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wosospacegirl · 2 days ago

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Stuck with you - part 10

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: Alexia and the girls are orchestrating a plan; there are no chairs left, and a game of charades makes everything messier than it was—thank you, Alexia!

Word count: 5k

a/n: omg...first kiss?! :O

It had been two weeks since Y/n and Kika last talked. Two weeks since the park incident.

Alexia, of course, couldn't mind her own business–something she didn't do before meeting Olga. Olga had taught Alexia the fine art of nosiness, and she had absolutely run with it.

Since Y/n refused to say anything about the whole situation (again), Alexia went straight to Kika instead.

At first, Kika tried to avoid her, but after Alexia convinced Romeu to do separate groups based on the players' positions, Kika had nowhere to run.

The downside of this plan was that everyone could see that Alexia and Kika were having a conversation, and worst of all, Vicky could hear it too.

Vicky was Alexia's baby.

She would never admit it to anyone, but the kid had a special place in her heart, not the same as Y/n (which Alexia also wouldn't admit), but when she saw Vicky listening to their conversation and making hand gestures to Y/n and Jana on the other side... she snapped.

Vicky looked sad, but Alexia bought her a box of chocolates after training, and the kid was happy again.

What really struck Alexia was how dumb and dramatic Y/n and Kika both were.

When Kika explained what happened, completely stumbling over her words and feeling nervous that her captain was asking her about it, Alexia didn't even know how to react.

She knew Kika was a sweetheart–a little awkward, sure–but from the way she told the story, Alexia could tell she hadn't meant to say what she said. She was just nervous and blurted it out.

Yeah, she could have worded it better, but still... Y/n was also too impatient; she didn't even stay to hear what Kika really had to say.

Alexia was trying to tell that to Y/n, but the kid was stubborn and didn't want to have any conversation surrounding Kika.

Alexia tried multiple times to explain it, though. Always in the car, always after training, when she knew Y/n couldn't run away from the conversation. She would start the engine, wait for Y/n to climb into the passenger seat, and then properly trap her.

"Kikinha didn't mean it," Alexia said for what felt like the twelfth time that week. "I talked to her. She said she was anxious and just... blurted it out."

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply.

Her day had been awful. She had twisted her ankle during a training session, which meant two days off training and physio with Paulo.

Paulo wasn't her favourite physiotherapist; he always pulled and pressed too hard on her skin, and it hurt more than it helped. Her favourite physiotherapist was Luana, and she was on vacation somewhere warm with her family.

At least someone on the Barcelona team was having the time of their life, enjoying a good beach with people that mattered. Clearly, that person wasn't Y/n, not when she was trapped in a car with La Reina.

"Alexia," Y/n muttered, eyes closed. "Why are you so invested in me and Kika? Just leave us alone. Hell, leave me alone."

She tried to open the door, but Alexia had locked it.

Great.

"Because I think she's a great girl–"

"Alexia!" Y/n snapped, turning to look at her. "I don't need you to tell me who you think I should date or not. It's not up to you!"

"Vale, vale" [okay, okay] Alexia said, raising her hands as if she was guilty, which she was. "No need to yell at me."

"I have every reason to yell at you," Y/n grumbled under her breath.

The rest of the car ride was in silence. For a moment, it seemed like Alexia had finally given up. But of course not.

She had a plan. And plans needed collaborators.

Alexia was Capitana; after all, she could get people to help her with the snap of her fingers.

First, she talked to Romeu.

It was a very professional conversation, or Alexia tried to make it out to be.

"I need you to pair Kika and Y/n together during training–always", Alexia said casually, as they watched the team run drills during her water breaks, her bottle in her left hand.

Romeu raised an eyebrow, looking at Alexia weirdly.

Normally, Alexia wouldn't really ask stuff like that. "And why would I do that?"

"They have good chemistry," Alexia replied.

"On the pitch? You mean?"

"...Sí," Alexia said, watching as Y/n made a pass and sent it to Kika, who passed it to Pina for a goal.

Cata didn't even try to save it. Goal.

Romeu sighed, understanding where Alexia was going with it and already regretting it. "Just don't get me fired. And if y/n asks me anything, I'll tell her it's all you, Putellas."

Y/n started noticing a pattern, and it was starting to piss her off.

Every training, every drill, every media duty... she and Kika were always stuck together. Even when it made no logical sense. Even if it clearly wasn't the easiest choice.

When the media team asked for two pairs to film a card game challenge for the barça youtube channel, Vicky and Jana were already paired up, and Esmee (who had been sitting next to Kika) was absolutely ready to go. But somehow, the staff asked Esmee to switch with Y/n.

Y/n, who wasn't even mic’d up.

Who didn't even know what card game they were playing. Who didn't even know they had any media duty that day because it obviously wasn't sent to her own personal agenda.

She wasn't even with them; she was stretching on the other side of the pitch among other girls, when Carla yelled her name and beamingly asked her to join them.

She couldn't say no. Be all in a day's work.

In the end, Y/n was the only one out of the four girls who was still in her training kit. Her once-white shorts were green from the grass, her hair a messy ponytail, her neck still dripping sweat while Kika, Jana, and Vicky looked pretty, clean, and even had makeup on.

It would be comical if it weren't so ridiculous.

Jana and Vicky were sitting on one side of the table, while Kika and Y/n were on the other, the last two awkwardly playing Uno and trying not to make eye contact while pretending to be excited for the camera in front of them, talking about the most ridiculous things Carla could ask them.

"What's your most embarrassing moment?" Carla asked just as Y/N tossed a nine red on the table.

"Hmm…I once took a screenshot of my Instagram DMs and didn’t realise the other person would get a notification," Jana said, throwing down a nine green.

Y/N didn’t have any greens.

She was already hating the game.

"Once I fell at La Masia and my pants literally tore. I had to borrow another girl’s shirt to cover myself. It was so embarrassing," Vicky said, putting down a 'choose the colour' card.

She chose yellow.

Yes! Y/N had yellow.

"When I was a kid, my cousin dared me to steal eggs from this little farm shop near our house. I did it, my dad caught me, and he made me apologise for each egg in front of every single customer there," Kika said, smiling. "I’m still not a fan of scrambled eggs to this day."

They all laughed, even Y/N. But her smile disappeared when Kika placed another 'pick a color' card and chose fucking green.

"It's your turn, Y/N," Carla said.

Y/N frowned, drawing a card from the deck.

Red. Nope.

"Well, my most embarrassing moment is…" Another card. five blue. "That once I pretended to read this book–" Seven yellow. Still no green. "--and I got caught. I hadn’t read a single page."

The air around the table shifted a little. Jana gave her a knowing look, Vicky was grinning, and Kika stared, surprised, like she hadn’t expected Y/N to bring that up. Well, Y/n didn't expect it either; it just came out.

Y/N ignored them and pulled one more card. Finally, eight green.

She placed it on the pile, and the game kept going.

After that, Y/n and Kika barely spoke. Kika looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Y/N didn’t ask either.

She needed a shower desperately.

So, once again, everything stayed polite and cordial between them…professional. Y/N didn’t know if she liked that or not.

Still, it felt good to say something about the book club. It made her feel lighter. Maybe the fans wouldn’t understand when they saw the video, but Kika would. That mattered.

It continued.

The weird pattern that no one was acknowledging, the pattern that only Y/n seemed to notice. Y/n hadn't told anyone about it either. Who would she even talk to?

Alexia? Jana?

She knew they were behind it all. It would make zero sense to ask them to stop. It was like they were playing a twisted game of puppets with Y/n and Kika. As if they were dogs that they could take on walks together for the sole reason of socialisation.

Still, Y/n couldn't tell how much Kika was involved in it. Given Kika's personality, she probably didn't know anything. Kika wasn't like that, she was more of a 'go with the flow' type of girl.

She would not force any interaction between y/n and herself. She hadn't done it before, no reason to start now.

Kika always looked genuinely surprised when they ended up paired together in random team duties, like she wasn't expecting that to happen. As if it hadn't crossed her mind.

It had only confirmed what Y/n already knew deep in her heart: it was definitely Alexia and the other girls doing it.

They were pulling some strings to get Y/n and Kika together as much as they could. At first, it was okay; Y/n even thought it was rather funny how they would go out of their way to make it happen.

But now? It was getting weird.

And not awkward weird–but amateurish weird.

They weren't subtle before, and now they weren't even trying to hide it.

And it was distracting.

In less than a few days, Y/n and half of the Barça girls were leaving for Las Rozas de Madrid, a city near Madrid, where the Spain confederation would gather for another camp.

She needed to focus. She already got called up, alongside Alexia, Jana and other girls, but it didn't mean she could slack off.

Still, it looked like Y/n was the only one who actually cared about representing Spain's colours.

Last week, Y/n and Sydney were having lunch, just the two of them. Sydney was talking about the online school program she was doing, and Y/n was invested.

Alexia made her go to a regular school, even after she got promoted to the A team at a young age, so it was fun to see how different it was now.

Everything was normal…until Kika showed up..

She stood by the table with that awkward smile on her face–the one that made y/n want to kiss her right away– asking if she could sit with them because all the tables were occupied.

Y/n and Sydney nodded, of course.

But even as y/n smiled politely, putting her chair a bit to the left to give space to Kika, Y/N glanced around.

All the tables were full? The restaurant had barely opened. And it wasn't like Barcelona's restaurant would get a lot of people. Most of those who ate there were players and staff members.

But then, y/n, she saw it. Right by the corner of her eyes, trying not to get caught.

Ona, pushing a table three times her size back into the 'storage room', a small room hidden on the left side of the restaurant, near the bathrooms.

Sydney and Kika were engaged in a conversation that y/n didn't pay much attention to. She took a sip of her water, and then turned her head to the other side– her eyes widened when she saw it: Alexia and Esmee were moving chairs, putting them against a wall…?

This was getting out of control.

Did they think they were in a rom-com novel? Did they think it was funny? Cute?

"Oh, no!" Sidney said suddenly, eyes fixed behind Kika.

Y/N followed her gaze. Vicky was at another table, attempting (badly) to make hand signs. Vicky should just quit the whole hand gesturing thing and stick with talking.

Before Kika could turn around and catch her, Sydney stood up from her chair.

"Sorry guys,” she said quickly. “I-I have to go, hmm, dentist appointment."

Y/n looked at her deadpan.

"Dentist? We have training, team training in the afternoon."

Sydney shrugged. "I can't miss it…brace stuff," she pointed at her teeth.

Braceless teeth.

"You don't even have any braces on!" y/n said exasperatedly.

"I'm getting them today!" Sydney said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, bye you two. Have a good lunch.

Y/n and Kika were alone at the table.

Y/n was mad. She ate her fish, cutting it with more force than necessary. Kika was quiet, but she could feel her eyes on her.

She was nervous, y/n could tell.

"Uhm," Kika said finally, "they’re acting weird, right?"

Y/N blinked. "Huh?"

She pointed at Alexia's, Vicky's and Esmee's table. They all looked innocent now, eating and chatting. As if they hadn't moved actual furniture from the Barcelona restaurant just to play dolls with Y/n and Kika.

“It’s like they’re doing something behind my back,” Kika said. “And I don’t really know what it is.”

“Yeah,” Y/N muttered, “I feel that too.”

“Do you know what they’re doing?”

Y/N stared at her. At her warm brown eyes. At her shiny black hair that somehow always looked like it had just been washed. It always smelled good.

“I think I have an idea,” she said.

Y/n was halfway through taking off her shirt in the changing room when she caught sounds coming from the door. Some were giggles that she immediately recognised as Vicky and Sydney. Others were low grunts, annoyed, those came from Aitana and Marta.

Y/n knew exactly what it meant.

Her eyes flicked to the calendar stuck on Ona's cubby: Thursday.

The second Thursday of the month.

Merda.

She had to hide.

Quickly, Y/n slammed her cubby and slipped out the door toward the showers. She stepped inside and froze, barely daring to breathe, not moving a muscle as she tried to blend in.

Is that why hunted animals felt? It felt weird to have this much adrenaline on her body if she wasn't on the pitch.

Then, she heard.

Unmistakable.

"Nenaaa," Alexia called dramatically, dragging out the last syllable.

Y/n counted her breaths, the sound of her heart beating against her ribs louder than she wanted.

She felt like she had to pee. She always did when she was nervous. When she was a kid, she hated hide and seek because of that. She always had to leave her hiding spot to go to the bathroom.

She felt like a kid again.

But it wasn't her mom who was after her,

It was Alexia.

Alexia was much worse.

The shower door slammed open, and one by one, the curtains next to her were pulled back with an aggressive clang of metal.

Death was near.

It was coming for her.

Her stomach dropped, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst, and then, Alexia yanked open the curtain next to her, a mischievous grin across her face.

"Well, hello there."

Y/n screamed, making Alexia roll her eyes.

"Ay, dramática!" Alexia teased, but she was already reaching out to pull Y/n from the shower.

"Alexia! No," Y/n snapped, standing her ground. "I'm not going."

"Yes, you are," Alexia said firmly. "You've gotten away the last four times because you were–" she made quotation marks with her fingers, "--cramping."

"Not my fault you always pick the stupidest days when I actually am on my period!" Y/n shot back.

"You are going."

"No, I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm your captain, you need to do as I say!" Alexia insisted, voice sharp.

Y/n scoffed right in her face, stepping aside and turning around on Alexia. "Oh, please."

Alexia begged, hands raised as if she were ready to plead for something. "Just this once."

"No."

"Nena!"

"Alexia, I'm not playing fucking charades with the team."

"Why not?" Alexia asked, raising an eyebrow as Y/n pulled open the bathroom door.

"Because Kika will be there, and I still can't look her in the eyes without feeling like an idiot."

Y/n should have been smarter.

She should have seen the way Alexia's eyes widened the moment she said Kika's name. She should have known better than to mention something about someone in a bathroom connected to the locker room.

As the door swung open, there they all were…the whole team, including Kika. Kika looked red, shifting uncomfortably on her feet, while the rest of the players exchanged awkward looks.

They had just overheard Y/n saying she didn't want to join Barcelona's weekly team bonding because of Kika. Because she felt weird.

Great.

At least she hadn't said that looking at Kika made her feel stupid because of how pretty she was. That would have been way more embarrassing.

Y/n barely looked at anyone as she pushed past them, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face set in a scowl that said she just wanted to get out of there.

Alexia was right behind her.

"You're coming, right?" she asked in that annoying manner of hers, using her captain voice, as if Y/n couldn't say no even if she wanted to.

Alexia always got her way.

She always did that by being annoying…she annoyed people until they gave up. It worked for her with everything.

Y/n mumbled something in a low voice, it was more like a grumble.

"She's coming," Alexia called out loudly, grinning as the rest of the team nearby cheered. "Yay!"

Y/n rolled her eyes hard.

Idiotas, she thought.

"It's gonna be fun!" Vicky said happily, wrapping an arm around Esmee. "It's the last game night before the international break–we need to…bond!"

"Yes!" Pina chimed in. "Kika, Esmee, Ewa, Ingrid, Frido–they are leaving and we aren't going to see them for like, two weeks!"

"I wish I wasn't going to see you–" y/n looked straight to Alexia, Jana and Vicky, showing exactly who she meant by that. "--for the last two weeks."

"Ay, malhumorada!" [grumpy] Pina said teasingly. "I think I know what you need and that is se–"

Patri shut Pina up with her hand, giving her a warning glare.

"Creo que no quieres hacerla enojar más ahora, Pina" [I don't think you want to make her more mad now, Pina.]

"Por qué no? Me encanta cuando se enoja." [Why not? I like when she gets mad]

Pina dodged when Y/n threw a shin at her.

Everybody began to change into their clothes and engage in their own conversation.

Y/n reached for the door to leave, but then she suddenly felt someone close behind her. She stopped, tensing, then slowly turned around.

Kika.

Her cheeks still burned red, eyes cast down to the floor.

They hadn't spoken since the restaurant, and Y/n kept telling herself she would say something. But every time she saw Kika, she just turned around and walked the other way.

Right now, running wasn't an option for either of them.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said," Y/n blurted out quickly, the words spilling out faster than she could think them through.

"I didn't know you were in the changing room, and Alexia was annoying me, and when I get like that, I just start rambling and can't stop…and..."

Kika held up Y/n's shirt. Oh yeah. She had taken that off and left it on the bench while she was running away from Alexia.

Y/N looked down–yep. She was still standing there in just her sports bra. She wasn’t usually shy, but now it felt weirdly intimate, too exposed.

"It's cold," Kika murmured. "You should put it on."

For a moment, the noise of the locker room, the rest of the team, everything just faded away.

Y/n felt something shift inside her. It was like it was just her and Kika there.

She missed Kika. She wanted her friend back.

Y/n hated these stupid team bonding games, and she knew exactly why.

Alexia was the one responsible for deciding who did what in charades, and Alexia had a talent for making everything as awkward as possible.

First up were Vicky and Ona. Their word was something simple: car. They breezed through it without breaking a sweat. The team cheered as they guessed it on the first try.

Then came Sydney and Esmee, paired together. Their word was "football player." Easy, nothing to stress about. They literally just had to pretend to kick a ball around, and everyone laughed along, guessing right away.

But when it was Y/n and Kika's turn, because, of course, Alexia had paired them. The word Alexia handed over was written in bold letters on the paper: Girlfriends.

Y/n's eyes flickered nervously as she clutched the paper to her chest, shielding it from Kika's view. She looked at Alexia angrily, ignoring everyone around her.

Without thinking, she thrust the paper back towards Alexia.

"No," she said firmly.

Alexia's brow furrowed. "You can't refuse to play charades. It's the rule." She put the paper back into Y/n's hand.

"Fuck the rules," Y/n shot back, rolling her eyes hard.

Honestly, she had been doing a lot of eye-rolling that day. Maybe she was going to get a headache from all of that.

"Language," Alexia warned, frowning. She hated curse words. That's why Y/n used them so much.

"Look," Alexia continued, voice turning serious but still calm, "you either do the charades, or you don't play."

Y/n smiled brightly, like she had just found the solution to global warming.

"Perfect. Then I'm not playing."

"No!" everyone in the team said at the same time, even those who clearly weren't enjoying themselves, like Graham. Pina and Patri exchanged looks of disappointment, while others shook their heads in frustration.

Alexia sighed heavily, shooting Y/n a look of exasperation. "Can you please stop being so annoying and do one fucking charade? It's just a game."

"Change it," Y/n said, staring at Alexia. "Pick something else, anything else."

Then Salma, as a very good friend, interjected. "That's not fair," she said, arms crossed. "We didn't get to pick. We had to do whatever Alexia wrote for us."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Salma, you had to do a dog. You just barked, and they got it right."

"Still! It's not fair. We have rules for bonding nights."

"You don't get to pick and choose just because you live with Alexia!" Ona said. "This is… special treatment, it's against the law!"

"What law?" Y/n turned to Ona. "This is a charade game–for fun!"

"You don't look like you're having fun," Vicky mumbled.

Y/n held the bridge of her nose. "That's because I'm not!"

It wasn't possible that she was the only one seeing how ridiculous it all was–not just the charades, but the whole social experiment they were doing with her and Kika!

"What's even on the paper? It can't be that bad," Kika asked again. "Look. If it's like a chicken or something, I can do it. You don't need to."

Her tone was gentle, but even Y/n could see she was getting impatient.

The poor girl had been standing in the middle of Jana's living room for twenty minutes while Y/n argued with Alexia about doing a charade that Kika didn't even know about.

Y/n ignored Kika, turning her attention to the evil master behind it all.

"Alexia, if you don't change it, I'll just head home."

"Head home?" she heard Kika whine behind her, as if she were a kid. "But I wanna play charades! If you go, I won't have a pair!"

Y/n was seconds from losing it.

"Kika, not now," Y/n said, looking at Kika

"Just play the game," Aitana said, waving her hands. "Sí?"

"Just fucking do it," Vicky said as if she was bored out of her mind just waiting.

"Have you always been this fun?" Jana asked ironically.

"It's the last time we're going to see each other for a few weeks!" Even Ingrid chimed in. "Try, nena."

In seconds, the whole team erupted in a mess of words, telling Y/n that she should do whatever was written on the paper.

That she was annoying, that she wasn't fun, that she was ruining game night.

And then it all became too much.

She turned around, feeling her heart beat faster, but not for the reason she wanted–but from frustration, from anger.

For weeks, the team had treated her and Kika as if they were small avatars in a Sims game. Pushing and pulling them together. Putting them in awkward situations.

She had had enough of it.

If they wanted a reaction, they were going to get it.

She locked eyes with Kika, walking toward her with forced determination.

She held onto Kika's waist and pulled her close. The last thing Y/n saw before she closed her eyes was Kika's surprised ones.

In a second, the room that was so chaotic became silent. You could hear the sound of Jana's faucet leaking drops of water.

Y/n could feel Kika's heart beating against her own as she deepened the kiss, her hands pressing against Kika's skin.

It felt good. It was a very good kiss.

Somehow it felt familiar, like it wasn't the first time they were kissing.

Kissing.

She was kissing Kika. In front of everyone.

Merda.

It wasn't even a spontaneous kiss or a romantic one. It felt good–fuck it felt amazing–it made Y/n warm inside, but it was all performative.

It absolutely wasn't in the way Y/n wanted it to be. She didn't even ask if Kika was okay with it. Hadn't looked her in the eyes before going in, she just walked to her and did it.

Fuck it.

She broke the kiss, breathless. And she stared at Kika's brown eyes, her hands still on Kika's waist. Y/n didn't know what to do, didn't know how to move.

It was like they were bound by electrostatic energy, Y/n kept planted on her feet, Kika too.

There was silence, but then, Vicky decided to break it.

"Okay, let me guess…your charade was kiss?" She said awkwardly. Jana quickly smacked the back of her head.

Y/n looked at Kika one more time before taking a step back and turning to Alexia.

She threw the paper clutched in her fist in Alexia's direction, who, just like everybody else, looked absolutely stunned.

It was like they expected an elephant to just materialise in Jana's living room rather than having Y/n and Kika kiss. Honestly, Y/n felt the same.

She didn't imagine she would be kissing Kika when she woke.

Y/n expected a bit of teasing from the team; laughs, maybe. Instead, there was just silence. Complete and awkward silence.

Everybody was looking at the scene, some with their mouth agape, others with a hand in front of their mouth, in shock. Everybody was frozen too, as if they didn't want to move, or else the room would turn into a complete turmoil.

They knew this wasn't supposed to happen. They knew they pushed it too far.

Kika stood in the middle of the room, cheeks pink, lips parted slightly, watching Y/n. She didn't seem angry, nervous, or embarrassed, just very much surprised.

Y/n could help but notice how her own gloss was on Kika's lips.

She didn't like that, she wanted to wipe it away from her face. But she also wanted to put it back there.

The thought felt like a a slap, and suddenly, the realisation hit her. Her chest felt tight, like she couldn't breathe.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. This wasn't how she had imagined kissing Kika for the first time…not in front of everyone, not out of anger, not as some weird performance to prove a point to Alexia or to the team.

Kika deserved better than that. They deserved better than that, but Y/n didn't even know if there was a they to begin with.

Y/N cleared her throat.

"Here's your charade," she said slowly to Alexia, but her voice cracked, even though she tried very hard to be firm.

It was all her fault. Alexia had decided to care, and she didn't know the difference between doing that and intruding.

Did she think Y/n was so incapable of dealing with her own relationships? But even as the anger rose again, Y/n felt something else underneath, because now she had ruined whatever chance she might have had with Kika by turning their first kiss into a show.

Y/n looked down as she walked to the door, her hands shaking.

She could still taste Kika's lip balm, something sweet, maybe strawberry, and it made her stomach twist with guilt… and maybe longing? Y/n wondered if Kika felt the same about Y/n's gloss. Well, she didn't want to know the answer to that now.

But then Y/n remembered that Alexia wasn't the only one to blame in this situation, that every single one of her teammates was involved in this in some sort of way. They had all watched her struggle, watched her and Kika dance around each other for weeks, and instead of giving them space (like any good person would do), they had turned it into a game.

She stopped on her track and turned her head, eyes pointing at all of the girls, except Kika. She couldn't look at Kika again, not yet…maybe not ever.

"Stop hiding the fucking chairs from the restaurant, it's ridiculous."

Then, she held the doorknob and was out in the hallway outside of Jana's apartment. She knew that her last sentence was rather nonsensical now, but she didn't care.

Y/n heard Kika call her name, she sounded soft and confused...maybe a little hurt, too, but she didn't turn around. She pressed her back against the closed door for a moment, just to breathe, just to ground herself.

She squeezed her eyes shut. What the hell had she done?

Y/n had nothing to say now, not to herself or to others.

At least she couldn't form any thoughts in her head that didn't involve the way Kika's waist felt on her hands, how her palm still burned from touching her, or the little sound she had made when Y/n had deepened the kiss.

Y/n opened her eyes, taking one last breath before going to the elevator. She had a suitcase to pack and a flight to catch.

The next day, Y/n was getting her suitcase ready. She and Alexia were leaving for Ciudad del Fútbol in a few hours, their flight was scheduled soon, just a few hours away.

The other times Y/n was called up to camp, all she felt was excitement, happiness to have a change of scenery, to meet longtime friends who played out of the country, excitement for playing against other teams. But now the whole preparation felt mechanical, stiff, as if it were just another chore, just another responsibility she had to fill.

Olga was on the floor next to her side, folding a pile of clothes Y/n had just taken off the wardrobe, not caring to check if they were appropriate for the weather. Olga was doing it for her, though; she was used to it: making the suitcase of a grumpy footballer. Some would say it was her speciality.

Alexia was also in Y/n's room, a bit far to the left, digging through Y/n's drawer to get her sports gear together into her sports bag. She was being helpful, at least.

"So..." Alexia started, carefully, trying hard to keep her tone casual. It didn't work.

"No," Y/n interrupted without even looking at Alexia.

"But–"

"Alexia, cállate ya." [Alexia, shut up.] Olga gave her a look that shut her up right away.

Olga already knew about everything. Y/n had told her the night before.

From the team trying to set her up, to Alexia giving her a "girlfriend" charade on purpose, and how it had led Y/n to kiss Kika.

"Idiota," Y/n had mumbled the last night as Olga followed her to her room, noticing how stressed the girl was. "Your wife is an idiota! And I'm even more of an idiot than her!"

"What did Alexia do now?" Olga had asked, holding the bridge of her nose.

It all spilt out of Y/n. Olga didn't have to press forward; Y/n talked about everything willingly. She rambled, words came tumbling out of her mouth fast and without much logic.

She talked about how confusing it was to like someone. How hard the last month had been. How she missed Kika. How it hurt to see her and feel the awkward tension growing between them.

How the girls were acting weird around her, like she felt like she and Kika were just entertainment. How Alexia went from being completely emotionally reserved to a full-on matchmaker in the matter of a few weeks.

How this whole situation had grown out of control, and Y/n felt like it wasn't just hers anymore.

How messy it all was.

Olga just listened to her. She always did; she was a very good listener. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and hugged Y/n, grounding her, giving Y/n the comfort she needed so much.

"Es complicado ahora," [it's complicated now] she said softly. "But it won't always feel like that... It'll be better in the morning."

She pressed a kiss to the top of Y/n's head as the door cracked open.

"Nena... I'm sorry–"

Olga didn't let her finish.

"Go away, Alexia," she said. "Go take a shower."

Y/n didn't see Alexia's face; her head was buried in Olga's shoulder, but she could only picture the lost puppy face Alexia had on. For once, she felt grateful that someone was handling things for her, even if it was small. She was tired of having to deal with it all.

When Y/n was a kid, they had promised her that liking someone was like feeling the sun on your face on a winter's morning, but for Y/n, liking Kika was like carrying stones on her back. They were heavy, and always there.

a/n: heheh here's the kiss!! <3

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16, @wosohk04, @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog

#woso x reader #woso fanfic #woso community #woso appreciation #kika nazareth x yn #kika x reader #stuck with you

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lohotine · 3 days ago

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two time x reader smut PLEASE I LVE UR WRITING

Two Time x AFAB! Reader

Cw: NSFW, Friends w/ benefits, Two Time is a perv, post forsaken Au?, not at ALL proofread

In which you pleasure yourself with the water from your shower head, and your roommate offers to "help you out."

Your clothes were already thrown in the hamper, long since off your mind. Yet, you didn't exactly enter the bathroom for the sole purpose of cleanliness....

Embarrassingly enough, you've been feeling rather pent up lately... Oh well! Nothing that can't be solved.

You flicked through the different modes of the shower head, having a very particular one in mind. You grinned hazily at the thought...

Before you knew it, the head was already being pressed against your needy cunt, the constant stream of pressure sending waves of heat through your body.

God, this was exactly what you needed... You didn't even think much of the small moans that escaped your lips.

It wasn't like your roommate would be paying that much attention anyway, right? That weirdo was probably too busy praying to their god or something.

Whatever it was, it clearly didn't concern you.

Unfortunately for you, Two Time was much more observant than you originally gave them credit for.

They noticed the way your mind today constantly appeared to be... elsewhere.

And the way you'd rub your thighs together when you thought they weren't paying attention.

So of course, when you stumble your way into the bathroom, looking flushed, they simply must trail behind you.

They aren't stupid. It's quite obvious, at least to them, when you're feeling pent up. Your tells are just oh so obvious!

So, is it really a surprise when they press their ear to the bathroom door to try and hear something... anything at all from your end?

They're nearly drooling at the thought of you in there. How perhaps, you're using your fingers to get yourself off.

They can already imagine the image in their head; how your fingers pump in and out of you tirelessly, covered in your slick.

And you don't disappoint their expectations in the slightest, as they pick up your stiffled whines through the door and even through the running water.

Fuck.... your moans sound so heavenly. Two Time almost instantly begins to palm their quickly hardening dick that's already starting to tent in their pants.

Perhaps they should feel bad... jerking off to your moans as if you're some sort of porn video.

But they don't. They don't even feel the slightest bit guilty.

What they do feel, however, is a sense of... jealousy.

They're almost certain that they could make you feel so much better than whatever it is you're using in there.

Could make you scream so much louder.

Perhaps they could convince you. It's not like you're really thinking straight anyway right now.

And they do just that;

They could probably just slip into the bathroom quickly. Neither of you usually lock the doors anyway, since a shower curtain is in use.

Sometimes one of you goes through your nightly routine while the other showers, so it wouldn't seem too out of the ordinary..

The only warning you get is a knock and a quick "Hey, I forgot something in there," before they slide into the bathroom with you.

That shuts you up instantly, an almost shameful silence befalling you.

"Oh, uh... okay-" you mutter. Two Time does not miss the slight waver in your voice, a grin forming on their face.

When they enter the bathroom, the first thing they look for is the shadow of your figure through the curtain.

And they are, once again, not left disappointed when they see you leaned against the wall, with the shower head still between your legs.

It's perfect. You're even more desperate than they imagined.

But honestly, Two Time never really took you for the type...

They make sure to drink in every inch of your silhouette. Fuck.... the things they wish they could do to you....

Would you let them?

"You uh.... seem like you could use help..." Two Time admits, feeling only somewhat guilty for being so brazen.

A small whimper escapes your lips. "What are you talking about?"

You both know exactly what they're talking about.

"I can make you feel so good, if only you'd allow me to," they'd say, leaning against the wall expectantly.

And you want to say no; but you cannot deny how tempting it sounds to get dicked down by Two Time. Especially in your current state.

So, when the small words of agreement escape your lips, Two Time is already scrambling to remove all of their clothing and join you behind the shower curtains.

They snicker a bit, seeing your pathetic form.

"The shower head? Really?"

Your face flares up. Can't they just help you instead of mocking you like this? Like they said they would?

"Shut up-"

Two Time cuts your sentence short by pressing their mouth to yours. It's hot, desperate.

Two Time presses the head harder against your clit, and the constant pressure makes your mind numb.

"I can make you feel so much better," they mumble into your mouth. Their kisses slowly begin to get sloppier, and then they trail down your neck.

Two Time sucks the skin there, before nipping at your pulse point. You shudder at the sensation, and Two Time gazes at you with amusement.

It's the kind of gaze that makes you feel less like a person and more like a piece of meat.

"Sensitive spot, huh? I'll make sure to keep that in mind..."

They take the shower head from your already shaking hands and nudge their knee there instead. It's placed on the shelf nearby and quickly forgotten. Two Time's hand trails down your side, slowly, deliberately.

Then they grab your thigh and hitch your leg up around their hip.

"I must be in the Spawn's favor to be blessed by such a sight," Two Time would murmur, almost mindlessly.

Two of their lean fingers begin to prod at your exposed entrance, collecting slick on them.

Was it wrong to feel this turned on by your weird, cultist roommate who had the audacity to mention their god while preparing to fuck you against the shower wall?

Well, maybe only a little bit.

You gasp as the digits slide almost effortlessly into you. Two Time pays very close attention to how your pussy flutters around them and coats them with your juices.

Two Time can't help but wonder what it would taste like. What you would taste like.

The thought is so erotic, and Two Time quickly feels themself becoming more desperate by the second.

Their fingers work to stretch you out, slowly; so slowly it's almost painful. You heave erratically. They're so deliberate in it... suspiciously so.

As Two Time feels you clutch around their fingers, they can't stop their mind from wandering...

You already feel so good... how would you feel around them? What sounds would you make?

"Fuck... I cant hold myself back anymore..." they'd hiss under their breath, their fingers slipping out of you to instead, wrap around their length. "Please.... let me do this for you... please... let me make you feel good- I promise... I'll be good..."

They're begging for this. Less with the idea of pleasing you, and more with the idea of you. But they're begging nonetheless.

Two Time guides the head of their cock to prod at your entrance, already sliding the tip in without your permission.

Their face is hazy with pure, unadulterated lust. They're just as needy for this as you are.

You let out a choked moan as you feel them already entering you, and then nod your head quickly.

The room is spinning around you.

Gods, you wanted this. You wanted your perverted roommate to fuck you senseless- until the only sounds you could make were broken moans and the syllables of their name.

And as soon as they saw that nod, they shoved the rest of their twitching cock into you. A vulgar noise left you, one that could only be described as pure desperation.

You were already so sensitive from your earlier menstruations with the shower head, so you were practically putty in their hands.

But hell, Two Time couldn't have came to help you out at a better moment...

They slid in and out of you at a pace that had you basically drooling. The tip of their length came to kiss your cervix so perfectly, over and over and over again.

Two Time muffled your moans with their mouth, choking you out with their tongue.

"By the Spawn... you feel s'good... so perfect..."

Their thumb came down between you two, and it quickly started to rub circles around your nub.

You already felt so overstimulated... you couldn't even form words anymore- you could only moan like some pathetic bitch in heat.

And fuck, Two Time would be lying if they said they'd never imagined this before:

Fucking you, tasting you, hearing you.

Sometimes, they'd lay awake at night after fishing out one of your dirty panties from the hamper and jerk off to your scent. They'd pretend their hand was your cunt, and they would fuck into it desperately.

Now they were actually fucking you and it felt like heaven.

They were actually acting out their lewd fantasies with you-

You didn't last long at all. Not with how close you had already gotten yourself with the shower head; so Two Time was basically just fucking you through your high.

"P- lease..." you'd whimper, voice giving out.

Did you know what you were asking for?

Hell no!

But you needed something, anything... as long as it was something Two Time gave...

Your noises only helped to spur them on more.

Fuck... they were also close... They couldn't help it. You felt so so good. Better than their hand, at least.

Everything has long since become a hazy, hot blur to the both of you, the only noises being your moans and the wet noises of skin on skin.

"Hah.... maybe... next time, we can take this to the bedroom..."

Two Time whimpers as they feel themselves getting closer.

They wonder if maybe one day, they could convince you to let them cum in your mouth and force you to swallow all of it.

Or... maybe they'd just fill you up and watch it leak out of you...

...

Some other day, perhaps.

With one final thrust, they quickly pull out of your abused cunt and press their dick onto your stomach, releasing thick, hot spurts of their cum all over you.

It's a mind-numbing release for the both of you, and for a while, nobody says anything.

Their breaths are ragged and heavy as they admire their seed coating your belly. Two Time grins at your exhausted form and brings their lips close to your ear.

#what the fuck is wrong with me #two time x you #two time x reader smut #two time x reader forsaken #two time x reader #two time x y/n #forsaken x you #forsaken x reader #forsaken x reader smut

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origami-butterfly · 6 hours ago

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Reminder for pride month that queerness is not limited to whiteness and if you erase non white queers, when talking about the community, every queer person who isn't white gets to throw rocks at you and shoot you out of a cannon 💖

#my random stuff #queer #queer community #tag storytime for my mutuals:#so; my 6th form wanted to do some stuff for pride month #so one of the guys in our year (he's queer- idk if he's got specific labels and white btw) printed out some photos of queer celebrities #those celebs being- ellen degeneres; troy sivan; judge rinder; adam lambert; and Kristen stewart #which annoyed me on like. 3 counts #first or all. ellen???? so many lesbian celebrities out there and you pick ellen??#second of all. where are all the ICONS of the community. like not just celebs well known to queers; but the ones straights know as well??#freddie mercury??? bowie?? elton?? even like. chappell roan would work better than the ones he picked #and third (and most annoying)#WHY ARE THEY ALL WHITE BRO????#i asked him about this and he said “dunno. i don't know any black queer people”#do you realise how that sounds??? you're just making that statement with zero self reflection????#dude; our community would not fucking exist today without queers of colour !!!#also like. Freddie Mercury; possibly THE MOST OBVIOUS CHOICE isn't white !!#there's people like megan thee stallion; janelle monae; ncuti gatwa; demi lovato; cynthia erivo; tyler the creator THE LIST FUCKING GOES ON #even if you want to keep the list mainstream; there's still loads!! a bunch that i didn't even put in that last tag!!#so this evening i basically compiled a powerpoint of queer and non white celebrities (as well as some of the icons he had overlooked)#and sent it to our head of 6th form saying “it upset me that all the pictures from today were all white. here's some non white queer people”#hopefully I'll get to put the pictures up tomorrow #this post is brought to you by a half chinese queer person #and if you say anything nasty on this post i will throw rocks at you and launch you from a canon

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anon-sect · 2 days ago

Text

picture source: Instagram account @thesockroom

Oliver and Rick were at the machines enjoying themselves. They had decided to take a road trip to Las Vegas for the weekend for some fun. They had been best friends since their college years. Both were the best of gay friends. While at the machines, they happened to notice three jock-type pointing their directions and poking fun at them. After a while, it became too much to ignore.

"What's the deal with you three?" Oliver asked as both of them approached. He was getting annoyed with their antics.

"Ah, look guys, the two fags came over. You think they want something?" Brad quickly joked right in front of their faces to see their reaction.

"I think so if they came right over," Dan added. "You know fags can't resist us straight alphas. Maybe they should kiss our shoes or something." He laughed.

"We would be giving them a purpose that way." Pete timed in as well, making joke of them.

"You guys are just plain rude to someone you don't even know." Rick spoke up.

"We know enough. You both are fags and should be at our alpha feet." Dan remarked. He saw that his words touched a nerve. "Poor baby want to cry?" He laughed.

"Someone needs to put you three in your place." Oliver wasn't taking their remarks.

"It certainly won't be you two." Brad quickly chimed in. "I got to go to the restroom." He then looked at the two that came over. "Unless you two want to follow me to suck on something." He laughed and walked off.

Oliver saw his friends laughing even more. He took out his phone and opened up his TF Pro Max App. He swore he would never use it unless it was necessary. He thought this was the perfect opportunity. He input in one setting and pointed at Dan. He hit the flash option.

Pete watched as Dan was quickly replaced with a pair of white socks with grey-toed on the floor. He was about to say something before he saw a flash his direction. He found himself unable to move or speak. He felt a hand pick him up off the floor. He wanted to protest but had not the means to do so.

"Nice, a pair of straight alpha socks for our feet." Rick spoke, picking up the pair of white socks off the floor.

"It works since we didn't wear any socks today. Let's go try them on." Oliver said as he went to find a secluded place to put on their new socks. Rick followed beside him.

Dan was mortified to feel a pair of feet enter his now sock bodies. He could taste every part of his owner's feet. His sense of smell was so heightened. The smell of his owner's feet was intense. It got worse as the shoes came on. The odor from the shoes was insane. He couldn't move to escape or get away from it. He had no means to call for help. Being walked on brought on pain that he had never experienced before. It was tremendous pressure with each step. It was like being crushed by a huge truck over and over without death.

Pete found a similar experience as the foul odor from the used shoes made him want to gag if he had a mouth. The sweaty and salty taste of his owner's feet didn't help make the situation any better. He could hear the two of them commenting and laughing about how comfortable their new socks were. The fact that both had planned to keep them this way forever scared him. Two fags were wearing them on their feet and they were powerless to stop them. Their only hope was for Brad to do something about their fate.

Brad came back from the restroom to find his two friends missing. He walked around but didn't see them. He called their phones but only got voicemail. He began to wonder where they went. He then saw the two guys they had previously picked on. "Hey, have you two seen my two friends? I can't find them anywhere." He asked. He saw a smirk on one of their faces. They both took off one shoe.

"You looking at them," Oliver spoke. "I turned them into our socks. I have always wondered what wearing straight alpha socks would feel like." He presented the app on the phone showing the most recent transfomations.

At first, Brad didn't believe him. It was seeing the two pictures of his two friends in the app that convinced him. He was furious. "Change them back now." He demanded.

"Get down and kiss our fag shoes first," Rick said.

"No way I will submit to a fag." Brad refused.

"Okay, you know what to do, Oliver," Rick smirked. He watched as Rick Oliver deleted the revert data and showed it to Brad.

"Thanks for the permanent pair of straight alpha socks." Oliver paused. "Your three were so rude to us. My feet will be teaching them a lesson for a while." He added.

"If you don't like it, you can join them. I could use a pair of straight alpha slides to wear." Rick aded and laughed.

Brad looked on powerless to change his friend's fate. Two alpha jocks were now socks for two fags. The thought was so infuriating, yet he didn't want to end up the same way. He walked away disgusted with himself for being unable to change their fate.

Both Pete and Dan watched as Brad walked away, leaving them at the mercy of the two fags they picked on. They now wish they were nicer to them.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #tf story #permanent transformation #unwilling permanent transformation #sock transformation

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telamonisms · 2 days ago

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1x1x1x1 x reader..general fluff hcs.. I'm stavrign... reader can be a killr or a survivor any is fine.. there's not enough 1x content

✦I have to agree with you anon, there isn't nearly enough content of 1x, for this, reader is a Survivor.

✦GENERAL FLUFF HEADCANONS WITH 1X1X1X1✦

✦You were convinced that something had to be wrong with you to watch her slaughter all your team mates and still feel so curiously drawn to her that you didn't even try to run. 1x herself agrees.

✦But it was exactly this which had her feel curious about you in turn. He'd at first written it off as you being so terrified you'd ended up paralyzed by the fear. When you kept doing it though, he began to doubt.

✦"You. Why do you not run in terror at the sight of me, weak one?" Had been the words which started it all. Their downfall if you may.

✦When you explained that you were curious about them, they didn't exactly know how to react or process it and just killed you. Oh well there's always next time!

✦Said next time you had a far better luck, able to strike up a somewhat calm conversation with him, asking questions that he'd in turn answer.

✦Until you asked why she seemed to be so against Shedletsky. The Mass Infection that ended you was, at least, mercifully quick.

✦Time to retry! You apologized in case you'd hit a sore spot and she went off. You hadn't expected a trauma dump from the 1x1x1x1 but you kept quiet and listened, thinking through it all about how despite the anger in their words and voice, you could feel how much they needed to let it all out.

✦By the time she was done, the round came to an end, needless to say, now you were pissed with Shedletsky and the next time you encountered 1x in a round you spent your time shit talking him.

✦Something bloomed within 1x's chest that day and from then on he seemed to be far more merciful to you, either avoiding you until you were the last one standing, or straight up fully sparing your life and instead talking more with you.

✦While at it, you also noticed how he seemed to look more towards getting to have conversations with you.

✦One day you asked her why. Why was it that she spared you so, that she seemed to enjoy your talks, that she, when not sparing you, made sure that your death was quick and painless. You told her that it almost seemed like she didn't hate you.

✦"I don't." Came out her answer and you were confused, but isn't she the Creation of Hatred? Shedletsky's hate personified?

✦He explained that "personified" is the keyword, hate is not all he feels, not all he is. Much like with Chance's dog motifs, I could go on a deep dive about how 1x doesn't just feel hate, but for the sake of the headcanons staying on topic, I'll only do so on a separate post if anyone wishes me to.

✦Ever since then, you two have grown closer and closer. You hesitate to put a name to what you two have, but you do kmow that you enjoy eachother's company and care for and cherish one another.

✦Maybe, just maybe, if you all manage to make it out of this realm, there wouldn't be any reason to not keep seeing eachother, spending time with eachother, no longer limited by an artificial timer marking the end of a round, perhaps you two would spend hours or even days in eachother's company.

✦I thank you for this lovely request and I do hope it is a good read. 1x1x1x1 alongside Chance are two of the characters I feel the strongest about. Especially with how much mischaracterization they both get put through and how much of their nuance people take away from.

#Writings of the Fanatic #forsaken x reader #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken #x reader #forsaken #forsaken headcanons #forsaken x reader headcanons #x reader headcanons #1x1x1x1 forsaken #forsaken 1x1x1x1 #1x1x1x1 x reader #headcanons

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ovrgrwnivy · 2 days ago

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reader craves jj and is a virgin, you make up the rest 🥹

dirty little secret ! jj maybank x reader

synopsis; liquid courage, more commonly known as gin, gives you the confidence to finally approach the infamous jj maybank.

warnings; jj maybank x virgin!cameron!reader, innocence kink, loss of virginity, sexual content, jj having a filthy mouth, i may have gotten carried away.., under the cut.

the night air whips around you, making you wrap your flimsy cardigan around your body. the bonfire does very little to keep you warm, and you haven't drank enough for the alcohol to start warming you up.

you can't remember the last party you had attended at the boneyard, your sister, sarah, was a frequent flier, your brother rafe was a law onto himself.

but still, regardless of the cold, you're having fun. not as much fun as the rowdy pouges in your peripheral vision, despite how much you wanted to join in. kooks and pouges didn't mix, it was the law of the land and you knew better than to go against it. that and your father would probably keel over if you started running around the island with people your family couldn't stand.

it wasn’t easy, especially when you kept making eye contact with a certain blonde every time you looked in the groups direction.

the more you drank, the more you found yourself staring, and after a particularly strong drink you had somehow drifted closer to the pouges.

“sarah’s sister, right?” john b asks, recognising you from his work on your dads boat.

all you can give in response is a nod, afraid you’d say something ridiculous given your current state. besides, with jj maybank eyeing you up from behind john b it was hard to think straight.

barely five minutes of small talk has passed by the time an equally inebriated jj is getting handsy. placing a hand on your waist whenever he passed by you, lingering close by whenever another guy joined the group, and eventually he was pressed against the back of you, his hands on your hips as he stared down the guy who’d approached you with a drink.

it’s a blur to you, how you went from standing in the boneyard to leaning back against the twinkie, john b’s affectionately name rust bucket, with jj standing in front of you, that damned smirk on his face.

“you’re trouble,” you laugh, rolling your eyes at a particularly racy comment he’d made.

“oh, my bad princess,” jj taunted, an arm extending to plant a hand beside your head “i forgot you’re too good for a pouge, too used to getting fucked by kooks.”

“oh, of course. because rafe definitely lets anyone close enough for me to sleep around.”

you don’t miss how his jaw tightens at the mention of your brother, or how he’s gotten a lot closer in the last few seconds.

neither of you speak a word, the tension between you sitting heavy on both your chests. you move first, fingers grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him into you.

the kiss was messy, your hands in his hair as his roamed your body, roughly tugging your cardigan off your shoulders.

“gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” jj mumbles into your ear as his nips along your neck “let a dirty pouge destroy the pretty princess?”

your head falls back against the van with a mewl, you can’t even form anything other than a babble as you nod quickly “i haven’t — i’ve never..”

“i know, baby.” jj cuts you off, sparing you the awkwardness of trying to explain you were still a virgin “and if you wanna stop, i’ll stop”

part of you was surprised that even though you were both drunk, and supposed to be sworn enemies, he was putting your comfort above everything.

that and it was extremely hot.

you respond by dragging him into you again, your lips meeting in another messy, desperate kiss as jj fumbled with the hem of your skirt.

slowly he drags his fingers along your abdomen before dipping them into your underwear, slowly drawing circles along your clit.

“jj!” your whine prompts him to quicken his work, his middle and ring finger dipping inside as his thumb pushed hard, fast circles into your most sensitive spot.

“you like that, princess?” jj’s voice is gentle, a stark contrast from his hand tightening that unfamiliar knot in your stomach, his other reaching to undo his jeans.

wordlessly, his free hand reaches down to cup your ass, easily lifting you from your spot on the ground. he keeps you pressed against the van, your legs wrapping around his waist as your hands grip his biceps.

the whole scenario was a mess, making out sloppily as you both tried tugging at each others clothes in an effort to get what you really wanted.

between laboured breaths and quiet moans, your skirt had been pulled up and out of your way, bunched up at your hips as jj pulled your underwear to the side and lined himself up.

slowly, he pushed himself inside, his head falling back with a groan when he was fully buried inside you. he stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust as his mouth captured yours once again.

the gentleness is short lived, as soon as your winces and hisses turn into moans and screams of his name he’s slamming into you, one hand placed on your neck to pin you against the cold metal as the other gripped your ass hard.

“wonder what brother dearest would say about this,” jj laughed harshly, pistoning into you harder and deeper with every moan “what do you think, baby? think your big, bad brother would be happy to know his baby sister is taking my cock like such a good girl? think those stuck up kooks would be impressed if they heard you let a filthy pouge fuck you, huh? or if they knew you screamed my name as i fucking destroyed this perfect pussy, let alone took your virginity.”

the absolute filth was enough to snap the band in your stomach, making you scream out as you tightened around him. but jj wasn’t done just yet, not only was he chasing his own high, he was making sure nobody else would make you feel the way he was right now.

“that’s it, pretty girl.” he groaned, the hand around your neck dropping to play with your clit “you look so pretty making such a mess on my cock, fuck. you did so good, angel.”

your eyes are rolling back, overstimulation tracking tears down your cheeks and sending jolts through your body as he continued fucking into you relentlessly.

“driving me fucking crazy, knowing i’m the only one that ever fucked you, knowing nobody but me had you screaming, making a mess all over my cock.”

with a final thrust, jj buries himself inside you. his head buried in the crook of your neck as the noise of you both falling apart is masked by the party raging on only a couple feet away.

it takes a minute for you both to get back to reality, and when you do jj is already wiping the tears from your face.

“y’okay?” his laboured breath and tired voice sending goosebumps through your entire body.

you nod, too fucked out to even speak right now. your head is tilted back against the van, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you attempt to unscramble your brain.

a gentle whine escapes you when jj pulls out, carefully placing you on your feet and sliding open the back door of the twinkie for you to sit down.

“gotta get cleaned up,” you mumble, the wetness collecting in your underwear making you reluctant to sitting down just yet.

jj chuckled as he redid his jeans, his head shaking as he found the whole ordeal, or more so your cluelessness, pretty amusing “don’t think you’ll find a shower out here, princess. looks like you’ll have to spend the rest of tonight with a little me in you.”

your face heats up as you straighten yourself up, collecting your cardigan from the floor “how nice of you.”

“between the great dick and this, you can’t say i never gave you nothin’.”

you laugh at the joke, hearing footsteps approaching the van and catching a glimpse of kiara heading your way.

“i’m sorry, i better..” you trail off, gesturing towards the party. you weren’t embarrassed about what happened, but at the same time your little encounter with jj would be enough to start a civil war.

jj shakes his head, giving you a knowing look “i get it, it’s cool. and i won’t tell anyone.”

you offer him a soft smile, a wordless thanks and an agreement to do the same before heading back towards the boneyard in a way that would keep you from running into kiara.

“hey, angel!” jj calls out, making you stop and look back “we should do this again sometime.”

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evieolo · 1 day ago

Text

Dear the Love of My Life // C. Sturniolo

Dear the love of my life,

Chris scribbled onto parchment for the twentieth time. He stared daggers into the ink until the ‘o’s blurred into ‘u’s. He stared until he deemed his handwriting illegible and the title cringy. It was cringy. For you. You deserved cringy, you loved that shit. Love in letters, stolen kisses, unfunny jokes.

Rip.

His hands yanked the paper apart because it wasn’t good enough. Nothing was good enough for you. Maybe nothing ever would be.

Dear the love of my life,

He scribbled onto the paper again.

Pull the words from your chest, Chris. Just say how you feel. Tell her she’s everything you ever wanted.

Baby

He scribbled the pathetic word out.

I love you.

He inked a line through the words.

Maybe it was a case of right person, wrong time? Maybe he should’ve spoken more gently. Maybe he should’ve been a better man—a different man.

Maybe the letter was a form of self-sabotage because he’d seen you with another man and needed to hear rejection straight from your lips to know it was real. It didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real without you.

So instead, he ripped that paper up. And instead, he snapped the pen in half.

Ink splattered on the parchment, but maybe it was better that way. Maybe he shouldn’t have referred to the girl of his dreams as the love of his life, because she didn't want him. You didn’t want him.

And he would want you forever.

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo

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oliversrarebooks · 1 day ago

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The Rare Bookseller Part 100: Fitzwilliam's Smile

Previous > Masterlist

tw: mind control, aftermath of abuse

December 1905

Fitzwilliam pulled himself out of sleep slowly. He was in a very soft bed, warm underneath a mountain of blankets. He felt comfortable and well-rested and the ever-present complaint of his stomach was gone, which all meant that this must be a dream, one of those dreams he wasn't allowed to have.

That didn't mean he was eager to leave the dream, though. Out there, there was only cold and pain and punishment. In here, there was a soft glow of warmth, a shadow almost like happiness, even if it was all imaginary. He ached with want.

His desires couldn't stand up to his fear and conditioning, though, dragging him back to wakefulness, blaring an alarm that he must already be late. He didn't even know how his body always knew what time it was -- it was something the Maestro had drilled into him over many excruciating lessons. He knew he was late, and he'd had forbidden thoughts, and that meant…

A quiet noise from the bed brought him back to his senses. There was someone else in the bed with him -- Mr. Alexander, his master now.

The memories came flooding back to him: hot soup and fresh bread, salve for his wounds, a gentle voice and tender treatment. His master was kind, almost impossibly so, straight out of one of his illicit daydreams of being cared for.

But why? He was a loathsome creature -- his former master had been very insistent on that point. He was no one and nothing, and there was no reason for anyone to lavish care and affection on him. He should consider himself fortunate to receive food, water, and a roof over his head.

So, why…?

His master had allowed Fitzwilliam into his bed, and he was sleeping there so peacefully. He had told Fitzwilliam that his kind treatment wasn't a test or a setup for a punishment, and Fitzwilliam longed to believe him. Perhaps, if his master was still asleep, it would be acceptable for him to sleep in just a little longer?

No, he knew he shouldn't take advantage of this goodwill. He had slept in late, and then lagged in bed thinking about his situation, and that could strain his new master's patience. The main problem now was that he wasn't sure what he was meant to be doing upon waking. The Maestro had prescribed him tasks to do each day -- tasks that changed constantly, with rules that he didn't fully understand, and he'd earn a beating more often than not -- but still, there were tasks for him to do. Mr. Alexander hadn't told him to do anything at all.

But as he tried to rise from the bed, his master stirred, and strong arms grasped Fitzwilliam, tightening protectively. There was no chance he'd be leaving. A cold cheek nuzzled against the side of Fitzwilliam's face and down to his neck. "Fitz," his master mumbled, half asleep. "Stay."

His master always called him by a familiar nickname, and it sounded so good in his deep voice, a much better person to be than the Fitzwilliam whose name was announced in clipped yet musical tones. And he could feel the desire practically radiating from his master as he buried his face in Fitzwilliam's neck.

Fitzwilliam wanted to please him so, so badly, in a much different sort of way than he'd wanted to please the Maestro -- not to avoid punishment, and not only to receive rewards, but because some deeper part of him wanted to be pleasing. To be wanted, as if it would earn him better treatment. The cold breaths against Fitzwilliam's neck reminded him of one way he could surely be pleasing to his master.

"Do you want to drink, sir?"

"Mmm, yes…" his voice rumbled. "It's been so long…"

Fitzwilliam braced himself for the pain of the bite, hoping that his new master would be more gentle than the old in this way as well, but after a few moments, he realized it wasn't coming. His master was lying curled up against Fitzwilliam, eyes closed shut, asleep all this time and dreaming. Frustrated, Fitzwilliam lay there, torn between the mesmerism insisting that he needed to wake and train and serve, and the trap of his master's arms lulling him back down into blissful sleep.

"Fitz?" His master's eyes opened. "Are you all right?"

He'd done it now, woken his master early. "Yes, sir, I'm all right."

"You don't seem all right."

"I didn't mean to wake you, sir," Fitzwilliam said. "It's past the time when my former master would want me to wake and prepare myself for training, and I can't help but wonder what you'd like me to be doing."

Mr. Alexander's arms pulled Fitzwilliam against his chest. "Nothing, there's nothing you need to be doing," he said. "I want you to stay here and warm my bed, and I want you to sleep."

"Yes, sir," he said, feeling far too on edge to go back to sleep regardless of what his master wanted.

"Go back to sleep," sang the mesmerizing voice in his ear, and the lullaby made his eyelids droop irresistibly. "Nothing but the sweetest of dreams. Sleep, Fitz."

Fitzwilliam wanted to reply, but he couldn't even manage to mumble a "yes, sir," as he sank down into the warm and comfortable embrace of sleep. His master's song had no words, yet it made him think of warm summer days and nights by a fire, of grand feasts and soothing baths, of all the comforts he secretly yearned for. If sleep could always be like this, Fitzwilliam would just as soon remain asleep and never again haunt the waking world.

The next time he awoke, his master's hand was running through his hair. "Did I wake you?"

"I don't mind, sir," he said. It was a wonder that the waking world could be almost comfortable as his dream. Maybe he hadn't woken after all.

"Would you like breakfast?"

His first instinct was to say no. There was always such a limited amount of food in his former master's manor, shared among a small army of ghostlike thralls. Fitz had been so sated the night before that he could easily miss breakfast. But Mr. Alexander seemed to delight in bringing Fitzwilliam food and watching him eat, so maybe it would be fine to have breakfast, at least this time. "Yes, sir, if there's food to spare."

"Of course there is. And if we run low, I'll procure more," said Mr. Alexander, sitting up and stretching. "All the food here is for you. The bread from last night should still be acceptable, and there's eggs, jam, honey, cheese… you'd enjoy an omelette, wouldn't you?"

Fitzwilliam's stomach growled at the thought. Truthfully, he didn't know if he would enjoy an omelette, as he had no memories of ever eating one. "I'll eat whatever's convenient, sir."

Mr. Alexander cupped Fitzwilliam's face in his hand tenderly. "There won't be any consequences to eating what you want. Nothing here is a test or a trap. Do you understand?"

Unfortunately, this was one of the situations where the honest answer was the one more likely to get him in trouble, but one of the first lessons he'd learned was to never lie to vampires. "No, sir," he said, flinching instinctively. Why would his master provide so much for him without a reason? He'd said the night before that he wasn't testing Fitzwilliam, but that could easily be part of the test.

Mr. Alexander pulled him closer, gathering Fitzwilliam against his chest, and even though the vampire held little warmth, it was still comforting, tender. "I was in your shoes once," he said. "It took me a long time to accept that I deserved anything, could have anything for my own. I still don't always believe it."

"You were in my shoes, sir?"

"I am nothing like my sire, your former master," said Mr. Alexander fiercely. "I will not treat you as he did. I will provide for you anything you want, as long as you stay with me, and I will not harm or punish you."

"Thank you, sir," said Fitzwilliam, wanting to sound grateful, even though it was so hard to believe his new master. He was a vampire, and Fitzwilliam was a loathsome thing, and Mr. Alexander was far too good to be true.

"It's hard to believe, I know. I wouldn't have believed it either, when I was in your place. I'll just have to care for you until you can believe." Mr. Alexander kissed Fitzwilliam's forehead tenderly. "Now, if you're willing to rise from bed, we can see about that breakfast."

Fitzwilliam sat up and pulled back the covers, remembering that he was still only in a few undergarments, thanks to his master's thorough inspection of his injuries. More of Fitzwilliam was covered in bandages than in clothes. Mr. Alexander rummaged through an over-packed dresser, producing a deep red dressing gown that he handed to Fitzwilliam.

For someone who had spent the last months wearing nothing but scratchy, uncomfortable uniforms, the soft dressing gown felt heavenly next to Fitzwilliam's skin. The moment he had donned it, Mr. Alexander scooped him up and carried him out of the room, preventing Fitzwilliam from making the bed as he'd been trained -- it was his master's bed, anyway, and perhaps there were different rules for that.

Fitzwilliam was whisked to the kitchen, where Mr. Alexander wasted no time pulling out bountiful ingredients and cutting a pat of butter to sizzle in the pan, making the room smell delicious. "I'm not much for cooking, so if you want fancier fare, you may have to learn to make it yourself," said Mr. Alexander. "But I can manage eggs, at least."

The voice in Fitzwilliam's head nagging him about food rationing and training and allowing a vampire to serve him was soon quieted by a plateful of food, a golden omelette with cheese and pieces of bacon served alongside buttered toast. Mr. Alexander made more servings as Fitzwilliam uncontrollably gobbled it down. He was eating like a king. Mr. Alexander's kind words couldn't stop him from being nervous about the consequences of accepting this hospitality, but his half-starved body compelled him to devour everything put before him.

"I'll draw some warm water for a bath, if you'd like to wash," said Mr. Alexander, gazing at Fitzwilliam eating with a soft smile on his face.

"You don't need to draw water for my bath, sir," said Fitzwilliam, alarmed. "I haven't forgotten my place. I should be serving you, sir."

"You are serving me, by allowing me to do this for you."

Fitzwilliam wasn't sure how to respond to that, and he certainly didn't want to argue with his overly kind master, so all he could do was nod meekly and accept the vampire's generosity. Soon, he was soaking up to his ears in a hot bath filled with floral-scented soap, the knots in his muscles unwinding.

He certainly hadn't expected privacy, but he was still surprised by Mr. Alexander's intimacy, the way he insisted on scrubbing Fitzwilliam until he practically gleamed. Was there truly no price to pay for this? He certainly didn't deserve such care.

"You don't remember what you are to me," Mr. Alexander murmured as he ran a cloth down Fitz's back.

It seemed like it must be a trick question. "I'm your thrall, sir, aren't I?"

His master's laugh was pained. "Yes, and far more than that. But I'm sure you'll remember in time."

"Yes, sir," he said, racking his brain. What could his master be talking about? What else could he be, apart from a loyal thrall, a tireless servant, a source of blood? The way Mr. Alexander looked at him made him feel excited and uncomfortable all at once.

"You needn't worry about it so much," said Mr. Alexander. "You should try to relax, and take your joy when you can. These pleasant memories may need to sustain us both."

Ominous, yet sound advice. Fitzwilliam could only wish he were capable of simply enjoying this situation. But the memories of torture were too fresh, the fear of punishment too strong.

As if on cue, his master began to sing. It was a soft and quiet song, not nearly as forceful as the one he'd employed the night before, but it still wormed its way into Fitzwilliam's mind, soothing him, making his spirals of anxiety evaporate into nothing. As Fitzwilliam sank into a mesmerized daze, he allowed Mr. Alexander to lift him from the bathtub, wrapping him in warm clean towels. A simple dress with a bold floral pattern was pulled over his head, and Fitzwilliam was delighted to realize that it didn't scratch or chafe.

"We're going to pay a visit to Lily tonight," Mr. Alexander explained. "She can root some of my sire's foul ideas from your head. You'll feel much better once you've seen her, I'm sure."

"Thank you, sir," said Fitzwilliam, hoping that Miss Lily would be as kind and gentle as his master was.

Fitzwilliam was kitted out in a gorgeous wool coat and cheerful red scarf, topped with matching hat and mittens. He was given fine leather boots to slip over his thick stockings. He couldn't remember ever having worn clothes like this, since his former master never allowed him to leave the manor, and although the inside of the manor was usually too cold, he had no choice but to wear the same scratchy uniform each day. Once he was sufficiently bundled up, Mr. Alexander showed him out of the front door.

The city was sparkling in the bright moonlight, the gaslights illuminating fresh snowbanks. There were few people on the streets at this time of night, but there were still candles and lamps in many a window, and the occasional drunken chatter coming from bars and other late night haunts. Fitzwilliam hadn't had the opportunity to truly appreciate and observe the night when he'd been released from the Maestro's manor the night before. He found himself drinking in the crisp air, filthy with soot but still different from the dust of a vampire's manor, savoring the feeling of wind on his face. Walking the streets of the city late at night felt so familiar. It felt like freedom.

He wasn't exactly free, though, because Mr. Alexander was wrapping their arms together and pulling him close. Fitzwilliam didn't resist this treatment, both because he didn't know where he was going and because he wanted to please his master.

"Ah, there's that handsome smile," he said.

"Oh…" Fitzwilliam hadn't realized he was smiling, and didn't know what to say back. The easy compliment made him long for his master to keep showering him in praise, even if the compliments stung and burned as he tried to reject them. "I'm glad I can be pleasing, sir."

Mr. Alexander seemed disappointed by this, and Fitzwilliam knew he had said something wrong, even if he had no idea what he was meant to say instead.

Previous > Masterlist

Well, I've reached one hundred chapters of The Rare Bookseller! Thank you so much to everyone who has read this far, and especially to those who have reblogged, left me comments, sent me asks, or made fan things!

This is the longest I've ever stuck with a personal creative project and I definitely owe a lot of that to the wonderful reception I've gotten. Bookseller has been a labor of love containing many of my favorite ideas and tropes, and while I write it to my own tastes, it makes me very happy that it resonates with others.

It's not always easy for me to post a new chapter of Bookseller each week in a timely fashion. I work a stressful full-time job, and many times after work or on weekends, all I want to do is vegetate and mindlessly scroll and watch trash on Youtube. So it means a lot to me that I was able to accomplish this milestone anyway.

There won't be a two hundredth chapter, thankfully -- the story is outlined through the ending, and we're reaching the home stretch and the final arc. I hope to continue adding more side stories like the current choose-your-own-adventure, and also responding to the many asks that sit in my inbox waiting for me to write a snippet or two (it's currently up to ~130...)

Once Bookseller is complete I have quite a few more things set in the world that I'd like to tackle, including what will possibly be another book-length work set in the same world but primarily concerning the faefolk. I also have plenty of other germs of stories waiting to be told. I'm not sure if anything I write will be quite as special to me as Bookseller, but every time I think that about something I write, something else seems to come along. But until then, I'll have to keep my head full of vampires.

Thanks again for reading!

Next week, Fitzwilliam meets Miss Lily (again).

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @light-me-on-pyre @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

#whump #whump writing #mind control #vampires #rare bookseller #fitz #alexander

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 2 days ago

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Skeletons oldest child dislikes their new sibling. Like S/O and skeleton brought home their second baby child but their oldest child seems to dislike the new sibling. How would the skellies react to this?

Undertale Sans - He's not that worried. You want to hear a story? He was mad the day his dad came home with Papyrus because he felt things would change forever, and added to that, he was a loud baby and wouldn't stop crying. And things did change, indeed, but eventually, Sans noticed his brother was looking out for him and he felt like he had to be responsible for the two of them. He knows it doesn't look like things will ever be right, but he promises that you'll change your mind soon. He validates his child's feelings, but the baby is here now, and that's not going to change. He's here if you want to talk, though.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus understands. That's a big change in their life! He hates changes, too, but sometimes, changes happen even when you don't want them to happen. Papyrus calmly explains his child that it will change as they learn more about them. The baby is a stranger right now, but they're really going to be your sibling as they grow, and they need you by their side to be happy. Can you try this for him?

Underswap Sans - Man, that wasn't part of the plan. What do you even want him to do about it? He thought his elder was happy about it, but why are they not now? He's confused, and tired, and it seems he can't ever understand how children work. He goes straight to his S/O so they helped him to help them, because he is just lost about what to do.

Underswap Papyrus - Honey is very observant, and quickly reassures his child that it's not because they have a sibling now that he doesn't like them less than before. He understands that they're scared and that it seems he gives more attention to the baby than to them, but he reminds his child that if they need anything or misses him, they can just walk in the room and asks him. He'll make sure to spend some alone time with his older kid to be sure they don't feel abandoned. He's also nervous, as that feeling of abandonment never really left him as a kid and he's terrified his kid might turn on him or think he doesn't care anymore.

Underfell Sans - It's so damn familiar it hurts. Red was a jerk to Edge for a good part of his childhood, which explains why Edge was such a difficult teenager. Red was happy with the baby, but now he's full of insecurities again, and unsure if he somehow did something wrong and accidentally repeated the same mistakes. He really wants to do better, but he's not sure how. After beating himself up for like an entire week and studying all the ways to avoid this conversation, he goes to talk about it to his S/O and ask for help. You're quite shocked he's coming to see you willingly, you are speechless. He's just worried.

Underfell Papyrus - Like Red, he's super stressed. Unlike Red, he keeps everything to himself like the stubborn idiot he is and distances himself from his family by fear he's impacting them all negatively. Maybe he wasn't suited to be a father after all, and what if it was all a big mistake? What if you hate him now because it seems like he's not caring? He's so lost and worried, his masks breaks and you find him one night curled up in bed looking like he didn't sleep for two weeks. He kinda throws all of his insecurities at your face out of nowhere. Please... Help him. He never had a father, he's not sure what he's even supposed to do...

Horrortale Sans - He noticed, but he doesn't act differently. What his kid needs is to adapt to a new routine now that the baby is here and find their place in their family. Oak tries to help them the best he can by including them in everything they're doing and consulting them on small choices so they don't feel like all the attention is redirected on the baby. Oak wants his kid to know he loves them the same as their sibling and that it's ok if they're a bit scared at the moment. He is too, you know. Besides, if you need to talk, you can still come to him or Uncle Willow for advice. It doesn't change.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow is already stressed as hell because he doesn't want to hurt the baby; he really doesn't need a second crisis to deal with. He's overwhelmed, he's scared to mess up with both his children, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do to make his older child feel better. So... Uh... He goes to ask for help from Toriel. She had two kids, she knows better how to deal with this than he is, right? He's just so lost about what to do. He doesn't want to mess up, please. Toriel finds the right words to comfort him and assures him it's a normal step and that it will pass. He just needs to make his child comfortable and spend time with them to show them they have nothing to fear. He tries his best to make things better.

Swapfell Sans - Nox is struggling. He's the type of skeleton who needs to focus on one thing to do the thing right. Now that he has two children, he's kinda panicking because all the routine he built with his first child had been thrown by the window. He's not sure how to deal with his first one's jealousy, and despite trying to spend time with both of them equally, it seems it have no effect. He's confused and unsure what he's doing wrong, and it's stressing him out since he has in mind really well what happened with his brother. Part of him abandoning his brother is also the result of how overwhelmed he was at that time, so he's scared he might do the same mistake. He is too ashamed to ask help from his S/O so... He asks his therapist, because they seem to know everything about his life, so... Find a magical solution to this? He's upset when she tells him to listen to himself and trusts how different now is from the past. It feels like it doesn't help at all, but he can try, he guesses.

Swapfell Papyrus - Well that's ironic, uh? His brother felt the same about him when he was little, so... Rus is a little anxious. He doesn't want his bitterness to rub off on his child. He tries to act a little more positive so his child doesn't feel left out, while still being here for his S/O because taking care of a baby is far from easy. Purely out of spite, he sends his kid to ask what Uncle Nox feels about that, just so Nox gets the message and starts acting more positively, too, because he doesn't see why he should be the only one to struggle with this. If it's his problem, it's because it's his brother's problem first. Deal with it.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Grow up already. The baby is here, that's final, deal with it and get over it already. Wine is annoyed his first child is being difficult about this. He doesn't understand either. Since he's little, he's all over his little brother. He doesn't understand why his child is suddenly rejecting their sibling like that. They never lack anything, unlike him, and they don't have to live in the wild with the threat of being killed any second of your life, so why are you even complaining? S/O tries to explain to him that each child is different and that he's clearly projecting too much on his child, but Wine is stubborn and refuses to hear it. He just needs some time. The baby is taking a lot of his time right now, but once he finds a new routine, he'll actually start to find solutions for this.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's big, overwhelmed and has no idea how to fix it. He thought his kid would just be happy to have a sibling because that's how Wine reacted his entire childhood? He never thought even once that something like this could happen. He tries to understand and be more present for his older child, but by doing that he also feels like he's not taking care of the baby enough, and he doesn't want to make his S/O upset. He's struggling to please everyone, but by doing so, he eventually gets so anxious that he struggles to do anything. He just needs a little time to adjust and try a few things to see what's working or not. He'll figure it out, but please, be patient. He's trying his best.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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neon-kazoo · 2 days ago

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Hiiii!!!!

Could you maybe do a (f) hero x (m) supervillain??

Maybe some forced marriage tropee?? If ur ok with that but anything else is fineee<33

Lover ur writing, thank you for reading thiss :)

(also it's fine if you can't! No pressure 🙃)

Ok so I actually wrote like double this but it was getting too long and taking forever so I just decided to cut it, but if anyone wants more lemme know cause it’s basically already written.

Enjoy!

Bloodstained Ivory

Hero didn’t used to think she would ever get married. It's not that she never tried—she did. It's just that it never seemed to work out. Every summer she walked into singing Single Ladies by Beyoncé marked another year that passed without finding 'the one.' It didn't bother her, not really. She was content, although quite possibly doomed to remain single for the rest of her days. Maybe she could blame it on the lifestyle—long unpredictable hours, heroic priorities that left personal relationships feeling lacking—but she knew it was something deeper.

Growing up, she had never dreamed of walking down the aisle, never tried sketching her future gown, never imagined the face awaiting her at the altar. Her therapist would probably say she thought she was unworthy of love, but that didn’t matter now. Love was not in the question here. This was a game, and Hero had lost.

In front of her stood the consequences.

She supposed, if she did have a type, he could have been it. Athletic-built, decent tan, well-groomed, not half-bad. Better, even—if she was being honest with herself, which she wasn’t. All she could allow herself to see when she looked at him was a monster. A monster dressed as a man, in a tailored ebony suit jacket over a burgundy dress shirt, with freshly polished shoes to match. A complementary silk pocket square peaked out the top of his breast pocket. The fabrics were pretentiously dark and Hero couldn’t help but think the whole ensemble could be covered in blood and it wouldn’t show. Knowing him—whether literally or metaphorically—it certainly was.

At the very least, Hero knew she didn't find blood attractive, but the monster standing just a step away didn't care. He stood tall and victorious while he announced the completion of his plan. Hostages contained, bombs in place. He had the city by the throat, and he only wanted one thing.

The details of his play weren’t important, and quite frankly trying to rehash them sent Hero into a state of despair she almost couldn’t come back from. Every assurance set in place by the supervillain built a helplessness that crawled up her throat at random intervals, choking her to tears and almost sending her spiraling down into the darkest place of her mind. He knew it, too. She knew he did.

"You want to save everyone, Hero?" He had asked with condescension, peering down at the hero that had come to him in complete desperation.

"Yes." Of course she did. She had wasted no time dropping straight to her knees and pleading for the people and the place she had spent her whole life trying to protect. What else could she possibly want?

He had paused—like the dramatic man he was—chewing on his lip as if in deep thought, though certainty steeled his gaze. It was purely for show, because she knew his next words had been scripted all along.

"Marry me."

And just like that her fate had been sealed.

To Hero, it wasn’t a question of if she would do it. Just how she would live with it once she did.

For a second, she allowed herself to imagine what her younger self hadn't even dared to dream of. Her dress might have been fitted or flowing, pure ivory or off-white—she didn’t know. Maybe it wouldn’t have even been either, maybe she would have strut rebelliously down the aisle in a turquoise mermaid-style gown— ignoring how the possibility made her cringe. Regardless of how much she would have regret it looking back through the photo album ten years from now, it would have been her decision

That’s what really got her about this. Here, she didn’t have a choice. There was no dress shop, no florist, no color scheme to choose. It was just her, a small velvet box, and a decision. She was trapped, and he knew it.

The war she had tried so hard to avoid raged behind his eyes as he waited for her answer. Even though it was already long decided, she swung her gaze away and stalled for just another precious moment of freedom.

This union would effectively end her career, ruin her credibility, and provide a way to keep her under the supervillain’s thumb for the rest of her life. Honestly, it was kind of genius. The only thing Hero didn’t understand is why it was better than a bullet in the back of her head.

She knew she was right there, on her knees, already at his mercy. It should have been so easy for him to put a stop to her—his enemy—right then and there.

He had presented it like how the devil would offer salvation to a sinner, with a silver tongue and a god-awful smirk on his face. His arms were crossed and his posture laid back, but his eyes never left Hero. His ease, which was probably meant to assure her of his victory, did nothing but unsettle her.

“So? What will it be?”

Surrender, in the form of marriage.

"Yes," she assented, with all the confidence she could scrape off the ground she kneeled on. This, she would do for her people. A final act. "I will."

She gazed up into his eyes as a cold ring of metal slid its way onto her finger. It hugged her skin perfectly, like a manacle. She was to be married to Supervillain.

Her damnation.

#hero x villain #hero x villain community #hero x supervillain #hero #supervillain #heroes and villains #hero/villain snippet #hero/villain #writing #hero surrenders #hero has a questionable fashion sense #great music taste tho #forced marriage #enemies to lovers #eventually

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drhedicalhalpractice · 10 hours ago

Text

Okay fuck I've got more to say on the subject of how Wilson thinks House feels about him instead of just tag ranting (though I'll have to repeat some of that tag ranting) because holy shit my dudes.

As a basic premise, from the very start of the show, it is very clear to us the viewer that House has this best friend who is very, very important to him. That's just never a secret – House, who actively pushes everyone away, doesn't want to interact with patients, pretends he doesn't care about people, never tries to hide that he cares about Wilson. This is both towards Wilson himself and to other people – sure, maybe he doesn't come right out and say it, but it's so very clear in so many things he does and says.

Here's some scenes (very much from memory and out of chronological order, please bear with me) that highlight this very clearly:

After Vogler gets Wilson kicked off the board and Wilson accuses House of not thinking that their friendship (or Wilson's job) matters enough to him to give that speech. House started out making light of the situation, kind of twisting it into a joke, refusing to take accountability etc. but the moment Wilson says that, he immediately sobers and just straight up admits that no, actually, they do matter ° I remember being very surprised by this because this is only in S1 and I didn't expect House to be this sincere with Wilson ° Hell, the pilot had someone asking Wilson if House cared about him and Wilson was like "I don't know", so I took that as an indicator that House doesn't show he cares. But as it turns out, this is very much a Wilson problem, not a House problem!

The "You DOSED me!" conversation. 11/10 one of the most hilarious scenes in the show, but also! House is understandably upset that his best friend is depressed and he didn't know about it, but Wilson straight up tells him to stop acting hurt because he doesn't actually care. This is wild to me because everything in the way House talks suggest that he isn't just mad because he missed a puzzle piece, he genuinely wanted Wilson to tell him about this, but Wilson didn't trust him with it

Living together in Amber's apartment post-Mayfield. Wilson thinks he can't talk to House about his grief after Amber's death and prefers to talk to her instead of talking to House. Even when House directly offers/asks him to talk to him instead, Wilson outright rejects him and tells him that talking to him doesn't make him feel better but talking to her does. ° Amber is dead, she will not reply to him, yet Wilson considers this more of a comfort than anything House would offer him. Except, House is carrying so much guilt about Amber's death, I genuinely feel like he would've made an effort to be supportive in this instance ° In fact, at the start of S5 before Wilson leaves, House even says, "I know you're not [okay], but maybe I can help." and Wilson doesn't even acknowledge it (instead just proceeds to tell him that he should have been alone on that bus, good lord)

Two instances I clearly remember where they're arguing about things House genuinely seems insecure about in their friendship: ° When Wilson moves out of Grace's place and back into a hotel because he doesn't think it's a good idea to move back in with House, House asks him if they're okay despite all of it. His expression in that scene actually takes me out because he looks so sincere and the insecurity behind it is very badly hidden ° "Does it bother you that we don't have a social contract?" The fact that House feels the need to ask this and make sure that Wilson is fine with their dynamic speaks volumes imo

Honestly the entirety of the episode Wilson (S6E10). "If you die, I'm alone." All the trying to push Wilson to grow a spine and not let Tucker take advantage of him. Sitting by his bedside both as he wakes up from surgery and then again while he's recovering from the surgery. In fairness though, Wilson doesn't outright deny that House cares about him in this one.

During the roadtrip to House's dad's funeral. "And there's the foundation of our entire friendship. If you hadn't been bored one weekend, it wouldn't even exist." – "Hey, there were 3000 people at that convention. You're the one I thought wasn't boring." imagine being told that out of 3000 people there, the man who notoriously does not care about anything that doesn't intrigue him, picked you specifically to be his friend and has been obsessed with you ever since, and somehow rewriting that into a bad thing??? The way he says the "if you hadn't been bored" part sounds accusatory and kind of bitter, when that's just how friendships get formed sometimes? Wilson, what the hell are you on

The entirety of S8 following Wilson's cancer diagnosis is basically one huge declaration of love from House. But to be fair, I think by this point, even Wilson realizes that (...mostly, even though he still somehow interprets it as a "House needs me so he doesn't want to lose me" kind of thing instead of just fucking accepting that maybe the man just loves* him and that's why he doesn't want to lose him, god) *love being used non-romantically here, even without Hilson goggles on, they just undeniably love each other, however you choose to interpret it

All of this just makes me wonder what the hell Wilson's got wrong with him that leave him so completely and utterly unable to fathom that House could possibly care about him, despite the fact that House very explicitly shows him over and over. Wilson is usually so good at reading House and figuring him out, just not when it comes to himself, apparently. Dude has some serious issues and I am so very intrigued by it <3

#house md #james wilson #gregory house #hilson #i tried to format this to be somewhat legible but tumblr did NOT make it easy on me so my apologies for the mess #check out my homebrew sub-bullet points #because tumblr won't actually let me make tiered bullet lists #if anyone can tell me if it IS possible and i'm just too stupid PLEASE tell me #anyway #imagine being wilson and having the full attention of a man who doesn't bother with things that don't interest him for over a DECADE #and somehow spinning that into 'oh im just a puzzle to him and he needs me but he doesnt ACTUALLY care'#like my man be serious for a second and actually THINK #idk if you're puzzle THIS interesting that it occupies house for over ten years #maybe at this point consider that he just genuinely loves you #god

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 days ago

Note

"i need to shut my mouth" "i just like to see him feeling himself" sir you better share those sinful sexy thoughts with us or else

related to this with my tags #girlfriend 💕 #<- i'm keeping that tag instead of adding my own because something about this just made me fucking feral about him #i need to shut my mouth Imao #i just like to see him feeling himself #chris evans #materialists

Lmao, not that gif 💀💀

I elaborated a little more coherently (but not much more) in this ask that beat you by a second but I didn't specify the thoughts, I tried to parse out why. And. Fuck that. Let's just get into the thoughts--

The thoughts are that I would like to see him cry. I would like to see him lose it. I would really like him on his knees, his hands bound tangibly--handcuffs, necktie, or anything, I'm not picky--or perhaps just honorably, telling him he can't touch and watching him obey. I would like looking down at him, seeing how he cocks his head to the side when he just can't hold it up straight anymore, lulling, how his chest heaves, panting, how his lips get redder and redder the more he licks and bites them, hungry. I would love watching all that masculine bravado melt off of him with his glistening sweat as his eyes glaze over, forgetting himself, forgetting what society expects him to be, all those muscles, all that handsome face, and leaving him with nothing but what feels natural. What feels good. Who cares if he's leaning into it all? Showing weakness in how badly he needs this. Who cares if he tilts his face up and nuzzles in, greedy for more, more, more? Who cares if his moans get higher and higher in pitch until they don't even sound like they're coming out of someone with a fucking body like that. Big. Defined. Just. Whimpery and high, shaky as his eyebrows draw together and his pale skin flushes pretty pink, his frame quivering. I would really like to see him in his body, confident because he's so lost in it. He doesn't care what he looks like when he feels like that.

God.

He's awful. He didn't even do anything and he's bewitched me 💀 I'm gonna fight him in a parking lot. Who wants to join me in kicking his perfect ass, lmao

#asks #chris evans #writeyourdarlings #thank you for enabling me aya lmao #chris evans x reader #sub chris

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cloverrwritess · 2 days ago

Note

hiii can i ask for angela x fem!reader where smosh is at a party or vidcon and r didn't plan on really drinking but she ended up drunk and angela is taking care of her

Title: Care

Angela Giarratana x Fem! Reader

Request: Yes | No

authors note: I’m back to writing again! I was so busy at the end of May due to work and haven’t had the time to finally sit down and write.

happy pride month everyone! ❤️🏳️‍🌈

side note: I’m not very knowledgeable with alcoholic drinks since I don’t drink and the effects it might give you so sorry if this is incorrect. 🙇‍♀️

MASTERLIST

The loud party music was starting to hurt my ears. I was stuck sitting at one of the office couches, trying to get away from people. I’ve worked here for several years now but I was never the party girl. I’ve dodge the invitations the others gave me—like saying I was busy editing, I had a stand up comedy to go too, or even straight up saying I was tired, which is true. Being in front of the camera for long hours of time gets tiring, my social battery drains when I have to leave.

“Hey there you are! I thought you ditched us again” I looked towards the direction of the voice, Courtney grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the drink table set up.

“I think you need a straight up vodka to spice up your weekend” They said, pouring alcohol into the glass. “I’m not an expert at making drinks, but this will do I think”

I bobbed my head in a ‘no’, signaling her I wasn’t going to drink. “I’m not going to drink tonight Court, I have to drive home”

“Nope, no more excuses, take this cup and down it!”

I sighed, I’ve been stressed for a few weeks now, maybe I really did need this drink.

________

Sitting down with the rest of the crew finally made me feel better. We laughed and played a few board games till the others stood up and started dancing. I felt my head hurting from the amount of alcohol I drank.

I rubbed my forehead trying to get rid of the pain. I suddenly felt my shoulder being nudged—turning to my right, there I saw Angela with a concerned look on her face.

“You good? Does your head hurt”

I nodded “I wasn’t going to drink tonight but I forced myself into thinking I needed more to destress”

“How about I drive you home, is that okay with you? I didn’t drink today since I have to film a podcast tomorrow” She offered.

“Yeah that would be great, thanks Ang”

She helped me stand up without triggering my headache even more, she opened my purse and took something, then told the others she was driving me home before escorting me to her car.

“Shayne said he’ll drive your car back to your place tomorrow morning, I gave him your keys”

I opened her passenger seat, helping me sit down and pulled the seatbelt on me.

“Angela, you–” I felt tears starting to fall. “You are amazing”

She chuckled and waved her hand “Never knew you were the emotional drunk kind”

“Take a nap, traffic might be long”

________

I opened my eyes and realized I was back home, I immediately sat up—suddenly feeling like I’m about to puke, I ran to my bathroom and threw up in the toilet bowl.

“You’re awake”

Looking behind me, Angela is holding a glass of water and what looks like advil.

“You might need these”

Washing my mouth and sitting back down on my bed, she gave me the water and the advil.”I had to drag you up to your apartment floor, thank god for the elevators”

I felt my cheeks heat up from the embarrassment of her carrying me back to my place. “I’m so sorry you had to do that Angela”

“Don’t worry, I wanted you to be comfortable once you wake up, I fell asleep on your couch—I was too tired to drive back home. Come downstairs I made us breakfast”

I was very close to all the people at smosh but Angela and I definitely clicked when we met, I’m just so glad she’s part of my life.

#smosh fic #smosh fanfiction #fanfiction #smosh x reader #fanfic #smosh imagine #angela giarratana #angela giarratana x reader

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the-autistic-vulcan · 3 days ago

Text

The Righteous and The Wicked

Ch. 2: You Don't Know My Mind (JOHN WALKER X F!READER)

Synopsis: Life seems to be throwing stones at you. Every instance you were in, somehow it went swirling down the toilet. You and John were pretty much in the same boat by the time you both got back in contact with each other. It's one phone call. How complicated can this be?

Warnings: talks of poor mental health, Red Room, mentions of Red Room procedures, talks of manipulation, ooc John Walker, rough russian translations, foul language (in the russian translations)

A/N: Reader is a former Black Widow but does odd jobs, any type of reader, Reader is female in the story, Reader's sexuality isn't made explicit in this chapter

word count: 2.6k

photo and gif credit: comicsnchaos, perminovamaria79, blunasevlar

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🕸️ It was dark in the room with only red beams illuminating the ceiling. She lied on the floor, not moving, mostly out of pain and rupture of a wound she didn't even know she sustained. Eyes loomed over her figure, it felt perverse. How she was observed, her body shaking from impact from what seemed to be a kick.

"Вновь! Вдовы продолжают сражаться, малыш." She couldn't hear it well, the ringing in her head overpowering her basic senses. She was kicked again, the heel of a boot hitting her temple, knocking her to fade to black.🕸️

2:12 AM

Y/n woke up in cold sweats, sleeping in her again cluttered room, she gasped, and checked herself of any bruising - nothing. Odd. It felt so tangible. She laid back down, her breath slowing down from the laboured heaving.

"Fuck..." She panted, her eyes welling up, but she managed to bring herself down and fall asleep - it was unfortunately common that she would have this dream, being told she was nothing, that widows keep fighting. Oh, how the words haunted her deeply.

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10:30 AM

It was a rough night. So much so, she woke up earlier than she usually did just to get her act together. She didn't bother turning on her stereo this morning, and just went straight to the kitchen to fix up some breakfast. Her mind still drifted slightly, but she was trying to stay as alert as possible.

Y/n opened her phone to the news, reading absently, not really pulling herself into actually reading anything. Shaking her head, she put her phone down and turned on her tv, switching to some morning news.

"-In other news, gangs have fleed the some streets, rendering most of our homes clean of thugs. Civilians claim a figure in the evenings come to the rescue of all street-goers. It seems not all heroes are as noticeable as the Avengers once were-" The news anchor yapped, she smiled listening to the report, at least Y/n was doing something for the better of others.

She then heard her phone buzz. It was John.

She threw her hands in her hair, trying to keep herself from getting frustrated. She wasn't upset with John, was she? No. Upset she didn't get any sleep? Possibly - but she didn't like dawdling about menial things like sleep and dreams. Who was he to know anyway? They hadn't seen each other in a year and it's been only a few days since they met up again.

He wasn't the problem. Of course not.

Throughout the morning, Y/n kept to her own thoughts, drifting aimlessly from one room to the next, eventually going out to the local dehli to get something to eat, but just trudging back home to the same four walls.

She was washing a couple of dishes, the sponge running over the ceramic as suds coated the front and back. Her mind swayed from nothing to something. An old memory, not a fond one. It was something to concentrate on, at least.

🕸️ She was sat in a cold metal chair, a small pistol set in front of her with a target range set way in the back of the room. She stood up, taking the pistol in hand.

"По приказу!" She heard the voice yell, before mercilessly pulling the trigger to blow holes in every corner but the centre. "Как обидно с вашей стороны. Мышка, ты должен делать гораздо больше..." She looked down, keeping her gaze low, she felt his hand come to her shoulder, gently massaging it with a familiar uncomfortable hold. 🕸️

Y/n tried to shake the feeling, dropping the plate in her hand, chipping it in her sink. She splashed some cold water over her face, washing the memory of her, but failing to a degree. She turned to her phone, about to call someone. Not anyone in particular, perhaps, but someone.

"...get it together, just in a bad mood, it's fine..." She muttered, aimlessly, not calling anyone at all. She noticed that John, and a few other phone numbers were logged in her contacts, but she did not press a single one - she saw no point if it was a passing issue.

She'll get over it, right? She should, she would and she could.

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John's House, 12:37 PM

He busied himself with other things rather than to check on her. For the time he knew Y/n, he knew she was a tough person to break. But part of him couldn't help but hope she'd at least let her know she was alright - especially how the conversation went this morning.

John made himself his lunch, a rather sorry-looking BLT. He turned to his phone, scrolling through the headlines, again noting the sightings of the figure in the alleys. But his mind kept drifting, the words blurring as he continued to read, the anxious waiting settling into him. He itched to call her, text her...something. She's fine, he thought, she said she was fine. He didn't trust it entirely, though. John put the phone down, concentrating on his food until the phone buzzed a few times.

*Y/n 🕷️ calling...*

He was ready to immediately swipe, but took his time - it didn't look good being too eager.

"Hello...?" He answered.

"Hi..." She spoke, though her tone was laced with some fatigue. John collected himself, he didn't let that go unnoticed.

"Are you okay, you know...after this morning?" He asked.

She sighed over the line, "...yeah...uh, this is gonna sound silly, but..." She took a breath, "...are--...can you come over?"

He was in slight disbelief when she asked that. She asked him to come over to her place? What for?

"Yeah, I can." He answered, "...are you--"

"I just...I don't wanna be alone, right now..." Y/n confessed. She then spoke again, "...I'll text you my address...see you."

Without another word, she hung up. He got up from the kitchen table, grabbed his car keys and threw on whatever he could find. His work boots, his blue jacket and fixed up his clothes a bit before leaving. She needed help, and he would not turn it down for the life of him.

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15:46 PM

Y/n was under her bed sheets. Dishes were left in the sink, her living room is still not vacuumed and clothes were left in the dryer. She hadn't moved from there after she got off the phone with John.

Why was she so shocked with this predicament? Why did she worry when this was going to be the reality for the rest of her life? Why did she succumb to such thinking when she can just brush it off?

Brush it off.

Leave it.

Stop.

She told him when they met each other again that she was fine. She almost envied how self-actualized John seemed after everything had happened - even with blood on his hands, he seemed to be just fine. Why was she not the same? She clutched her pillow with fervour, shutting her eyes until her vision turned black. Those days in those padded rooms, the drills to threaten her life if she did not take out a target in a certain way, the threats to her autonomy, oh how she begged for her mind to be clear, but to no avail.

🕸️ She stood on the tips of her toes, her back arched as far as she could go - her neck extended to look to the ceiling. Her teacher came towards her, placed her hands on Y/n - one hand at her ribs, the other in the arch of her spine, pushing them closer. It was to make a point - but that point, she crumbled, losing balance and falling to her knees, convinced she was almost snapped in half.

"Бедная мышь, ты ранен?" He approached, the man she was bound to obey. "...Как разочаровывающе. Я думал, ты для этого создан." He spoke, condescendingly. He took her hand and helped her up, only to slap her across the cheek.

"У шлюхи форма лучше, чем у тебя."

Those words stung. From the little she could understand, she knew those words would haunt her. She was his Widow. She could never be her own. 🕸️

The doorbell rang to her apartment. And a knock followed.

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When in the car on the way, John had second thoughts to turn back. Why is that? She said she was fine. But, something in him told him to keep driving to check on her. This was someone he hadn't seen in a year, and yet wanted to see her as if they saw each other every other day.

He parked in the street to her building, buzzed in and walked up the stairs to her apartment. As he trudged up the stairs, he got looks from people who lived in the building - presumably neighbours. But, they weren't necessarily friendly.

It was then he understood, even with people surrounding her, she felt isolated - he wondered what it was like when she relocated here, why she remained so closed off to others, or, perhaps, why they were closed off to her.

He found her apartment door number, and rang the bell and knocked. Only to realize her door was unlocked. She always locked her door.

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Y/n, still under her bed covers, heard someone walking in and locking her door. The boots stomped on the ground, but gentle all the same.

He stayed by the door, ready to walk away if she wished him to do so. John gentle spoke, seeing her form covered by the bedsheets.

"...Y/n?" He called softly. She shifted under the bedcovers, wanting to uncover herself, but she simply couldn't, not when everything felt so frightening. "Y/n..." he approached with caution. "Talk to me." John sat on the floor, his head leaning against the mattress, letting her have her moment.

She sighed, "...I'm not fine." The air was thick with hushed tension - not worryingly so - but characteristic of finally letting up. A moment to which silence seemed like the easiest yet hardest thing to maintain. "...I don't want to be alone right now, John...I hate it."

He could've sworn he heard her sniffle. He looked to the lump of covers, "Can you lift the covers, please?" He asks. He sees her shake her head, and he doesn't push further.

"He called me the most awful names..." She shared, "...sometimes, I cannot move on from that."

"I get that--"

"You don't. You say you understand but you just don't, John." She accused, "...you don't know my mind. How it torments me, how it eats at me every day and yet I must push it down..."

John wanted to help. He stood up and gently asked, "Have you...eaten anything?"

She shakes her head. Enough was said.

He decided to quickly rummage her cupboards to find something for her to eat, he then found some leftover soup in her fridge, heated it up in the microwave and went back to her room. He sat on the edge of the bed, putting the bowl of soup on her bedside table.

"Hey, get up. You need to eat something." He says, uncovering her from the blankets. Y/n looked at him with what looked like tear-stained eyes.

"...thanks." She says hoarsely. She sits up in her bed and takes the soup, finally eating something after getting nothing done all day. Y/n looks at John, almost dumbfounded. "You came. You really did." She notes. His hands remained at his sides, watching her eat. She looks exhausted, he thought.

"Well, I wanted to make sure you're okay. I didn't wanna think that our conversation this morning rubbed you the wrong way." He said.

"...hm." She hummed, "It didn't. I just...didn't sleep very well. Those horrific days in the Red Room. My mind being a pawn in their game..." She explained, not eating for the moment. "Sorry. I just don't get the opportunity to vent..."

"I'm here." John replies, "I can listen. I may not know the ins and outs, but I can listen."

It was a long shot to even bother trying to explain herself and her worries. She was told by some people, not all, but some, that her baggage was too much to claim. That the sheer attention one would need to adjust to all of it being an issue would need a lot of patience - something John suspected the neighbours in the building didn't have. And whilst he could be terribly tempered at times, and lose his top when she gets frustrated, he sympathized with her. Year looking to follow the mandates and of others for so long to the point where you can lose your sense of self. It felt so close to home.

His icy blues kept to her as she continued to eat, making sure she had every morsel before they both deemed she was alright. He'd stay the day if he had to. He wanted to. Huh, odd.

She looked to him, eyes and his own met. He looks quite nice in this light, she thought to herself. Y/n broke the eye contact and put the empty bowl on the bedside table. "I think I feel better..."

"You think or you know?" John asked.

"..." She shrugged, "...I think I do."

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17:12 PM

He proceeded to stay and look after her for the next few hours, just to make sure she was at least taking care of herself. He helped with the little things - washing dishes, vacuuming. She handled her washing and folding. At least things were getting done.

They kept glancing at one another, every few minutes, John would look back at her, and when they met just at the right moment, she'd smile and resume her chores. It warmed him to know that she was feeling at least a little better - even if not a hundred percent, he'd still feel secure in her comfort.

Y/n didn't understand why so much help was given to her, on such short notice on top of it all. They knew each other, they saw each other in their tactical suits, didn't speak for a year after everything that collapsed in on them, and they were back as friends as if nothing happened. Hell, she considered it a damn blessing that they got back in contact with one another - how the two of them silently vowing to look after one another, no matter what.

18:04 PM

He gathered his things and sat on her chair to put on his work shoes. Y/n was wearing and oversized t-shirt with leggings and fluffy socks - she was relaxed - that put him at some peace.

"Okay...well, at least things are done, right?" He says.

"Yeah." She speaks, "I thought I'd never get the laundry done." After a few shared chuckles, she speaks again, "I appreciate you coming. Making sure I've eaten and whatnot."

He smiled, that boyish grin on his face. "Hey, we're friends. It's the least we could do for each other."

Y/n nods, walking with him to the front door. She opened the door to let him out. He then says, "If you ever need anything--"

"I'll call." She cuts in, smiling. The first time she smiled with her teeth that day.

He looked fondly at her, wishing he could stay just a little longer. He goes to the staircase to walk out, and he makes a swift goodbye, giving her a look that shared a gleam in his eyes, as if they both just knew.

As she shut the door, Y/n contemplated the events of today. Taking a breath, she sits on the couch, stared at her pile of now clean and folded laundry. Today left her feeling like she was new - where her chest felt puffed up with a newfound confidence. John felt the same, wandering back to his car. He felt like he had a newly put-together purpose. And if it was to watch out for her, then that was what he was going to stick to. Y/n knew that was going to be the case for her also.

——————

russian translations:

Вновь! Вдовы продолжают сражаться, малыш (Again! Widows never fail, little one.)

По приказу! (Fire at will!)

Как обидно с вашей стороны. Мышка, ты должен делать гораздо больше..., Бедная мышь, ты ранен? (How disappointing, mouse. You've got so much more to learn)

Бедная мышь, ты ранен? (Poor mouse, are you hurt?)

...Как разочаровывающе. Я думал, ты для этого создан. (A shame. You were built for this)

У шлюхи форма лучше, чем у тебя (A whore has better form than you)

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Published: 07/06/2025

Taglist: @fandoml0vers, @addywqlker, @scre4mera, @ratcatcher2world, @olivia21blunt, @linkpk88, @lovelyvaderx, @dolphdrago, @king814318

#john walker #john walker fanfiction #john walker x reader #john walker x you #john walker x y/n #wyatt russell #thunderbolts #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts*#us agent #the falcon and the winter soldier

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