#Importance of Professional Training

[ufonaut]

ill be honest my only fear. my literal only fear. is regards to the modern take on alan is the erasure of his career in radio/the lifetime dedicated to running gbc. i think it’s very very extremely unlikely (especially since doiby is meant to show up in his new solo) but it’s my literal only fear

[careeroptionsinc]

In today’s fast-paced world, being prepared for emergencies is paramount. Whether you��re a parent, a healthcare professional, or simply a concerned citizen, enrolling in a CPR class in Park Ridge, IL can provide invaluable skills that could save a life. CPR, or cardiopulmonary resuscitation, is a technique used to revive individuals experiencing cardiac arrest or respiratory failure. By learning CPR, you become equipped with the knowledge and confidence to act swiftly in critical situations.

[manasastuff-blog]

"International Chess Day"#trending#viral#chessday

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Call: 77997 99221

Website: www.manasadefenceacademy.com

#InternationalChessDay#ChessImportance#StrategicThinking#BrainBoost#MentalFitness#ChessBenefits

#CognitiveSkills#ChessForAll#MindGames#ChessDay2024#trending#viral#manasadefenceacademy#chessday

[astrocafecoffee]

Destiny Matrix

(predicting some events of your life and characteristics of your fs)

• For entertainment purposes only, enjoy •

•☞ Masterlist

Guys, destiny matrix chart is So gorgeous 😭 , I fell in love. I am new to this, but it's so fascinating, so I am sharing with you guys. Obviously I learnt a lot from ann_matrix_destiny insta page. I explained some of her work here, rest is mine.

✨What is Destiny matrix chart?

-A spiritual and metaphysical chart that reveals a person's life path, soul purpose, and potential.

✨How is it calculated?

-Based on a person's birth date, using a complex system of numerology and astrological correspondences.

💫 How to see some important events of your life?

see this area(perimeter line)of your chart , this will explain many important events of your life.

💚Age of getting married/ meeting with your significant other/ spouse:

- look at your age in your chart, if you see 3,5,6,19,20 at the top of your age then at that age you will get married/ meet your significant other/ start a family. Like in this chart I have shown above '5' is top of the age of 23.5- 24, so this individual will meet their spouse at that age/ get married.

• Going through Transformation in your life :

- if you see 13 or 16 at the top of your age , then at that age your life will drastically change/ you will go through a huge transformation of your life. You will change your location/ your career/ will shift to another country or city.

⚡Moving abroad/ travelling:

If you see 7,10,21,22 above your age then this is the best age for travelling or going abroad.

if you find 21 in your love line(circled part)then most probably you will marry a foreigner.

And if you find 7, 10 , 21 or 22 in this positions then most probably you will go abroad/ find your partner there .

Now , the future spouse part : -

💖 Hints about your future partner :

Look at the number below the heart symbol to know about your future partner. In this chart it's 21.

So, let's explain each numbers -

•Number 1: The magician

- creative and innovative

- skilled and talented

- confident and charismatic

- however they may also struggled with over - confidence and arrogance.

- gemini / Virgo zodiac sign placements

- profession : musicians, writer, public speaker, coaches and mentors , scientist, entrepreneur, marketing and advertising professionals.

- meeting: conference or seminar, art galleries, meuseum, workshop or studio, networking events or industry conference, class or training session.

• Number 2 : High Priestess

- intuitive and wise

- mysterious and enigmatic

- maybe quiet and reserved.

- soft spoken and considerate.

- cancer zodiac sign placements.

- profession: councillors, therapists, psychologist, Nurse or healthcare professionals, social workers, spiritual leaders, energy workers.

- meeting: secret or private settings, libraries, coaching, weddings , meeting in the context of any spiritual retreats.

• Number 3 : Empress

- Full of life , energy and vitality.

- encouraging others to grow and flourish.

- committed, dedicated and faithful.

- Taurus and Libra zodiac sign placements.

- profession: fashion designer , sculptors, teachers and educators,event planer, environmentalists, musicians, healthcare.

- meeting through : parties, gatherings, festival, fair, creative workshops, artistic projects ,meuseum, concerts.

• Number 4 : Emperor

- Natural born leader, authoritative, commanding.

- makes tough decisions with clarity and conviction.

- commited to family and responsibilities.

- zodiac sign: Aries placements.

- profession: executive, CEO, leader or manager, military officer, architect, Engineer, government officials, buisness owner.

- meeting : buisness meeting, job interviews, formal events , official ceremonies.

• Number 5 : Hierophant

- values established customs, rituals, and institutions.

- upholds ethical standards and moral principles.

- prioritise stability and security over change and uncertainty.

- Taurus zodiac sign placements

- profession: spiritual leaders and mentors, councellor , advisor or consultants, traditional healers or healthcare professionals.

- meeting: spiritual or religious gatherings, traditional ceremonies or rituals, educational and training sessions , counciling or therapy sessions, church,temples , mosques.

• Number 6 : The lovers

- collaborative, work well others.

- empathetic and aware of others feelings.

- true to themselves and their values.

- zodiac sign: Gemini placements.

- profession: counselors, coaches , writer , journalist, artist, musicians, public speaker, philosophers , scientist, researchers.

- meeting : social getherings or parties , creative or artistic collaboration, Beauty or fashion events , community or networking meeting.

• Number 7 : The chariot

- Determined, self disciplined.

- ability to overcome any obstacles and setbacks

- has clear direction

- zodiac : cancer placements

- profession: nurses , social worker, military, architect, psychologist, chefs , nutritionist, hospitality professionals.

- Meeting: family gatherings, home or domestic settings, caregiving or helping professions.

• Number 8 : strength

- courageous, brave , have inner strength.

- has capacity to forgive and let go.

- has self discipline and self control.

- zodiac sign: leo placements

- profession: artist , designer, performers , public speaker, motivator, executives, philanthropist, teacher, councellor, athletes, trainers.

- meeting: park or garden, fitness or wellness center, creative studio or art space, festivals, social gatherings.

• Number 9 : Hermit

- quiet, reflective, and introspective often preferring to spend time alone

- serves as guide or mentor

- discerning and concious about every step they take.

- zodiac sign: Virgo placements.

- profession: therapist, counselors,teachers , coaches , writers, editors, healthcare industry, social worker.

- meeting: therapists or counselor office, library , spiritual or religious sanctuary, coffee shop , book store.

• Number 10 : wheel of fortune

- flexible, able to adjust to changing circumstances.

- believes in destiny

- have philosophical outlook on life.

- zodiac sign: Taurus, leo, scorpio, Aquarius placements.

- profession: life coach, astrologer, environmentalists, entrepreneur, investors, historians.

- meeting: a farm , airport, bus station, temple, monastery, party,park , near mountain or river.

• Number 11 : Justice

- impartial and balanced

- they make descision based on reason and logics.

- have strong sense of morality and ethics.

- zodiac sign: Libra placements

- profession: lawyer, judge, counselors, social worker, activists, advocate, journalist, analyst , or spiritual leader.

- meeting: courthouse, law office, government building, council chamber, community centre, places of worship, philosophical organization.

• Number 12 : Hanged Man

- they are reflective , look inward for answers.

- they are open to new settings.

- courageous, deep understanding of themselves.

- zodiac sign: Pisces placements

- profession : spiritual leaders, therapist, counselor , artist, writer, healthcare industry, motivator, life coach.

- meeting : temples , church , meditation room , yoga class , hospital, library, therapy office,art studio, gym.

• Number 13 : Death

- they are like phoenix from the ashes.

- they can navigate difficult situations and come out stronger.

- constantly growing and evolving.

- zodiac sign: scorpio placements

- profession: therapist, estate lawyers, spiritual leaders, scientist, healthcare professionals.

- meeting: counselling centre, place of worship, innovation hub or entrepreneurship centres, hospital, wellness center.

• Number 14 : Temperance

- they strive for equilibrium in all aspects of life .

- they prioritise physical, mental and emotional well-being.

- have creative sides.

- zodiac sign: Sagittarius placements .

- profession: doctor or nurse , therapist or counselor, artist or musicians, spiritual leader, international relation specialist , life coach , designer .

- meeting : art galleries or museums, embassies or international conference centres , community centres, clubs , parks , garden , spiritual center , yoga class.

• Number 15 : The devil

- they thinks outside the box and brings fresh ideas .

- magnetic personality, can attract others.

- unconventional, transformative.

- zodiac sign: Capricorn placements.

- profession: politician, CEO, artist, law enforcement, military, detective , investigators, activists, occultist.

- meeting: historic mansion or estate, a secret rooftop, art galleries, studio , book store, library , cafe.

• Number 16 : Tower

- they seek honesty and transparency even if it's uncomfortable.

- rebellious, resilient, revolutionary.

- they are open to new ideas.

- zodiac sign: Aries placements.

- profession : scientist, inventor, engineer, architect, military officer, crisis manager, technologist.

- meeting: transformation hub, a unique event space or art studio, bookstore, library, co-working space.

• Number 17 : Star

- they have a optimistic outlook of life and believe in a bright future.

- inspiring, peaceful, compassionate.

- creative and imaginative mind.

- zodiac sign: Aquarius placements.

- profession: creative expression, artist , industry related to healing and wellness, science and technology, humanitarian work, counselors.

- meeting: yoga studio or wellness center, botanical garden or peaceful outdoor setting, co-working space, concerts? , innovation hub.

• Number 18 : The Moon

- they trust their instincts and have a strong connection to their subconscious mind.

- deeply in touch with their emotions.

- unpredictable, may surprise other with their actions.

- zodiac sign : Pisces placements.

- profession : psychic or medium, artist or writer, musician, poet , spiritual teacher, healer, counselors.

- meeting: mystical or esoteric shop, secluded beach, art studio, a spiritual or metaphysical bookstore, coffee shop.

• Number 19 : Sun

- they exude self assurance and positivity.

- optimistic, enthusiastic, charismatic.

- warm hearted , willing to share blessings with others.

- zodiac sign: leo placements.

- profession: actor or performer, artist, CEO , teacher or mentor, event planner, musicians, life coach, designer.

- meeting: cafe / restaurant/ hotel , studio , gathering hall, auditorium, music festival.

• Number 20: Judgement

- they are introspective and willing to confront their past and inner self.

- self aware, have deep understanding of their strengths and weaknesses.

- awakened, courageous, honest.

- zodiac sign: scorpio placements

- profession : spiritual teacher or guide , therapist or counselor, life coach, researcher, artist or creative expression.

- meeting: spiritual center or temple, yoga class, a writer's workshop, park , garden , therapy or councilling office.

• Number 21: The world

- they have achieved their goals and fullfill their potential.

- compassions, wise, confident

- adventurous and global minded.( Most likely a foreigner)

- zodiac sign: Taurus, Capricorn, leo , placements.

- profession : global diplomat, artist ( global or universal theme) , cultural ambassador, world traveler, humanitarian work.

- meeting: while traveling, international conference centres , airport, spiritual retreat, international art or music venues.

• Number 22 : The fool

- they are willing to take risks and embark on new journeys.

- spontaneous, carefree , open minded.

- have faith in themselves and universe.

- zodiac sign: Aquarius placements.

- profession: entrepreneur or startup founder, activist, humanitarian work,coach or consultants, designer, scientist,teacher, journalist.

- meeting: spontaneous meet-up or pop up events, inspirational seminars, creative workshops,cafe or coffee shop, outdoor adventure location.

----------------✨✨----------------

END .....( I am tired af 😭)

☞ Healing through marriage

Thanks for reading 💓

-Piko ✨

[pseudowho]

"So, you go against the hairs...that's right...and then with the hairs..."

"...is-- is this right?"

"Mmm. Now, clean your blade..."

You pretended to tidy the bedroom, sneaking glances up to Kento, and Yuuji, stood shirtless at the bathroom sink. Both had thickly lathered faces, and sharp razors, examining their faces in the mirror with absolute precision.

Sshhhhick. Swshswshswsh. Shhhhick-ck-ck. Swshswshswsh.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Peach fuzz.

"...and so anyway, I said to Fushiguro, shadows are great but sometimes you gotta just hit a guy..."

Kento listened, quiet, his mind always calculating several threads while mentoring Yuuji; yet, he was distracted. The old school corridor bathed in orange evening light, setting Yuuji's hair aflame, to coral in rocks. With Yuuji's nattering profile illuminated, the edges of his cheeks blurred from their usual sharp relief.

Fuzzy.

"...like, Kugisaki gets it, but she's like, just a bit feral and..."

Kento wondered if Yuuji had noticed. Kento recalled he only noticed, when his grandfather brushed his jaw with one clawed-over old hand, softly mocking Kento's furry scowl in lilting Danish. Kento's eyes lowered to the floor, counting his own steps and thinking in one, two, three and thoughtful on four, five, six.

"...Gojo's great but it's hard to learn from a guy who's that far out of my league, y'know? So--"

"Itadori-kun."

Kento had stopped, straightening his glasses, looking out onto suburban skyline. Yuuji stopped with him, inquisitive. A train rattled through, distant, splitting through the sunset. Kento looked back to Yuuji.

"It's important to look tidy, at work. Professional."

Yuuji raised his eyebrows, elbows rounded as he held his arms out, looking down at himself. He shot Kento a bashful smile, rubbing the back of his head.

Fuzzy peach.

"...ah-- yeah...guess I've always been a bit scruffy, huh? My grandad used to tell me I'd never get a job with hair like this."

Kento hummed. He stepped forwards, and raised one long-fingered, broad hand to gently grasp Yuuji's jaw, tilting it back and forth in the amber glow. Yuuji's bottom lip drew up, his eyes wide in surprise.

"...Nanamin?"

"Has anyone taught you how to shave, Yuuji?"

Yuuji blushed, his eyes flicking away from Kento in a mortified little scowl, his jaw still clasped. Kento released him, clearing his throat and checking his watch.

"I think we're finished up, here. Do you have any evening plans, Itadori-kun?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"If you need to go over an area again, get more shaving foam-- not that much-- and repeat the steps..."

"...this is...tricky..."

"With regular practice, you can improve any skill, Itadori-kun. Unless you'd like a beard, which still needs management, you'll be shaving every few days, or more."

"...you always...look so tidy..." swshswshswsh.

"It takes effort." Shhhick. Swsh.

"Yeah right. I bet you wake up like that. Tie and all."

A deep, rumbling laugh. Yuuji's foamy, surprised face, looking so boyish.

You slid past the bathroom. You pulled your phone out, surreptitiously clicking a photo. Kento and Yuuji, leaning over the sink while Kento steadfastly instructed him, became your new phone background, and stayed as such for a full year.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Took a lot of portions to send him to bed with a full tummy."

Kento chuckled at you, his hair mussed and soft. Legs crossed in bed, with a book on his lap, he read to the sound of soft snores in the guest bedroom next door. The lamplight, low and warm, illuminated Kento's face in the gloom.

Stubbly.

You reached a hand out, brushing across his jaw, feeling its sandpaper rasp across your fingers.

"I think you were so busy teaching Yuuji," you whispered, scratching Kento's chin as he crumpled his lower lip up, "that you missed some patches yourself. C'mere."

You stood, walking to the bathroom and sitting on the counter, grabbing a razor and shaving foam. Kento's eyes twinkled at you, feigning annoyance. He walked to you at the sink, looking straight into the bones of you. He grasped your thighs, pushing them apart before settling between them, chuckling again as you lathered his face.

Shhhhick. Swshswshswsh. Shhhick-ck-ck. Swshswshswsh.

You felt a growing pressure between your legs as you focused on shaving Kento's jaw. Kento fidgeted, pyjamas tight and tenting. You bit your lip, smirking.

"...Mr.Nanami. I am trying to concentrate."

"Mmm, so am I, but it's...hard."

"Yes. I can feel that."

Another deep rumble of a laugh. Kento grasped your thighs tighter, pressing forwards into you. You gasped, taking the razor from his face as Kento nuzzled shaving foam into your giggling neck.

"Don't stop." He whispered, a crooked smile on his lathered face. "Concentrate, please, Mrs.Nanami."

[the-jackalope-coffee-co]

my internship is gonna make my hair fall out from stress, I just know it

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Lucanis (and also Spite and the Crows) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Lucanis: 

Family and the past:

Lucanis learnt to cook while helping the kitchen staff at the villa when he was a little boy. One of his motivations was learning how to make churros

Side note: Lucanis mentions that cioccolata calda was his favourite drink when he was a baby, and he serves churros to a romanced Rook who picks cioccolata calda as their favourite drink. It’s all coming together! 

Lucanis wanted to be a Crow when he was a child (at least most of the time)  

All of Lucanis's relatives were Crows as well, and all of them were killed by a rival Crow house

Lucanis says Caterina would be proud of Illario hiding his plans well, as well as killing her 

Lucanis says that the hard part about setting Illario free would be convincing Caterina 

Lucanis says that nightlife was more of Illario's thing, and he never got out as much

On Crows and Antiva:

Viago still stares daggers at Lucanis for throwing his (Viago's) pet snake out of the window in a dream

Lucanis doesn't like it when people confuse murder and assassination ("Murderers are hobbyists, we are professionals")

Lucanis has taken contracts in Orlais

Lucanis doesn’t know Treviso as well as he once used to 

Heir didn’t train Lucanis

Lucanis says he has never killed an innocent “by his count” (other people may disagree) 

Lucanis doesn’t think of the Crows as a “big organisation” (unlike the Inquisition) because they stab each other too much

Lucanis became a mage-killer at Caterina’s behest (she wanted to tap into new markets)

The nickname “The Demon of Vyrantium” came from Tevinter news-sheets, though Lucanis thinks Viago started it

Lucanis says that there aren't any special tricks to killing mages. Though, if nothing else works, you can try pissing them off, as that could attract a demon that would eat the mage

Lucanis once killed half a dozen venatori while stuck inside an elevator 

Lucanis doesn’t consider himself a gentleman assassin, manners are less important than getting the job done

Lucanis sometimes spares his targets. He mentioned letting go of a servant who killed her master, as well as a 14-year-old boy. He thinks it’s wrong to kill people so young because they still have time to change

Lucanis doesn’t accept contracts without merit, and the merit is decided by the talon of the house

General:

Lucanis can make bread

Lucanis has never been to Ferelden

Lucanis isn’t interested in killing wyverns, just looking at them :)  

Lucanis has a pet snake 

Lucanis stays awake at night by cleaning his gear, exercising, studying Orlesian and knitting ("it’s just another kind of blade work") 

Lucanis doesn’t understand a lot of things people find attractive

(In a conversation with Harding) Thinking about cooking was one of the things that helped Lucanis stay sane in the Ossuary (the other was thinking about killing his enemies) 

(In a conversation with Davrin) Lucanis survived the Ossuary by shutting down and not thinking about anything except escaping

These two points sort of contradict each other. Either an inconsistency or Lucanis describing his experience differently to different people. 

The Wetlands ruined at least one pair of Lucanis’s boots

(If Rook chooses to save Treviso) Lucanis offers to pay for any supplies the Shadow Dragons may need 

Lucanis doesn't get a better bed because he's afraid of accidentally falling asleep 

Lucanis can identify the killer’s weapon and the height difference between them and the target just through the blood splatter left at the scene

Lucanis considers Grey Wardens dangerous 

Lucanis doesn’t like necromancy, because bringing people back to life is a waste of hard work

Lucanis finds the ice coffee from Minrathous offensive (Harding describes it as “snow, but made of coffee, sweet, and with cream and toffee sauce on top”)

Lucanis had never been in a romantic relationship before Rook/Neve

Relationships with other companions: 

Lucanis gets into reading Bellara’s serials (very passionately - they chat about it a bunch)

Lucanis is outraged that the Veil Jumpers don’t get paid for their work and offers Bellara his contract negotiator

Lucanis made biscuits for Assan

Lucanis is sceptical that the griffons will be safe with the Wardens

Lucanis think that Assan shouldn’t go soft (referring to the time he took care of a halla) because he is a predator at heart

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Lucanis offers to hold a funeral for Manfred

Lucanis and Harding talk a lot about dreams (mostly silly things like showing up naked for the job, getting chased by someone/something etc.)

Lucanis thinks Harding is deadly with her bow

Lucanis offers to pay Harding for being his lookout/aide at the rate of 6000 gold per contract

Lucanis offers the help of his contract negotiator to Neve after he finds out she doesn't have one

Lucanis made deep-fried peppers for Taash

About Spite: 

Emmrich can hear Spite even when he doesn’t take over Lucanis’s body (at least from a close distance)

Spite is impartial to Emmrich, believing him more than Lucanis

Emmrich says it’s impossible to separate Spite and Lucanis without killing them

Emmrich encourages Lucanis to read to Spite to bring them closer. Lucanis agrees to let Spite pick a book

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Spite asks if he and Lucanis can get rid of their skin too 

(If Manfred is revived at the Necropolis) Spite asks Emmrich to teach him how to use fire magic. Lucanis isn’t thrilled by the idea

Emmrich sets up wards to prevent Spite from leaving the room when Lucanis is asleep

Spite no longer sleepwalks after “Inner Demons” because he apparently understood the concept of space

By the end of the game, Spite has agreed to stop sleepwalking completely

Spite controls the wings (confirmed in banter with Harding) 

Spite wants to try swinging off the astrolabe at the Lighthouse

Spite is very excited about Manfred having hands and feet (Curiosity. Has. Feet!)

Spite finds the wisps in Neve’s room unnerving (as do Lucanis and Neve)

Spite likes to play with whetstones Bellara got for Lucanis (Bellara got them from the Irelin who supposedly got them from somewhere in Arlathan) 

Spite wants to try eating self-lightning candles at Blackthorne Manor

About the Crows: 

Crows frequently visit Nevarra and have received 20 contacts to assassinate the king. The King has been poisoned 7 times

Crows get a lot of contracts for Divine Victoria

Some seers in Rivain are powerful enough that there are contracts on them as well

Caterina once killed a man with a thimble

When Crows kill someone, most of the time they want others to know it was them (rather than presenting the death as an accident) 

The crows buried six different Eight Talons and rarely take contracts in Ferelden after the Zevran fiasco

[heartmaddie]

soft spot ! kageyama tobio , tsukishima kei , sakusa kiyoomi (seperate) incl ; post time-skip , fluff , mentions marriage (sakusa) , kageyama's is a bit sad ? , fem!reader

kageyama tobio ! “i need you ‘cause you’re everything that i’m not”

from the ages of fourteen to twenty-five, kageyama spent every night all alone.

with the absense of his parents, the death of his grandfather and his sister being frequently out of the house, kageyama was used to spending hours in solemnity to the point where he had to trick himself into enjoying it. that was until she had spent the first night at his apartment. after intertwined bodies and sleepy kisses shared between the two of them, it was more than just time with the woman that he had suddenly fallen in love with, but a small peek into the romance that he had missed out on due to his previous aversion to love.

he was addicted to her, addicted to her touch, addicted to the way her hands would brush over the skin of his muscular back which exhibited all the work he’d dedicated to his sport. everything about her was so different to him. her soft fingers and calming words, the way she carried herself with some sort of ethereal grace would completely contrast the monster which kageyama tobio was, or at least thought.

because when he was wrapped in her arms, head resting against the swell of her chest, he was someone else entirely. in his peaceful state of sleep, tobio was somewhat reminiscent of the little boy who had missed out on hours of slumber due to his fear of the dark, only amplified by the fact that he was all alone. so now he would greedily soak up any sort of affection she’d offer him as if it were a precious gold liquid that only he could obtain. whenever he found himself in her arms, his heart would swell to an impossible size, and it was almost like her warmth was chipping away at the ice which adorned his cold heart.

her love seeped through the cracks which dug deep. from the night terrors of his childhood to the loss of the one family member who truly loved him to the rejection of his teammates, tobio was brimming with unvoiced malaise. but only in her arms, was that pain finally taken away from him.

tobio would cling onto her as if nothing else mattered, because every night without her, he was brought back to the old reality which was sleepless nights alone, something he’d never want to experience again.

tsukishima kei ! “don’t believe in love but no one makes me feel like you do”

as of right now, her and tsukishima kei’s relationship was nothing more than quiet walks through the local art gallery with intertwined fingers or spending late nights together at the quiet library downtown as they worked together in silence, he was comfortable with that. he didn’t like the idea of being so dependent on another person, he even found it quite embarrassing when he’d see other couples cling to each other in public. he had voiced this opinion before, and it was mutually agreed upon between the two of them.

he had somewhat mentioned how he played volleyball professionally, but he didn’t tell her a lot about it - so he was quite surprised when he caught a glimpse of her signature beige trench coat and black knitted scarf, a large bouquet wrapped in her arms as she looked around curiously. before he even realised it, blood rushed to his cheeks, his teammates grinning and nudging them along as they caught sight of her too.

tsukishima let out a soft sigh before he walked up to her, taping on her shoulder and eyeing the bouquet quizzically.

“what’s that for?” he asked, his voice a low murmur with a hint of curiosity embedded between words. for a fleeting moment her eyes met him, a meek smile ghosted on her face as she awkwardly stuffed the bouquet into his arms.

“it’s a gift, for you,” she murmured, eyes trained down, just missing the flustered expression of her boyfriend. “a couple of friends told me that you had a game tonight and that it was pretty important or something..” she was embarrassed, her back was visibly tensed up. and tsukishima couldn’t help but wonder if he’s seen a more enchanting thing in his life before this.

it was almost automatic how he reached for her, bringing her face close to his chest as he carefully ensured to not squish the pink lilies cradled in the other arm. he buried his nose into her neatly styled hair, inhaling the soft scent which somehow matched her perfectly.

“thank you, it’s quite thoughtful..” he hummed, and he could feel the convulsions which pattered within his heart as he hesitantly brought tender pink lips towards her.

in moments like these, tsukishima pushed away the idea of being embarrassed, focused on the way her fingers intertwined with his as he embraced her. he smiled against her lips, suddenly overtaken by the unmeasurable swelling in his chest, and for the first time, he decided that maybe love would be okay if it was just with her.

sakusa kiyoomi ! “i hate to dance but i’ll dance with you, ‘cause i’d do anything to feel your touch”

in the dim lighting of their modern apartment, the two figures swayed in perfect sync to the 1960s jazz which played quietly in the background. the swell of her cheek was pressed against his hard chest, arms loosely wrapped around his neck as she inhaled the aquatic and woody accords which wafted around his upper body.

his arms squeezed her hips, moving together in endless circles. while she was focused on correcting her movements and not stepping all over his sock-clothed toes, his eyes were solely trained on her face. in the nighttime, and under the stars, the yellow moon cast a mesmerising glow over her face, and sakusa kiyoomi was enchanted by her. his eyes were unusually soft, his signature pouty expression gone as he found himself falling even more in love with the woman right in front of him as they danced under luminescence.

sakusa’s lips ghosted over the fat of her cheeks, pressing a tender, chaste kiss against soft skin, his arms moving to pull her impossibly closer, and he couldn’t help but smile when she melted into his embrace. if someone were to tell sixteen year old him that he’d find himself in a situation like this, he would’ve scowled or laughed it off. but now, in his full maturity as a twenty-six year old man, he would always seek the comfort and warmth of her soft body, he was almost yearnful for it.

he’s become content in the tranquillity of swaying together in the late hours of the night, he looks forward to it now. and when the record halted to a stop, his arms lifted her into the air, evoking a tired giggle from her chest before placing her languidly over the goose-down quilt and falling right next to her. his lips once again press a soft kiss against the nape of her neck, murmuring a small ‘i love you’, unheard to another’s ears as he watched her fall dormant.

his lips pulled into a soft smile, as he carefully lifted her left hand as if not to wake her up. his fingers rubbed gentle circles against the skin of her fourth finger, his heart beating impossibly faster as he imagined smooth skin replaced by the texture of the two-carat diamond ring which was buried at the bottom of his drawers.

song link

please like , reblog or follow if you enjoyed :p © heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

[4theitgirls]

how much exercise should you do per week for maximum health benefits?

note: while getting enough of different types of exercise is important, as different types of exercise bring different primary benefits, the most important thing is that you are moving your body! don’t feel pressured to do a strict amount of cardio per week if you don’t like cardio, especially if you are new to exercise. this goes for any other type of exercise. it’s totally okay to do the exercise you enjoy doing, as long as you are doing it!

how much cardio should you be doing?

while this may differ according to your personal health, conditions you may have, your goals, etc. (as with any other form of exercise), the general advice given by professionals and the American Heart Association is at least 75 minutes of vigorous aerobic activity or 150 minutes of moderate aerobic activity per week. if we are going with 150 minutes per week, this would mean at least 21 minutes per day, or 30 minutes 5x per week. this schedule may vary depending on your schedule, but the overall goal is 75 or 150 minutes per week!

how much strength/weight training should you be doing?

while different professional sources have varying opinions on this, the most common advice is 60-90 minutes per week. if we are using 90 minutes per week, this would equal to 13 minutes per day, 18 minutes 5x per week, or 30 minutes 3x per week.

how much yoga/stretching should you be doing?

it is important to at least include a short cool down stretch after your workout to prevent injury and reduce soreness, but when it comes to yoga, it is recommended that you include at least a 1 hour session 3x per week, although doing a bit each day is considered ideal. using the guide of 3 hours per week, this would equal 26 minutes per day, 36 minutes 5x per week, or 60 minutes 3x per week.

how much pilates should you be doing?

while many do not include pilates in their routine or do not consider it necessary, i and many others find it incredibly beneficial due to its ability to work the smaller muscle groups that weight training usually does not. it is generally recommended that you do a 45 minute session 3-4x per week. this would also equal 19 minutes daily if you prefer to split it that way.

[wosospacegirl]

Stuck with you - Kika nazareth

Summary: Y/n’s used to Alexia’s overprotectiveness and the pressure of her career—but Kika? The shy, socially awkward teammate who’s starting to make her feel things she didn’t expect.

Warnings: y/n has a complicated relantionship with Alexia (she's more like a parental figure here); angst; Kika and Yn are just so social awkward it physicaly hurts; Olga and Alexia being in love ewwww.

Word count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST

notes: Commemoration for 500 follwors yay - this was a request!

..

Y/n was the apple of Barcelona's eyes. The 19-year-old girl had grown up in La Masia alongside other Barça players. Although she was different,  a prodigy, that’s what they called her from a very young age.

She was a defender and had been trained by her family to be one since she was in diapers. Y/n never considered another position to play before and undoubtedly never contemplated doing anything besides becoming a professional footballer. 

Spain media spotted Y/n when she debuted for the Women’s National team at just thirteen years old, starring in the Under 15 World Cup. Since then she began rising higher and further in La Masia.

At 14 she moved in with Alexia Putellas and her then-girlfriend, now wife, Olga Rios. It was weird at first, Y/n didn’t know how to act around the two women, and they certainly didn’t know what to do with a fourteen-year-old girl who played in the La Masia.

It didn’t take long for Barcelona to offer her a senior contract; at just 15 years old, Y/n was playing on Team B but was briskly established as a starter for Team A next to Alexia Putellas and Aitana Bonmati and other amazing players. 

When she was transferred from La Masia to Barcelona, her relationship with Alexia got better. They had more things in common to talk about, and having Alexia both at home and during training was comforting, something that eased her very nervous personality.

Their routine was easier too, before Y/n got into the senior team, either Alexia or Olga had to drop her off at school, which sometimes meant they would passive-aggressively argue about who was going to take her to school because they were all so busy.

Now as a senior member, Y/n did both training and School inside Barcelona, which made her life much easier. So whenever Alexia was going to training, she would just give Y/n a ride.

Aside from Y/n’s closed-off personality, she didn’t have any major thing happening to her growing up with Alexia and Olga, everything was okay.

That was until she got older.

As time went by she and Alexia started to clash more and more, either in training or at home for the dumbest reasons.

When they were in training, Alexia would go full-on Captain mode on Yn, which made her annoyed because why was Alexia screaming at her when Y/n just saw her having a meltdown hours before because Olga had eaten off of her protein bars?

When they argued at home, it went smoother mainly because of Olga, who tried to calm both of them down.

Y/n remembers a specifically bad fight they had a few years ago. She got a bad grade on two important Spanish tests because she didn’t read the books the teacher required.

Alexia was called up by the teacher who worked in Barcelona's education sector and Y/n got the biggest earful of her life when they got home. 

Alexia kept going on about how school was important, even for a footballer while Y/n sat at the dining table, just listening. No reason to argue with Alexia when she was that angry.

Y/n wasn’t a crier, but Alexia was getting so angry that she felt tears building up in her eyes. And that’s when Olga, who was in silence in the corner of the room, stepped in.

She placed a firm hand on Olga, which made Alexia shut up right away, the frown on her face still on.

Olga stepped closer to Y/n and wrapped her arms around her while sitting on her side. 

“I’ll help you get back on track in Spanish, okay?” Olga had said with a sweet voice. “We can study every Saturday night together, how does that sound?” 

“You have dates with Ale Saturday night,” Y/n said in a whisper, eyes looking down at the table, trying not to make eye contact.

“I’m sure she won’t mind moving them to Sunday nights.”Olga held Y/n’s chin in her hand and cleaned the tears rolling down her cheeks. “You’re just a kid, it’s okay to mess up sometimes.”

Y/n now, at 19, wasn’t just a kid, but she still messed up. 

Thankfully, Alexia never gave her such stern talking before. Y/n was sure Olga made her feel guilty about it afterwards because she randomly showed up with a basket of Y/n’s favourite chocolate and just left them in her room, without saying a thing.

But that was the moment Y/n realised how atypical her life was, especially when it came to Alexia. How was her team captain, but also acted like a big sister most of the time…but also as a mother when she needed to. 

That made her act even more closed-off towards other people, especially people her age. She felt like an outsider whenever she talked with other young people who weren’t into football life,  I mean, she didn’t even have the experience of having a normal parent for half her life. How was she going to be able to bond over other, less normal, things?

She had Vicky and Jana as her friends, and they were more than enough, although Olga and Alexia didn’t agree on that. As if Alexia’s best friend wasn't her own sister.

What was the difference between being friends with your teammates and being friends with your sister? Y/n wouldn't know, she was an only child, but she was sure it was probably the same thing, right? 

Y/n and Alexia were humming softly to the song playing on the radio while Alexia drove them to training. As she was done with school, Y/n didn’t need to bring her training bag and school bag, which made her life very much easier.

“The new girl is coming today, Estrellita,” Alexia said, looking up through her sunglasses.

“Don’t call me Estrelitta,” Y/n mumbled, rolling her eyes. “Is she a Portuguese girl? Kika?”

“Yes,” Alexia said. “I’m the one introducing her to the team, to the staff, etc”

“As always,” Y/n added. “It’s literally your job as the captain.”

“And,” Alexia continued, ignoring Y/n. “She’s almost your age, so you could try and be friends!”

Alexia said as if Y/n was in pre-school and all she needed to have a friend was to share her toys. Y/n wasn’t good at making friends, she always made them uncomfortable and awkward. 

She already had two friends, and they didn’t mind her personality, so she felt like it was enough already.

“I’m impressed you want me to be friends with her right away,” Y/n teased.  “You are always so protective with who I interact with…”

Alexia hummed in response.

“What if this kika is like…a sociopath in disguise?” Y/n teased, but when she looked at the side, Alexia had a fearful expression.

“You’re right, Estrelitta,” Alexia said, “Don’t go near her until I have her in the clear for you.”

“Alexia, please,” Y/n face palmed her face.”I was joking, have you ever heard of a joke?”

“Well, I am not joking and you certainly never joke around.” Alexia shot back, looking at the rearview mirror. “How would I know?”

“Maybe because I’m not five?” Y/n muttered, rolling her eyes “You never joke around either, Olga has to explain the punchlines of her jokes to you all the time, it’s annoying.” 

“Well, she doesn’t mind explaining them to me,” Alexia said with a grin.

“Yeah she does mind,” Y/n argued. “She's always muttering about how explaining jokes to you is her full-time job and that you don’t have an inch of humour on your body.”

“Well, I guess we–,” Alexia pointed to herself, and then did Y/n. “–are more alike than we thought”

“Why are you insulting me at–” Y/n looked at her watch. “7 in the morning?”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Saying you look like me is an insult?”

“Of the worst type,” Y/n nodded.

“Next time you can take the bus to training, then,” Alexia said, rolling her eyes. “Well, anyway don’t go near the girl until I talk to her first,” she warned. “Just stay close to Jana and Vicky.”

Y/n felt the words slip out before she could stop them, but it was too late now. She could see Alexia’s face tighten in the rearview mirror. 

“Maybe it’s time I handle my own friendships, huh? I don’t need a babysitter.” She crossed her arms, waiting for Alexia to bite back. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know.”

Alexia bit her lip. 

"I know, Estrellita. But I’m not just your captain...I’m family.” she said in a low voice, clenching her wheel. “I care about you, about Olga…not everyone has the best intentions when they want to get close to us; you remember Laura, don’t you?”

Y/n knew Alexia was very aware she was overstepping, but it was like Alexia couldn't help herself. 

La Reina meant well, although it felt like she only saw Y/n as this fragile thing that needed constant monitoring. 

Alexia never trusted anyone to get close to Y/n and Olga. It was just her super protective nature, but it was still annoying, nonetheless.

 It even had been the reason for a lot of arguments between Alexia and Y/n and Alexia and Olga in the past.

This protective behaviour only got worse after Y/n dated Laura. She was seventeen–almost eighteen- just like Y/n, but unfortunately, Laura didn’t like Y/n, not truly. But she enjoyed everything that came with dating Y/n.

Alexia would always take them and Olga on double dates in expensive restaurants, or take them on vacations on tropical islands. 

Laura loved it. She loved the luxury that came with being a ‘Putellas’, even if Y/n wasn’t truly one. 

During one of those vacations, Laura left her phone unlocked while she and Y/n went swimming; and that’s when Alexia saw: more messages than she could count from different girls all over Spain, all of them with the same flirty undertone.

Olga told Y/n that Alexia had gotten very mad, but that she had been able to calm her down until the trip was over because they couldn't just leave Laura–an underage girl– to fend for herself in another country, even if she was a cheater.

When they got home from the trip, Olga and Alexia sat her down and showed the pictures they had taken of the girl's phone. Y/n was devastated. She already had a very hard time with people, and being cheated and betrayed by Laura was one of the hardest experiences in her life.

Laura was her first and only friend outside of football, and of course, her first girlfriend ever. She didn’t just lose her girlfriend, but she also lost her friend that day.

After that Alexia became properly paranoid with anyone Y/n or Olga got close with. Alexia was scared they would just end up hurt afterwards, just like it was with Laura.

Alexia made herself even more present in Y/n’s life after that, it was like she wasn’t able to live without having Alexia constantly breathing down on her neck.

It wasn’t even the protectiveness that bothered Y/n; it was that she had never gotten the chance to figure things out for herself because Alexia’s presence was so constant all the time.

And since Y/n didn’t have much of a life besides football, Alexia was always there. 

Always.

It was hard to know where Alexia ended and Y/n began.

Y/n pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the cars as she started on the streets of Barcelona. 

..

When Kika arrived at the training ground, a shy smile on her face, everybody already knew she was the sweetest person ever. The Portuguese girl had everyone wrapped around their fingers. 

Alexia wasn’t a hundred per cent sure she trusted the girl yet, but she was open to getting to know the new midfielder. Alexia had already talked to Kika while she showed her the Barcelona training centre. She seemed genuine, came from a small, but loving family and–as everyone on the Barcelona team–loved football since she was a kid.

Alexia asked everyone to speak with Kika in either English or Spanish since Kika said Catalan was harder to understand. Alexia couldn't help but feel bad when she spoke in Catalan to introduce herself and Kika began sweating.

Y/n watched from afar as Alexia talked with Kika. She saw that the Portuguese girl had brought a Tupperware filled with pastries.

Kika seemed nice–but so did Laura.

Kika had told the team it was Pastel de Belém, a traditional Portuguese pastry, it was an egg custard tart with a creamy filling of eggs, milk and cinnamon inside. She had made and brought them to the team as a present for welcoming her.

When Kika gave one to Y/n, she accepted it shyly, murmuring a thank you.

When Y/n was ready to take a bite, Alexia popped up by her side.

“What do you think are the chances of this being poisoned?” Alexia asked seriously, looking at the sweet and analysing it carefully. “She wouldn't do that on her first day, right? Poison everyone? Maybe she’s a true real Madrid fan and–”

“Ostres, Alexia,”[Damn] Y/n whispered-yelled so no one would hear them. “Please go to therapy! You weirdo. That’s why I don’t have any friends besides Vicky and Jana, only those two can put up with you.”

Y/n left Alexia with a confused expression on her face as she walked to the other side of the pitch, where Pina and Patri were getting ready to start training.

“Bad day with La Reina?” Claudia asked teasingly.

“La Reina was raised by wolves,” Y/n murmured, sitting down on the grass as she gave her first bite of the pastel de belen. “And then she raised me and now I have to deal with this.”

It was sweet and….impressively very good. It had a lemon in it, making it have a sour aftertaste, so it wasn’t overly sweet and sugary. 

Y/n liked it a lot. Maybe Olga would agree to try making those for them at home.

Alexia was watching carefully from the other side of the pitch as Y/n ate her pastry; it was almost as if she was waiting for the girl to drop dead at any second.

Y/n decided to ignore Alexia, for the good of her mental health, instead, she put her eyes on Kika, who was still giving everyone on the team small Pastéis de Belém; even the staff got some.

Cute.

Kika was cute too.

She had dark eyes and dark hair, her skin had an olive undertone. And she looked good with the black training kit.

Y/n was almost sure she had already met the girl before, maybe in the U15 Cup, since Spain had played a match against Portugal during the quarter-finals. Alexia had told her the girl was the same age as her, so the chances of them having disputes in some international games were very likely.

Y/n hadn’t googled Kika–not yet. But Alexia had–like the freak she was– and saw that the girl played for Benfica, a club in Lisbon, Portugal before signing with Barcelona. 

The club had good statistics–Y/n had googled the club–and it was second in Portugal's women’s league, so Y/n wondered why Kika decided to leave. She was doing very well at Benfica if the number of goals she scored meant anything.

Y/n watched Kika from afar, almost as if she were a mystery. Kika had finished distributing the sweets to everyone and was not sitting on the bench getting her boots ready to start training. 

Kika looked a little nervous, her hands were fidgeting with her jersey and she kept pulling her hair with her index finger, something that Y/n did a lot of times.

If Y/n wasn’t such an antisocial person, she would go to Kika and offer some pep talk, but knowing herself, she would just say the wrong thing and make the situation worse.

As if on cue, Jana sat by her side on the pitch and began to scratch, laying her leg on the grass and reaching her feet with her hand. 

Y/n nudged Jana’s ribs, almost making the girl fall to her side,

“Ouch,” Jana complained, a frown on her face. “What?”

“Kika–the new girl–looks anxious”, Y/n pointed at Kika with her head, trying to be subtle. “Why don’t you go there and talk to her? Or get Vicky to talk to her, everyone loves Vicky.”

“Why don't you go?” Jana asked, coming back to her stretching. “And hey people love me too. okay?”

“Yeah, everyone loves you, now go,” Y/n rolled her eyes. “If I go I’d say some shit like ‘don’t worry, it only gets worse’ or something similar”

Jana thought for a moment, finger in her temple.

“Yeah, that sounds like you,” Jana agreed, wiking. “Leave it to me.”

Jana got up and headed in Kika’s direction. Y/n watched as Jana smiled at the new girl.

It was like  Kika’s shoulder seemed to light up to the interaction. Y/n smiled to herself, happy that Kika was starting to feel at ease. Y/n knew very well how awful it was to feel anxious around people, especially new people.

But then Jana pointed at her, and Kika’s face turned to where Y/n was sitting.

Their eyes met and for a moment Y/n did nothing, only stared. She felt her ear flush and her cheeks getting warm by the sudden attention.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat when Jana made a very classical ‘come with me’ signal to Kika. And then Jana and Kika walked in her direction. 

Y/n began to sweat. She wasn’t good at talking to new people, she was awkward and grumpy and–

“Hi! I’m Kika, it’s nice to meet you. I mean, obviously. You’re—you’re good. Like, really good.”  she said, standing in front of Y/n, Jana on her side, smiling as if Y/n wasn’t dying inside.

Y/n was silent as if she had forgotten all her words. She hoped, really hoped, that Kika wasn’t like..her fan or something like that.

Jana kicked her shin, not so gently, which made Y/n talk.

“Right... Well, welcome to Barça.” Y/n mumbled it was all that she had to offer.

No more words were exchanged, Kika looked at her as if waiting for more, but Y/n just looked down and began stretching.

“Well,” Jana said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “This is our Estrellita, she’s a defender, but it seemed like you know her whole life story already, she’s the Princess of Barcelona, bla bla bla–”

“Jana,” Y/n said in a warning. “Stop it.”

She didn’t like it when people were introduced like that. As if her only personality trait was having grown up in La Masia, becoming a good footballer and being some sort of Alexia Putellas’s shadow.

Y/n was way more than football, although she was still trying to find who she was without it.

“Okay, sorry,” Jana crossed her arm. “You’ll know very soon that Y/n doesn’t like when people call her Estrelitta, but I get a free pass because I love to annoy her.”

Jana stuck her tongue playfully at Y/n, who rolled her eyes but smiled.

She couldn't help but notice Kika’s firm gaze on her.

Their awkward conversation was cut short as the manager blew his whistle and said they were going to do training in pairs. Y/n was ready to catch Jana’s arm when Vicky showed up–out of nowhere– and took Jana with her.

Y/n watched Vicky and Jana go to the other side of the pitch, feeling her cheeks blush when she realised Kika watched the whole scene too.

“Would you mind?” Kika asked, a small smile on her face.

“Mind what?” Y/n asked, slightly grumpy.

“Ugn, pairing with me?” she said, changing the weight between her feet.

Y/n felt pressure on her chest. Guilty for not being the most welcoming person around.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Y/n said, trying to smile. “It’d be great.”

They didn’t talk during training, instead focusing on the instructions of the manager. Today’s training was about speed. Person A had to run to the other side of the pitch and take an object that was put there and bring Person B said object, then, person B would have to run to the place the object previously was and put it back.

Y/n and Kika were good at it. They were the fastest. Y/n felt that the victory tasted even better because Jana and Vicky went third overall. That’s what they got from stealing each other from Y/n. But what could they do? That was the downside of being a trio.

Y/n lay down on the pitch, water bottle in hand as she tried to get her breathing in another. Then she felt a shadow on her face, she opened her eyes and saw Kika, a rather awkward smile on her face.

“Hi, can I get one?” Kika asked, pointing at the Gatorade cooler Y/n was next to.

“Hm, yeah,” Y/n said, moving her hand around and pointing at the team. “It’s for, um, everybody, like a–collective cooler.” 

Y/n wanted to rip all of her hair out. She didn’t know how to interact with people.

Kika smiled and took Gatorade, sitting next to Y/n.

“You have really nice... uh... running form. Yeah. Super smooth. Like… like an animal, you know.” Kika said, out of nowhere.

“Huh?” Y/n asked, confused, noticing how Kika’s cheek began to red. “An animal?”

“Oh, I mean,” Kika began to stutter, probably realizing what she had said didn’t make any sense. “Like a fast animal, not like a gazelle, more like a–lion? Or better yet… hm.”

“Kika, I think we can both agree we are a little socially awkward,” Y/ said, trying to take the girl out of her misery. “I won’t mind when you say something weird, and I hope you don’t mind when I do it as well.”

Kika laughed shyly as she rubbed the back of her back. “Ok, I agree.”

The manager, again, blew the whistle, cutting their conversation.

“Let’s get back,” Romeu said. “Same pairs as before, we’re going to do some pass training.”

“I guess I got stuck with you again,” Kika said smiling, before getting up and going back to where the girls were.

..

When training was over, the sun had already set in Barcelona, and the cold air of the evening was setting in. Both Alexia and Yn had taken their showers and were heading home, Alexia was the one driving–again–because she refused to let y/n do so.

Alexia unlocked the front door of their house, stepping inside first, Y/n trailing behind, holding both hers and Alexia’s training bag, since the blonde was carrying in some groceries they had bought on their way home.

The house felt warm–the scent of the chamomile candle Olga had burning lingered in the air. Olga was sprawled across the couch, laptop on her lap and earbuds on, probably working.

She looked up. “Hey, my girls!” She greeted them happily. 

Alexia stepped closer to her and kissed her softly on the lips while Y/n rolled her eyes–as she always did. Too much PDA.

“Ew, can you guys stop, I’m right here,” Y/n whined, sitting on the couch as Alexia also rolled her eyes.

“Remind me why didn’t you move away when you were eighteen?” Alexia asked

“Olga didn’t let me,” Y/n said, putting her head on Olga’s lap and pushing Alexia away. “She said she’d miss me too much.”

Olha laughed, caressing Y/n’s scalp.

Olga was one of the only people Y/n let be physically close to her. She was comforting. Almost like a mom. 

“So, who pissed you off today’ Olga asked.

“Take a guess,” Alexia huffed out a laugh.

“I’ll give you three guesses, Olguita,” Y/n said, using the same nickname Alexia called Olga. 

Olga snorted. “I’m going with Jana, Vicky and…” she squinted her eyes, mocking seriously. “Putellas right here.”

Y/n grinned, feeling relaxed for the first time since training. “Bingo,”

“Tontas.” Alexia shook her head with a small smile on her face. “You’re both ridiculous.” [idiots].

Alexia walked towards the kitchen, tossing some of the grocery bags over her shoulder. “You could tell how it was training instead of gossiping.”

“You know how training was, Ale.” Y/n scoffed. “You were there.”

Alexia vanished into the kitchen, and Olga put her laptop to the side and urged Y/n to sit down, before leaning herself forward, the grin on her face widening. 

“Okay, but I  wasn’t there,” She said. “So spill it, give me something entertainment that doesn't have anything to do with bad clients.”

“Bad day at work?” Y/n guessed.

“Yep,” Olga nodded. “But forget about it, tell me.”

Y/n hesitated a little. “There’s the new girl, Kika–”

“Oh, the Portuguese one?” Olga perked up and asked. ‘The one Alexia talked about?

“Um yeah,” Y/n said, feeling shy suddenly. “She’s mine and Vicky’s age, she’s a bit awkward and she tried to say hi but then she went all nervous.”

“Poor thing was probably terrified,” Olga said. “First days are scary, especially when you’re playing with…what? Three Ballon d'Or and  miss FIFA’s prodigy.”

“FIFA’s prodigy, really?” Y/n asked deadpan.

“Oh that’s how people see you cariño,” Olga said, waving off. “You have to accept it someday–but keep going, what happened?”

“Yeah, well, I dunno… She’s kinda funny, too. Like, not on purpose, but…” Y/n shrugged. “I think she’s alright.”

“Alright, huh” Olga's smile turned sharp. “That’s a glowing review from you."

“Olga,” Y/n groaned, feeling flustered. “Don’t start–it’s nothing like that, she was just very nervous, like fidgeting with her shirt and all that, so Jana went to talk with her and we ended up pairing up for training.”

“Oh, and you noticed all that?” Olga teased, but there was something softer in her voice now. Less playful, more... knowing. Her fingers brushed through Y/n’s hair again, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I just think she’s alright,” Y/n muttered, stubbornly staring at the ceiling.

“Sure,” Olga said lightly, but her smile lingered like she knew something Y/n didn’t yet.

..

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Notes//2: I’m planning for this to have around 3 parts. I’ve already written over 11k words, so just let me know if you guys are interested in it! Otherwise, I can focus on my other fics.

[tired-biscuit]

No joy in giving if you’re never pleased

pairing: rengoku kyojuro/fem!reader

premise: When a certain Hashira proposes to marry you for the sake of conforming to social norms, you find yourself in a spot where you’re unable to refuse the offer. Despite your initial agreement on keeping the union strictly professional, however, his accidental exposure to an incredibly potent form of aphrodisiac causes well-hidden feelings to quickly rise to the surface in a single night.

cw: 18+ MDNI, canon divergence - HE LIVES!!!, arranged marriage, s pollen, loss of virginity (he loses his v-card, not you), creampie x2 (double delight, lol), brief mention of domestic violence from reader’s previous marriage. reader has hair that can be combed!

wc: 7.3k

———

Rengoku Kyojuro had never planned on getting married. It’s not like the thought didn’t cross his mind occasionally, but how could he, with the life he’s chosen to lead? 

Despite the tendency of coming across as a bit daft because of his rather eccentric nature, Kyojuro is far from stupid. He’s well aware that if a marriage were to successfully prosper, it requires a number of things; one of them being stability. Stability that is, for the most part, expected to be constant. 

So with this very important fact taken into account, how on earth is he, the Flame Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, expected to provide stability for his partner? Constant stability, at that?

After all, missions often keep him away from home for long periods of time. If it’s not the missions, then it’s certainly the endless training sessions that cause for an incredibly busy schedule. And what about the apprentices that have yet to show up on his doorstep?

At this point, the only time he ever slows down is when he needs to recover and gather his strength back after a particularly nasty fight. And even then, when he’s got nothing else to do but spend his days resting in bed and tending to his injuries, he’s usually completely elsewhere with his thoughts, already strategizing on how to further hone his already sharp skills in order to avoid causing more harm.

However, being the Flame Hashira comes second to being an obedient son. So when his father presses on the matter by the time Kyojuro turns 27 years old, he once again does what is expected of him and dutifully finds himself a wife.

The arranged marriage ends up becoming just that – arranged. It’s a spring wedding: beautiful and sudden just like the season it’s been placed into. You lay eyes on each other only once before the knot is tied, and then you’re whisked away to house Rengoku. 

You’re both in dire need of it, though. Him, because his father demands it, and you, because you’re a widow who’d just recently buried her now-late husband, but who remains to be too young and heirless to be able to safely cling to that title. 

Unlike your first husband, however, Kyojuro treats you exceptionally well. While he may not be present most of the time, leaving you to tend to your shared home more or less on your own terms, he always, always makes sure to treat you with respect. He speaks kindly to you each time your paths do end up crossing, encourages you to spend time with his equally as kind-hearted younger brother Senjuro, and enthusiastically compliments your cooking whenever he gets the chance to eat it.

He’s also never raised his hand against you – a habit your previous husband had often acted upon and that had left you with plenty of scars even long after the ones on your skin had healed and faded away. No, instead, Kyojuro doesn’t touch you at all. 

And by that, it truly means not at all.

You may sleep in the same bed on the nights when he’s around, but it’s like a chasm stretches itself between you and your husband the second you clamber underneath the covers together. It’s not emotional distance, per se – your personalities seem to be getting along just fine, at least from what you’ve gathered so far – so you suspect that it must be a different kind of issue that’s stopping him from consummating the marriage.

When asked, even whilst becoming a bit flustered, he’d openly admitted that he expects nothing from you concerning the matter. That he never really gave much thought about fathering children, since they could easily be seen as a weakness by his enemies and thus potentially used against him, as morbid as that sounds. 

But even with your initial wariness and doubt after the conversation, he’s since made it clear time and time again that he’s perfectly content with keeping your marriage purely platonic, exactly like he’d said. The union keeps both sides of your families happy, while still allowing you the safety and freedom you’ve always desired as a woman. And as for him, the ability to continue his work uninterrupted is seen as only a plus in his eyes.

Some would call his reasonings selfish, but you’ve long since learned that your husband is anything but that. Everything he does, he does for others. Having a wife is already risky enough as a swordsman, and yet he has still chosen to obey orders and take you in, even going as far as to teach you some of the more basic self defense maneuvers for some peace of mind.

Besides, during the first couple of months, the entire thing had sounded like a dream. Having a husband in an arranged marriage who willingly provides, treats you like an equal, and is generally fond of you without the more forceful, unpleasant aspects around it; could you ask for anything more?

Well, yes. You suppose you could. But wait! It’s not that you aren’t appreciative of the things he gives you – in fact, you’ll be forever grateful for them, storing and cherishing them for the rest of your life – it’s more so… about the things he doesn’t.

Because while he may hold lovely conversations with you no matter the time of day, and while he may smile brightly each time you welcome him back home in the courtyard, the crown of his head bathed in sunlight, no matter what kind of ploy you attempt, Kyojuro just doesn’t seem to be picking up on the fact that you don’t see this marriage as strictly transactional anymore.

Over the last year, feelings for the golden-eyed Hashira have blossomed inside your heart. You’ve tried not to succumb to them, heeding his wishes, but have still ended up catching yourself buzzing with pleasant nervousness when in his presence more than a handful of times now. To make matters even worse, you even have trouble falling asleep next to him in bed because of how fast your heartbeat begins to race the moment he enters the room – a treacherous heartbeat which you have no doubt he can hear.

Alas, nothing seems to sway him. The closest you’ve ever gotten is on a couple of occasions when he’d come home bearing wounds that weren’t so severe that they needed to be looked over by Shinobu, but nevertheless required to be tended to. He’d tried to reassure you countless of times that he could handle them on his own just fine when you’d stepped in to help, but you’d stubbornly insisted every single time without fail.

“Of what use am I as a wife if I can’t even patch up my own husband?” you’d said one time, carefully reaching for his arm. The blood had mostly dried up by then, already beginning to flake. “Just let me help you, Kyojuro. I promise it’s no trouble. It’s what life partners are meant for.”

Kyojuro, surprisingly, had kept silent after that, for once allowing you fully to continue your ministrations. Still covered in grime and watching you with visible uncertainty, he’d caught but didn’t vocally acknowledge the small gasp you let out the second your fingertips had made contact with his alarmingly hot skin, and, by the time you’d bandaged him up, had even hesitantly promised you that he’d take it easy for the next couple of days.

You, on the other hand, were incapable of stopping yourself from thinking about the heat his body emanates from that moment onward. It supposedly reaches its peak only during battle, he’s told you this in order to soothe your worries, but even by the time it winds back down, you still find it dangerous. It’s no wonder he’s so quick to warm the bed the second he lies down, the man is practically a walking, breathing furnace!

And just the thought of that heat engulfing you; wrapping you up in its warm, tender embrace, caressing every inch of you, filling you– Well, perhaps it’s enough to drive any spouse just a little bit mad with yearning.

But what can you possibly do? All he ever does is talk to you. Occasionally, he’ll perhaps slip up and ogle at the exposed side of your neck, or the curve of your lips, but it’s often all so fleeting that you don’t even have time to properly reciprocate. Before you can even begin to wonder if he’s actually capable of lusting after you, he’s already back to his friendly, unsuspecting self.

However, that all changes when he comes home one evening after his training session with a certain Love Hashira. Because that night, you come to learn that the sweet, always vehemently respectful Rengoku Kyojuro who you cherish so dearly, is perfectly capable of lusting after his wife. 

He’s just good at concealing it with politeness.

———

“Kyojuro, is that you?”

Looking into the mirror you’re sitting in front of, you briefly pause combing your hair to smile at the reflection of your husband who now stands leaning against the open doorway of your shared bedroom. The lights in the hallway behind him are off, shrouding it in darkness just like the rest of the house for the night, but the soft glow coming from the couple of candles you’ve lit earlier to aid your routine before bed is just enough to define him.

From what you can gather from a single lookover, he seems to be perfectly fine physically-wise. There are no cuts slashing his smooth skin, and no bruises that paint it painfully violet. No sight of blood, chipped teeth or broken bones either. Actually, the only two things that seem to be in a state of disarray are his clothes and hair. 

He’s missing his signature haori and the top three buttons of the black uniform jacket that he wears underneath are undone, revealing his neck and the edges of his collarbones. As for his hair, you’d best describe it as mussed. Like he’d felt the constant need to run his hands through it multiple times, pushing it away from his face over and over again through the course of the day.

For someone who normally looks well put together, these small but otherwise specific changes in his appearance almost strike you as somewhat indecent. Perhaps it might be a bit of an overreaction from your side, however the entire time you’ve known Kyojuro, you’ve never seen him act sloppy or salacious when it comes to his image.

It causes your stomach to sink.

Surely he wouldn’t…?

No. He most certainly would not. A good husband like Kyojuro would surely never stray towards a ghastly thing such as infidelity, right? He’s one of the most loyal and honest people you’ve ever met. You just can’t even begin to imagine him lying and deceiving you about anything of this sort.

Nevertheless, your voice still proceeds to wobble slightly as you pick up the comb again, worrying thoughts rushing through your mind a mile a minute. “How did your training with Miss Kanroji go?”

“Mm, I’m not quite sure to be honest. It was a bit odd,” Kyojuro mutters as he steps into the room. 

You don’t fail to notice how different he sounds. The tone of his voice is uncharacteristically quiet, almost subdued. It only proceeds to worsen the feeling of dread that’s forming in the pit of your stomach now.

“Odd?” you repeat, carefully following his movements in the mirror. He’s aimed straight towards you. “How so?”

“Well, I gained the upper hand on her while sparring and she panicked and threw some kind of powder that Miss Shinobu is helping her perfect right at my face,” he explains, scratching his cheek. “It’s supposedly perfect for her technique. Small doses can stun and disorient enemies, but apparently she threw so much of it at me that she immediately had to send me home.”

You turn your head to the side in one quick movement, concern for your husband causing your eyes to open wide and diminish your earlier worries. It flusters you so much that you abandon all sense of formality, “Shouldn’t you go see Kocho if that's the case, then? If she’s the one who helped develop this powder, surely she can help!”

His mouth curls into a lazy grin when your gazes connect, a mere shadow of the beaming smile he otherwise tends to give you. He’s positioned himself right behind you now, standing so close that you can feel the heat that his body emanates brushing over your back in steady waves. The thin silken robe you’ve donned can barely be considered a barrier, but despite his warmth, you want to shiver instead.

“I thought the same thing, however Mitsuri had made it abundantly clear that I’d find everything I’d need to get better at home. Multiple times actually,” he says thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, she seemed to be in quite a rush to send me back to you.”

“To me? Really?” you mumble, facing the mirror again. Since he’s standing so close to you now, you can’t see his face in the reflection anymore, but for once that just might be a good thing. The wild infatuation you have with him has turned you incapable of having your thoughts in order if you’re stuck looking at his eyes for too long.

“Oh, yes,” he says, nodding even if you can’t see it. “She kept apologizing profusely, rambling that you’ll help me take care of it. I’m still unsure what she meant by ‘it’ exactly, but either way, I have strong faith that you’ll manage just fine.”

Months ago, the fact that he’s willingly allowing himself to be vulnerable with you, letting you nurse him back to health without any sort of fuss that he can do it himself, would make you soar. Now, however, all you feel is the heavy weight of pressure settling down on your shoulders and chest.

With feelings involved, you’ve begun to greatly fear failure. After all, if you fail, you can’t impress him. And if you can’t impress your husband, then you can’t make him fall in love with you. And if you can’t make him fall in love with you, then–

“Darling,” he drawls all of a sudden, sounding even less like himself now. Less clear. “Do you mind if I comb your hair for you? I’ve always wanted to give it a try.”

“Hm?” You blink, momentarily confused from the way he’s disrupted your train of thought with such an unexpected request. “Oh, I, umm… Well, if you’re feeling well enough, then yes, of course you can. Go ahead.”

You haven’t even noticed how tightly you’ve been gripping the comb until you release your hold on it in order to hand it to him. Your fingers brush against each other with the action, the heat of his skin pouring into yours, making you sit up straighter.

You’re still not used to it. How can you be, when there’s rarely any contact?

“Not to worry, I’ll be gentle,” he says, chuckling quietly as he trails his gaze up and down your stiff posture. The smile is apparent in his voice.

“I know. I’m not worried,” you utter, sheepishly avoiding your own reflection in the mirror. Since your hands are empty now, you clasp them together, settling them on your lap while you wait.

Meanwhile, Kyojuro proceeds to begin combing your hair for you. He’s gentle exactly like he promised you he’d be, taking his time with every knot and tangle that had formed during the day. Silence stretches as he works, but you have trouble noticing it because of how loudly your pulse insists on pounding inside your ears, ringing through your entire head.

He’s touching you. Great heavens above, he’s touching you, and it’s outright nerve-racking. His touch is as light as a feather, but you can still feel him dragging his fingers along the length of your hair. It’s sending tingly sensations all over your scalp, all the way down to your spine.

When he reaches underneath your hair to comb it from the bottom up, his fingers briefly brush the side of your neck. It’s only the merest hint of intimacy, a mere sliver of it, but you can’t help but shiver this time, thighs squeezing together.

He pauses and you stare in the mirror with eyes once again open wide like a fawn’s, only this time it’s yourself that you’re worried about, not him. You can see the reflection of his chest and his shoulders. Both seem to heave with the deep breath he takes now. 

A couple of seconds pass before he sinks the comb into your hair again. Still gentle. “Did you bathe?”

The random question takes you aback a bit. Puzzlement laces your tone because of it as you say, “Yes, I did... A little before you returned home.”

“I see,” he murmurs. His chest expands as he inhales another deep breath. “You smell nice.”

“Ah,” you say, looking down at your lap again. Heat creeps up your face at the compliment, slight relief washing over you. “Thank you.”

“You know,” he says eventually, slowly pushing your hair to one side, making use of having you distracted, “I may not have a sense of smell as keen as the one young Kamado possesses, but I’ve learned that your lovely scent grows stronger if you wear your hair on one side like this.” 

“Really?” Your hands itch with the need to cover your burning face. He’s practically showering you with praise and you haven’t got a single clue on how to respond.

“Really.” He carefully fixes a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear. “It grows so strong, actually, that I just want to… Hm. Want to…”

“Kyojuro!” His name leaves your lips in a shrill squeal when he suddenly leans in and presses his nose into the crook of your neck that he’s exposed. Caught by surprise, you push up from the chair in one hasty movement, spinning to face him.

The sight before you makes your skin pull taut. Your husband stares at you with hooded eyelids and pupils so big and dilated that they’ve nearly swallowed the entirety of his irises. They grow even larger when they fixate on you.

His smile grows, revealing teeth. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I startle you?”

“A little bit,” you admit, soothing yourself.

He’s sweating profusely. You don’t fail to take notice of the obvious sheen of liquid salt that sits on his forehead now, as well as the feverish blush that has overtaken his entire face, neck, and even the tips of his ears.

You frown, taking a step towards him as worry takes over the initial shock for a second time, but he’s quick to raise his hand to stop you. 

“No, it’s better if you stay back for now. I need to think,” he says, voice suddenly profoundly hoarse. Unlike before, his breaths have turned shallow and concerningly fast-paced now, the furrow of his brow prominent. He pants as he bends over, slamming the flat of his palms onto the nearby dresser. “Just-... Let me figure out a way to solve this.”

“Solve what, Kyojuro? What’s gotten into you? Should we go see Kocho?” You say his name again, but this time it comes out as little less than a cry. When you take another step towards him despite him telling you not to, you see how the muscles in his back strain with effort.

You hesitate, weighing your options, but the urge to help your husband is so strong that it prevails in the end. Much to your dismay, however, even with your new goal set in place, you only manage one more step forward before you suddenly find yourself wrapped in a blazing hot embrace, with your back pressing against the dresser – the same dresser he had just been leaning on merely a second ago.

Your body tenses up, clearly startled. This is what it means to experience the strength and speed of a Hashira. The movement, so inhumanly quick that you couldn’t possibly follow it with untrained eyes, had practically swept you off your feet. Your heart pounds inside your chest. Inside your throat, even.

The reason? Instead of slaying you, he’s got his hand on the small of your back, pushing in and arching you in such a way that your bottom halves are basically pressed flush against one another. The other grips the edge of the dresser so harshly that you can hear the wood creaking in protest.

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, only a mere hitch of a breath. The prominent outline in his pants that’s now firmly pressing against your thigh has rendered you speechless. 

He’s aroused. You can tell that even with his clothes getting in the way. So aroused, in fact, that it must be hurting him. And sure enough, when you lift your head to look up at him, the expression on his face can only be described as pained.

His fingers twitch when you make eye contact, slipping lower, down your back. He grabs a fistful of your robe, pulling and straining it tight over your front. Since you’re not wearing anything underneath, your nipples pebble against the silk in response to the rubbing of the fabric.

He involuntarily groans deep from the back of his throat as his pupils dilate even further at the sight; a sound you’ve never heard him make before but have fantasized about hearing on some lonely nights nonetheless. The wood of the dresser that’s behind you struggles to not turn into splinters now. Meanwhile, you struggle to keep yourself from not falling apart just the same.

“Aphrodisiac… A strong one. Need to… let you go,” he croaks out between heavy breaths, jaw flexing as he grits his teeth together. He’s completely stiff and continues to sweat, so much so that there's a droplet cascading down his right temple, gliding along the curve of his handsome face.

You see the effort he’s putting in to keep himself from what you suspect is ravaging you, even if every last cell in his body seems to be screaming at him to do the exact opposite. This thing that he’s experiencing right now – the aftermath of Mitsuri’s new weapon, the aphrodisiac – is cranking up his lust levels to a thousand. It’s no wonder that the Love Hashira had rushed to get him home to his wife as soon as possible the second she’d realised the amount she threw at him.

And who else can he turn to but his wife with this sort of issue?

“You can let me go only if you truly want to, dear. It’s fine, I’m fine,” you find yourself saying, hands trembling as you place them onto his chest. His heartbeat is so fast that you’re worried for his wellbeing. The rush of blood that his heart must be pumping throughout his entire body must be unbearable.

He draws in another breath at the soft coo that’s appeared in your voice, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against your cheek. His exhales fan your skin, creating moisture, sticking you further together. He’s so warm to the touch that you’re beginning to sweat as well.

“Kyojuro.” You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, making him shudder. It’s damp to the touch. “Do you want to let me go? I trust you to be honest with me.”

He stands still for a long moment, just inhaling your scent and keeping you close until he finally makes his decision and slowly shakes his head, rubbing his forehead against your cheek like an affectionate cat would. “No.”

“What do you want, then?” you ask quietly.

“I can’t say,” he whispers. “The things that are running through my head right now… They’re vile. Filthy.”

“I see. Will you let me help? Please,” you utter softly, cautiously reaching down to wrap your fingers around his belt. You tug at the buckle, pulling him forward. He follows obediently, causing your heart to flutter. “Let’s try and find you some release, all right? I’m worried about you.”

“All right,” he says, giving in and hissing lowly through gritted teeth when your fingers delicately trace the protruding bulge in his pants. He’s smart. Deep down, he knows this is the easiest way.

You move your hand away in an instant, but his hips buck forward on their own, pushing further into the already narrow space between you, searching for more friction from your palm. He whines at the foreign way his body reacts now, eyebrows drawing tightly together in embarrassment.

When you look up at him, his face has somehow managed to sear into an even deeper shade of red than before. All he can manage to say to you is a weak, “I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense. I should be the one apologizing,” you say, reaching to untie your robe. You’d ask him to do it, but something tells you that he’d tear it right off of you at this very moment, surely ruining the delicate garment. “You’re in no state to be teased so cruelly right now. It was very foolish of me.”

He parts his lips to say something, but the words fade into nothing from how fast saliva begins to gather inside his mouth as soon as your robe comes undone and reveals the nakedness underneath.

Kyojuro can’t resist ogling openly – it’s his first time seeing a woman completely naked, after all. The curve of your hips, the weight of your breasts, the smooth skin of your stomach, the gentle hairs that gather between your legs... All of it is far too much for him. It’s forcing him to swallow so thickly that it makes his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet the drool just keeps on coming.

He hunches his back as he gets ready to pick you up and slam you on top of the dresser to do god knows what, but he stops himself at the very last second. You watch, lips parted, as his hands tremble around you like you’re wrapped in some kind of invisible shield, muscles painfully spasming with the effort. A second groan escapes him, this one brimming with frustration, allowing saliva to dribble down the corner of his mouth.

He’s not an animal, for crying out loud. He’s a man, a husband – a respectable one at that.

So act like one! 

Clinging to his last shred of sanity, he quickly wipes the drool away with the back of his hand, not caring that it’ll surely get into the sleeve of his uniform that way. Even if he usually wears them with pride, he currently holds so much resentment towards the clothes he’s got on his back that it’s making him see red. They’re incredibly stuffy, so he can barely breathe in them, plus they’re also causing him to overheat when he’s already way past burning.

There’s also a third problem with the clothes, however.

They’re keeping him away from you.

Lacking the patience to undo the rest of the buttons on his jacket, he simply rips them apart even as you frantically reach out to stop him from doing so. The crispy white shirt underneath meets a similar fate, causing even smaller buttons to fly everywhere. Something tells you that you’ll both be stumbling upon them for the next year or so. 

Shrugging the now-ruined garments off of his shoulders, Kyojuro at long last exhales a somewhat relieved breath.

This time it’s your turn to unashamedly leer at him. You drag your eyes across the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, across the healed, milky-white scars that cover his body from previous battles. The muscles on his arms, the subtle veins running along his biceps and forearms. His stomach is toned, equipped with a golden trail of hair that disappears below his belt, and his skin is tinted slightly pink at the moment, sweat making it appear dewy there as well. 

He’s beautiful. 

And he’s clearly having a rough time, so you’re quick to take his hand.

“Wait. Before I-” He hesitates, searching for the proper word. “Before I bed you, I just wanted to say that I’ve never done this with anyone before. I’m worried I may not know how to, uh… sate you properly because of it.”

You look up into the flames that dance behind his eyes for a long moment. Even whilst barely keeping it together, he’s still worried about you and your pleasure. It makes you so happy that you can’t help but chuckle.

“Always so formal,” you say, still smiling. “But in all seriousness, I appreciate you telling me and thinking about what I want. Don’t worry, I will do my very best to take good care of you and show you the ropes. We’ll learn the rest as we go. But first things first, let’s try and bring down your temperature back to something a little more… Well, passable.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything as he lets you take his hand again and lead him towards the bed. You turn him so that the back of his knees hit the edge and apply pressure to his shoulders to urge him to sit down. Before you know it, you’re climbing onto his lap, straddling him in such a way that already has him breathing hard through his nose.

You wrap your arms around his neck as you place a kiss onto his forehead, tasting the salt there. Then onto the bridge of his nose. As well as his left cheek and the corner of his mouth. His lips part immediately at that, hands desperately bunching up the covers underneath.

You press your forehead against his. Angle your head slightly to one side so that your noses don’t bump. “Close your eyes.”

As he has done so many times in the past, Kyojuro once again does what he’s told, though this time he does it completely willingly. And almost immediately after he does, he feels it.

The softness of your lips lightly pressing against his own. 

The kiss itself is gentle. Loving. A proper form of affection exchanged between a husband and wife. You guide him, mainly paying attention to his bottom lip, making sure to go slow enough to help him adjust despite the fact that you can tell he wants to go faster. Every so often, you poke the merest hint of your tongue out, testing if he’ll open up to you. He does, of course.

So you venture deeper into his hot mouth. You glide your tongue across his teeth, tangle your fingers into the thick, beautiful mane that is his hair, and you tug at the roots until he’s mindlessly pushing his hips up in response, trying to shove himself into you despite his pants getting in the way. 

You’re well aware that he’s in a hurry, but you can’t help but drag the entire thing out just a little bit. Who knows, this may as well be your only chance to have him like this. So you might as well use it.

“Hold me by my hips, dear,” you mumble, eyeing the thin string of saliva that tears when you dip lower to kiss his neck instead. 

You focus on his Adam’s apple, sucking lightly and surely drawing blood close underneath the skin as you feel his large hands wrap around your hips. Your actions will prove apparent by the time morning comes, but you have a faint inkling that he won’t truly mind. The collar of what is left of his uniform jacket is high anyways.

He sure doesn’t seem to have a problem with it now, as he’s moving you back and forth on his lap, using you to try and get himself off on pure instinct. But even if you’re completely on the same page, the grip he has on you has gotten so tenacious that you have no other choice but to grind against the hard length of him.

“Mind your strength, I’m no Hashira,” you say between deep breaths. His blatant need for you is working you up fast, wetness gathering between your legs, and you don’t need to look down to know that you’ve ruined his pants.

He eases his grip and moans into your mouth when you kiss him again, this time a bit more sloppily than last time. Your bodies work together without you having to plan it, twisting and writhing in unison, maximizing the pleasure you’re both experiencing. 

The hair that frames his face is so damp that it clings to his skin. You push it back and whimper when he presses you down harder, causing the zipper to bump against your most sensitive part.

Hearing it brings his blood to a simmer. He’s so out of it by now that he nearly babbles when he speaks, “You know, I can’t count how many times I’ve thought about making you sound like this over these last couple of months. And now that I’m actually hearing it… Ha-ah… It’s so much better than any of the things I imagined in my head.”

“Oh?” Your heart flutters in your chest once more at his forwardness, goosebumps forming over your skin from the thrill. So it wasn’t all in your head; he’s wanted you, too. “But I thought you said you wanted to keep this union purely platonic.”

“What I want… What I wanted for a long time now,” he says, dragging his fingers up and down your spine and looking you directly in the eyes, truly meaning it, “is to be both inside you and inside your heart. If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I’ll have you,” you whisper, unable to fight back the smile that’s forcing itself onto your lips. “I mean, you’re my husband, for crying out loud! There’s no need to be so poetic about it!”

The rest of his clothes are tossed aside soon after, and you waste no time straddling him again, now that you’re finally skin to skin. Sitting on top of him, you use both hands to stroke the whole length of him, squeezing it with your fists gently after you spit on it so as to not overstimulate him too fast.

Even his cock is beautiful just like the rest of him is. Big and curved slightly to the right, with a tip that flushes a deep pink when the velvety foreskin that surrounds it is pulled back and played with. You’re wet enough to take him, but after coming face to face with his size, something tells you that you’ll need all the extra help you can get.

Meanwhile, Kyojuro watches you through such heavy eyelids that you can’t possibly notice the hearts that have formed in his eyes. He’s still panting, biting his tongue to stop himself from pleading and moaning, but the way he clenches his thighs underneath you, unable to stop the pearl of pre-cum from forming at the slit, tells on his desires in an instant.

“We’ll go easy at first,” you utter, unsure if you’re trying to comfort yourself or him.

“Yes, easy,” he repeats, voice rough. He’d never rush you, but it’s evident that he’ll start bursting at the seams if you don’t sit on it soon.

“All right,” you say, drumming your fingers and lifting your hips just enough to align yourself with him, heart beating so fast that it’s making you a bit lightheaded.

His upper lip trembles as his cockhead grazes and catches against your entrance with the movement. He clings onto you, stiff and as expectant as he is desperate, chanting the word please, please, please over and over again inside his head like it’s a broken record.

Luckily for him, his prayers are answered. Slowly, you begin to lower yourself onto him. Even with his size, it’s pretty easy because of how you help guide him inside. You both let out sighs of relief and pleasure when your pussy hugs the tip of him, and moan by the time it begins to take more; squeezing and accepting the rest of him until he finally sinks into you down to the hilt.

At long last, he’s in, nestled in nice and deep. Throbbing and hot, stretching your walls. Pressed firmly against that soft, tender spot inside you that makes you want to wiggle your hips on top of him because it’s far too much to handle otherwise. The pressure the fullness provides awakens the butterflies inside your stomach and draws them into a frenzy.

“Gods, Kyojuro, my love,” you breathe out, letting your robe slide down to your elbows. It only exposes you further, but you don’t mind. You’re comfortable with him. “I can barely fit you inside me.”

“Hah. Makes you an admirable wife,” he says, chuckling even if his pupils are still blown way out of proportion, signalling that he’s still going through it. “I’m–I’m very grateful for it.”

You giggle at his odd choice of praise, pressing the flat of your palms on his stomach so that you can begin to move. However, the second you do, he’s back to holding you by your hips, trying to keep you in place.

Your gazes connect and he blushes even harder, features contorting. “W-wait, don’t-”

“It’s okay,” you say, continuing nonetheless. He’s gotten so warm inside you that you’re positive he’s on the brink of climaxing. “There’s nothing wrong if you come fast. It’s your first time.”

Kyojuro sucks in a sharp breath, fighting tooth and nail to focus. He’s already sensitive enough as it is, but the aphrodisiac he’s inhaled is only making it ten times worse. The sensations you’re making him feel at this point are causing his brain to short-circuit. Unlike during battle, his thoughts have turned into a pathetic jumble.

He wants to please you, that much he’s sure about, however he’s so out of it that he doesn’t even know where to start. So he lets you take charge, grunting out his approval, listening to the wet, sloppy sounds as you ride him, and by the time you slam your hips down for the fifth time, he closes his eyes, clenches his jaw, and spills everything he’s got, unable to stave off the pleasure any longer.

Your movements stutter when you feel his release begin to fill you steadily, overly warm and most definitely plentiful. You pause midway, causing it to trickle down your thighs, allowing a sticky mess to start forming between you.

“Oh, dear,” you whisper, covering your mouth to suppress a quiet laugh. It’s good-natured and you’re sure he knows it. “We’ll make children like this if you aren’t more careful, you know.”

“Crap,” he mutters, sighing. You can feel him twitch inside you at the idea. When he opens his eyes to look at you again, they’re more mellow than they were before, however they’re still brimming with burning want. “Don’t tempt me.” 

Your eyebrow arches in amusement. You’ve never heard him swear before. Not even when he’d been so tired that he wasn’t watching where he was going and had stubbed his toe once. You’re unsure if you approve of it, but perhaps you’ll let it slide in this particular setting.

But onto more important matters: after taking a moment to breathe, you quickly realise that he’s still completely hard even after coming as strongly as he did. Your best guess is that it’s either because of his unfathomable stamina, or Mitsuri’s little present. Perhaps a mixture of both.

So that must mean that this entire thing is far from over. Tracing your fingers over his happy trail, you lift your hips a little and slide them back down just as gingerly. The seed that he’s spilled inside you just now lubes the movement as you test out the playing field. Somehow, it feels even better than it did before.

His eyelashes flutter as he blinks, zeroing in on the creamy circle that’s gathered at his base now. Once again, a wave of heat flashes over his body, hitting him like the train he’d just barely made it alive from all those years ago. 

“You all right?” you ask, a little breathless now. Your hand reaches between you on instinct, a little moan slipping out the moment it strikes contact exactly where you aimed it.

Kyojuro just nods his head and continues to watch you, studying you carefully and paying attention to the way you rub your fingers and play with yourself. He’s more present in his head now that he’s climaxed, the fog lifting just a bit. It lets him notice that the movement of your hand seems to come naturally to you. 

Is this what you do when he's gone for weeks at a time? Possibly thinking about him and touching yourself between your legs? Arching your back while imagining his hot, calloused hands are pushing you right back down, coaxing you to take more?

The idea excites him, and that excitement urges him to contribute to the pleasure of his spouse. And while he may not be experienced in giving it just yet, he picks up on things impressively fast. Body language, eye contact, he’s able to read what you want. So you’re not even all that surprised when he starts to bend his legs at the knees and then thrusts upward, making you gasp when he suddenly burrows himself even deeper inside of you with the action. 

His cum spurts and dribbles out even more by the time he draws back, but he’s rather quick to push it back in, unable to get enough of how tightly you wrap around him whenever he accidentally hits the spot. So he continues the rhythm, slowly but surely making you start to bounce on his cock; all while trying to rub the same messy little circles over your clit that he’s seen you do. 

He’s able to keep up with you this time.

And he sure as hell keeps up. The heat that he’s unknowingly pouring into the sensitive bundle of nerves is making you tremble. He gently pinches it the exact same way he’s watched you do it, immediately soothing it afterwards with his thumb and by rubbing his other hand up and down your side, sending little jolts of pleasure throughout your entire body.

His gaze is soft. Perhaps even a little expectant. He takes pride in making you feel good. “Like this? Is this how you want it?”

“Yes, oh, yes,” you utter, whimpering. When he smiles, it reminds you of the sun. “You’re perfect.”

Moments flit by, breaths intermingling. You’re unsure how much time has passed, but eventually you begin to squeeze your thighs around him, toes curling, orgasm approaching dangerously close. “D-Don’t stop, okay? I’m close, so don’t change a thing or else it’ll fade away.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says. You throw your head back at this and he feels his heart dance because of it.

With his help, you let yourself go. Fully. Without shame and with zero remorse. And when you finally come for the first time from a man’s touch, no, your husband’s touch, it is so tender and passionate and powerful, that you can’t help but moan his name out in pure bliss and squeeze him so hard that you make him fill you up for a second time, helping him ease his desire even further.

In the end, you spend a small eternity wrapped in each other’s arms. Basking in the afterglow, stealing an occasional kiss, telling each other silly, unimportant things that you’ll think of fondly for years to come.

Only this time, however, your wonderful husband makes sure to touch you everywhere.

[euphoria-looney]

I Got You On My Radar, Soon You're Gonna Be With Me, "Strategy" By TWICE

Creds to @dollywons for the dividers

This will have a lot of POV switches so get ready 😀

(This has a mother!darling and a daughter!darling, and they are separate from the reader- unless you decide they aren’t 😍😍)

gn!reader (if I accidentally make them seem too feminine, I’m sorry 😞)

Next chapter I'm going to make [name] crash out but not for the reason you think (hopefully not the reason you think)

So Much More.

Pt. 1 Pt.2

Alfred's POV

I couldn't say if I have a favorite among the Wayne family. I've served them for years even now in my old age. Left my own child, Julia, to train to be at my side, servicing the Waynes.

If you had to ask me to narrow down who was my favorite though, it would have to be young master, [name].

They aren't trained to be assassins, vigilantes, or even able to tame feral animals, instead, they excel in normal activities. I remember the first time they approached Master Burce, eyes that had stars glow in them. They wanted to invite Master Bruce to a ballet recital. They danced with such grace and perfection that many had asked them to continue the said sport. Professionally.

However, they had no time to spare as they raced down to see me, looking around frantically, and excitedly, it hurt my heart to see their eyes dim down so quickly after finding out that unfortunately none of their family had come.

Undeterred, they kept trying figure skating, football (soccer), and volleyball. They'd try the music pathway once they noticed sports didn't work. They excused the absences starting with opera since "opera was boring and easy anyway; maybe instruments are more interesting." They tried the violin, cello, organ, and harp. Still nothing.

Of course, it wasn't just these events that the family missed out on, it was also their birthdays, trophy events, everything. I could only try to support them on the side.

They were a gifted child, one, that had a fire burn so brightly. Till it wasn't.

They never stopped doing the activities, but you could tell they no longer cared if the family attended. I'd go and make excuses for them, and they would brush it off.

Then it seemed they had that fire extinguished when Lady [M/D] and Misstress [D/D] came into the picture.

I could only do so much as I wasn't their personal butler.

Then a day ago was their graduation. I believed I could make it, but the circumstances were too busy and important to go to the graduation. So, today, I hope I can make it up with cupcakes. Today is their birthday.

Imagine, my surprise when they started crying, how I felt such guilt, was it the missed events, or even bigger, the graduation?

None of that. They only said how thankful they were for me. I tried to spend the rest of the evening with them, but it just ended up with me being called to see [D/D] with a new animal. I didn't want to leave them.

I had to though, that is my duty as a butler. To serve my masters.

Another perk about [name] though was how understanding they were.

I should've seen the signs.

A smile and nod gave me all I needed to know that they were going to be okay if I left.

After a long day, I went back to my quarters, to see an envelope.

Sealed in wax with a Lotus flower imprinted on it.

Opening it up and reading the contents made numerous thoughts run rapidly in my mind.

Dear, Alfred

I can only hope this news doesn't affect you in any way. I simply couldn't find it in my heart to tell you in person. I'll be leaving the manor. I've left many things in my room that I hope you mind leaving in there. I don't want years of my work to go down the drain, as you see they hold memorial and sentimental value to me.

That's beside the point, Alfie, you mean the world to me. I don't think I could've made it this far without you. There were days I thought of quitting. Seeing your approval was enough for me to keep pushing myself. Alfie, you are the most capable person I've ever seen in anything. This is why I know my disappearance will help you more by taking the unneeded burden off your shoulders.

Alfie, I hope that when I make a name for myself, you will still look at me with such fondness that makes me feel like a child again, clinging onto you like my last hope, as you always have been. Take of yourself, as that is the most important thing about this message. You matter too much for me to ever forget or let go of you, whether it be through memory or anything else.

With love and appreciation,

[name] [last name]

I re-read that letter, over and over again.

True to their words I never saw them again, but they were wrong about one thing.

They were never a burden on my shoulders. Far from it. They felt like- my child, I raised them up and felt proud of the achievements they managed to get on their own.

I knew I had to understand. It was their choice. One that I didn't want to respect. I wanted to drag them back, but with no leads, how does one even do such a thing?

My only choice was to read their entries and watch recordings they did for themselves to look back on.

But that doesn't do the trick, does it?

I'll find a strategy to bring you back young master, I promise.

Journal 7th

(Entry #1)

I'm going into the 7th grade this year. Honestly, everything sucks. I wish to give up. Alfie has been busy since those two new people came into the house. They seem that they don't want to be here. Honestly, relatable.

Alfie tries but he can never understand me. (GUYS THIS WAS THEIR EMO PHASE, it's so unrealistic 😭)

I have to go, I have an ice skating competition to go to.

(Entry #45)

How is this fair!!! This is so sickening.

I've tried everything and what do I get?! NOTHING.

NoW I'm writing all sloppy! Forget it who says I even need their dumb attention!

Here comes waltzing in this mother-daughter duo!

"Oh~, I don't want you guys"

"But we're obsessed with you!"

WELL SCREW ALL OF YOU GUYS.

SIGNING OFF,

[name] [last name]

Journal 9th

(Entry #1)

It's been two years since [M/D] and [D/D] have entered the manor.

Despite what I wrote somewhere in my old journal, I don't hate them. If anything I feel pity for them. They do something that the family doesn't like and it is like their babies that did something wrong.

Not to mention Damian is always monitoring [D/D] at school and it doesn't help that not even the soundproof wall can block off the sound of Mr. Wayne and [M/D].

It's worse at home than before the family would be busy off doing whatever vigilantes do.

Also, it didn't take a while to find that out. As a kid, I thought they were playing dress-up without me. We'll ignore that though.

Anyway, now as soon as their done doing whatever they're to save the city they rush home to smother those two.

I'm starting high school soon. Slowly I'm changing my style so my hair, and clothing. The hoodie phase was... something.

Anyway

Yours truly,

[name] [last name].

Closing the entries, my thoughts are once again interrupted.

"Where's big sibling [name]?" a child/teenager approached me.

This would be [D/D] with a python on her shoulder.

"They're gone, young mistress." I kneeled down to her height.

"Gone?" The tone was menacingly, annoyed. You could hear the python hissing in agreement with his owner.

[D/D]'s POV

I hated how this family held me in such a possessive and obsessive way, but now I think I understand them.

How could I not when staring at [name]?

My precious sibling. If anything I do have something I appreciate this family for, but if I told them they'd probably annoy me even more, they ignored [name] allowing me to be their one true sibling.

They were special compared to everyone else in this whole world.

It sucked every second, moment, that I didn't spend with them. They give the best cuddles anyone could ask for, and they smelled so good.

I also liked their room, it was so ethereal sometimes. Mostly because they were in there but also because they had customized it perfectly, the decorations. I loved the figurines, the Hironos and Smiskis, the most.

However, the most important thing was the scent.

Did I mention that?

When I had first met them it had been a week since I got kidnapped to this god-awful place, I kept getting smothered and needed to just- get away from it all.

I felt so overwhelmed.

Then they walked in front of me, in this, from what I had assumed, abandoned hallway. It freaked me out and I asked what they were doing in this hallway as I was guessing that his hallway would be closed off or something.

"What are you doing here?! Did one of the freaks send you!?" I directed my anger at them since it would only make sense why I'd encounter them.

"What are you talking about? This is my 'wing' of the house, my room is right over there." They had made a confused face at me.

I felt embarrassed but I shook my head not believing them.

"Are you making this up? Listen as much as I don't want to admit this the only people who are living here are my family and Alfred, the only butler. You certainly can't be a part of this family with that attire, and not once has anyone mentioned you." I looked at them up and down.

"I get that a lot, well not really, I don't talk to anyone other than Alfie." Alfie?

"I'm [name] [la- Wayne. I think I'm older than Duke, so I'd be older than you. We don't really interact..."

"Oh, so you're my sibling." Weird her reaction was normal meeting me... "Well don't bother me like the rest of them." I stuck my head up, glancing at them, which wasn't as they were taller than me by a lot."

"The rest of them?"

"Yeah, they're so annoying, you're cool, for now. But they constantly bother me, going on and on about how I'm their precious little sister, boasting their love to me, notice all the jewelry? That's from them." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh." Their tone had changed seemed distance and the way their eyes sharpened, I didn't even notice.

"You know, I like you, you're perfect, want to hang out?" I batted my eyes at them. Something I wouldn't do in front of the others, they just gush over it.

"I'm busy." They answered shortly, already making their way out.

That made me frown.

"Busy? Doing what? I could join you."

"I'd rather you not, I have a performance to do and have no time to waste."

After that moment I would notice them more and more, that even a second not seeing them felt like my world was dying just to be fixed seeing them at the library. They Looked So Cool!

Flipping through a book, typing faster than my eyes could track, and their note-taking, gosh, that handwriting.

Just to be dragged away by that annoying pest, Damian, he'd be like "Good, you're in the library, I have a bunch of books that we can read together.

No, Damian, I don't want to.

I think I also grew on them, a wee bit.

Not to mention, my pets loved them, even more than they loved me sometimes, ungrateful 🙄.

Then one time, I wanted to skip school, and I knew none of the family would let me, even my mom! She would let me do anything to spite the family but not this, as she deemed education important.

So I maybe, sorta, kind of took [name]'s phone number at one point and called them up.

Damian wasn't near me at the moment. Thank Christ, since we attended the same school, same grade, and everything.

They showed up, sighing, they looked so cool with their windbreaker jacket, those s0ny headphones, the pants, the shoes, and that cool instrument case on their back!

They told the principal that they were my babysitter. Like c'mon, we're siblings. Signed their name really fancy and took me in the car.

One of the best memories as they allowed me to watch them practice at their school as long as I didn't bother them.

So I'm a bit peeved at the news I received today from Alfred.

"Gone?" Seems Copperhead agreed.

My head was reeling as a few days passed and my mom seemed to notice (so did everyone else but who cares about them)

I'll have you on my radar soon, my sweet-hearted [name].

"Honey, is something wrong?" She showed concern.

"Of course not, darling-" Father got cut off

"Not you, [D/D]."

"[name] up and left me" I could feel myself deteriorating even more at that sentiment I just said.

"They what?!" Mom seemed to explode at that moment. Her aura suffocating.

[M/D]'s POV

I had no choice; it was by some coincidence that I bumped into Bruce again. In some way, he tricked me, more like manipulated me into marrying him.

It was hard to adapt, of course, it was, somehow my daughter got used to it quicker than me, every time I did something simple one of the kids, those poor traumatized kids would ask to help me. At first, I didn't mind but they did become overbearing just like Bruce.

Don't get me wrong, they've somehow wormed their way into my heart even that dang handsome Bruce, which makes me show signs of Stockholm syndrome, but therapy is not something I need right now.

Though, they could never top [name].

They reminded me of the woman I met through Bruce, and how she was perfect.

So when I found out that she had a child, I couldn't be even more excited to meet her child, [name].

Even though they had no supporters, even one speck of some kind of light kept them going.

I love my daughter [D/D], but she gave up on doing anything used to being spoiled. That just makes me want to spoil her more though.

[name] did many things. I got an invitation to an ice skating competition. Alfred had handed me two tickets.

"Master [name] would appreciate it if you came to her competition, Lady Wayne." Alfred bowed before leaving."

"Woah!~ [name] ice skates?" [D/D] had stars in her eyes.

"Would you like to attend, sweetheart?" I patted her head.

"Anything to get away from home! Though one of my siblings will bother me again." [D/D] pouted.

True to her words we were delayed to the competition.

The sight that we witnessed though, well, I couldn't even describe it.

"Woah~! They did it! They did the triple axel!"

"Okay, but we all know they could've done a quad axel."

"Shut it, Coral, you got disqualified in figure skating when you were 5 years ago, you don't even know how to figure- much less ice skate anymore."

Apparently, the Axel move was one of the hardest moves to pull.

As they made their way off the podium and to Alfred, they smiled understandably as he made excuses for the Wayne household.

"Congratulations [name]!" [D/D] cheered, it made their smile drop for a moment, I didn't notice though, too enamored by their frame.

"Yes, congrats, I didn't know you had such a talent for ice skating." I gave them a bouquet of roses, which I have to thank that dang Bruce for, or else I would've had nothing to give them.

"Figure skating, but thank you." She accepted the flowers before motioning to Alfred that they were going away.

I was going to stop them, but my phone was getting flooded with messages, and when I looked over [D/D] phone was no different.

"Ah! So annoying! I didn't even get to say bye to [name]!" [D/D] had ruffled her hair out of agitation.

Year after year, my schedule got busy and I could never see them that much.

So tell me why, why in the world did my world have to crash and burn during this dinner that seemed to be perfect.

It even had scallop butre.

"Honey, is something wrong?" I was concerned. [D/D] had been in a bad mood all week.

"Of course not, darling-" Bruce got cut off by me.

"Not you, [D/D]."

"[name] up and left me"

"They what?!" I slammed my hand on the table.

"G-gone? What in the world are you talking about, angel?!" I tried to reason.

"They moved! Left! No one knows where though!" [D/D] cried shoving a piece of food into her mouth. Damian scolded her and tried to pat her back before getting his hand slapped away.

"Calm down." Dick went over to calm [D/D] down and Cassandra went over to rub my arm to console me.

"[name]? Darling, who is that." He chuckled, in that stupid possessive way, which would've made me drop this but this was his child!

"Your child! Yours! Remember! The one that has all the trophies!?"

"Trophies?" Tim chimed in.

"don't worry mom, They aren't that many trophies I've earned," Jason added in.

For god sake you pricks! Are any of your names, [name]?!

"I think they are referring to [name] [lastname], masters." Alfred brought out the dessert, his thoughts seemed to also be clouded.

Realization seemed to hit, starting off with Bruce and then spreading.

Who cares about them though.

Don't worry [name], soon you're gonna be with me.

Guys were already making our schedules for next year and being an academic weapon I am I signed up for all Ap.

Junior year is going to kick my ass.

Also

“I can write descriptions”

“Well I can write dialouge”

Man, I can't do either, unless… 😏 y'all beg to differ/j

Jk I feel confident on my writing, I just need validation 👁️🫦👁️

@cozmie @nxdxsworld @overcaffeinatedfreak @strwberryglass @leiiasurez

(Guys why is my taglist not working 😞)

[joyceaila]

ICT COMPETENCY STANDARDS FOR PHILIPPINES PRE-SERVICE TEACHER EDUCATION

[intheupside]

The game has been Crosby’s professional life. It’s who he is and what he talks about. Hockey is his everything. And it’s what matters most to him.

Once or twice a season, when Ray Shero was general manager of the Penguins, he would invite Crosby to his office for a brief meeting that was never brief. “Usually it was about four-hours long. I’d say to Sid, ‘What’s on your mind?’ And he’d say ‘Not much.’ And then we’d talk hockey for hours, usually all afternoon.

“Detailed talk about the game, the team, getting better, training, he has such an active mind. He’s always thinking about everything. He asks good questions. He wants good answers. And often the last thing he thought about — which tells you a lot about Sid — is money.

“One time, just after he signed his second contract in Pittsburgh, I took out a calculator in our meeting. I told him the season was 180-some days long and players got paid by the day. I then calculated how much money he was going to be getting paid each day.

“I slid him the calculator and he said, ‘What?’

“I told him that’s what you’re going to be paid every day.

“He said ‘You’re kidding, right?’

“I said no, that’s the number.

“He just stared at it and said ‘Holy cow. I guess I shouldn’t skip any optional practices.’

“That’s Sid being Sid. It was never about money with him. He’s left a lot of money on the table over the years. But when he saw how much he was making in his first big contract, how much per day, it shocked him. He’d never looked at it that way before.”

When Jimmy Rutherford took over as GM of the Penguins, he made it a point to meet with Crosby almost immediately. “I flew to Pittsburgh to have dinner with him and from the time you shake his hand, and you listen to all his input and all his knowledge, you just walk away and say ‘Wow.’ He’s more special in person than you might have thought he was before you got to meet him.”

“They play their best in the biggest moments,” said Ken Holland. “You saw that with Steph Curry at the Olympics last summer. Ultimately, no matter what the circumstance, Sid drove people to greater heights. It’s not just how they play, it’s how people follow them and jump aboard.”

“How committed are they? How much drive do they have? How motivated are they? How singularly driven are they? It’s not an accident that he scored the Golden Goal. That’s what winners do. And he’s one of the greatest winners of all time.

“Everybody loves Sid. He treats people well. He hangs out with everybody and he’s one of the guys. And the respect level for him, and for the game, is through the roof. When you’re around him you see he’s just a regular person but an extraordinary player.”

Kyle Dubas is in his second season with Crosby in Pittsburgh. Like everyone else who has been around Crosby over the years, he has been taken aback by the dedication he has to practice. “He works daily on the mastery of his craft,” said Dubas. “And he takes nothing for granted.”

But what has impressed Dubas the most is the way in which Crosby interacts with his teammates on a team struggling to find its way.

Kyle Dubas is in his second season with Crosby in Pittsburgh. Like everyone else who has been around Crosby over the years, he has been taken aback by the dedication he has to practice. “He works daily on the mastery of his craft,” said Dubas. “And he takes nothing for granted.”

“Recently, we were in Anaheim and we have a rookie defenceman, Owen Pickering, who was struggling. Sid is purposely hard on Owen in practice, competing full out against him, not maliciously, just showing the kid how hard he’s going to have to work to compete with him. Sid’s mindset is, I have to do this. If he’s going to get better, I have to do this. The kid got a little frustrated by the practice and you could see it was hard on him. He wasn’t feeling good about himself. The next day, Sid goes and gets the kid and takes him for a haircut. It’s a little gesture but on a team looking to build, it’s an important one. That’s the kind of thing Sid does on a daily basis. The kind of thing most people won’t notice.”

Five years ago, during COVID, the Penguins were upset by Montreal in the preliminary round of the playoffs. The disappointed team flew home from Toronto, where games were being played at Scotiabank Arena without fans.

The team scattered, as teams tend to scatter at the end of every season. Crosby didn’t scatter. He went from the airport to the arena. He wasn’t happy with how the season ended.

He got on the ice and practiced alone that afternoon. That was Sid being Sid.

a good day to have fond feelings about sid

[skipper1331]

Little things // Alexia Putellas

headcannons

The little things Alexia and you do while being absolutely in love with one another

car and driving around

Alexia always opens the door for you

She‘s the driver while you‘re the passenger princess

She insists on hearing your playlist, even though you both have a shared playlist (she knows you love your playlist)

you kiss her temple/ cheek at every red light

She’s getting you some flowers in the time you‘re at your appointment (she insists on driving you everywhere)

having a water bottle and snacks in the car, just in case

in the kitchen

Alexia helping you the best she can but ends up admiring you from the bar stool or hugging you from behind as she whispers compliments in your ear

when it’s her turn with cooking, she only cooks things you love

Also she lets you try everything before serving and vice versa

"The chef deserves a kiss now "

She makes sure the table is set perfectly and the atmosphere is tranquil

Dinning with you is very important to her, so she makes sure not to mention work or anything that causes stress, she likes to keep the calm and lovely atmosphere

with her family

having a hand on your thigh under table, also drawing patterns on the back of your hand when you intertwine your fingers

one time, you dropped your fork, so within seconds her hand was covering the corner of the table, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself while picking up the cutlery

She loves the bond you have with her family, even though the mocking and teasing of you and Alba can be a pain in the ass.

Kisses always make up for it

"I‘m going to marry her" she tells her mother

Her family already knows because they can see it in her eyes when she looks at you

And they also know you‘ll say yes because they see the look in your eyes when you look at Alexia

You two are the perfect match

Her mother loves you

Her sister does too

at night

You wear her clothes, she loves the sight

both of you sleep better when you‘re with/next to each other

Alexia always has an arm around you, in the need of protecting you

you cuddle into her, legs tangled together, arms around each other

sometimes she‘s the big spoon and sometimes you are, it depends on the mood

when she can’t sleep, you‘ll scratch her back and she‘s in a slumber in an instant

During off days you‘ll stay up till the early hours, just talking, giggling, stating random facts or debating the newest gossip

soft snores filling the room

Alexia often wakes up before you, though she doesn’t make any signs of leaving the bed before you‘re up

If she has to get up though, she‘ll kiss your forehead and promise to be back soon and wishing you a good day

football

you‘re not a professional footballer (you had to google the rules after Alexia had told you she’s a pro) though she likes to think you are as she puts you in goal when the two of you are training together

'training together' - she begs you to join her training routines, ends up convincing you with kisses

It‘s enough to see her pout

you can’t resist her pout

-

watching random football matches at home

Alexia puts a jersey on the bed before each home game, so you have something to wear for the stadium

'Alexia' and '11' on your back making her heart flutter

Your heart bursts with pride every time you see her walking out of the tunnel

Cheering for her

always in the stadium at home games and at important away games (champions league final, etc)

you‘re her biggest supporter

Alexia makes sure football and you are balanced - she never puts football above you but she‘s still ambitious and always gives 101% to be the best

You‘re always impressed by Alexia, her talent is phenomenal

Alexia enjoys impressing you

-

at first Alexia used to shut you out after a lost match

over time she learns to let her guard down

you make her feel loved and appreciated

She can let her walls down around you and likes to think that it‘s okay to be vulnerable sometimes (you assure her that it always is)

after won matches only happy things happen; nice dates, kisses, relaxed evening, etc

the achievement jar

One evening, after Alexia had scored two goals and an assist, you brought up the idea

It‘s been in the back of your mind since awhile but only now the mini marble footballs had arrived

won game? One marble in the jar

Alexia scored a goal? one marble

Alexia scored two goals? two marbles

Alexia assisted a goal ? one marble

won trophy? three marbles in the jar

and so on

when the jar‘s filled Alexia gets a big big surprise. Such as special days with massages, literally anything to show her how proud you were and how much she deserved

Yes, you still had date nights which were also special but the achievement-appreciation-days were just a tiny bit more special

Alexia loves it

So do you

your job

Alexia supports you on every step of the way to your dream job

After a long and exhausting day, Alexia hugs you, runs you a bath, anything that makes you feel relaxed and appreciated

She‘s your date to any work event (vice versa)

Alexia has all of your (important) meetings and appointments in her calendar

If you have to study, Alexia makes sure not to bother/distract you yet also always making sure that you stay hydrated and take some breaks

future

Both of you have your future planned together

Alexia dreams of marrying you, she has the ring hidden in her football drawer because she knows you‘d never look there

You talked about getting a dog, both of you really liking the thought. You just couldn’t agree on which breed (yet)

private proposal

wedding just like you dreamt of as a kid

happy tears spilling out of your eyes as you see each other for the first time

best day of your life

amazing honeymoon

Both of you never taking of your rings

Alexia taping it for her matches

her new celebration is to kiss her ring after scoring

kids, if you want them

The future bright and welcoming as you continue to share the perfect marriage

you‘ll never stop loving each other

[dumbass-sappho-stan]

hit first and hit hard || challengers

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ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴛ ᴅᴏɴᴀʟᴅꜱᴏɴ, ᴘᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ᴢᴡᴇɪɢ, ᴛᴀꜱʜɪ ᴅᴜɴᴄᴀɴ

— fem! reader

summary: 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗻𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝘀 𝘁𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘂𝗽𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗻𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝘆

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴/𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ, ʟɪᴋᴇ, ᴏʀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ 3 ᴛᴏ 4 ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ!

​🇼​​🇴​​🇷​​🇩​ ​🇨​​🇴​​🇺​​🇳​​🇹​: 7.9k

Part Two !!

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙊𝙣𝙚: 𝙃𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙨

It seemed almost trivial when you'd joined your middle school's tennis team as a favor for a friend. She'd prompted you with positive words and affirmations that it'd "just be for the season" and "for fun". Tennis hadn't even crossed your mind only being mentioned for the celebrity players like Billie Jean King or Andre.... well, they weren't important enough for you to remember them. Or the championship with the silly name, "Wimbledon", at first when you'd learned of it you'd thought it was made up.

But it wasn't and you were set up for tennis during your middle school career. But to the shock of yourself and others—you were a fucking good player. You sailed across the court in "gym shoes" (which were really Converse) and baggy school-issued shorts. Being a twelve-year-old girl running around the court and playing fervently was surely tiring but you worked hard and long, strenuous hours.

Every time you'd trip over yourself trying to catch a ball on the other side of the court, you'd get up. You were determined to be good at something; tennis would be it. You didn't particularly know what fired you to work so hard, especially, at a sport you'd joined as a joke.

It seemed strange but lit a deep fire when you stepped on the concrete court, staring at your opponent standing opposite. The fire nipped at your fingertips when you picked up the heavy racquet and the neon atrocity that was the ball.

It made you feel powerful when you slammed, although not the best serve at first, the ball across the court in a serve that would ensue the rally and the pure enigma that followed—the breath of life that was tennis.

You'd worked pretty hard with your doubles partner, the friend who'd invited you, and you both had managed to snag your state female youth's championships doubles title for ages 12 to 14. To say you were pleased was an understatement, you were thrilled. You'd thrown yourself into the sport for the newfound love of it, and it got your parents off of your ass about joining stupid, fucking 'extracurriculars'.

The year after, you were put into the girl's circuit matches during the year and played throughout. Your intense training paid off so much that you'd shed the doubles-only path and managed to play singles. Somehow, by the chance of something holy, you managed to get to the USTA Girls 14s National Championships just before the start of your freshman year.

𝙎𝘼𝙉 𝘿𝙄𝙀𝙂𝙊, 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙄𝘼, 2002

14 years old and deathly terrified, you waltzed to San Diego where you were sure you'd meet your fate (death), to lose to people you were convinced were so much better than you. Even though your love of tennis had thrived, you weren't dumb.

You weren't exactly the richest girl on the block, unlike most tennis players. Tennis, you'd learned that to be extraordinarily good or at least decent, with not a lot of raw talent, required lessons; lessons (the good, professional ones) cost a lot of money. You had benefitted from the fact that your school coach was very dedicated once she'd gauged your true love of the sport and soon forced you into a training routine that you dutifully followed.

But all of that didn't matter as you stepped into the stadium. All that mattered was the talent that you possessed, not the rich girls in their juicy couture, that you wished you could steal off of their bodies, their pristine Nike tennis shoes, or their stupidly expensive tennis outfits. You had yourself and your fabulous Wet Seal white skirt that you'd hand sewn so it looked pleated, sorta.

You walked around the stadium for a while, trying to find the locker room to place your stuff down before your match started. It was against some girl with the sorta name that reminded you of the state of Idaho with how forgetful it was. Nevertheless, you sauntered around the halls until you heard a loud, distracting clamor that came from behind you.

The sound of very loud overlapping voices clouded your mind as they all repeated the same name as if gospel:

𝙏𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞 𝘿𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙣

You had turned your head slightly back to be met with a figure. A tall, beautiful girl entered your vision. And that was the beginning of the end for you.

She walked down the hallway with the entourage of players, adults, and coaches alike following around or behind her. Every step she took felt like the world shook around her, hair slicked back into a ponytail-braid, her outfit branded with some sports brand, and her face... A face that read of more conviction and drive than you'd ever seen in your short life.

You were still walking in an awkward position, head craned backward to gaze at the girl who was a few meters behind. She enraptured you, in more ways than one. It was strange how eye-catching she was, and she must've been popular too if she had everyone following her, or that was your thought process at least. Well you were thinking until from that stupid position you were in, you made eye contact with her.

Her deep eyes had met your own quickly, a flash of confusion on her face before it shifted back to its original stone confidence On the other hand, you had let out a small gasp of embarrassment (?) or some sort of flustered emotion, and scuttled along to the nearest door along the seemingly endless hall.

To your luck, it was the locker room, and even better it was emptier than a school library. Walking to the nearest bench you set your backpack down and let out a shutter, "Jesus Christ.."

You sighed and looked at yourself in the mirror, then began to change, and then you were ready. While you were lacing up your gym shoes, ACTUAL tennis shoes, your mind wandered to that girl again.

Tashi...it made your heart clench up and your palms sweat. Everything about today was beginning to make you panic, especially that girl, but you couldn't think about it much before your coach burst into the empty room. She hollered your name and her voice reverberated throughout the room— you blinked you were on the court and the stupid, forgettable girl stood on the other side of the 24 meters, doing whatever stupid, forgettable girls could do. You started your routine, blocking out anything that was deemed a distraction.

The match soon started, and everything seemed drowned out by you and the girl's grunts. The ball sailed across the net, again and again, but it seemed to be quite the easy game. The no-name girl couldn't backhand for her life and eventually, you caught her during the second set. The poor player simply couldn't take your, albeit shaky, jump serve and the ball barely skimmed the tip of her racquet.

You nearly felt bad for the girl, she looked so enraged when she lost. A forlorn battle cry left her lips, her racquet taking the brunt of the anger as it shattered. The girl's expression wrenched, she reminded you of a wounded animal being left for dead, or already on its way.

Bled out and begging.

Nevertheless, you bustled off the court and into the locker room, your coach had already congratulated you on your way out so you were stranded alone. The vibrant cobalt blue of the lockers almost blinded you upon entry but there were more pressing matters, there she was. "Good game," Tashi emitted, standing in the far back of the room. She looked less, terrifying than before... more human. A slight half-smirk or smile on her face flourished, it appeared almost natural.

"Oh! Thank you," You beamed, your smile widening at her praise, it'd felt like winning again. "It's my first time here so I was sorta hoping to win." A laugh escaped your lips awkwardly, slowly trotting over to where the other girl stood.

"I could tell, you looked as if you were about to like to shoot yourself or some shit," She chuckled drily, rummaging through her things while you stood there, like a statue. A very graceless statue.

"Yeah," You answered meekly with a laugh, though it sounded more like a squeak. You didn't know what about this girl made you sweat, you'd never heard of her, who the fuck was this bitch—Your stream of consciousness was soon cut off at the girl's gaze returning to you.

Tashi's expression had slightly toughened, but you chalked it up to being her opponent. She spoke once more, "Well, I got my game," She slung the huge bag over her shoulder and started on her way, before turning again to face you. "See ya..." She trailed off and awaited your name, giving you an expectant look.

Immediately you complied, sputtering out your name and watching the brunette's eyebrows raise in interest? Or that's what you assumed. Your name rolled off her tongue as she said it aloud, and then a second time to you, offering you that intense stare.

"Huh, well, see ya.." Then Tashi Duncan walked right out of the room. Something sparked in you as you saw the girl leave. You didn't know if it was loathing, admiration, or absolute fucking torment. Hell, to this day you don't know what it was. What you did know was that this girl was something; you wanted to be a part of that something. To be a part of her.

So you were.

𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙔𝙊𝙍𝙆 𝘾𝙄𝙏𝙔, 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙔𝙊𝙍𝙆, 2006

𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘑𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘴 𝘊𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳

The sun beaded down on the courts on the day of the US Open. Unforgiving in its light as it scorched the earth's wide terrain, making sure anyone who left the house that day within the sun's climax would surely get a foul burn. But it didn't matter, everyone was there on the day of the US Open. The fourth and final title any tennis player would need to get a Grand Slam and it all took place in the 'Greatest City' in the world as some say.

New (fucking) York.

You'd finally made it, US Open. It was juniors, sure, but the US Open itself felt like a badge of honor. Being here, aged 17, was everything you worked for the past five years. You felt like it was your birthday, Christmas, and waking up to see the goddamn tooth fairy all in one day. You'd walked past your opponent upon entering the court. Something you'd mastered within the past years was the benefit of the poker face. You set down your bulky bag on your side of the court, got your racquet out, and stretched. Your mind went silent as everything was called to a hush.

There was no coin flip, everyone knew who was serving first. But the question was, who would win?

Tashi had always been the better of the both of you.

You both stood, at opposing ends of the court, staring at each other awaiting the next move. Tashi gripped the ball like a vice and gazed at you. It honestly made you feel naked but you didn't show. There was no place in your world right now to fuck this game up. THWACK THWACK THWACK

The ball took its beating as it wafted from end to end on the green concrete. The loud sounds of grunts and cries intermingled, the sheer forces converging.

When playing with Tashi it almost felt as if you were one. Just as you knew what move she would make, she'd predict yours. You gave her your backhand, and she yielded a forehand. Play after play, you both gave a fight worth seeing. At this point it became a game of endurance, to see who could persist under each other's brutal grasp.

If it was a game of who wanted it badly enough Tashi would've won every single time. But a game of spite? That's something you couldn't afford to lose.

It was the last game. Tashi had won the first one, and you had won the second after managing a dive for a ball for a drop shot, subsequently, skinning practically half the skin off your right knee. But it was all worth it. The third game started with the serve and then you played like hell. Your body was not yours in that moment, it was the games. Your legs pounded into the concrete as they sidestepped, swerving and twisting your body to keep up with the rally. It felt as if the rally had gone on forever. You just needed to tie the set and you'd have the advantage.

You could tell Tashi was starting to break, she looked undoubtedly tired but wouldn't let up. The last hit she gave, a loud THWACK was sent across the court and you plunged to get the ball, it barely touched your racquet... The stands erupted in applause for Tashi as an expression of euphoria broke out upon your opponent's features. She won. "COME ON!" A loud battle cry ripped through her as her tennis racquet tumbled to the ground and a smile broke out on her features. A grin had even broken upon yours, watching your best friend win

Rather than shaking hands as typical at the end of a game, you ran to the net, leaped over it, and enveloped her in an air-tight hug. It was returned with the same amount of vehemence, and a peck to the apple of your cheek.

You wanted to slightly cry or maybe even frown at the aspect of losing but you couldn't. Tashi's win was your win, right?

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It's getting hot in here

So take off all your clothes

I am getting so hot...

The music hovered through the air as you and Tashi danced along the dance floor. The party on Long Island seemed a bit daunting to you, going to a social event right after a grueling day full of a tournament in the sweltering sun. But you sucked it up, put on your fetching little dress with high heels, and danced your heart out next to your best friend.

The dresses swung around in tandem while Nelly blasted through the speakers, you laughed with her hooking hands together, spinning throughout the floor.

While dancing you saw the chick Tashi had played before the final, she was sobbing to her parents, looking distraught. "God would you see that chick," You muttered to Tashi's ear, a small smirk forming.

She looked back at the girl, eyebrows raised and a surprised smile. Tashi spoke your name, "I never took you for a bitch," feigning a scold to you, and held your gaze, before busting out in a laugh.

You followed suit, giggling as well. The Russian girl had cursed Tashi out at the end of their match, needless to say, she wasn't the friendliest girl.

"Karma's a bitch, Tash!" A laugh slipped out of your mouth as you practically leaned on Tashi, keeping up dance in between you two. She looked down at you, smiling at your answer with that signature Tashi Duncan grin. Not exactly a smirk, but not an earnest smile.

You returned it, getting lost in her deep brown eyes for a moment, it felt as if on the floor it was just you two. You and Tashi dancing, you didn't know, and maybe would never know, that Tashi knew how you looked at her at that moment. She merely just didn't care.

However, your moment was interrupted by her words;

"Come on, I'm thirsty," She announced, still giving you that impish smile. You only nodded, your wrist was soon snatched up by your friend and promptly yanked off the dance floor. You followed Tashi, finding a cooler nearby, she snatched up two drinks and then led you onto some chairs.

Tashi down first, sipping whatever fruity nonalcoholic drink and you sat on the arm of the chair, of course. You sipped your own drink and stared out in the crowd, but something, no, some guys entered your peripheral vision— they were walking straight toward you. At first, all you could get from the figures was that one was blonde and the other brunette. Upon further inspection, they were the two doubles players, Fire and Ice.

This caused you to nudge your friend with your leg but they'd already appeared.

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By some form of charm and fascination, you found yourself on the beach, smoking a cigarette and captivated by two young men. You came to find that their names were Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig and that they were undoubtedly head over heels. You had a sneaking suspicion they were already members of the Tashi Duncan Fan Club just based on their awestruck faces.

You sat on the rock next to your friend, legs crossed and head turned toward her before shifting to the ocean. A little smile had been laid on your features since meeting with them. They were so.. appealing. If that was a word to describe them. When asked earlier by Tashi, "Who was fire and who was ice?" There was no straight answer so you made one up yourself. "Y'know, I think I've figured you two out." You declared, turning your gaze to them. They both tore their gaze away from Tashi to you.

"What have you figured out?" Patrick inquired playfully, raising his brows unanimously.

"You're fire," You pointed directly at the brunette, "And you're ice." Then pointing to the blonde, a smug smile replaced the other as you took a puff of the cigarette. "Am I wrong?" Art chuckled at the assumption and shrugged, "I don't know is she, Patrick?" He asked his friend, matching your 'matter-of-fact' tone.

Patrick stared at you for a moment, his eyes sized you up, almost the way Tashi did. Confident, all-knowing. From the tips of your heels to the hilt of where your dress dipped into your chest, all the way up to meet your fierce eyes. He readjusted himself in his chair.

"That's up to you, Art." He replied, never breaking the eye contact. This time, Art didn't respond to anyone and only chuckled at the stupidity of the conversation. Though this didn't satiate you, before you could reply with another quip, your phone buzzed.

This caused your face to change as you whisked your shiny light pink Motorola Razr out of the strap of your heel to see who would be calling you—Your mother. "Damnit," You huffed, screening the call and clutching the phone. "Tash, it's my time to go." You started to stand up from the rock, as Tashi turned her head to gaze up at you.

"Your Mom?" "Yeah, who the fuck else." You muttered in annoyance, brushing off the sand that stuck to your leg. Tashi sent you a sympathetic look but she already knew this routine, it wasn't any new to her that your mom would want you back home. Especially, if she knew you were out with random boys.

"Hey, I gotta go, my mom's calling me." You announced to the rest of the company with an awkward grin and some weird hand motion where you limply pointed past them. "Aw really," Patrick whined playfully, "We'll miss you so much," He took a sip of his Coke with a smirk. "Do you really have to go?"

Art joined in, "Yeah, are we that terrible?" He asked teasingly, his lips upturning into a grin that mirrored his friend.

A slight flush had flitted across your face, the awkwardness replaced with a sense of sheepishness. Your reply died on the tip of your tongue as a familiar hug enraptured you from behind. "Oh don't scare her, she's shy. Aren't you?" Tashi jested, giving the boys a flippant glare, her head leaning on the crook of your neck.

You scoffed lightly and rolled your eyes, "No, just tired." A small huff left your lips as you leaned back into your friend's grasp, before turning around and hugging her back tightly. You loved your best friend deeply, she'd chosen you from the start and you still were in awe.

Pulling away from the hug, Tashi kissed the apple of your cheek as always and you grinned.

"Bye Tash," You chirped, finally leaving the sandy rock and onto the beach, passing by the boys before you were stopped by their silly farewells.

"Rude, no goodbye?" Patrick shouted, incredulously with a grin.

Art called out your name, "Bye, I'll see you at Stanford!"

You let out a small giggle to yourself as you skipped off back to your hotel. The boys stared at your figure as it got smaller and smaller, away in the distance.

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Later that night, while lounging in your room, watching stupid mindless late-night television there was a knock at your door. Perplexed, you walked over to the door and opened it to reveal your best friend.

"Tashi?" You asked tiredly, "What the hell are you doing here?" Your eyebrows drew together at her devious smirk, the way she looked at you made you think she was about to tell you something you really weren't gonna like.

"Well, you remember those two boys?" She inquired with her Cheshire smile, and you nodded slowly. "They want us to go to their room!" Tashi squealed, grabbing you by the shoulders happily.

Your expression shifted to one of confusion, "You mean they want you," You corrected with a thin, wiry smile.

Tashi scoffed, "No, they said 'Bring your hot friend too', " She moved her hands from your shoulders to connect with your own. "Please? It'll be fun I swear! They have beer!"

"Tash, I don't know about this," You pouted, trying to appeal that you didn't want to go, "Maybe we should think about this, I mean-" You were unfortunately cut off by her hauling you out of your room by your wrists.

"No, we're going, it'll be fun," Tashi stated with vitality as if it were fact rather than opinion. She pulled you through the corridors of the hotel, which conveniently, you learned, the boys were staying in the same one.

It seemed never-ending, the red and green carpeting looked dirty, and looking at the skeevy carpet did not help the unsettling feeling you had in your stomach. It just didn't make sense that they both wanted you there or maybe the idea of being desirable by guys that hot threw you off a bit.

"Tashi, please promise me that I'm not just being brought along so one guy doesn't hide in that bathroom while you fuck the other?" You look at her desperately, trying to search for an answer that registers in your brain. Tashi only ignored your question by giving you an expression that read, 'Shut up, you'll be fine'.

You've gotten that look throughout your friendship but it felt more militant now. So, you did shut up and kept on walking until eventually the red-carpeted trail ended at room 206, that was when Tashi released you from her iron grip and you two stood at the door.

The sound of the knock echoed throughout the empty hotel halls. There was silence and no one opened the door. The second time you knocked, more like pounded, but a knock nonetheless. Rustling and hushed voices were heard on the other side of the door, causing you and Tashi to both giggle a bit to yourself before the door was opened.

"Hi,"

"Hey,"

They welcomed you into the room, though they both looked reddened and disheveled. The room smelled like cigarettes and looked sloppy as fuck, but what would you expect from two teenage boys?

You and Tashi both took seats on the carpeted floor, and you brought your legs to a criss-crossed position while the boys took the spots across from you two.

"So, did you take like Mommy and me classes together or what?" Tashi asked teasingly, earning chuckles from around the circle. "You guys just seem like brothers."

Art laughed, "Well that's what the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy will do for you," A laugh simmered once more and you quirked your eyebrow.

"Shit, you guys went to boarding school for tennis?" A curious grin blossomed across your face, "I didn't know they had actually had those."

Patrick nodded his head, "Yep, I've been bunkmates with him," he pointed a finger toward Art, "Since we were 12."

You bobbed your head, "That makes sense," The beer can was finally passed to you and you took a sip. "You both definitely have a gayness to you."

Tashi laughed at your words as the boy's faces dropped, not expecting those words to spill from you. It was deathly silent other than you and Tashi's giggling.

"Well, are you?" Tashi asked between laughs, earning another loud laugh from the two of you at Patrick's smirk and Art's panicked spluttering to defend himself and his friend.

"No, we're NOT gay," He corrected with a nervous smile, "Just because people go to boarding school doesn't mean they're gay. It wasn't even all boys, there were girls too." Art seemed pleased with his own explanation but that didn't stop the onslaught of giggles between you and your friend.

"Okay, sure," You snorted, taking another sip of the beer before it was snatched out your of grasp by Patrick. You shot him a playful glare to only be met with one back.

"Though, does this happen often?" Tashi questioned the boys with a flirtatious gaze, "You bring back two girls to your room?" "Or do you usually..?" The words died on the tip of your tongue as you finished the sentence, giving them an expectant expression. A few seconds passed by with no one speaking until...

"Well..." Patrick started, making you and Tashi wheeze in amusement as Art immediately cut him off.

"No."

That was the beginning of the tale of how Patrick taught Art to jerk off. Though you didn't find the conversation all that interesting, hearing about juvenile masturbation wasn't the topic you wanted to listen to. So, you began to space out until the question was turned on the both of you.

"What about you two?" Patrick asked sleazily, a permanent smirk written on his face. "Ever get lonely so you both..." The sentence hung in the air as you and Tashi glanced at each other. You didn't want to answer that question as that was truthfully some personal information that may or may not be true; luckily, Tashi was better at these things.

"That's for us to know and for y'all to find out," She passed the beer to you and you graciously took it from her hands. You resolved to be a bit of an asshole and finish the beer.

"We're out of beer," You put the can down on the carpet and looked at the rest of them, smiling thinly. Internally you were hoping this meant going back to your hotel room and returning to watching infomercials, but unfortunately, that's not what happened. What happened is something that truly signals the beginning of the intertwining between you and these individuals.

Tashi stood up first, her gaze as heavy as lead as she looked down upon the rest of you. The mood of the room had unmistakably shifted into one you weren't sure of, she sauntered to the bed and sat down on it. Her eyes settled on you first as she used her finger to signal you to the bed. You stood up and followed her command senselessly, not knowing what exactly was going to occur.

The two boys had watched the interaction intensely, you hadn't noticed but Tashi did. She always did. Her eyes darted to the boys and then you and a mischievous glint highlighted in her eyes.

She grabbed you by the cheek and stared strongly into your eyes. Your already skittish smile turned to one of confusion as you were confused about what exactly your friend was planning.

Tashi leaned really close to your ear and whispered, "Let's give them the show of their fucking lives," and so you did.

Her lips crashed to yours and before you knew it you were making out with Tashi Duncan. One of her hands had slipped from your face to your ass, and she seized it causing you to exclaim slightly into the kiss but nothing to stop you from it. The intense kissing and touching went on for a while, and her soft hands slid on your exposed thighs as your own hands stayed stationary on her own cheek and waist.

Tashi had pulled away first, her lips pouted from the kissing, to look at you with that same bold gaze but it soon left you in favor of the people who were still on the floor. Your eyes followed her gaze until it landed on them as well; they looked absolutely hungry.

The way they both looked at you reminded you of ravenous lions hunting their prey in the wild. Your hand clutched at Tashi's hair when your mind came to the revelation that the way the boys stared at you made your body feel hot. Hotter than it already was from your make-out session with Tashi.

"Well, are you gonna sit there and watch or join us?" In a flash, the boys clumsily ran to the bed, Art on yours, Patrick on hers. As soon as Art could even lay his eyes on you, his hands and lips followed. Hot kisses were laid on your jugular, but it didn't feel too lascivious, it felt pristine. His touch was soft and once he had dipped his head all the way to your sternum (thank god you had won a tank top), he pulled it away and laid his lips onto yours.

Art's lips were soft and moved rhythmically against yours, you kept up fine and collected his downy blonde curls in your hands. You managed to obtain dominance in the kiss, legs slipping together and locking in with his, your body soon taking precedence over him. His hands moved up and down the small of your back, subtle sounds emitting from his lips that one could classify as moans. It made you feel hotter inside, a deep pool of something warm had clouded your entire bloodstream, only fueled by every movement from the boy who so desperately kissed you. It felt nice to be wanted.

With the eagerness of your own fling you'd forgotten there was an opposite party within your midst, and they were getting it on in the same manner. But what you didn't expect was for Tashi, over the lewd noises, to say anything during the liaisons.

"Okay, switch."

Soon after you removed yourself from Art, begrudgingly, and were snatched up by Patrick. Patrick proved to be the rougher lover, skipping the foreplay and immediately rushing into raw, teeth-clashing kisses that shook you to your core. His hands felt like hot wax over your body as he palmed your breasts and the other slipped into your shorts and onto the smooth skin of your ass, delightfully exemplified by the shortness of them. His kisses were desperate and borderline depraved, you'd never been kissed so passionately before you practically didn't know what to do. Yet you'd let him take the lead after a while, his hand had slipped up from your ass to beneath your shirt, toying with the back of your bra.

Unfortunately for Patrick, the moment was cut abruptly by Tashi, with her ever-persisting smirk, pulled away from Art and nudged him toward you and Patrick, seeing what would transpire. The blonde had slid toward your left and started attacking an open space left at the arc of your neck, leading the brunette to sway to your right side of your neck.

Your whole body felt like it was ablaze, the touch of them both was overwhelming, and the skin-on-skin contact from both boys discerned a deep feeling being dug from you. Your eyes had been wired shut since your switch over to Patrick; they fluttered open for a wink to see one of the most erotic scenes that wouldn't even be found in the chasms of your mind.

Tashi stood a few feet away drinking in the sight with an unreadable but smirking expression. You couldn't tell if she loved the sight because it turned her on, or if she loved that she had this much control over the three of you. Faces and bodies tangled and lips slowly traveled up to your earlobes, and your eyes shut once more as the sensation of the boy's lips traveled to your own within their trail. However, you soon pulled away as the sensation of two people kissing you at once wasn't really a turn-on.

Regardless, by the power of your two open hands, you pushed their heads together as they soon mindlessly locked lips, hands leaving you and they pawed at each other. Leaning back, you watched the scene unfold with ardent interest. This was almost as hot as experiencing it, you suspected as your own smirk spread across your features.

Their kissing continued for a while, you and your best friend watching the boys thoroughly lock lips. But, the moment was not to last, Tashi stepped over and took your wrist, drawing you away from the sinful scene and back into reality.

"Okay, we're done," Tashi announced, a quaint smile on her face while you appeared positively confused and flushed, "It's been nice."

The boys stopped their kissing shortly after to give you both a baffled expression. They both glanced among the two of you, their eyebrows drawn in a line as they tried to configure what the fuck just happened. Patrick always assumed, to this day, that Tashi was just jealous of not being the 'center of attention'. Art, on the other hand, found Tashi to be envious but not about what Patrick presumed about.

"But what about your numbers?" Art asked, sitting up and looking very alarmed. Patrick assumed the same position and expression, they almost looked like twins, if it weren't that they were distinguishable in every way possible.

Tashi paused for a moment, she looked to be in deep thought to the naked eye, but you knew her—she'd planned this. "Well, you'll play for them of course," The words rolled right off her tongue, a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. Expressionless, you turned your gaze back to the boys as they looked stunned.

Tashi looked at you to continue, "Oh, uhm...Yeah, may the best player win.." Your cheeks started to burn once more from the mortification from whatever this tryst was finally setting into your brain. The other girl seemed pleased with your answer and toted you along to the door.

She opened it partly, looking them over with that stare, before saying, "We wanna see some good fucking tennis."

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𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙁𝙊𝙍𝘿, 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙄𝘼, 2007

𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺

Hunger hurts

But I want him so bad

Oh, it kills...

Fiona Apple spilled from the shitty iPod you'd set up in a glass cup as a speaker, working on whatever homework was given to you in your classes. Outside of hitting a ball with a stick, you would like some life skills, so... well your major was something you could worry about later. All that mattered now was two things; Tennis and your friends.

Surprisingly, you weren't a complete social reject and you did have friends outside of Tashi and Art, but they weren't actually welcomed. Tashi could fake many things but fake friendliness? She couldn't bring herself to that low level.

Speak of the devil, Tashi waltzed into your room, clad in athleisure. "God why are you listening to wrist-slitting music," She inquired humorously, an impish smile playing on her face, "Lighten the fuck up, this is California."

"What the fuck do people listen to in California?" The slam of your textbook echoed in the small room while Tashi sauntered to your bed. You leaned back and soon your head was in between her knees and you looked up to her.

"I don't know Pitbull?" Her finger flicked at your nose and you flinched, groaning in the process. "Really?" You asked warily, finally standing up with a crack to the back, "That's news to me..."

The girl giggled at your fatigue and let out a sigh, "You're so lame," Rolling your eyes in response you sighed yourself and trained your vision on her. "So, what's up? Why'd you come from your 'precious time with Patrick', " You mocked, "To see me?"

Tashi scoffed, "You're so damn dramatic," She uttered your name with gusto, moving to make space as you dropped onto the bed. The silence was comfortable, the two of you laying there and staring at the popcorn dorm ceiling.

"I think Patrick is in love with someone else."

Sitting up on the bed, your eyes shot down to Tashi's face. Her expression wasn't even of sadness, anger, or anything you could gage as negative. She just looked bored. "What do you mean, 'in love' with someone else?"

She shrugged and looked away from you, "That's just what Art told me the other day after practice," The bed shifted as she turned her whole body to face you. "He mentioned something about Patrick just wanting this to be a sort of fling, or that he wasn't 'committed' enough for me."

A small scoff left your lips, and a skeptical look passed over your features. "How could Patrick not be in love or committed? It's you, Tashi, he's not gonna do any better." You proclaimed affectionately, trying to present a sense of hope for your friend but you knew the dramatic irony of all of this.

Tashi took in your words with a thin smile and nodded, then yawned. "I don't truly care, you know that," Your name fell from her lips, "I just want to rest now if that's fine with you." A reply didn't come from you as you watched her slowly descend into an unprompted nap.

The music still played softly through the room while you were left alone with your thoughts. You knew two things now; One, Art Donaldson was a shady bitch. Two, now he had made it your problem and you were keen on solving it.

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"Art!" The echo of your voice thundered across the Stanford Tennis Courts, provoking the boy to look your way. You stormed into the court with a dynamic expression and at first Art had waved to you with a grin on his features but soon gauged that you looked like you were about to bash his head in.

The distance between you two lessened and lessened, quick strides made til you were feet apart. "Art Donaldson, what the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"Playing... Tennis?" He replied in bewilderment, a gesture to the empty court was made with his racquet that was still in hand. "What's up?" He seemed genuinely confused, which only fueled the wrath you held.

"No, Art, you're not playing fucking tennis, you're playing damn mind games!" Spitefully, you slapped the racquet out of his hand and maintained his gaze. A gloss of paleness overrun Art and his confused expression shifted to one of bitterness.

"Listen, whatever you've heard about-"

You cut him off, "No, what I've heard about is that you're spewing bullshit to both of my friends and I don't fucking like it." Art scoffed and rolled his eyes at your statement, "What bullshit is that?" He challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That Tashi doesn't love Patrick and Patrick doesn't love Tashi," You replied with vigor, narrowing your eyes at his aloofness about your remarks. The blonde gave you a thin smile, "And?"

It took a great amount of restraint to not punch his face in as being an asshole is something you'd never taken Art for. "And? What do you mean and?" You paused for a beat to see if he'd respond, it stayed quiet. "You're fucking up both of our friend's love lives," You continued, "That's, oh I don't know? Wrong?"

He had looked like he was listening but still said nothing to you. "Well? Have you anything to say for yourself? About your actions?" This did cause Art to let out a long sigh and meet your eyes.

"I mean, what do you want me to do?" He asked you tiredly, "Watch my best friend basically leave the girl of my dreams for weeks at a time, to come back for only 5 seconds to then leave again?"

It struck a despairing chord within you when he uttered the phrase 'girl of my dreams' but tried to not let it phase you. It wasn't about you, it never was, it was about Tashi.

"Yes, Art! That's exactly what I want you to do," You groaned with annoyance at his selfishness, it amazed you how selfish this boy was. "You're supposed to push your feelings aside for your friends, Art," Admonishing him finally seemed to make him look even smaller in front of you as his shoulders slightly sagged.

He looked up at you for a beat, with those sad teardrop-blue, puppy dog eyes begging for pity. You almost gave in like last time, quarreling and then awakening up to find yourself in his bed the next morning, but it wouldn't be like last time. You were soft back then, you had to stand on business.

When you didn't budge he looked even sadder if that was possible but you kept your gaze on him, "I know it's hard to think of what would've happened if you'd won that match. At this point ask for a rematch if you're this desperate," You grumbled, but this caused Art to perk up a bit with, finally, a passionate look in his eyes to match yours.

"Oh, shut up," Art snarled, "You're so fucking hypocritical as if no one sees the way you look at Patrick. Or the way Patrick looks at you," A nervous flush soon reddened your face, you couldn't deny he was right.

There were flirtations here and there from Patrick but that was just his natural manner, or that's at least what you told yourself. It was normal that he'd walked onto you changing one too many times, or commented on every single fling you'd had since meeting you, or how... You stopped listing the reasons that his actions were 'normal' in your head as you were met with Art's harsh gaze. Which was quite frankly terrifying to be under.

So, you broke first and in one swift motion your hand was on his face and your lips crashed onto his.

Safe to say there was no more discussion.

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Waking up in Art Donaldson's bed is not one of your proudest accomplishments. It's transpired too many times for you to count but every time it happens you feel a little shred of your self-respect wither away. His body was partly laid on top of you and his head was buried in the valley of your chest. You observed how peaceful he looked as he slept, blonde curls tousled and messed up from the night before and pink lips perfectly pouted.

Everything seemed peaceful in these moments, it was even better than the pillow talk Art always seemed to have while you were attempting to get your sleep. Though in your mind everything was but peaceful. You couldn't seem to shake the ache of what Art had said the day before.

The girl of his dreams, eugh, it made you want to crucify yourself on a burning cross. You always knew the two boys were wrapped around Tashi's finger but you had convinced yourself you fit in somewhere right? That you were liked by Art? I mean he had to, you'd been both fucking for about a year since you'd gotten to Stanford! He'd always gotten jealous when you had other men around, he had to love you just as much...or at least a little? You were a person who existed outside the realm of Tashi's Tennis world... Right?

Clenching your eyes shut you let out a shuttering breath before reconnecting back to reality. You had to get out of this damn dorm room. You tried to slip out of the bigger boy's grasp upon you but it worked to no avail. He only whined and pulled you closer.

"5 more minutes," Art muttered and buried his face further into the skin. Sighing you drove him off of you harshly, leaping out of the bed and starting the search for your previously discarded clothes. This action caused an even louder whine from the male as he finally awoke from his tranquil slumber to observe you. He pouted at the sight of you leaving.

"Do you really have to go?" Art asked as if the events of yesterday had never happened, "I know your schedule you don't have any classes today." Throwing on whatever clean shirt of Art's that was available you didn't respond to him, too busy with your own thoughts. The lack of an answer only made the blonde pout more and he sighed dejectedly.

"You know I love you right?"

The blood ran cold in your veins, "Excuse me?" Your head whipped toward the bed-bound boy, an indecipherable expression on your face. This compelled Art to smile, taking this as a sign of you being shocked that he could love you, that this was the shock of happiness. Oh, how the blonde was so wrong.

"I love you," He said your name tentatively, every syllable dripping from his lips like sweet honey, "I've loved you since that day at the beach."

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you felt yourself consumed by an indescribable misery from inside. What sick joke was he playing on you? Lamenting on the lack of Tashi's love to express his to you? He was definitely playing with you.

"I... I don't know what the fuck you're playing at Art," Your voice trembled with rage, "But it has to stop right now." Art's once joyful expression shifted to one of confusion, something he seemed to love to do these days.

"What?" He asked, "I'm not playing at anything, I love you?" It sounded like a phrased question that caused you to scoff. You snatched up your shoes from the door and angrily put them on, ignoring the way he had started to call your name.

"No, the fuck you don't Art!" You shouted, silencing the boy in front of you, "You think you're always fucking winning and that you're the good one! That you're not fucking around with other people because no one would ever expect that of you!" Your voice quivered under the overwhelming amount of emotion you felt.

"God, I feel like I'm fucking shadowboxing here, you drive me fucking crazy." The tears felt cleansing against your dried face, "I can't keep playing this game anymore, Art. You're too much."

The room went noiseless for a beat, when you finally turned your teary eyes to Art he looked speechless. It stayed like that for a few minutes, the both of you staring at one another. His mouth finally opened:

"Are we talking about Tennis?"

The door slammed on your departure from Art Donaldson's dorm and you didn't see yourself coming back anytime soon.

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Part 2 is here! Please read it!

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