallus.

“Good fucking boy,” Heejin grunts, and you can only smile back at her.

“T–Thanks–cough–daddy,” you sputter out.

Jungeun starts pushing her cock into your slutty mouth again, this time thrusting in and out of it. Your prostate is getting assaulted by Heejin’s cock, one bang after another. Her nails are still digging into your creamy skin on the sides. And the feeling starts to build up inside your stomach. The storm is approaching. You’re going to cum soon!

“D–Daddy,” you say, gagged, muffled by Jungeun’s cock.

“Yes?” Heejin and Jungeun say in unison, and they let out a laugh after—a wicked one.

“I’m gonna–ngh–cum.”

“Cum for us, pretty boy. Consider this your reward,” Jungeun growls, as Heejin giggles from behind you.

Your muscles tense up. Your breaths are growing faster onto Jungeun’s meaty thighs. Heejin is thrusting in and out of you faster than before. She then gives you a loud spank, sending another electric charge through you.

And you break, your cock spills cum out onto the white bedsheets. Your body spasms and shakes as Heejin and Jungeun thrust their cock into you. Those poor staff are going to have a lot of work to do tomorrow.

It’s a copious amount of cum that leaks out of you. You can feel your dick twitches in pleasure. Successive spurts grow softer and softer, and finally, the orgasm dies down. You pant and pant onto Jungeun’s cock, and they seem to catch the stride and pull their lengths out of you. Breathing becomes easier, but your asshole is sorely missing Heejin’s cock. You’re too tired to say anything, though.

“That was so good, baby,” Heejin says, giving your reddened rear another hard spank. You shudder in response.

“I wish we had more time for this, fuck,” Jungeun says, slowly taking her strap off. Heejin is doing the same.

Tired, used, and naked from below the waist, you collapse to the side, panting. Your butthole heaves, missing the presence of its filling. You’re unable to close your mouth too, jaw still adjusting to the absence of a cock.

“Look at him, so cute~,” Heejin says, patting your back to sleep.

“Next time, I’m fucking his ass, Heejin. Don’t pull another shit like this on me.”

“Fineee.”

Your body is all sore from all the stuffing they’ve done to you, but your mind is still in haywire, basking in the joy they’ve inflicted you. And you close your eyes, falling into the nocturne.

—

[potchi-fics]

note: g!p caitlyn. also might update my masterlist after this, its 3:45 am here. i have more sevika works, yall js gotta scroll down

      being the commander’s wife has its perks; seeing caitlyn’s vulnerable side, for instance—that is probably your favourite amongst your special privileges. that and also the fact that she worships the ground your heel walks on.

you have her wrapped around your finger, she will drop anything she’s doing the moment you utter out her name.

you knock on the door to her office, hearing her muffled voice say ‘come in’ and you do. you open it to see her eyes staring daggers into her paperwork, shoulders clearly tense, and her one hand rubbing the nail of her thumb using her index and middle finger, a habit she’s developed when under stress. you lock the door.

“you haven’t eaten, have you?” you cross your arms, rolling your eyes even, “how many times have i told you to eat on time, cait? up you go, i had them prepare us a meal.”

caitlyn massages the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, the lights from her office hurting her tired eyes, “darling, i’ve still got a little paperwork left. i will be done in twenty minutes.” you raise an eyebrow. “ten minutes.” you refuse to budge. “okay, let’s eat but first, can you come here, please?”

      how can you refuse when she’s giving you the puppy eyes? you saunter over to her desk, walking around it so that you’re standing right in front of her. her shoulder sags at your close proximity, standing up and letting herself drape over your body.

you love it when she’s like this, all clingy and needy. she wraps her arms around your waist, shoving her face into the side of your neck, inhaling the scent that she adores—vanilla and lavender.

yours circled around her neck, staying completely still for her. her breath fans over your neck, quickly transitioning into soft pecks and kisses, leading to you giving her more access.

“i’ve missed you, darling,” her kisses proceed to the other side, “missed you so much.”

      your eyes shut as she continues to plant kisses on you, turning into open wet-mouthed some time ago, you haven’t noticed. she leaves one last kiss before burying her head into your neck again but you need to kiss her.

you pull away, and the way her eyes fill with sadness immediately makes you pull her back in—your lips colliding harshly, teeth clashing, a low moan leaving you. 

her hands go lower and they settle themselves under your thigh, lifting you and seating you on her desk: work be damned.

with a swipe over your lower lip, you open your mouth slightly to let her tongue in. caitlyn is famished: she’s licking every part of your mouth, sucking your tongue, you almost think she’s shoving her tongue down your throat. she holds your jaw, forcing you to take her violent kisses.

you try to get a word in, “i’ve missed you mor–”

      she is impatient, and so are you.

your fingers fumble with her belt, blindly undoing it and pulling it down enough to slip your hand in. her half-hardening dick is straining against her boxers, making you giggle in the kiss. you palm her and she hisses at the contact.

you swallow her groans as you massage her cock, distracting her from kissing you. you feel her pull away but a grip on her hair stops her from doing so. a whisper of ‘please’ urged you to touch her finally. 

you truly did miss her and her. caitlyn’s hips buckled towards you once you gripped the base of her cock, taking it out and you look down to see her tip already leaking her precum. 

you grin at caitlyn however she avoids your stare, hiding her head on your shoulder, embarrassment coating her face. your thumb swipes the head, and your smile widens at her reaction. who would’ve thought that the commander could swear like a sailor. you tease her by doing that continuously—oh, that is torture for the poor commander; her tip is sensitive. and one noise from you almost made you cum, she whined.

caitlyn kiramman, leader of house kiramman, a decorated officer: a commander. whined. 

your eyes shut, you can’t handle the noises coming from your wife. it turns you on so goddamn much. the neck kisses from earlier were enough to make you wet, but this? her hips buckling to chase your touch after every swipe? her whining on your shoulder to do something, it’s riling you up. 

you push her back, and the back of her knees hits her chair and makes her sit down. the sight before you made you wish you could take a picture right about now: her gaze dazed, panting lightly, her pants and boxers pulled down so that her tip was poking out.

“darling, please.” there she goes again. “i need you.”

      your composure breaks. you struggle to get out of your pants and undergarments but you do, pulling it down to your midthighs and getting off the table to face away from caitlyn. hands on your hips pull you down, gripping them that’ll leave bruises tomorrow morning. she pulls your underwear aside, her tip kissing your clit.

you take matters into your own hands and lead her right into you, your hand disappearing underneath—gasping when that familiar head breaks through. caitlyn growls lowly before pushing down roughly, your back arching at the sudden intrusion.

“g-gentle now,” you feel so good. you feel everything, you feel how she twitches, feel every vein. you feel how she faintly buckles her hips up. you slowly lift yourself,  “good boy.”

she can’t help but harshly pull you back down, your hand shoots up to cover your mouth because she is hitting you just right. “i need you, darling. i need you. i’ve missed you.”

      she stands up, along with you, her needy cock moving inside of you. you brace yourself on her desk, one hand still on your mouth and the other on the table. she uses her grip on your hips as leverage, using it to push and pull you, your cunt greedily welcoming her.

the tip of her cock is hitting your favourite spot, making you mewl in delight at the sensation, muffled moans and whimpers vibrating in the back of your throat, accompanying caitlyn’s own groans.

your cunt clenches around her and her pace wavers. she pushes you down, your breasts on top of her work, and you feel her lean down before continuing on bruising your cunt. 

“shit,” caitlyn whispers on the back of your neck, kissing your nape, “missed you so much. you have no idea, darling.”

      an unexpected pressure on your pussy makes you yelp—she managed to sneak a hand down, rubbing your puffy clit in a slow circle. the contrast of her thrusts and rubs results in you having a sudden orgasm. your eyes close shut, your toes curling in pleasure, ears ringing, and you accidentally, unconsciously, hit the things on her desk, hearing them clatter on the ground.

caitlyn whines at the feeling of you squeezing you, “fuck,” she goes back up, her hands returning to your hips, and resumes her thrusts—this time, aggressively. 

“i just c-came,” your sore throat succeeded in letting out, your hand pushing back against her abdomen. 

      she doesn’t hear you. she’s focused on the ring that’s forming around her dick, thickening as she continues to pound into your pussy. she gets off on this: you two fucking in her office, you bent over on her desk, ruining her progress, she doesn’t care. 

all she cares about is you taking her cock, all she cares about is you turning into a mess; a blabbering mindfucked mess. and you are. you’re letting out the most sinful and ungodly noises, your sensitive cunt, as well. she grits her teeth, she can feel herself about to cum, and the scene of your legs shaking, you trying to slow her down by putting your palm on her abdomen, is enough to make her cum. 

she cums with a whine, it’s too much for her. she leans down to bite at your shoulder, her cock spurting in think squirts. her cum is warm, hot enough to spread throughout your body and that’s enough for you to cum again. 

you’ve lost your voice so all you can do is hide your face in your forearm, trying your best to not scream. 

“darling,” caitlyn gasps out, dumbstruck by you’re squeezing cunt, “you’re m-milking me.”

      she stops cumming after a few seconds. she pulls out slowly, loving the way you cling to her. she falls back to her seat, admiring her work. still panting, you push yourself up with difficulty, the overstimulation still running.

“the food’s gone cold now, honey.”

[jessiexflem]

- all-american | jessie fleming x reader

content: fluff, UCLA Jessie! (and Teagan being a butthead)

requests are open :)

“You’re staring again,” Teagan pokes her teammate with the eraser on her pencil.

Heat rises up Jessie’s neck and face as she turns her head to glare at the Australian, “I am not!”

“Oh, whatever,” Teagan scoffs, rolling her eyes, “you’ve been giving her heart-eyes the entire time we’ve been here.”

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

“Yeah? Then what’s the answer for number twelve?”

Jessie glances down at her calculus homework, the paper mostly unaltered except where she had scribbled her name in the top corner. 

“Thought so,” Teagan replies smugly, “Gotta get your head screwed on, Jess, our grades depend on it.”

“You aren’t even supposed to be talking right now,” Jessie points at the ‘quiet please’ sign above the librarian’s head before focusing back on her homework, hoping it would encourage her friend to drop the subject.

“Come on, Jess, why don’t you just ask her out?” 

“I thought you told me to focus on our homework,” Jessie sets her pencil down with a huff, “Plus, why would I do that?”

“Because you like her?” the Australian gives her a ‘duh?’ look.

“No, I don’t!” Jessie’s cheeks flush, “What makes you think that?”

“Well, for starters, we’ve been sitting here for over an hour, and you haven’t noticed that I moved your calculator underneath my notebook” Teagan chuckles, “Not to mention, any time you see her, she’s all you can talk about for hours. ‘Y/N’s so smart, Y/N showed me how to do this in lab, Y/N wasn’t in class today, and I missed her so mu–’”

“We’re just lab partners, that’s all,” Jessie shakes her head. 

Teagan crosses her arms, tipping her chair onto its back legs. She narrows her eyes at her roommate, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, so if you insist you don’t like Y/N, you won’t mind if I ask her out on a date?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you don’t like her, right? So, you wouldn’t be jealous?”

“Go for it,” Jessie replies dryly. She knew there was no way Teagan would actually ask you out, she barely knew you. She wouldn’t even know who you were if she hadn’t (annoyingly) crashed one of your study sessions during midterms last semester. 

Putting her head down, Jessie redirects her attention back to her neglected math problems. The assignment was due at midnight, and she managed to make zero progress. Copying the numbers from the first question, she starts working through the equation until she realizes she needs a function on her graphing calculator.

“Can I have my calc–” Jessie stops mid-sentence as she looks up to see Teagan waving you over to their table, “What are you doing?!”

“You said I could ask Y/N out, so I figured I’d catch her as she was leaving.”

Backpack slung over your shoulders, you weave your way toward where the two were sitting. You notice Jessie’s posture tense as she whispers frantically to her teammate. Catching her eye, you direct a smile at your lab partner.

“Y/N!” Teagan greets cheerfully, “Done studying for the day?”

You shrug, “I should probably look over my ethics study guide a bit more, but I could feel my brain going numb and figured it was time for a break. What about you two?”

“Well, if you’re needing another study break later this week,” Teagan starts. Intrigued by what she had to say, you didn’t notice the color drain from Jessie’s normally rosy cheeks. “We were wondering if you were free Saturday afternoon? Jessie and I have a game at 4, and we wanted to invite you to watch.”

Jessie, realizing she was subconsciously holding her breath, let out a deep exhale. 

“I’d love to! I haven’t been able to make it out to one yet,” you say as your phone begins to buzz in your hand, “I’ve got to head out, but text me the details, Jess?”

Jessie nods rapidly, her brain unable to form a coherent answer. She watches you walk away, feeling Teagan’s eyes burning a hole in her cheek. She didn’t even have to turn her head to know that her friend had the biggest smirk on her face.

“So, if I ever think that my lab partner’s getting asked out on a date, should I look like I’m about to puke, too? Or are you going to admit you have a crush on the girl?” Teagan teases.

“I hate you,” Jessie mutters, glaring at her.

“Bet you can’t wait to show off your first team All-American skills, huh? You better practice what goal celebration you’re going to dedicate to her.”

“I’m done talking to you.”

“Jessie and Y/N, sitting in a tree, K–”

“Just give me my calculator back.”

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

Jessie was having a horrible game. She couldn’t remember the last time she played this poorly. Constantly losing the ball in the midfield, getting outrun and out-muscled by her opposing mark. Her head was running a thousand miles a minute, and the only thing she could focus on was that Y/N was sitting front row. 

It was the opposing team’s corner, and Teagan was shouting directions, ensuring each of her outfielders had their mark. The ball gets served in, and Jessie goes up for the header, making contact square on her forehead. However, instead of directing the ball out of the 18, her body was angled slightly toward the goal, meaning the ball veered toward Teagan instead. Luckily, it hit off the post and fell to their teammate, Hailie’s, feet, who cleared the ball toward midfield.

“Jessie, what the hell?” Jessie hears Teagan shout from behind her.

The halftime whistle blows, and Jessie couldn’t get to the locker room faster. Before she could reach her cubby, Coach Cromwell pulls her off to the side.

“Fleming, do you want to explain why it looks like you’ve never touched a soccer ball before in your life?” Coach Cromwell raises an eyebrow at her. 

“I–I don’t know, nerves, I guess,” Jessie gnaws on the inside of her cheek, unable to make eye contact with her coach.

“Well, you better get your nerves sorted by the end of halftime unless you want to get benched for the rest of the game.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jessie nods, keeping her head down as she shuffles to her locker. Teagan, assigned the cubby next to her, frowns at her, brows furrowed with concern.

The second half went smoother for the midfielder. Her tackles were timed better, and she had better possession of the ball. The game remained tied at 0-0, UCLA pushing the ball into the opposing half of the field. Hailie sent a ball into Jessie’s feet, and she dribbled down the sideline, the opposing winger closing in on her. Faking left, she got the opponent to bite, leaving her a hole for Jessie to slip the ball between her legs. The crowd went nuts, you included. Jessie laid the ball off for her teammate, Ashley, who took the ball into the corner drawing a defender so the Canadian could make a run in. Ashley crossed a low-through ball into the box, which Jessie met at the top of the six, slotting it into the bottom-left corner of the goal. 

You jumped to your feet, cheering as loud as you could. Noticing Jessie scanning the crowd, you give her an overexaggerated wave, to which she acknowledges with a smile. The game ends 2-0, Ashley tacking on another goal in the final two minutes. Waiting for Jessie and Teagan to complete their “good games” and post-game huddle, you stick yourself by the fence in a spot where they could easily find you. 

“Y/N, you made it!” Teagan exclaims, jogging over, Jessie not far off her heels. 

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you beam, “you guys did awesome! Great goal, Jess.”

Jessie’s cheeks flush as Teagan throws an arm around her, “She nearly had two.”

“You’re never letting me live that down, will you?” she groans, trying to avoid Teagan’s soft punches to her ribs.

“Teagan!” the three of you turn to see Hailie motioning Teagan back over to the bench, giggling, “Come here!”

“I’ll be back,” Teagan says, shooting Jessie an obvious wink before running off. Jessie throws her hands up in protest, grumbling something under her breath. She turns back to you, cheeks still red.

“Um, thanks for coming to watch,” she smiles sheepishly. A few yards behind her, she can hear Teagan making loud, fake coughs. Their conversation from the other day flashes through her mind. “I still have to shower, but would you, uh, maybe want to get dinner? With me, I mean?”

“Teagan and Hailie, too? Or, are you asking me out on a date?” you grin.

“I–well, I mean,” Jessie stammers, her face hot. 

“Because I’d much rather it be a date,” you assure.

Relief floods through Jessie’s entire body. “Then it’s a date.”

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Thirteen: [Panic Room]

Summary: Jakes darkest fears come to fruition when surgery doesn’t go as planned and the months to come bring a new reality he never saw coming.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author Note: A big show of appreciation and love to @a-reader-and-a-writer (Vee) for constantly being ready and willing to help me with my writing. You have been the backbone I needed to get this done!

You guys will never know how much this series means to me. And in the same breath, you guys will never know how much your support truly means. Merry Christmas Eve Eve 2024 ya filthy animals.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Researchers say the average length of a dream is two to three minutes long. But many people experience their dreams as hours, days, or even years if they can remember them at all. 

The science of dreaming has been questioned for hundreds of years. Some hypothesise that dreams are our way of processing real events that occur when we’re awake. They also serve as an outlet for repressed hopes and desires. Neuroscientists introduce a new theory every few years. But honestly, no one knows why we dream. 

Or why we have nightmares. We just hope that after the dream, we wake up. 

“We’ve gone over all the risks, weighed up all the possible outcomes, dotted I’s and crossed T’s. Today is the day, Mrs. Seresin.” Doctor Morrison was hopeful in his consultation. The white coat-wearing man reassured you as he placed your chart back where it belonged. “How are you feeling?” 

The question went unanswered for a moment or two. You felt like you were in a state of shock. Unable to truly express how you felt just hours before going into what could be life-changing surgery. You were giving everyone in the room a thousand-yard stare. Mentally and physically, you had checked out. Like you’d been stuck in a nightmare that wouldn’t stop torturing you. 

“We had some bad news last night. A close friend passed away unexpectedly,” Jake answered on your behalf. “Is there any way–” 

“We need to do this now, Mr. Seresin, or we won’t be able to revisit this for a few months,” Dr. Morrison explained with an emphasis on the matter of now or never. “I understand personal circumstances may have changed. However, knowing everything you know about risk and recovery and survival rates after double mastectomies, I recommend we stick to the organised care plan.” 

“Can we have a moment alone?” Jake asked cautiously as his hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You hadn’t moved from what could only be described as a catatonic-like state for the entire duration of the conversation. 

“Of course,” Dr. Morrison nodded. “I’ll come back after I’ve checked in on a few patients.” 

It didn’t take long at all for the oncology crew to exit the room. But the second they did, you felt like you could breathe again. 

“I can’t go through with this surgery Jake,” you begged. Fear of the unknown had taken over your entire being. “I can’t do this,” 

“You are the strongest person I know, honey, the kids and I really need you to do this.” Jake tried his best to comfort you as well as remind you why this surgery was so important. “We need you, yeah? We need you to stick around and this fucking cancer, this disease, is trying to cut that time short.” 

“But Jensen–” 

At the height of the Great Depression, Harvard scientists started tracking students in hopes of discovering the key to a long and happy life. They looked at participants’ mental and physical health over seventy-five years. It’s the longest study of happiness to date. Seventy-five years and all they did was confirm what we’ve known since the beginning of time. 

The most powerful predictor of health and happiness is the quality of our relationships. 

Strong relationships protect us. Loneliness on the other hand…can be deadly. 

“Would want you to keep fighting and have this surgery.” Jake could have said he thought Jensen was a coward. He could have said how angry he was at that fucker for leaving you alone in this world with no one to confide in who knew the struggle, who knew the feeling of being told you’re sick and need to get sicker in order to get better. 

Jake could have told you how he wished Jensen had survived so he could kill him himself. Jake could have responded with the fact Jensen was terminal and there was nothing on this earth that could have saved him from his illness. 

Jake could have told you that Jensen thought you hung the stars and the moon in the night sky every night just for him…but then Jake would also have to admit to himself and you that maybe, just maybe, you should have moved on. 

“What would he say right now if he was here?” Jake settled on that question just to keep himself sane. He didn’t want to open yet another can of worms right before your surgery. This was all one big giant nightmare already, he didn’t want to make it worse. If anything, Jake kept pinching himself in secret just hoping that maybe he’d wake up on the couch and this cancer saga would all be some sadistic subconscious dream of his. 

He’d always been deathly afraid of not being good enough for you. 

“He’d tell me to do it,” you sighed as you let your head rest against the upright bed. “He’d tell me to be strategic about the battle, the war is the endgame.” 

“Exactly, one battle at a time, step by step,” Jake agreed with a cheeky smile. That signature Seresin smile you so effortlessly loved. “You’re not gonna hand in the white flag before the battles even really begins, are you?” 

“Kinda want to if I’m being completely honest with you,” you responded knowing Jake would appreciate the honesty. “But I guess you and the kids really need me to stick around, huh?” 

“Oh, I can’t even begin to explain how much we need you to stick around, honeybee.” it was as honest and as sincere as Jake could be. He wore his heart on his sleeve for you. He exposed every nerve he had just so you could dance your feather-like fingers across the tender strings that made Jake, Jake. 

“I’m so scared of being alone in the operating room,” you admitted as Jake leaned in to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m so scared they won’t see me as a person,” It was an explanation that broke Jake’s heart even though he believed his heart couldn’t be broken any more. “That they won’t remember I’m me, that I have a life and a family and people who will miss me.” 

Over the course of our lives, our relationships ebb and flow. We get together, break up, move away, or fall out of touch. It’s prolonged periods of loneliness and toxicity that wreak havoc on our health, our brain function, and our longevity. 

“You’re never alone,” Jake replied softly as tears threatened to spill over his waterline. “I’m always with you, the kids are always with you, Jensen, your mum, everyone will be with you during that surgery, we’re gonna be waiting on the other side.” 

“I love you so much, Jake Seresin,” you smiled brightly through a tight-lipped smile Jake wished he could save in his mind’s eye forever. “Let’s win this battle.” 

“And the war too,” Jake replied as he reached for your hand, gave it a soft squeeze, and brought your palm to his lips. “Let’s fucking do this, Y/n.” 

*************************************

Jake sat waiting by the vending machine as he picked at the small single service-sized packet of original Lays he’d nearly had to beg the machine to drop. His watch told him it was almost nearing the end of your surgery. He wasn't stressed, not when your surgeon had been so hopeful and calming. Jake had spent far too much of his time recently worrying about the what-ifs. He wanted to focus on the now. And that now was the fact you would have been nearing the end of your surgery. Which meant soon enough he’d get to see you again. 

The only thing that kept Jake on his toes was the ever-looming doubt that perhaps the treatment plan wouldn't be enough. He hoped that you had enough fight in you to make it through the journey. He needed you to have enough strength to fight. 

“She should be coming out of surgery soon–” Jake explained as he held his phone up to his ear and tried not to chew so loud. “The kids know that Rooster is picking them up to bring them home to Grandma Maz’s house?” 

“Yeah, Mum’s not too happy about it but she won't keal over about it,” Jasmine replied as she watched her brother's kids play with hers in the backyard she and Jake used to make mud pies in. “Rooster messaged about an hour ago saying he was close, he shouldn't be too far away now.” Jas continued in her own little world. Jake was used to not being able to get a word in with his youngest sister. “I can't believe Y/n has fucking cancer–does her side of the family have a history or…?” 

“Not that we know of, it's just really bad luck, Jas,” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the wall his chair was pressed up against. “But hopefully with this surgery and the chemo, she’ll be able to beat it.” 

“Well, you tell her that I’m pissed she gets a boob job before I do,” Jasmine tried her best to keep the situation as light-hearted as possible. “Make sure she gets a good rack, not too small or too big, like a good handful that's just right.” 

“I'll be sure to let her know,” Jake smiled, he really could count on his sister for that. “Oh, I gotta go, I see Y/n’s surgeon.” Jake sat up in anticipation as anxiety flooded his nervous system. “Tell the kids we love them for me.” 

“Have been every day,” Jasmine replied quickly knowing her brother probably had his phone down from his ear by now. “Bye.” 

Jake was quick to pocket his phone and wipe the crumbs from his shirt as he stood to greet your surgeon. However, something seemed off about the man who had seemed so confident before your surgery. 

“Mr. Seresin–” 

“How is she?” Jake asked. He didn't mean to interrupt, but he needed to know first and foremost before any medical mumbo jumbo. “My wife, how’d the surgery go?” 

There was a very telling pause that accompanied the sober look that Doctor Morrison wore, but Jake tried not to read into it all that much. He knew you would be fine. 

Right? 

“Mr Seresin, your wife's heart was weakened by the stress of her recent stroke,” Doctor Morrison began to explain as Jake stood there expecting good news. “She, unfortunately, went into a cardiac arrest–” the air around Jake disappeared. Almost instantly, he felt as if he were floating in space. “We tried to revive her for the better half of twenty minutes while she was on the table,” There was a pause. A telling moment where reality and fantasy were trying to battle it out. Who’s version of events would win? When Doctor Morrison saw Jake’s mind short-circling with an inability to process the magnitude of information, he felt as if he needed to continue explaining the severity of the situation. 

“It was catastrophic, and I'm afraid we've lost her.” Doctor Morrison had told far too many loved ones over the years that they had lost family members, but never in all his years had he ever seen such immediate denial written in the lines on someone's face. “Mr. Seresin, your wife has died.” The words Doctor Morrison was saying were not sinking in as Jake stood there completely blind to the reality happening around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss–” 

“Uh–” Jake frowned as the confusion kicked in. “I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. My wife was fine before she went in for surgery, she was fine.” 

“Yes, yes, your wife was fine, yes–” Doctor Morrison tried to keep his composure, but even after all these years the losses still hurt. It made him feel human to experience the emotions alongside the family members, but in the first few seconds of watching Jake Seresin spiral into a hole of denial that you were, in fact, gone, Doctor Morrison, knew this particular loss would haunt him for the rest of his career. 

Speaking slowly, Doctor Morisson tried once more to explain what had happened in a way that Jake would understand. “The stress of the surgery along with her recent stroke…her body just couldn't handle the stress. Her heart experienced a cardiac episode and we unfortunately couldn’t revive her.” 

The immediate silence between the two men was all-consuming as it was telling. Jake’s heart was breaking in two. 

“Is there someone I can call for you?” Doctor Morrison tried to be as empathetic as he could be, this part of the job was never easy. The part where he was tasked with telling loved ones that the people they loved had passed on his table. They were few and far between, but the people he did lose would forever haunt him. He could name every single one and their family’s name too. Jake Seresin would be a name Doctor Morrison would remember for the rest of his life and into the next. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Jake pushed back almost immediately as he tried to wrap his head around what he was being told. This didn’t make any sense, you were just here. You were fine. 

“No, Mr. Seresin I–” Doctor Morrison tried to explain again, but it was to no avail.

“I–Okay, I think you must be mistaken,” Jake wiped his hand on his jeans as he stepped back. “I just need to ge–”

“Mr. Seresin, please.” Doctor Morrison tried to stop Jake from leaving the waiting area, but Jake just stepped further back with a frown of disgust and grief. He was still holding his packet of Lays. 

“No, no can you just, can you back up?” Jake nearly growled. “Can you leave me alone?” Jake looked around as he tried to remember how to breathe. People were staring at him like he was in a zoo. A caged and cornered animal begging to be left alone. “Can somebody get this person to just give me some space please?” It was as heartbreaking as it was cruel to watch Jake walk down the hall towards where he knew your hospital room was. 

“Y/n?” He called out hoping you'd be back by now. “You won’t believe this guy, honey. He just–” The moment Jake rounded the corner and saw your hospital room empty with no sign of you, he stood still. All the air had been sucked right from his lungs as his eyes scanned the room. Your Christmas lights weren’t flashing, your bed wasn't made, and your laptop sat open with a black screen, but just where you’d left it. You weren't back. 

“Y/n?” Jake whispered under his breath as his eyes continued to scan the empty hospital room just waiting for you to appear from out of the bathroom or sneak up behind him. But Jake knew you weren't about to appear even though he wished for nothing more. 

“Oh–” One step, two steps, three steps, four. Jake didn't know where he was but he was on the move. He couldn't stay here looking at an empty room. He had to find where you were. “Oh god, no, no no no no no, please no don’t take her away from me.” 

“Jake!” The woman's voice Jake had come to know over the last few days broke through the fog that was clouding Jake's mind. He continued to stumble blindly down the ward. “I just heard,” Lydia explained as she rushed up to the man who she had come to know as your husband. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting this to happen. I thought–” Lydia quickly reacted when Jake's knees buckled underneath him. 

“Woah! I need a little help over here!” Doctor Morrison was quick on the draw as he made his way over to where Jake now kneeled on the floor unable to breathe. 

“My wife–” Jake tried to talk as he hyperventilated. “Y/n!” he cried out for all to hear. “Y/N!” 

“She's gone.” Doctor Morrison had to make sure the fact was sinking in. 

“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry–” Lydia tried to console the six-foot-something man who had crumbled to his knees. “Your wife was an amazing woman.” 

Jake still couldn't believe it, he didn't believe it, and he wouldn't. The pain he felt inside his chest, the burning hot sensation was excruciating. He’d never felt such a feeling of grief mixed with denial and so much love. You couldn’t be gone. He was having a nightmare, wasn’t he? This wasn't real. He was dreaming. This was all one big dream. It had to be. It had to be a nightmare his subconscious had concocted. A nightmare where Jake lost it all. His biggest fears were realised. 

“I need my wife, I need Y/n,” Jake sobbed as Lydia kneeled on the ground in front of him just assessing his current state of shock. “I can't, she can't–no no no she's fine, please tell me she's fine.” 

“I'm so sorry, Jake,” Lydia confirmed what Jake wished so desperately wasn’t true. “She’s gone,” Lydia’s voice became distorted as she held the broken man in her arms. “You need to wake up before it's too late.” 

************************

Bradley Bradshaw was accustomed to losing the people he loved the most in this world. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his grandparents. For a while there he’d lost the only man who had ever slightly filled the shoes his dad left behind. But the loss of someone who was still there was something he’d never had to handle before. 

“Nat, he hasn’t gotten out of bed in days,” Bradley groaned as he cleaned up the kitchen. “The kids already lost their mother,” Bradley tried his best to keep his voice down, but the way little Lennox clocked Bradley from where he was sitting at the dining table made him realise he wasn’t one to talk on the quiet side. “They don’t need to lose their dad too.”

Jake stood just outside of Bradley’s eyeline, but he could hear everything the giant overgrown bird was saying. He couldn’t hear what Phoenix was saying but there was enough back and forth on Bradley’s behalf to easily fill in the gaps. 

“No. No, he hasn’t been down since the funeral.” Jake forgot how to exhale at the mere mention of your funeral as he hid in the hall. He couldn’t remember ever getting ready or speaking at your wake. He couldn’t remember who drove them or if the kids cried. He couldn’t remember hugging your mother or shaking your brother’s hand. Jake couldn’t remember any details about the flowers he’d organised or the people who were there. 

The anti-depressants weren’t helping. Nothing was. Nothing would. 

Until today, Jake couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. Without you, there was no point. He was begrudgingly okay with living a life in a world where you were still in it. But living in a world where you were no longer present wasn’t something Jake was willing to do. The kids would be fine with their grandparents. They’d be fine with Uncle Rooster. Lennox and Lucy and little Sammy didn’t need him. How was he supposed to look into their eyes and know he could never see the twinkle in yours ever again? 

“I’m really worried about him, Nat,” Rooster sighed as he held his phone up to his ear with his shoulder. He was working on making little Samy some banana pancakes. “As much as I want to, I can’t stay here forever, but he needs someone.” 

“No one is asking you to babysit me, Bradshaw,” Jake replied to the statement Bradley wasn’t expecting an answer to. “You can leave, trust me, I can drop the kids off with my mum.” 

Bradley stood stunned into silence as he watched Jake round the corner and into vision. He reluctantly reached for his phone and hung up as Phoenix questioned what was going on. 

“Hey man,” Rooster finally broke the silence as he watched Jake walk closer and closer to where Sammy sat in his high chair. “How you feeling today?” 

“Well, my wife’s still dead, so that’s something,” Jake replied with a sigh as he picked up Sammy and placed him on his lap. Lennox could see the look of pure admiration in his younger brother’s eyes as Jake hugged the smallest of the Seresin kids. “Seriously, you’ve done enough for us, I got it from here.” It was the biggest lie Jake had ever tried to tell not only himself but his best friend. 

“Uh,” Bradley wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? I mean–I wanna stay as long as you need man,” Bradley tried to plead his case as Jake went about his business with Sammy. The business being nothing. Jake stood somewhat dazed and lost in the middle of the clean-ish kitchen. A kitchen he knew where nothing was. It wasn’t his. It was yours. 

“I think the kids should come back to North Island with me,” Jake opted to ignore what Bradley was saying. Instead, he decided to continue with a vague plan for what the future holds. A future he didn’t want to have with you. A future he didn’t care about. 

“You want the kids to uproot everything they know?” Rooster frowned as he looked over to where Lenny sat watching on. The kids were down, to say the least. Bradley could recognise himself in the permanent pout that had taken shape across Lennox’s face. The puffy eyes and saddened expression really tied the whole look of mourning together. They were just kids, they didn’t deserve any of this. “I don’t think you should be thinking about coming back to work anything soon either.” 

“I don’t need you micromanaging me,” Jake hissed as he held onto his youngest son, all the while his eldest watched on with concern for his dad. “I need you to go home, Rooster, we’ve got it from here.” 

“You don’t got anything, Seresin. Are you kidding me right now?” Bradley didn’t mean to come across as so defensive. But he’d seen Jake in this grief-fueled spiral long enough to know that his destructive and depressive mindset would end up causing more distress for the kids than intended. Jake was a good dad, that had never been questioned. Until now… Bradley wasn’t sure if his best friend could handle parenting three small children without a village to back him up. “The kids haven’t seen you in days–” 

“Would you rather them see me at my worst or not see me at all?” Jake’s grief was eating away at him. So much so that Jake began to wish each time he closed his eyes he’d get to stay with the version of you his mind had envisioned. “I’m fine, I’ve got it from here,” Jake sighed as he hugged little Sammy with all the strength that he had. “I wasn’t, but I’m fine now and I just wanna spend time with the kids.” 

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying right now man,” Bradley replied as he caught sight of Lucy coming down the hall. She’d been sleeping much like her father was. Great, all three Seresin children were present for their father’s impending breakdown. 

“Get the fuck out of my house, Bradshaw.” This hadn’t been the first confrontation Jake and Bradley had gotten into while Bradley had been staying in Rhode Island as the Seresin kid’s personal live-in nanny. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was becoming an almost everyday occurrence. The only difference this time was the kids were here to witness it. “I don’t need you here–”

“You aren’t thinking straight, just–how about the kids and I go for a walk or something and you sort yourself out? Have a shower? Shave? Drink something other than alcohol for–” Before Rooster could finish his sentence, Jake was placing Sam on the kitchen floor with a haste that didn’t sit right with Rooster. Lennox was the first to move from his chair. He was the spitting image of his father. 

“I don’t fucking care, Rooster!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. So loud and with such rage that the veins in his neck were popping as his skin turned a nice shade of ruby red. He took fast strides across the kitchen until Jake was standing toe to toe with his best friend. The very friend who’d been taking care of his children since before your passing. “I have to live the rest of my fucking live without the woman I love, so, cut me some godman slack before I knock your smug ass head from your shoulders.” 

Bradley didn’t move. He didn’t retaliate. He watched over Jake’s shoulder how his three children all cowered on the kitchen floor, scared of how their father yelled. Jake was oblivious to his surroundings. He couldn’t see the kids were struggling too. 

“Jake?” Bradley sighed as he placed his hands on either side of Jake’s face. “When the fuck are you gonna get through all this?” Braley asked softly as he remained calm. “When are you gonna wake up?” 

“Wake up?” Jake repeated as he pulled his face from his best friend's grip. “Wake up? Bradshaw, I died with my wife! There is no waking up from any of this!” 

“Maybe–” Bradley shrugged as he walked over to where the kids had been huddled together. It was only as Jake followed Bradley’s trajectory that he realised how much he’d scared his children. Something he never wanted to do. “There's always hope though.” 

“Kids,” Jake sighed as his tears began to fall. He dropped to his knees right then and there in the kitchen he wasn't familiar with. In a house that was now cold and dark without your constant radiating light to keep it warm and bright. “Guys, I'm sorry, huh–Dad didn't mean to raise his voice, he’s just–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, little Lennox was finishing his father’s sentence for him. 

“You’re just sick, dad.” 

“What?” Jake frowned as the kids made their way over to where Jake was kneeling on the tiles. 

“I said you’re just sad, Dad,” Lennox replied once more as he gave his dad a hug. “We’ll take care of you.” 

************************

December 31st 

Jake Seresin tried his best to hide the wet tears that fell down his cheeks as he sat with his kids on the lounge of the home that he had tried his best to keep as tidy as he could. There was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration, a lot of fear and unbelievable sadness that surrounded Jake and your three small children. The unknown was truly tragic, terrifying and treacherous, but Jake wasn’t about to let his kids see the way he so desperately wanted to cry. 

Things had changed since Jake fell mind, body and soul into an unimaginably deep hole of depression. So much so that days had become to feel like one long dream. A paradox of grief and manic love. Your mother had told Jake to feel every ounce of emotion he had locked away. Maz had told him that grief was just someone’s residual love with nowhere else to go. 

Once Jake was able to understand that the pain of losing you was his love for you, he understood why it hurt so deeply on a cellular level. He understood why it hurt to look at the children he’d created with you. He understood why the kids had wanted to sit and open the small, still-wrapped Christmas present Lenny had found in Jake’s bag when he was looking for his dad’s wallet. 

Because it was one of the last things you ever gifted someone. It was one of your last acts on earth. 

“What did Mum get you for Christmas, Daddy?” Jake held the small present in the palm of his hand, the present he had yet to open. The present he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It felt like something he’d held before, the weight felt all too familiar. It haunted him the more he carried it around, held it in the palm of his hand and contemplated the inevitable. 

“I dunno buddy, you reckon I should open it?” Jake asked as he kissed his son's head. “S’not Christmas anymore.” The Naval Aviator had recently shaved his head, it had been the closest to a number one he’d ever had. It was in solidarity, union. A decision he made in the blink of an eye but one he did not regent or ever would. 

“We haven’t taken the tree down yet,” Lucy added her two cents into the conversation as she laid her head on her father’s thigh. “Mum would be upset if you didn’t open it, Dad.” Jake knew that much was true, you probably would be pretty bent out of shape if he never opened it. 

“Alright, I’d better open it then huh?” Jake shook the small perfectly wrapped box he could hold in the palm of his hand. He heard what sounded like a rock rattle inside. His heart nearly exploded inside his chest. 

Fuck….Jake knew what it was and he really didn’t want to open it. 

“Hey, Dad?” Lucy’s voice sounded completely different to anything Jake had ever heard before. She was looking right at him yet her eyes were trained on something one hundred miles away. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jake replied just as he was about to open the present you’d given him before his life was turned upside down. 

“You need to wake up now,” Lucy’s voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t her own. “You’ve had enough time here,” 

“What are you talking about Lu?” Jake frowned as he looked at his daughter. An extension of himself and you. “Lucy? Are you feeling okay?” 

“You’ll be a good dad soon,” Lucy smiled as she unwrapped the small ring box in Jake’s hand. The ring box that held what Jake assumed to be your engagement ring. But as little Lucy opened the wrapping, a blinding light burst through the cracks. A light so bright it forced Jake to squint. 

“Please wake up, honey,” Jake heard your voice clear as day as Lucy opened the ring box to send a piercing white light into the living room. Jake was completely captured by the light around him. So much so the entire room was drowned in a light so pure it was crystal clear. He couldn’t see a single thing beyond the all-encompassing white. 

“Please wake up for us,” again your voice was the only thing Jake could hear in the void he found himself in. 

“Y/n?” Jake called out into the void around him. He could feel his ribcage breaking like he couldn't breathe. Every breath he took was agony. “Hello?” Yet he could hear your voice. A voice he longed for. A voice he had to get back to. Jake had to get to you. 

“I’m here, you’re alright,” Jake once again heard your angelic siren song. His head began to throb. The feeling was agonising. Like there was no more room for swelling. 

“Where are you?” Jake called out as he stumbled in the light. The smell of burning flesh mixed with jet fuel overcame Jake’s senses. His need to get to you was more powerful than the deep bone ache he could feel in his legs. There was nothing on earth or beyond that would stop Jake from getting to wherever the hell you were calling him from. His entire body ached with a pain so unimaginable it sent him to his knees. Crawling, Jake cried out for you just one more time. 

“Y/n!?” Jake called out once more in a desperate attempt to find you in the void. “Kids?” 

“Here he comes,” Bradley’s voice echoed out as Jake looked up towards where he assumed the sky would be. The glare was too much. Jake placed his forearms over his forehead to soften the brightness. “Come on Hangman, don't leave us out to dry.” 

Some people spend their whole lives trying to make a dream come true. They set a goal and make a plan on how to achieve it. It works for some people. But for others, it’s not so easy. As hard as they work toward the dream, it can feel like the whole world has plotted against them. 

As someone gets further and further away from the dream, people begin to cling to any sign of hope. And the longer it takes and the more it costs…you start to consider whether you should give up. Do you find a new dream? Or do you stick to the one that started you on this journey in the first place? 

For Jake, things weren’t as black and white. 

As Jake closed his eyes and took one painful last breath in, he felt as if he’d fallen from cloud nine. When he opened his eyes, the light was still there….But he wasn’t.

Jake’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest hint of light creeping through the haze of his mind. He tried to move, but his body felt foreign as if it wasn’t entirely his own. The weight of unconsciousness clung to him, reluctant to release its hold. Slowly, he became aware of the sounds around him—

“Jake, It’s me, can you hear me?”

**********************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream

@maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional

@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

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[knavesflames]

Arlecchino’s Christmas Gift

Hello omg sorry for not posting I’ve been crashing out in terms of physical health (yes yes, I’m sick again, yay me!!)

Anyway, a little Christmas present for you all. Apologies if the standard is not Normal, but it will be soon.

Word count: 1497

Contents: soft Arlecchino, bottom!Arlecchino, fingering

Nsft utc<3

Christmas is a busy time for the House of the Hearth. With God knows how many children, Arlecchino works hard to make sure they all have a lovely day. Barbecues are out of the question, the snowflakes sticking to the ground a definite rejection of yet another barbecue. Instead, she opts for cooking a huge feast (or rather, you cook, she tells you to stop adding seasoning).

Watching the children eat and open the gifts she’s spent too much mora on, you can see that her eyes have softened significantly, even if her smile is small and barely there. “I don’t want gifts,” she’ll mutter when you ask her what she wants, she does it every year. “Gifts are unnecessary and superficial. The children receive them because they are children.”

You think she says this because she doesn’t know how to receive gifts. The House of the Hearth before was.. unkind, to say the least. The poor woman has been so busy, she’s barely had time to think about herself (you wonder if that’s the point), you know very well that the children are her priority, always. You, too. She’s made it abundantly clear multiple times to multiple times that it’s you and the children who come first.

When you see her sigh and wipe her forehead in slight frustration, you start to get an idea of what you can give her. Something she wouldn’t deem superficial, something she looks like she needs. And of course, when you excuse yourself early with the claim that you’re ’so tired’ and ‘the day has been exhausting’, she lets you leave with a soft kiss on your forehead and a murmur of affection. You don’t go to sleep, though, no. You wait until you hear the children leave the main dining hall and shuffle to their rooms to sleep before you start putting your plan in motion. You know she won’t go to bed for a little bit, she never does.

You waste no time in making yourself her gift. Putting on the lingerie you know she adores, dimming the lights and putting the small box of.. objects, by the bed, you position yourself comfortably. With clumsy movements, you manage to tie the ribbon around your wrists the way she’s done to you so many times. You admit it’s difficult, doing it with one working hand, but you get it done well enough. Then, what else is there to do but wait? The whole idea is for her to feel better and have whatever relief she desires, but you can’t help but feel excitement bubbling inside of you with every second that passes. She doesn’t feel good unless you feel good. That became obvious when she couldn’t cum until you were just as desperate as she was.

You let out a small breath when you finally hear her soft footsteps, and you’re trying to picture her reaction in your head. For some reason, you suddenly become nervous— what if she just wants to go to bed, or what if she just hates the idea? The ideas run through your head until—

“My dear?”

Your thoughts are cut short when your eyes snap to her. She looks a little shocked, her lips parted slightly, and her eyes scanning you, but she doesn’t seem repulsed or uninterested.

“Merry Christmas. You dislike gifts because they’re superficial, but I’m not, am I?”

Arlecchino swallows, her throat suddenly dry. You’ve always been the thing that gets her to react the most, both of you know that. Her words falter for a second before she manages to murmur.

“No, no you are not,” taking a step forward, then another, her hand reaching out to graze your skin gently. “Archons, look at you. You’re beautiful. All wrapped up, too.”

You smile sweetly at her, all worries dissipating at the look on her face. For someone as ruthless as her, she certainly softens up when you’re around, her touch gentle and her words quiet.

“How long did that take you? Wrapping oneself with one hand is a difficult task, no?”

“It took a while. Worth it to see your face. You can undo it if you want, or you can keep them like this.”

“Stay like that.”

“Okay.” Your own words are a whisper, and you continue to smile softly up at her. Her hands are delicate when they move over your skin, nails gently scratching in the places she knows makes you shiver.

“You wore my favourite.”

“For you.”

“You’re too good to me.” A breath, barely a whisper, but it’s heard nonetheless. It was only for you to hear anyway. She leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips until you return the kiss, letting her tongue meet yours with a soft sigh. You go to wrap your arms around her, before remembering that you have, in fact, tied yourself up. You think you feel her smile slightly into the kiss before her hand wraps firmly around your binded wrists.

Her kisses move downwards, sucking gently at the pulse point of your neck to feel you shiver. She seems to enjoy doing that, working you up only to make you wait. But, as promised, it’s her turn tonight, so you don’t complain. When she’s satisfied that your hands will stay in place and won’t struggle to get out of the ribbon restraints, her hand moves, fingers ghosting the hem of your underwear before slowly pulling it down. You help her, lifting your hips and stretching your legs so they’ll come off as quickly as possible. When they do come off, landing on the floor with a quiet noise, she leans on the bed, knee parting your legs.

Arlecchino grumbles when she realises she’s still fully clothed, and you think you see her hands trembling as she quickly fumbles to unbutton every single button she has and shed the fabric. She returns to her place soon after, her bare skin warmer than flames against yours. Her knee resumes its actions, pushing your legs apart until it meets your core, already aching. You gasp, and she relishes in the sound. She does the movement again before stopping. Digits move swiftly in finally unwrapping the ribbon around your wrists, tossing it to the side.

“I need you,” Arlecchino mutters, almost like she’s embarrassed. “I need you. Please.”

“How?” Although you enjoy occasionally being dominant, you can’t bring yourself to tonight. The poor woman has been so stressed, and this is her gift, after all.

“You know how.”

“Fingers or tongue, Peruere?”

She gasps at the usage of her actual name, her movements of her hands caressing each part of your body she can reach before she manages to speak.

“Fingers. Please.”

So, you waste no time in letting your own hand slip between her legs, moving until you find her clit. You give it a few experimental rubs, finding a rhythm she seems to enjoy before letting your lips land on her neck. You’d tease her for the quiet gasps she lets out, or for the way your fingers slide so easily into her, but you don’t think you have it in you, especially not when her hips start rocking into your hand with a rhythm so messy it’s almost pathetic, in an affectionate way. But she’s getting impatient and frustrated, and she can’t chase what she wants so badly with the rhythm she has.

You let her try for a bit longer, but the small whine that escapes her usually quiet mouth almost makes you feel bad. So, your free hand moves to her hip, gently stopping her before guiding her into a rhythm that causes all sounds to cease— only out of pure pleasure, her mouth hanging open and her eyes, usually so piercing, squeezed shut.

“It’s good?” You hum, struggling to contain the small giggle at the sight of her as needy as she is now.

“Quite.” Comes the only strained reply before her head buries back into your neck. She’s close, you can tell that much by the way she clenches around your curling fingers again and again.

“Are you going to cum for me, Peruere?”

“Yes, for you, yes.” She rasps out. It’s a struggle for her to get out any words at all by this point, and anything she does get out is less than coherent. Then her body tenses, she lets out a sound you know all too well— a mix of a grunt, groan and a whimper all in one, before she collapses onto you, her legs shaking.

You mumble sweet praises into her ear, stroking her now tousled hair until she regains her breath and stops trembling.

“Merry Christmas.” You chuckle, kissing her shoulder.

“That.. may have been the best gift I have ever had. My birthday is in August, if you’re curious.”

She’s being silly, you know that much, but you have one too many ideas to let them fizzle out now.

[natokkiz]

OUR PATHS | 18. i think i just blacked out (wc: 1k)

YOU tried to pass by jaemin’s desk quickly, hoping to avoid talking to him as you made your way into the office. but before you could slip past, he lightly caught you by the arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“y/n,” he said softly, his tone unusually serious, “can we talk?”

you weren’t sure why you felt the urge to run away again, knowing deep down that this conversation was inevitable. his recent behavior had made that much clear. hesitant, you nodded, reluctantly giving in. “sure.”

the tension between you was palpable, though likely invisible to anyone else. jaemin led you to a quieter corner of the office, away from prying eyes and curious ears.

he took a deep breath, leaning slightly against the wall. his usual playful demeanor was gone, replaced with something raw and vulnerable. “did i… do something wrong?”

you blinked, caught off guard. “what? no. why would you think that?”

he gave you a look—one filled with hesitation and a hint of fear. “because the past few days felt good. really good. like we were finally making progress. and now…” he paused, running a hand through his hair. “now it feels like you’re pulling away again. you ignored me all day yesterday. did i misread things? did i make you uncomfortable?”

you shook your head quickly, guilt settling heavily in your chest. “no, jaemin, it’s not that. i agree… it was great. you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then what is it?” he asked, his voice softer but no less determined. “it feels like something’s changed, and i don’t want to keep guessing. if something’s bothering you, just tell me. please.”

“it’s not you, i promise,” you muttered, your voice almost too quiet for him to hear. you hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “i guess… i’m just scared.”

jaemin’s expression softened into a slight frown. “scared of what?”

before you could respond, his phone buzzed loudly. he glanced at the screen, his expression torn. “i’m sorry, i have to take this,” he said reluctantly, his gaze lingering on you. “but we’re not done talking about this, okay?”

you nodded, though disappointment flickered in your chest. as he walked away, you took the opportunity to gather your thoughts.

you clutched the strap of your bag nervously as you waited for jaemin to unlock his door. when the door finally swung open, a wave of nostalgia hit you—it was eerie being in his apartment again after all this time. the familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, grounding you even as your mind raced.

from the hallway, luna padded out, her soft meow breaking the silence. she rubbed her head affectionately against your leg, still recognizing you.

“i think she missed you,” jaemin said softly, his quiet laugh easing some of the tension in your chest.

your thoughts were all over the place, unsure whether the night would end in resolution or further heartbreak. the two of you settled on opposite ends of the couch, the space between you feeling both vast and intimate. jaemin sat patiently, giving you the time to speak first.

“i’m sorry,” you began, your voice trembling. “for leaving you on read. for pulling away. i didn’t mean to—”

“it’s okay,” he interrupted gently, his gaze steady. “i just want to know why.”

you hesitated, searching for the courage to finally be honest. “i’m scared,” you admitted, your voice quiet and shaky. “i’ve been waiting for something to go wrong. waiting to wake up and realize this is too good to be true, that any round two of us would just be… a mistake.”

jaemin’s brows furrowed, his expression pained. “why would you think that?”

“because it happened before,” you said, your voice breaking. “you left before. and i know you’ve changed. i want to believe it. i think i already do. but it’s hard, jaemin. it’s hard not to wonder if it could happen again.”

jaemin shifted closer, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. “y/n,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it, “i know i hurt you. and i’ll regret that for the rest of my life. but i’m not going anywhere this time. i’m here, and i’m not just saying that. i’m showing you, every day, that i’m here to stay.”

your eyes filled with tears as you looked at him, his sincerity breaking down the walls you’d built so carefully. “what if i’m not enough for you?” you whispered. “or what if i’m too much?”

“you’re more than enough,” he replied without hesitation. “i’m the one who wasn’t ready back then. but it was never about you or how much i love you. i was still healing from my past, confused… and i hurt you because of it. that’s on me. but i’ve spent every day since realizing what i lost. and i’ll spend every day now proving that i won’t make the same mistake again.”

the room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over you. slowly, he reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek. “i don’t want to rush you, y/n. we can take this as slow as you need. but i need you to be honest with me. that’s all i ask. i don’t care how long it takes—i’ll wait. but i can’t keep chasing you if you won’t let me in.”

you nodded, a shaky smile breaking through your tears. “okay,” you said softly.

“okay,” he echoed, his own smile gentle and full of hope.

the distance between you shrank as jaemin rubbed gentle patterns on your hands.

“but… what if i don’t want you to wait anymore?”

jaemin froze at your words, trying to figure you out. you took a shaky breath before leaning closer, closing the gap between you. tilting your face up, you kissed him—a soft, lingering kiss that felt like both an apology and a promise.

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NOTES | early merry christmas HEHEH. this is my gift to you all. TAGLIST (open!) | @polarisjisung @tommina @luvv4bby @222low @luluvhs @spideykeyring @dudekiss3r @sunghoonsgfreal @jeonghansshitester @injunnie-lemon @eternallyhyucks @njmluvr @n0hyuck @junviadinho @hyunnies-world @hahaechans @p4tyaraujo @baeseungcheolie @untilthesunrises @lotties-readings @mango-bear @angelicaleex @jungaji @luvvhaechan @lionzyon @y4wnjunz @luvandletter @applejaem @pikibell @keeryverse @botchedbrat @mystverse @t-102 @skzfairies @andyprkmyluv @gomdoleemyson @slayhaechan @channnaa @lovekm @sungsgirl @yewshi @hyuksworld @nanawrlds @blondiedae @cottonjaems @dearlyminhyung @kukkurookkoo @awktwurtle @cigsaftersuh @sehunniepot

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 43

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,225ish

Summary: You, Logan, Charles, and Laura are on the run.

Warning(s): canon violence, injuries, illusions to sex, Logan is jealous of a child

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Logan stopped at a gas station as soon as he believed he had put a safe distance between the group and the smelting plant. Logan got out of the driver’s seat and got into the back of the limo. He was relieved to see that you were sound asleep, still breathing. He reached to take you from Laura, who was still caring for you, but she held tight and growled.

“That’s my wife you have your paws on, kid,” Logan retorted. “I’ve got to get that bullet out of her before—“

“Laura already took the bullet out,” Charles responded.

“What? When?”

“While you were driving.”

“Still.” He reached over to try to grab you again. Laura shook her head as she kept you near. “Damn it, kid!”

“It’s okay, Laura. He’s going to take care of her. He takes good care of us.” 

Charles shot Logan a soft smile, knowing that Logan had truly done so much to take care of everyone. Laura slowly released her grip, allowing Logan to pull you into him. He could hear the beat of your heart, allowing him to relax a bit.

“Logan, we need to talk,” Charles said after a moment. “Maybe you could give Laura some change for the mechanical horse.”

“Fine.” Logan pressed a kiss to your head before gently laying you back down. “Come on, kid.” 

Laura glanced at Charles, who gave an encouraging smile and nod before she followed Logan out of the limo. Logan led her to the mechanical horse and inserted a few coins, allowing her to ride it. 

“Stay put,” he ordered before heading back to the limo. “Come on, sweetheart,” Logan whispered as he knelt beside you in the back of the limo. “Wake up.”

“Logan?” You rasped, blinking.

“I’m right here… you had me scared there for a moment.”

“What—What happened?” You glanced down to see that your wound was healed, leaving behind a scar.

“Laura took out the bullet when you fell asleep.”

“Where is she?” You groaned as you sat up.

“You need to lie back down.”

“Logan. I’m fine. Where’s Laura?”

“She’s on the mechanical horse outside,” Charles responded.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s not my biggest concern at the moment,” Logan muttered, eyes still scanning you for more injuries.

“She should be,” Charles said. “Did you get any information from the woman she was with?”

“I got the woman’s phone.” 

Logan pulled it out of his pocket, surprised it at stayed there after the fight. He opened it up to see a video already pulled up. You sat up, leaning into Logan.

“You need your glasses,” you told him.

“Shit,” Logan muttered as he reached into the front and grabbed his glasses. He slipped them over his nose and looked at you over them. “Better?”

“Much.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. Then Logan pressed play.

“My name is Gabriela Lopez,” the woman on the screen introduced. “I’m a nurse. And for ten years, I worked for Transigen Research in Mexico City. Transigen is owned by an American company. What I am about to show you is illegal in the U.S. and Canada. They told us we were part of a pharmaceutical study. But, of course, that was a lie. These children were born in Transigen. They were born here, and have never left. They have never seen the sun or the ocean, rain or snow or any of God’s creatures. They have no birth certificates. No names, besides the ones we have given them. They were raised in the bellies of Mexican girls. Girls no one can find anymore. Their fathers are semillas geneticas, special seeds in bottles. We do not dress them up for Halloween. We do not call them ‘baby’ or kiss boo-boos. Don’t think of them as children. Think of them as things with patents and copyrights. They thought we were too poor and stupid to understand. We’re poor, yes, but we are not stupid. This is business. They are making soldiers. Killers. These are babies of mutants—“

As the woman spoke, the video showed different clips from the facility. The children of different ages and mutations. The children being trained and fighting. It broke your heart to see all of this. Laura came up in the video a few times, breaking your heart even further. The phone died before the video finished. Logan tore off his glasses and looked at Laura.

“North Dakota,” Charles stated.

“Mmm?” Logan hummed.

“You took that woman’s money. You said you would take the child there.”

Logan kept his eyes on Laura, watching her grow angry as the machine stopped. “What is she?”

“She’s your daughter, Logan.”

“Alkali…” You whispered. “Alkali has your genetic code.”

Logan’s worried gaze met yours. “Not just mine,” he said. He went to the door and opened it.

“Logan,” Charles called.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t wanna hear about it anymore.”

“Logan.”

“Just stop!”

“I have to pee.”

Logan huffed before grabbing the wheelchair out of the trunk and helping Charles into it. You got out and leaned against the limo, watching everything unfold. Laura was growing angrier at the machine as it refused to move more. She let her claws out of one fist and went to slam it into the controls, but Logan caught her wrist. Logan finished another quarter from his pocket and held it up.

“Last ride,” he told her.

Logan placed the coin in the insert, causing the mechanical horse to begin moving again. Logan and Laura glared each other down for a moment.

“You’re welcome,” Logan said before limping away to help Charles.

You shook your head, already exhausted from just watching Laura and Logan interact. Pushing yourself off of the limo, you came over to Laura.

“When the ride’s over, you want to go in and get some snacks?” You asked her. 

Laura nodded. When the ride was done, Laura took your hand and you led her inside.

“You can get whatever you want,” you said. “Don’t worry about what Logan may tell you.”

You walked around with Laura as she grabbed chips and a drink. Looking out the windows, you realized that Logan wasn’t back yet.

“I’ll go grab some money,” you told Laura. “Stay put.”

You went back to the limo, only to hear Logan shout back at the store.

“Not okay!” He was holding Laura’s wrist, whose claws were out. He dragged her out of the store. “Come on. Get in the car.”

“What happened?” You asked.

“She just tried to kill the worker. You need to be watching her.” He pushed her in your direction.

“Logan—“

“Let’s just go.”

~~~

You stayed in the back with Laura and Charles as Logan drove. You kept your gaze out the window. Laura sighed as she sided eyed you. Slowly, she moved over to your side and pulled at your hand.

“What is it, Laura?” You asked, trying not to sound exhausted.

She held up her palm and wiggled her fingers around. 

“She wants you to make a flame,” Charles said with a smile.

You held up your palm and made a small flame. “This?” You questioned.

Laura smiled and nodded. She watched with awe as the flame flickered above your palm. You were watching her reaction, that you missed the soft smile Logan had as he watched you from the rearview mirror. Charles noticed that Laura’s backpack was open. He reached in, pulling out X-Men comics. He smiled as he noticed they were mostly about you.

“Laura,” he called, motioning to the comics, “are you a fan?” Her enthusiastic nod caused Charles to chuckle and you to melt. “Yeah? I am, too.”

“Charles,” you shook your head with a scoff, unable to stop the smile.

“Logan though,” Charles motioned to the man driving, “she’s her biggest fan.”

Laura shook her head, causing you to laugh. You closed your palm, extinguishing the flame. 

“Get some rest,” you urged. Laura immediately cuddled into your side. 

You couldn’t help but wrap an arm around her to keep her close. You glanced up towards Logan, meeting his softened gaze in the mirror.

“You all should get some sleep,” Logan muttered. “I’ll keep driving.”

“You sure?” You asked.

“Get some rest, sweetheart.”

~~~

Logan drove to Oklahoma City, where the night life was bustling. Laura woke up and moved from your side to the window, staring at all the bring lights.

“Is this where we’re hiding out?” Charles asked.

“We’re not hiding out,” Logan responded. “We’re gonna get a couple of hours’ sleep, clean up, get some new clothes, get a new ride and get outta here.”

Logan pulled the limo up to the front of a Hotel and Casino. He got a suite with two rooms, two bathrooms, and a living room with a couch in the middle. On the way to the elevator to head there, Laura stopped in front of a store window, looking at the clothes.

“Come on, let’s go,” Logan urged. “Hey Laura.”

“We need clothes,” Charles said.

You placed a hand on Logan’s arm, catching his attention. “I’ll deal with the clothes,” you told him. “Why don’t you get everyone else upstairs and settled in? I’ll be right there.”

Logan was heavily debating on telling you no. But he was exhausted and needed to give Charles his meds. “Fine.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out some cash. “Let me know if you need more.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

You went over to Laura, who was still by the windows. “Go with Logan. I’ll grab the clothes and be right up.”

Laura hesitancy matched Logan’s, which was both cute and annoying. She shook her head and grabbed your hand. You sighed and looked back at Charles and Logan.

“I guess she’s staying with me,” you told them. You could see that Logan didn’t like that plan. “We won’t be long.”

With huff, Logan gave a nod and you headed into the store.

~~~

Logan had already cleaned up Charles and put him in to bed when you and Laura arrived with the clothes. You set the bags on the coffee table as Logan stepped out of the other room, downing a small bottle of alcohol. 

“Kid will sleep on the couch,” Logan said. “We get the bed in here.”

You nodded, looking Logan up and down. “You should get cleaned up.”

“So should you… I can wait until the morning.” 

Suddenly, Laura was back at your side, grabbing your hand. She tugged at it before placing it palm up. You laughed.

“Do you want a flame?” You asked. She nodded. You lifted up your other had and formed small flames in both of your palms. 

Keeping her eyes on your flames, Laura side stepped over to Logan and tugged at his jacket. She pointed at your flames.

“Yeah,” he gave you a soft smile. “She’s cool, kid.” He took her head and guided her to sit down on the couch. “Now, stay here. Sleep.”

You let Laura take one last look at your flames before you extinguished them. Logan took the needed steps over to you and took your hands. With a groan, he pulled you up.

“Come on,” he muttered, guiding you to the bedroom.

You turned your head. “Good night, Laura.”

Logan shut the door between the two of you and Laura before guiding you back to the bathroom and shutting that door. He wrapped you up in his arms and held you close.

“I thought you were going to die,” he whispered, failing to hide the shake in his voice.

“I’m right here, Logan,” you replied quietly. 

He pulled away quickly as he began to cough, using the counter to hold himself up. You placed a warm hand on his back and began rubbing circles.

“You’re getting worse,” you mumbled.

“I’m—“ he coughed, “fine.” He wiped off his lips with his jacket as he turned back to face you. His hands found your hips and pulled you into him. 

“We should get some rest. We can clean up in the morning.”

The two of you took some of your clothes off before stepping back into the bedroom. Both of you immediately noticed Laura sitting in the bed, waiting for the two of you.

“No,” Logan said, shaking his head. “There’s a perfectly good couch out there. Go.”

“Logan,” you giggled, “the bed is big enough.”

“Are you serious?”

“I can sleep in the middle. If you can’t handle it, there’s a perfectly good couch out there.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, hating how you used his own words against him. He already knew he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight, but he had least wanted to hold you close as he failed to sleep. Besides, he was also done fighting with you. It was taking too much out of both of you.

“Fine,” he sighed before pointing at Laura, “but stay on your side of the bed.”

Laura moved to one side, allowing you to crawl into the middle. Logan went around to the other side. Laura went to cuddle into you, but Logan quickly pulled you back into him.

“My wife,” he growled, tightening his arms around you.

You could sense the growing tension between the two and you quickly placed an arm out towards Laura and on arm on top of Logan’s. “There’s enough of me to go around,” you told them. 

You weaved your fingers through Logan’s as Laura wrapped around your outstretched arm. You watched as she fell asleep. Logan kissed your head before he buried his head into your neck. For that brief moment, there was a sense of peace and family in that room, causing you to fall asleep with a small smile on your face.

~~~

Logan was up first. He took care of Charles, changing him, before laying out Laura’s clothes. He took your new clothes and his into the bathroom. As he came around to pick you up from the bed, he noticed Laura carefully watching him. She was still gripping your arm. Logan went to pulled you into him when Laura growled.

“Stop that!” Logan scolded as quietly as he could. “I’m just trying to take care of her. I’m not gonna hurt her… She’s my wife. I love her.”

Laura hesitated a moment before she let go of your arm. Logan pulled you up into his arms and carried you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with his foot. You moaned as you began to come to. Logan set you on the counter and held you up.

“Logan?” You rasped.

“Hey, princess,” he gave you a small smile before pecking your lips. 

“What are you doing?”

“Taking care of my wife, like I should be.”

Logan pulled off your shirt, revealing the new scar from the bullet wound. Logan’s calloused hand gently ran over the scar before he bent down and kissed it. You closed your eyes, inhaling sharply at Logan’s tenderness. He trailed kisses up your neck to your ear before pulling away.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered. “Gotta start the shower.”

You nodded, giving Logan the signal to move. He moved as quickly as he could to get the shower on and remove his clothes before helping you with the rest of yours. Logan wrapped his arms around you, but you pushed against his shoulders.

“You can’t go carrying me around like you used to,” you said, running a hand through Logan’s hair. “It hurts you too much.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he responded. “Let me carry you until I die.”

Logan firmly kissed you as he carried you over to the large hotel shower. He held you up against the tile wall.

“Logan,” you breathed. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “Let me show you.”

~~~

After some shower sex, you and Logan lovingly washed each other before getting ready for the day. Logan kept coughing, causing you to help him get dressed. You were grabbing his shirt when he began coughing into a towel. He pulled it away to see specks of blood on it. He quickly tossed it away, not wanting to worry you further, before downing another small bottle of alcohol. 

“Here,” you said, holding up the shirt. 

“I can do it,” he grumbled.

“I know, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be getting help.” As carefully as you could, you helped Logan put his shirt on, his flannel, and then his jacket. “There.” You fixed the collar. “Ready to save the world.”

His hands slid around your waist, tugging you into him. “I don’t want to save the world anymore… I just want to save my world.”

The two of you shared a kiss before exiting the bathroom. 

“I’ll go check on Laura and Charles,” you said, noticing Logan eying Logan’s bag and the files spilling out. You reached down and grabbed his glasses from the table, sliding them onto his face. “Mmm,” you hummed, “handsome.” You gave him another kiss before heading to the other part of the hotel room. 

Logan sat down on the end of the bed and began flipping through the files. The files held information on the mutant children, including Laura. It also confirmed that Logan’s genetics were used to create Laura. He tossed the files aside and continued looking in Laura’s bag. There were X-Men comics, most of them were about you. He flipped through one, the ending page catching his eye. You were in a wedding dress while Logan was pictured in a tux. The two of you were kissing at your wedding. Logan’s heart clenched at the thought of making it official. Grabbing the comics, Logan marched into the room which Charles was laying on the bed watching a movie and you were helping Laura tie her shoes.

“You read these in your spare time?” Logan questioned Laura, holding up the comics. “Oh, yeah, Charles, Y/N, we got ourselves an X-Men fan. Or, an Ember fan more like it. You do know they’re all bullshit, right? Maybe a quarter of it happened, but not like this. In the real world, people die! And no self-promoting asshole in a fucking leotard can stop it!”

“Logan,” you scolded.

“This is ice cream for bed-wetters!”

“Logan,” Charles tried.

“That nurse has been feeding her some grade-A bullshit.”

“She’s allowed to believe in the good of what we did, Logan,” you said. “We did do a lot of good… and even the good times end.”

Logan scoffed.

“I don’t think Laura needs reminding of life’s impermanence,” Charles added. “Did you say something about finding us a new ride?”

Logan picked up the pill bottle on the dresser and held it up. “Two more pills in one hour.” He threw them at Laura, who caught them. “Give ‘em to him.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you into the other room.

“You need to be nicer to her,” you whispered, growing angry at him. “She is your daughter.”

“No, she’s not. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t leave the room.” He yanked you closer, crashing his lips against yours. “I love you.”

Logan slipped out of the room, leaving you standing there. Your hand went up to your lips, fingers brushing against them as the taste of alcohol and blood lingered on them.

next chapter >

[maxdibert]

Everything you’re saying is nothing but assumptions and headcanons. You accuse Severus of going around using Dark Magic on people, and I’m telling you that when Lily confronts him, she doesn’t mention him using it—she mentions Mulciber. That Severus had an interest in Dark Magic and developed DEFENSIVE spells because he was an abused child is another matter entirely. Stop making up nonsense because no one buys into your cheap hater rhetoric.

James starts the fight, and Severus defends himself. If someone slaps me, I have every right to punch them back because they provoked me. Sorry if you don’t understand how things work, but the person who attacks first is the one at fault. You keep victim-blaming over and over again, and you’re worse than one of those guys who, in the face of a rape case, says, “Well, she must have done something to deserve it.” You’re spouting the same rhetoric as those people—it’s disgusting.

No, Remus and Sirius never said James kept attacking Snape because he was afraid Snape might retaliate. What nonsense are you even talking about? Seriously, stop smoking hallucinogens.

Lily didn’t cut ties with him solely because of that incident. It’s obvious their relationship had already been falling apart before that, and they had been drifting apart for a while. It’s clear Lily had distanced herself from him more and more due to the company he kept and the incompatibility with her own circle of friends. That moment was simply the breaking point. And it’s not the same to get along with a Gryffindor Muggle-born as it is to openly confront an entire house, as you’re suggesting, and ACTIVELY RENOUNCE that house’s ideology when you have to sleep in the same dorm as those people. As I said, you must be incredibly privileged to think that someone without social, economic, or familial support has the freedom to stand up to a majority that not only outnumbers them but also wields enormous social influence. I don’t know what world you live in, but it’s clear you’ve never opened a book on class dynamics in your life. You sound like some neoliberal capitalist idiot spouting the “if you try hard enough, you can” narrative. Don’t come at me with that garbage when I’ve been a Marxist activist since I was 15 and have been working with at-risk populations since I graduated.

If Severus were a girl and a guy hung her upside down, exposing her underwear in front of the whole school, would you still have the audacity to say it’s not sexual assault? Leave your disgusting double standards at the door. James humiliated him in front of the entire school because Sirius was bored and wanted some fun. It was two against one. And the fact that the spell was Severus’s means nothing—what, are you serious? If I carry a knife to protect myself from being raped, and the rapist takes it and holds it to my throat, is it my fault that I was assaulted? Do you understand how problematic your comments are when applied to real-life situations? If you genuinely think like this, you’re terrifying, and I hope you never have to work with children or teenagers because you’re incredibly irresponsible.

Many Slytherins could afford to remain neutral because their families were powerful, socially and economically, and no one would touch them. Severus wasn’t a Nott. Severus wasn’t a Greengrass. Severus was a working-class half-blood with no familial, economic, or social support, which made him easy prey—both for being indoctrinated into a cult and for being targeted by a couple of rich bullies.

You’re defending a rich, upper-class kid with no reason or trauma to justify his sociopathic and violent behavior, while demonizing a working-class child from a highly dysfunctional family environment who had no resources whatsoever. Maybe take a hard look at your disgusting classism and your bootlicking attitude toward elites—we’re in the 21st century. You’re like a typical worker who’s always sucking up to his boss. It’s revolting.

No James wasn’t the devil and snape wasn’t his innocent victim.

Lately I’ve seen Snape Stans insisting that snape only became a death eater because of James or Sirius or his father or anyone else they want to blame, and that snape was innocent before hogwarts and innocent in all of his choices. It’s clear in the books that this is not the case. In the flashback scenes which take place before hogwarts, snape intentionally attacks a muggle with magic and makes it clear to lily that he sees her as an exception to blood purity and other muggleborns because she’s different. When lily asks him if her blood status matters he hesitates before saying it doesn’t matter, this is because it does matter to him but he thinks that she is special enough anyway. Not to mention that snape began using slurs against muggleborns before saying it to lily in fifth year, which she reveals she knew about when he tried to apologise for it.

Snape also already knew more dark magic than most adults as an incoming first year, which is listed as one of the reasons that snape was so hated by James, as Sirius and Remus say that James was always against dark magic and blood purity. Snape was using dark magic as a student early on, lily mentions he and his friends using dark magic - even against another student which snape says was just a “joke”.

I cannot find it reasonable to hate James for hating snape when snape was using dark magic and slurs on other students and clearly well on the way to being a death eater even in the early years. James learnt he took things too far as he grew up and began to avoid snape not wanting to provoke a fight, and snape would seek him out to attack him causing James to defend himself (ootp). This is not the actions of an innocent boy and his devilish bully this is a rivalry with the tensions of the war looming over them.

Also, the idea that snape was abused by his muggle father, and therefore it’s somehow okay that he became a death eater, is essentially a headcanon and a weird one. The only mention of his parents in the books is that they argue with each other and that his father is a generally miserable person- but not abusive. The idea of snape being whipped by his father came from a website, not the books or the movies or even written by jkr herself - it is therefore not canon. It is also so weird for people to try and justify snape becoming the equivalent of a Nazi because his father abused him and he happened to be a muggle, when snape grew up in a muggle neighbourhood and would have had many other experiences with muggles that were not abusive. It’s just nonsense.

Furthermore, trying to justify snape being a death eater by saying he had no other choice because he was a slytherin is again nonsense. Not every slytherin became a death eater and most people were not involved in the war based on the size of the order of the phoenix and the original named death eaters. Snape was not forced to be a death eater simply by proximity, he could have chosen to remain close to lily or other people who were not involved in the war- but he did not. He chose to be a death eater for the power and freedom to use dark magic, and because he was a blood purist as a younger man even if he grew out of it later in life.

Overall, it’s just not true to claim that the actions of James or anyone else are the reason snape “turned out” the way he did. The rivalry with James did not make snape turn out how he did because he was already like that before he even met James.

Snape is a very grey character, in my opinion more dark than light, and trying to justify his terrible behaviour by blaming everyone else takes away from the depth of his character and is also just not accurate to the canon.

[bridgyrose]

Neo couldnt help but watch as the new girl to Lady Brownings was being bullied by a few of the older girls. It was a normal hazing process, but something about the girl kept her intrigued. Maybe it was her silver eyes or how young the girl was compared to everyone else. Either way, she wasnt going to watch the girl be bullied anymore.

She got up and made her way over to the girls and pushed them away from the new girl. She put herself in front of the girl and glared at the others. 

“And what are you going to do about it, Trivia?” one of the girls asked. 

Neo raised a fist, then lowered it with a smirk. The smirk changed to a smile as she stuck out her tongue as she made a snipping motion with her fingers as she stared at the girls. 

The lead girl scoffed and walked away. “Freak.” 

Neo stopped and lowered her fingers, turning to the girl that she had just saved. It was almost like looking at a mirror and seeing her younger self. Scared, weak, out of place… needing someone to step in and help. 

She knelt down and pulled out her scroll, typing quickly before showing the girl her question. “Are you okay?” 

The girl flinched before looking at the scroll and gave a nervous nod. “I-I am. Thank… thank you for helping me.” 

Neo nodded, erased her message, and typed a new one. “It gets easier.” 

“I’m not sure it ever does. Its not the first time someone bullied me because of my eyes. They’re strange enough for the color.” 

A frown crossed Neo’s lips, familiar with what the girl had been going through. She still wore the contact to give her pink eye a brown color because of her parents, but hearing that another person was going through the same torment… this wasnt something she could allow slide. Instead, she’d be the person this girl… no, her younger self, needed. A mentor. A friend.

She offered a hand to the girl and signed to the girl. “What is your name?” 

“Ruby,” Ruby answered as she took Neo’s hand. “Ruby Rose.” 

Neo flashed a smile at Ruby, her fingers moving slower “I would like to be your friend.” 

Ruby smiled. “I’d like that.” 

Neo helped Ruby up and started to walk her to the dorm. 

The weeks went by and Neo and Ruby became practically inseparable. Neo helped Ruby study, train, get used to the etiquette classes… everything that she needed to succeed. A smile crossed her lips as she watched her pick up on her lessons quickly, and even more proud as she found Ruby quickly becoming top of her class. 

She lowered her weapon with a smile as she panted, glancing at her aura. Ruby had done better, bringing her aura down into the yellow and starting to see through her tricks. She started to sign, her fingers relaxed. “You’re improving.” 

“It doesnt feel like I am,” Ruby said as she picked herself up. “I still didnt win and you’re still wiping the floor with me.”

“I’ve had some of the best tutors to train me when I was younger, but you’ll get there.” 

“Then maybe I’ll get you next time.”

Next time. Neo paused and looked at her scroll, her fingers shaking as she held it. When would next time be? She was only here until she could find the time to leave and to help Roman. And then there was Lady Beat and that room she seemed to disappear to… so many questions that needed answers. 

Ruby put a hand on Neo’s shoulder. “Everything alright?” 

Neo nodded and gave her a smile. “I’m not sure when next time will be. I will be going out tonight-” 

“Then let me come with you.” 

Neo paused. “Come with me?” 

“Yes, I can come with you. And then we can train when we have time-” 

“You’ll get in trouble if you follow me. And besides, what I’m going to do tonight will be dangerous.” 

“And I dont want to be left alone again!” 

Neo lowered her hands for a moment as she took a good look at Ruby. There was a sadness in her eyes that she hadnt noticed until now, not too unfamiliar to what she’d seen in her own eyes before meeting Roman. She signed once more, trying to understand. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

Ruby looked away as if she wanted to hide the pain she felt, her body trembled as she held her arm to her chest. “Dad… wasnt given a choice. Someone from the village we lived in called to check in on my sister and I while he was at work. It wasnt something he did often, but this time was different because of grimm sightings nearby. Yang had been attending Signal and was trained to start fighting grimm, but that didnt matter. In the end, it was either we were to be  sent to boarding school or taken away from him. So, he chose to send us here. Until Yang fought back. She was taken away and I… I was sent here. To keep me out of trouble.” 

Neo nodded as she listened to the story, her own heart felt like it was starting to break. While it wasnt the same reason she was sent to Lady Brownings, it certainly hurt to hear what Ruby had gone through. She walked over to Ruby and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to comfort her, a smile crossing her lips. 

Ruby wiped a few tears away from her eyes. “Please, let me come with you.” 

“We leave tonight. But first, I have something I need to check,”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything had happened so quickly, and yet, she had never felt so… satisfied. A year had passed since her family’s manor had burned down along with her parents inside of it, Lady Browning’s Preparatory Academy had been shut down, and now she was free to be with Ruby and Roman. And yet, even in that satisfaction, she couldnt help but feel like something was missing.

“Roman told me I’d be able to find you here,” Ruby said as she sat down on the rooftop next to Neo. “We were supposed to train tonight.” 

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Neo signed as she kept her eyes towards the city. “I needed to think.” 

“Think about what?” 

“What I want to do.” 

“I thought you already knew what you wanted to do. Its why we’re still with Roman, isnt it?”

Neo shrugged and looked over at Ruby. She had dragged her into a life of crime, and yet, Ruby didnt seem to look disappointed in it as long as it meant trying to find her sister. But as she stared into the eyes of her friend, of the girl she was starting to love, the doubts had started to fade. 

Ruby smiled and got up. “I know what’ll make you happy. There’s a dust shop not too far away that we can go rob with Roman’s help.” 

“Are you sure?” Neo signed slowly.

“Of course. And I can get some stealth practice like you keep asking me to.” 

Neo smiled and nodded. “Sure.” 

“Great! I’ll go get him!” 

Neo couldnt help but watch as Ruby jumped down the building, red-lined black cloak fluttering in the wind before she turned into a flurry of petals. Her heart fluttered and she stood up to look over Vale once more. There was nothing more that she wanted in this world than to be with Roman and Ruby, no matter what it was that they wanted. She shattered piece by piece with her own semblance, ready to meet her partners on the street. 

[myveryownfanfiction]

Rickmas day 24: Christmas party

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @deepperplexity, @smilingformoney

warnings: swearing, drinking, jealous alexander

AN: merry Christmas everyone! Thank you @deepperplexity for putting this together again. I’ve had so much fun with this, both reading and writing. Can’t wait to see what you come up with next year!

I laughed as guy walked around the room, holding mistletoe above the heads of every one he could get to talk to him for more than a few minutes. Alexander rolled his eyes as he slipped past guy and a groupie. I shook my head as he sat down next to me on the couch, handing me a red solo cup.

“how many times do you think he’s been slapped?” I asked, leaning over to make sure Alexander could hear me. He laughed before leaning closer to me.

“More than he’d ever admit.” Alexander joked as he took a drink. “Besides it’s a stupid tradition. One he’s using to make sure he can kiss every groupie.”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “If it wasn’t guy under the mistletoe, I wouldn’t mind getting caught under it with the right person.” Alexander flushed and laughed as he eyed me.

“Cheesy.” He chuckled. I shrugged again as I tipped my drink back. I stood up to cross the room, intent on grabbing another drink.

“hey (Y/N).” I turned when I heard guy. Before I could respond he pulled me close and kissed me. I put my hand on his chest and pushed, feeling guy move away as he looked at me apologetically. “Sorry.” He shrugged and I shook my head.

“sometimes you’re an ass you know that guy?” He shrugged with a smile.

“what can i say?” Guy laughed before moving on. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed another drink. I made my way back over to Alexander before plopping down next to him.

“so I see he got you.” Alexander grumbled. I nodded, taking a drink.

“yeah. At least he seemed to think it was a joke.” I said. “No harm. No foul.”

“says you.” Alexander muttered. I rolled my eyes.

“hey party pooper. Move on if you are gonna be a grump. Don’t ruin my mood.” I made to get up when Alexander grabbed my arm and pulled me into a kiss. My hands went to his chest, pulling him closer as his hands made their way to my waist. When we pulled away, Alexander was breathing heavily. “What was that for Alex?” I breathed out.

“getting on with something he shoulda done a long time ago.” Guy cut in, making Alexander groan. “And now that that little trick worked, I can get rid of this.” Guy tossed the mistletoe that hung over us into a trash can before sauntering off. Alexander turned pink as he looked at me. I patted his chest and kissed him again.

“well that’s one way to make my Christmas.” I teased as Alexander drew me close to him.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Omg I loved your herald viktor epic line idea I’ve been thinking about it nonstop. If u have time and energy id love to read it sooo much ❤️❤️

Since the Ithica Saga dropped last night my brain has not known a single moment of peace. "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again" is just so insanely perfect for a Machine Herald Viktor x Reader AU it makes me physically ill. Like, seriously:

I am not the man you fell in love with

I am not the man you once adored

//

Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I cannot change

Would you love me all the same?

//

Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I can't undo

I'm not the man you knew

Viktor is so Odysseus coded it is PAINFUL. The pain of sacrificing so much of himself to survive. The regret of everyone he's had to leave behind, to betray. The ghosts of his legacy haunting his mind. All for his goal, the one thing he knows he's meant to do with every fiber of his being. Nothing, neither magic nor gods, will stop him from fulfilling that dream. He will not be the same once all has passed, and he will never regain all that he's lost. Can the person who loved him the most as he was before still love this version of him?

And the reader's answer...

I will fall in love with you

Over and over again

I don't care how, where, or when

No matter how long it's been

You're mine

Because what you loved about him is deeper than any of the ways he's changed. It's something at his core, in his soul, in the light of his eyes, no matter how tired they may seem now. It's your first kiss, it's the sound of his voice in your ear, it's the curve of his lips when he smirks, it's the way he looks at you like he falls in love all over again every day you're with him. Time may pass, and the world may change, but not this. Never this.

He is yours just as you are his, and that is the one thing that will never change.