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wakasaswifee · 3 days ago

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write pls an one shot where isagi wins a match and reader suck him in the locker room

Winner's prize | Isagi yoichi | 18+

✎...In where your boyfriend Isagi Yoichi wins a game and can't help but want a little bit of... appreciation from you. ✎...Isagi yoichi x reader | blue lock ✎...Tags/TWS: Explicit content,All characters aged up, oral ✎...WC:1.3k ✎...A/N: I'm so sorry to anon, this was sitting in my inbox for over a month, I had exams so I was busy with that and had no time to write other than a few short stories here and there. hope you like it!

Isagi yoichi knew he’d win. He felt it, he knew the winning goal would go to his team and he’d be the one scoring it; and what more, his sweet, precious girlfriend came all the way from home to support him, screaming his name. So he had no choice but to win, he couldn’t disappoint his girl.

°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °

The game had ended, after a few interviews here and there; you ran up to yoichi, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. The salty smell of sweat mixed with his cologne invaded your nose, which you don’t know why but you loved it.

“Ahh, doll, ‘m sweaty, don’t cling” he chuckled playfully. A blush crept up your face as the flashes of the camera’s went off.

Isagi couldn’t help but laugh at your expression, kissing your cheek.

“It’s okay. Ignore them.”

Running his calloused hand through his soft hair, keeping a protective arm around your waist.

“Let’s go, y/n. Let me shower and change and i’ll come and we’ll eat out to celebrate, yeah? Sound good?”

You grinned, nodding up at him.

You were confused as he started walking off the field, pulling you along with him.

“Yoichi?”

“Doll, ‘m not gonna leave you out here all alone, wait outside the change room, it’ll make it easier to make sure no one tries anything”

He wasn’t trying to be an asshole but due to previous incidents, he liked keeping you close to him, to make sure no crazy fan attacks you when he isn’t present.

You looked up at him, he looked.. Ethereal, especially after his games. Sweat glistened on his face and neck. His hair damp and pushed back, a few loose strands hanging over his face. If one were to define perfection, they’d see a picture of isagi’s side profile- no scratch that, they’d see a picture of isagi’s face beside it.

“I’ll be out in 10 minutes, wait here, okay?” He kissed you softly.

You sat on the wooden bench outside the change rooms. Pulling out your phone to watch edits of your otherworldly boyfriend.

°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °

You were confused, again. It’d been over 25 minutes, at first you thought maybe he was talking with his teammates or maybe taking a minute or 2 for himself but after you saw his teammates leave one after another, till the change rooms were empty, you were left puzzled.

Slightly pushing the door open, just a peek to see inside. It was empty. You carefully opened the door and stepped inside as if there’s a landmine in the area.

The door clicked behind you; looking around, the room was empty.

You took slow, careful steps, till the faint noise of water running and.. skin slapping?

You made your way towards the sound, turning the corner to find isagi's back facing you, water dripped down his sculpted back and shoulders.

His hand was clenched into a fist against the wall, veins straining beneath his skin, while his other hand moved at an even pace between his thighs.

Your breath caught in your throat making your mouth go dry, heat rushing to your core.

“‘Ichi..?” the soft hush of your voice snapped Yoichi out of his trance. Turning his head to find his poor confused girlfriend standing by the entrance of the shower.

“Ah.. fuck, doll.. M’ sorry, i totally fo-”

“Why are you.. Doing.. That?”

He sighed, letting go of his needy cock to turn off the shower. He neared you, the light taps of his footsteps against the wet tiles echoed. You took a few steps back, an unknown feeling of excitement coursed through your body. You’d never seen isagi like this. Such a chilling look plastered on his face. Did you say something you shouldn’t have?

He closed the distance between the both of you. Subconsciously you tilted your head to look him eye to eye.

“‘Is cause of you, doll.. You don’t know what you do to me.” he placed a hand on your shoulder, the cold water sending chills down your spine. His hair falling over his eyes, drops of water falling from them, hitting his abs. Something burned inside of you and you wanted to chase it.

“And.. since you started this.. It’s quite convenient you came in here because now you can finish what you started and I also deserve a reward for winning the game for you, don’t i? ” The cruel grin you knew all too well made an appearance and before you knew it, your knees hit the ground making you wince. Looking up to see isagi’s fat, leaking cock hanging in your face like a taunting bait.

I mean.. He’s right, isn’t he? He won the game for his sweet little girlfriend, so he should get something in return from you, right?

You looked up at him through your lashes before sticking out your tongue, licking the underside of his cock as precum dripped down it and landed on your tongue. Yoichi hissed at the pleasure of something other than his hand coming in contact with his cock.

He put his hand through your hair, tugging at the back of it.

“C’mon, no teasing, baby” he whined as if he didn't have the upperhand and could choke you with his cock whenever he wanted.

You rolled your eyes, licking the tip. Keeping your tongue out as you took him in, hollowing out your cheeks. Every inch you took in was another groan out of isagi, till it hit the back of your throat, making you gag, earning a loud moan out of your bf. Warm tears pricked your eyes - in contrast to his cold skin - isagi tried calming you down with sweet words.

“Oh, baby, look at you, you’re doing so well. My cock is balls deep down your throat. I'm so proud of you, yeah? Show me how good you are by actually sucking it. You’re doing so so good, doll”

He coos, a familiar gentleness lacing his tone.

You slowly pulled back and went back down. His balls touching your chin. Slowly picking up the pace, the faster you bobbed your head on his veiny shaft, the more verbal he got. His hands tugging at the very roots of your hair.

Every time you were about to pull away due to the lack of oxygen, he would push your head back down, harsher than the last. Tears rolled down your face and dripped down onto your thighs.

The slick mess in your lace panties distracted you from the task at hand. You squirmed feeling discomfort but not being able to go anywhere else but his cock.

The constant abuse to the roof of your mouth and the back of your throat persisted, as isagi used your pretty mouth as a fleshlight. Your jaw going numb and precum coated your lips, keeping them soft enough to glide across his length.

At some point, you stopped doing the work, only holding onto his thighs, letting him play with you. Using your hair to control your movements. Every once in a while when you look up, you’d see him throwing his head back, groaning and grunting your name or smirking at your pathetic expression.

It wasn’t long before he came, holding your head down so you had no choice but to get a mouthful of his cum. The mixture of saliva and cum dripped down your chin.

“Swallow, baby” isagi’s breathy voice reached you, swallowing up the salty white liquid. When isagi felt your throat clench around his tip, he finally pulled out, letting you gasp in the air you desperately needed.

“Sorry sweetheart.. I might’ve kinda gotten carried away..”

“Kinda?” you grumbled in a hoarse voice, getting a laugh out of isagi, he pulled you up to your feet,

“Forgive me?” he mumbled against your ear, wrapping his arms around your body.

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darinawrites · 2 days ago

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๑-Glares that kill-๑

Pair: In ho x gn!reader

Summary: desperate to let the X side win tomorrow, you go up to an old man to convince him. Who knew he could be so snarky? Yet, when his hand lifted, another stopped him (In-ho standing up for you).

A/n: this was written while waiting for a bus that came 2 HOURS late in the freezing cold, so this is probably a bit rushed. I hate this, honestly. But for writing with thumbs that were about to fall off from the cold, I'll take it.

Word count: 1.2k

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ

You felt sick, utterly sick. Watching the numbers get bigger on the O side, anxiety going up everytime someone strode down to the button. A sigh of either relief or disappointment echoing in your ear once the button was clicked.

You simply didn't understand it. You didn't understand why people thought so lowly of their life to throw it away. You've seen both sides try to talk some sense into each other, but at las it never worked. Simply stabbing their words into each others veins, trying to get it deep enough to convince them. It felt like watching a zoo seeing it happen.

You couldn't even bare to watch the count anymore, everyone's choice to pick O so enigmatic to you. Gaze on the floor each time a new number was called, a number nearing yours. A feeling of betrayal rushing trough you each time a person beside you picked to stay, picking for your death.

You didn't trust your ears once the number sewed into your tracksuit was called, too engrossed with your thoughts. You stood still for a moment before feeling the familiar gaze of everyone set on you. You sighed, walking as everyone watched with meticulous detail on your hand that now loomed over the two buttons presented to you.

Letting your eyes stare at the immense difference of votes displayed above you, eyes glistening as all drops of hope vanished from your body. You felt so hopeless, your opinion so puny. What difference would this one number make?

Regardless, you picked X, all types of reactions ringing in your ear as you left the platform and found a spot on the side you chose. Some people around gave you hopeful smiles, but you couldn't return them. Shoulders slumped, only a few votes left before the decision was made. A very obvious decision.

The rest of the voting time was a blur, not being able to focus on anything. The thought that you'd have to play another childrens game tomorrow made you want to throw up. You didn't want to die, you didn't want blood staining your clothes.

But the others didn't care. Loud cheering mixed in with the groans once the voice on the speaker announced another game tomorrow. There's nothing you could do about it now, the pink guards cleaning everything up as the rest sat down.

Having not aquatinted yourself with anyone, you leaned against a wall by yourself in the corner. Contemplating all the different emotions whirling inside your head.

If you somehow lived tomorrow, there'd still be another vote. You had to make sure there's at least a tie between the two sides. Maybe you could convince some people to vote X, to let yourself not feel so useless.

The problem now lies between the selfishness and persistence of the people. The luminous piggy bank above you controlling these people to act like lunatics.

But, with a mellifluous voice and a logical explanation, you could convince them. Right? They still had to have something beneath the nefarious facade. Even if it didn't, a try is still something.

Stepping off the wall, you tried finding the nearest O's. It seems like your luck ran out though, the person being the the persistent and loud old man, surrounding himself with the little group of minions he made.

It'll definitely be a a hard task, but also something that could benefit the votes a lot. Sighing, you just had to act scrupulous this one time. A tinge of hope coming back as you walked over to the group.

You couldn't deny your nervousness with their creepy stares, but you hid it and started to, respectfully, show them the 'wrong' in voting O. Before you could even finish, you were rudely interrupted by a scoff.

"Oh, please. Just because you're scared doesn't mean my vote is going to change." glaring at the old man, or rather player 100 as he completely ignored all the sensible argument you made with just one sentence.

Furrowing your eyebrows, reminding yourself to stay respectful, you tried to speak up again. "But sir. Have you not lis-""

Just look at yourself. Weak and pathetic, of course you'd pick X. We're not going to fall for it." you were rudely interrupted. A young man beside player 100 loudly calling you weak, now catching the attention of the people surrounding you.

You tried to restrain yourself, lashing out wouldn't help your case. Especially with a newly found crowd now joining in. Yet it felt like talking with a wall. The group not letting you speak properly, dismissing your words and even insulting you. Every loud snarky remark coming out of their mouth made more and more heads turn to your way.

"Fucking bastards.." you muttered under your breath, completely done with them. Their side is simply too coarse and violent to deal with. Foolish to think you could start anything with them.

"You want to repeat that?" one of the men spoke up, now standing in front of you to emphasize his threat. Must've said your thoughts too loudly, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

The scoff that you let out in response ticked him off, apparently. Twitching his eye as he raised his hand. You closed your eyes as your arms flinched to your face, fear now rushing in at the sudden aggression.

Gasps filled your ear, but no pain rang out. Slowly opening your eyes, you could see a tight grip on the man who wanted to hit you. Glancing at your savior, you could see the number '001' on the tracksuit.

"That's enough." the words coldly lingered, his stare sharp. The silent that followed after was eery, everyone baffled at the actions.

The men seemed to get the memo. Intimidated, they slowly walked away with fire in their eyes. A sigh was let out in relief, you were sure to get bruises if they stayed even a second longer.

"Hey, miss. Are you alright?" the same voice that stood up for you called out.

You've seen the guy before, being the reason you've had to endure another game today. It made you resent him, truthfully. But you must've judged wrong with the way he saved you today. Especially since a red patch was given to him while voting.

"I'm fine. Thank you for helping me out there." smiling softly as you bowed your head a bit out of gratitude, causing him to have an enchanting smile plastered on his face.

"No one in here knows how to respect anyone. You should stay away from that side, unnecessary arguments will only worsen things."

The chattering of the players shooed the tension from before, continuing like normal as you spoke with the stranger that helped you more. His eyes lingering on yours far too much everytime you spoke, but you didn't mind. It felt nice to have a sincere conversation with someone here, his jokes even letting you giggle, a feeling you've missed since stepping into this place.

It was only once the guards came back did your enjoyable conversation end. The announcement of food suddenly reminding you of your empty stomach, rumbling for anything to satiate it.

"Ah, seems like they finally decided to give us something. Let's see what they have." he grabbed your hand, a small blush creeping on your cheek once you feel his strong grip on you, quickly pulling you to the line.

Must his hand feel so warm? It was basically engulfing you, heat seeping into your freezing fingers. It felt so oddly intimate, the act making your stomach churn, but not in hunger. Looking up to see him, you realized he was staring at you, giving a small smile before adverting his gaze.

You slightly squeezed his hand, the hand that helped you from those lunatics. The hand that made you forget the horrors of this place, just for a moment.

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kiragecko · 2 days ago

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tepat-side asked in DECEMBER:

The h in balahm - is it actually [h] or would it be a glottalized vowel?

I had to do some further research, because it's something I've struggled with.

Classic Maya might have had 4 different types of vowels:

V - a short vowel

VV - Vː, a long vowel

V', V'V -a vowel with a glottal stop. Sometimes the glottal stop breaks up the vowel, sometimes it doesn't and comes directly before the following consonant, or at the end of the word.

Vh - an aspirated vowel?

After reading about 15 articles, and 2 dozen descriptions of modern Maya languages, the best description I can find is from "A Grammatical Description of the Early Classic Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions", by Daniel A. Law, talking about 'h' being infixed into passive transitive roots:

Because of its proximity to the vowel nucleus, this infix has also been analyzed for Ch’olan languages as an aspirated quality on the vowel, rather than a separate phoneme (see Coon, 2004 for this analysis with Ch’ol).

But, Tepat, EVERYBODY ELSE is just saying it's an 'h' and moving on! And this is only about a specific verbal infix! I'm assuming it's also the same for other uses of 'h' as part of the vowel nucleus, but I DON'T KNOW. They won't tell me :( :(

Anyways, 'h' OUTSIDE of the vowel nucleus is a proper glottal fricative (/h/), which merged with 'j' (the velar fricative /x/) by the late (or even Middle?) classic period.

And they used to think that complex nuclei (VV, V', and Vh) were indicated by mismatched vowels in your root, for ex. writing 'Chahk' as 'cha-ki'. But now they've got all sorts of ideas about underspelled liquids ('cha-ki' being 'Chak-il') or 'i's marking present tense verbs ('cha-ki' being 'Chak-i'). Everybody is arguing and it's fun and confusing.

But I have no clue what that means for all the complex vowel nuclei. Very few, if any, modern Maya languages have a four way division like people reconstructed for Classic Maya. Did we overcomplicate things? Did they exist, but they weren't indicated in the spelling? Were these final vowels doing multiple things?

Come back in a decade, and we might know!

(Or maybe the article is already out, and I just haven't found it yet!)

The Tiger Poem in Classical Maya!

The Tiger He has destroyed his cage Yes Yes The tiger is out By Nael, Age 6

Literal translation:

he-destroyed his-captive-place the-jaguar yes-yes he-came.out the-jaguar his-writing master-Na'el man[of]-6-years

Transliteration:

ʔu-jomow ʔu-baaknal ʔu-balahm xt xt Joyoy ʔu-balahm ʔu-tz'ibaal Aj-Naʔel Aj-6-habiy

Character Transliteration (ALL CAPS are characters that stand for full words, lower case are syllabic):

ʔu-jo-mo-wa ʔu-ba-ki-NAL ʔu-BALAM-la-ma xa-ta-xa-ta jo-JOY-yi ʔu-BALAM-ma ʔu-tz'i-ba-li AJ-na-ʔe-le AJ-6-HAB-bi-ya

[Image shows the poem written in 2 columns of Maya glyph blocks. A diagram shows the reading order (which is complex). All the posts text is also included on the image.

End ID.]

#classic maya #historical linguistics #gecko writes pretty #maya #PLEASE actual historical linguists #explain the 'h' to me!#I am struggling!

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jejelovescats · 3 days ago

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My analysis on Spy X Family chapter 111

well uhm today's chapter was something initially I though the chapter was too short to write about, but we did get valuable information, and writing isn't only about the present, it's also about the past and future so I've been thinking about this for a few hours and here's what I've found. First point I'd like to make was way back in chapter 1, we got a very brief introduction about Anya, it was stated that she was an unintentional consequence of research experiments and that she had later escaped the facility.

Now since the chapter was quite short, many statements I make can be far-fetched. Alright now, when they said, "unintentional consequence of research experiments" they could've simply meant that the woman (who Anya refers to as "mama") could have just gotten pregnant and called that "unintentional consequence" and when stated "research experiments" they could have simply meant her mother. Now I said "the woman who Anya refers to as "mama"," because she could still be a woman who Anya has grown fond of and called 'mama', this is quite unlikely and I believe that she is her biological mother, still just a thought Now we ask ourselves, in chapter 111, was that a lab? my answer: yes, I do quite think so why? if you look closely, on the back of both Anya and her (probably) biological mother, there are strings holding the dress from behind like a lot of hospital clothing..

And one panel that really stood out to me was this one. Some people theorized previously that if Anya were to have a biological parent, they'd be the reason of her being held captive in the lab. This has been debunked after today's chapter. It seems that Anya's biological mother wanted freedom just as much Anya did, she's a victim in this too. Another point I'd like to make is that Anya's mother probably helped free Anya (as stated in chapter one, all it said was that she escaped, doesn't mean no one helped her) since she knew she couldn't escape herself. The symbolism is symbolizing 🙂‍↕️

Now this is where we ask ourselves, where is Anya's mom? my answer: Probably dead. Why else would she have cried on the interview day? She appeared to be very close to her mother in today's chapter and it would explain her tears. She could also just be trapped in the lab, but I find the first explanation more logical, even though they're both a possibility, that's just my opinion.

Something else, are Anya's powers inherited? probably, they could have messed up with the mother's DNA and passed it on to Anya, and they experimented further on Anya to further develop her powers Last thing, the hair. we saw in chapter 1 that Anya had her hair in buns, as well as today with her mother, and present Anya always has those cone shaped hairpieces on her hair, we've never seen her without them. why? no idea I've gathered a bunch of theories that are plausible 1) they have some type/form of horns hidden underneath their buns 2) scars now the scars would make sense for 2 reasons 1) Donovan, who's probably a mind reader (though we can't verify Melinda as an accurate source) has scars on his head as well, now even though the placement isn't the same, they're still scars. 2) They want to convince their selves they're normal people

hear me out. A woman and her daughter are both trapped in a lab, being experimented on, they have scars, won't hiding them give them some sense of normalcy?

And also, the fact that Anya asked Yor if she could read her mind, the poor kid is looking for anything that might remind her of her mother, in the chapter, her face wasn't shown, just like Loid's flashback. I also noticed while Anya was dreaming that she held bond quite tightly, I think that's because she was trying to hold out to her mother.

well, I did NOT expect to write this much given the length of the chapter😂 can you tell that this was VERY rushed? Since loid did mention that she was sleeping before her bedtime, that probably means that when Anya sleeps again, she'll dream of her mother once again. well, that's me rambling! hope you enjoyed! please feel free to share your thoughts or any more thoughts you might have! okay but isn't baby Anya just adorable? SEE Y'ALL IN 2 WEEKS<333

#spy x family #forger family #spy x family spoilers #spy x family manga #spy x family chapter 111

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beemovieerotica · 2 days ago

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What is up with Congress going "What Trump and Elon are doing is illegal!!!" And then still obeying them and letting them continue to do said illegal shit like ??? Do they just not give a fuck? Is it ragebait publicity and what's going on is actually normal ???

The above is a really helpful site to keep bookmarked during this time. At present, there are seven groups who have filed legal complaints regarding the executive order on birthright citizenship, four groups that have filed complaints on DOGE's right to operate, multiple individuals fighting the orders on various trans rights, and the Society of Friends is fighting back against the order that would allow ICE to invade houses of worship. Some of the entries have updates regarding pauses / restraining orders to Trump's demands.

These are all non-Congressional entities - unions, churches, activist groups, Jane and John Does - that are taking a stand, and they're worth supporting.

On the other hand...

Democrats in Congress are laser-focused on 2026...and they're not going to help with much else. They have explicitly stated that they are dropping "culture war" issues - they won't be engaging on trans rights or mass deportations, because according to exit polls, it was a big reason they lost the election. The average American does not care about trans people or immigrants. People want two things: 1) Cheaper gas. 2) Cheaper eggs. They do not read the news. They have no idea that Obamacare and the ACA are the same thing. They genuinely believe life was better under Trump because they got a check for $1000 in the mail. Our civics education and political literacy is in the fucking toilet.

So Congressional Democrats are bending to the right to accommodate the oblivious centrist voter, and my faith in them has expired. I don't trust the people on Capitol Hill - I'm an ex-Californian who had to watch as a 90-year old Dianne Feinstein shambled her way around Congress and refused to make way for younger politicians who don't have dementia. So I'm very strongly of the opinion that Washington will continue to be run by old money, lobbyists, and geriatrics, and the actual fights are going to be won at a local level, where we'll be working to make individual cities and states into havens. We are already essentially a patchwork of safe states versus not - I anticipate we'll see the lines bolden even more in the next few years, and I'm focusing my political energy on my immediate neighborhood and city for the time being.

#ask #us politics #tldr; the dems in congress aren't going to help so look to your city councils / mayor / etc

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qqueenofhades · 17 hours ago

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Okay, since I was tagged in this, I'll weigh in.

First, the original source is just a screenshot of a tweet. Because we need to get better about our information literacy practices, I went and got the original text of the resolution, which you can find here or on Rep. Ogles's website (ogles.house.gov, but I don't recommend it, as it's Trump ass-kissing central). This is because Ogles is a notorious and egregious Trump toady for whom this is basically par for the course. He is an obnoxious Trump sycophant. Publicity stunts to prove his MAGA loyalty is what he does.

Next: yes, this proposes amending the constitution to let Trump serve three terms (which would invariably become more). Yes, this is what happened with Putin in Russia. However, once again, we need to be more mindful about the tone of the information we are sharing and what we are suggesting is possible as a result. I have written before about how the Russian and American political systems are not very similar, and saying "well, Russia has elections and a president and a constitution that was amended to let that president serve for life so that could/would happen in America" is misleading. I don't have the space to go into the whole comparative analysis here, but I'll just point out that America (for now) still in fact does have genuinely competitive elections and a real opposition party, and this is not remotely something that could be pulled off in the present timeframe. Putin pulled this stunt after a decade-plus of ruthlessly consolidating his power on the back of Yeltsin's brief and disastrous privatization in the 90s and 500 years of absolute dictatorship (whether by the Russian Empire or the USSR) before that. By the time he did so, he had also successfully organized the Duma and the State Council (the houses of the Russian parliament) to be full of loyal stooges who would obediently rubber-stamp whatever he said, which continues today. There has never been a real or functional democracy in Russia, full stop.

Of course, you may say, Trump and co. are trying to destroy democracy in America, so we may end up like that! Which! We might, it's very possible, especially if we fall asleep at the wheel! Again, however, the fact that Ogles filed this as a publicity stunt two weeks ago (it's from January 23) does not mean we are in imminent danger of it happening. It also recognizes the fact that they would need a constitutional amendment to make it happen, and as I have said before, the process for full ratification of a new constitutional amendment is deliberately very high. Two-thirds of both the House and Senate and three-fourths (38) of the 50 states need to ratify it (after those same number of states call a constitutional convention) for it to take effect. They do not pass by one simple majority vote in the House and/or Senate, and even in the current congress, there's no guarantee it would be a majority. The GOP has a majority of something like 2 in the House (pending special elections to fill vacancies) and 4 in the Senate. This is razor-thin. Also, I looked at the original text of Ogles's resolution. There's nothing even saying that it was even referred to the relevant committee (the line that should be filled in there is a blank). Because again, landmark legislation does not happen by one idiot MAGA congressman eagerly tonguing Trump's senile orange ass as an inauguration gift of feudal fealty. (Like, if the Orange Fuhrer actually makes it to the end of his second term, he'll be 82, and he's already demonstrably deranged. Are they going to Weekend at Bernie's him for this putative third term, or...?)

Also: The last successful constitutional amendment was the 27th Amendment, ratified in 1992, and it referred to the salary of House members. Guess when it was first proposed? 1789. Yeah, it took literally 200 years to become the law of the land. Hmm.

Lastly, if you're still worried and want to make absolutely sure this doesn't happen, then: vote for Democrats in the 2026 midterms. Even if they literally do nothing and just sit there, they will ensure that this is never brought up for a vote, let alone any of Trump's other legislative bad ideas (national trans ban, national abortion ban, putting migrants in jail for life, what have you). Again: I am not saying that you should not be worried about this, that you should just brush it off, that you should ignore this repeated-yet-again clear statement of fascist intent, or anything else. But if you're panicking about this, then you're distracted from looking at anything else they're doing, and which might have a much more clear and present risk (such as Musk's smash-and-grab of classified information and Treasury data).

Trust me, if this or anything like it gets to the actual point where I think it's a real and present danger, then I will be sounding the all-hands-on-deck alarm like no tomorrow. But in the meantime, even if we're all scared, we gotta do better than posting a screenshot of an unsourced tweet with a "spread this and panic now" message. If you are scared, then take the time (such as I laid out above) to look into how the constitutional amendment process works, what would be necessary to ever ratify it (and which doesn't even take into account the mass opposition that would be mustered), what actually happened in Russia, or anything else. Information is power, so let's do it right.

Courage, etc.

Source

Transcript:

“BREAKING: A constitutional amendment has been filed allowing President Trump to seek a 3rd term in office.

"No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than three times, nor be elected to any additional term after being elected to two consecutive terms, and no person who has held the office of President, or acted as President, for more than two years of a term to which some other person was elected President shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice."

It was filed by Congressman Andy Ogles (R-TN).

Don’t let this slip by unnoticed. This is not just “one extra term”, it’s a warning shot. It’s a red flag. It’s an omen.

They are slowly turning up the heat in the pan. Do not be the frog who sits denying it’s getting hotter.

One extra term will become two, two will become three, and three will eventually give way to lifelong reign of each president.

Fight. Fight for God’s sake.

Contact your local representative of congress. Convince them we do not want this.

We are going to end up in a dictatorship.

@ikiyou

Please help spread this. I don’t usually get political and I don’t usually ask for assistance but this is important and you have more reach.

#history #soviet history #american history #politics for ts #the national nightmare

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hivemuthur · 3 days ago

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Nothing's New - Ch.3.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, a lot of angst, smut sort of present moving from this chapter forward

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 5,5K

tag: #nothings new

summary: Alright folks, some abrupt decisions are made in this chapter and I am foreshadowing Viktor's self-discovery (I will place a warning in the next chapter, as here it's still not that relevant). I will post some smut in a minute so you all don't get too sad :v

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You’ve spent the entire weekend stewing in your thoughts. Replaying the events over and over, from beginning to end, picking up pieces you might have missed before. It’s been a week since your last interaction with Viktor, and today is the final day for you to collect your things from his apartment.

You’ve been lying in bed, wondering if what happened last week was real or just an odd case of pareidolia—attaching meaning where there was none. Viktor’s anger, his cracking voice, the way he slumped back into the chair after you hurled fragments of conversation at each other. And yet, those fragments were more than anything that had happened between you in the past year.

People do such strange things after breakups. They throw themselves anywhere but into the breakup itself. They drink, get addicted to something, take up an extreme sport—or extreme hookups, which could also count as a sport—start smoking, dive into a new relationship, or become completely hopeless or cruel versions of themselves. And those versions do stupid, strange things.

Like giving your ex the keys to your apartment to pick up their stuff. Or being the said ex and going to your ex’s apartment to pick up your stuff. Utterly deranged. Utterly strange. Cruel on one side, hopeless on the other.

You have waited the entire weekend, sitting on pins. You haven’t seen Paul once, ignoring his texts and phone calls. Then, inevitably, Sunday noon has crept in, and you realise, that you have to go.

The journey is a drag in itself, but once you are in front of his apartment, you pause. You hold your breath as you slide the key into the lock. Getting here was torment. You thought the cursed triple-date restaurant ordeal was horrific, but you knew nothing. This is horrific. This is true terror. The terror of what’s on the other side of the door gnaws at you the whole way here, and now it gnaws harder, your hand frozen on the key, frozen in the lock.

When you hear it click, you release the trapped breath and close your eyes, stepping in. It’s dark. The day is muggy, with rain on and off, as the weather broke earlier in the week. The first licks of autumn hang in the air, and suddenly, you remember how freezing Viktor’s apartment is during the colder months. Your apartment. The apartment you lived in together. Whatever.

You take a timid stroll through the hallway—some pictures have disappeared from the walls. The ones of you and him. It’s expected, no reason to sulk. Moving on.

There it is: the lounge. The space where you’ve spent so much time reading, yapping, playing records, having sex on the couch, on the windowsill. Sleeping in front of the TV. So much time spent there alone, waiting, falling asleep with a book on your face, or staring expectantly at your phone. So many times you were abandoned here.

Viktor’s desk by the window is still covered in books, papers, and notes. He’s taken his computer away for the weekend, leaving behind a sharp square-shaped void outlined in dust where it had been. You draw a sad face in the dust with your finger, then hesitate, wondering if you should wipe it away so Viktor doesn’t notice.

You sit in his chair and spin yourself around, your feet dragging on the floor. No pictures to stare him in the face while he works, no particularly personal notes. No signs of Julia yet. No assprints in the layer of dust on his desk. Check.

You turn to the box he’s left for you in the middle of the room. Your name is scrawled angrily on it, as if Viktor forced himself not to write something like "CUNT" instead. It’s sealed, ready for you to grab and flee. But you want to see what remnants of you he’s collected, the things he so firmly believes need to be returned.

You rush to the kitchen and grab the first knife you see. Back to the box. A strange feeling churns inside you—something close to excitement, but also to dread.

With trembling hands, you slice the tape, reopening the wound. The box is stuffed with paper on top, meticulously packed. You pull the layers out and start digging.

Your books and clothes, mostly. You take them out one by one. Your T-shirt with "ALL MY BOOTS ARE FUCKED UP" written across it in huge letters. You used to sleep in it. You hadn’t realised it was left behind. It smells exactly of nothing—just a piece of cloth that’s been hanging in a closet for months. And yet, it smells faintly of Viktor, though maybe it’s just your imagination.

Books, each of them ones you love. Especially your first edition of The Lord of the Rings. Not the first edition, just the first one you ever got. A couple of notebooks with notes for work and personal scribbling. Your pin that says, “Bono in short legs shock.” Nothing in particular.

A few records are stuffed to the side. You wince at how he’s squeezed them in there and wonder if they’ve already melted and warped in the heat that was killing you not so long ago. And then, your heart sinks. Between the books and the clothes and an odd perfume bottle, lies a small box.

A gift you’d brought him: the tiniest chunk of meteorite you’d bought at the weirdest book convention you’d ever been to. It had been mixed with a natural minerals expo, an esoterica expo, and a reptile expo. Truly terrible. Until you spotted a man selling pieces of stars from his private collection. And you thought to yourself that if anyone on this planet deserved to receive a star for no occasion, it was Viktor.

He was speechless when you gave it to him. “Amazing,” he’d whispered, his eyes glinting as he weighed it in his hand. For something so small, it had felt so heavy. His heart had felt heavy too, with affection and devotion. He kissed you, kept kissing you until you were out of breath. It was wonderful.

And now it sits in your hand, discarded and abandoned. And it feels heavier than ever.

Forcing the tears back where they came from, you take a shaky breath and scramble up from your knees, clutching the box in your hand. You go to return the knife to where you’d taken it from in the kitchen, determined not to leave any sign of your snooping—except for the sad face drawn in the dust.

When you turn from the counter, it hits you violently in the face.

A Post-it note on the fridge. Viktor’s handwriting. Very old-fashioned. Very Viktor. More intimate than text messages. He’d left those for you once, before your intimacy had died. But this one isn’t for you.

“Miláčku, if you could grab my notebook on your way to work, I will be eternally grateful. V.”

In an instant, you forget your intention to leave no trace. You snap it from the fridge door, twisting it violently in your fingers. Something roars in your chest, and you can feel yourself spiralling. The need to go somewhere safe is overwhelming. So you go to the bedroom.

And there you are, confronted with another square-shaped void. The outline of where the bed used to be screams at you with the darker shade of wooden floor compared to the rest of the room. The empty space—what you remembered as small and cramped—now feels massive and vast.

You crumble onto the floor, squeezing the box with Viktor’s star in one hand and the wretched note in the other. There is no force that could stop your tears. Your lungs burn as you release a pathetic wail of a sob, granting yourself one of the ugliest cries you’ve had in months. The sun sets at some point.

Your chest and shoulders shake in spasms as your tears fall onto the piece of yellow paper, distorting the handwriting into blurred stains. This is the worst you have felt since the beginning. This is the bottom, surely. Crying in your ex’s apartment, on the spot where your bed used to be, clutching a word in your fist as if you refused to give it away to another woman. You refuse to give Viktor away to another woman. You refuse to give yourself to another man.

When you’ve run out of tears, you just stare at the note. For about ten minutes. No, for around twelve hours. You have no idea how much time has passed. You sit there curled up where the bed used to be, unable to move, unable to cry. The remnants of whatever composure you had when you stepped in are all gone.

You don’t even flinch when the door unlocks, and you hear footsteps and a sigh from the hallway. You are completely content to die here in your ignominy.

“Why are you still here?” Viktor’s voice echoes through the corridor, making him sound like an annoyed ghost. Hearing no response, he sighs again, louder this time, to emphasise how distressing your presence is to him. A caricature of a sigh, almost as if mocking someone else’s.

“I asked, why are you still—” He pauses when he sees you. “Are you alright?” The way his voice is laced with genuine concern makes you sick. It is the truest thing he has said to you in such a long time. One of the very few true things he has said in a year.

“What is this?” you ask, your voice utterly sad and so small. You open your shaking fists, and Viktor crouches awkwardly to make sense of what you are showing him. Once he sees the box and the wet, yellow paper, he understands.

“This,” he says calmly, “is something I no longer want. And this is a note to my girlfriend, Julia.”

His tone is devoid of emotion—quiet, calm, calculated. Inside, he is a storm. He left those two things intentionally, to stab you back. He had no idea the stabbing would work so well.

He planted them to stop feeling so fucking sodden. The rush of adrenaline at the thought of you finding those items was a momentary relief because he wasn’t able to tell you how stumbling upon your things jabbed at his heart. He wasn’t able to tell you that he actually played your records and read your books. Or that, when he found your T-shirt hanging in the wardrobe, hidden under his sweater—the one you stole all the time in winter—he died, just a little. How he hadn’t realised until he put the sweater on and discovered there was another skin underneath the wool. And that it still smelled of you after all this time. He wouldn’t tell you that he’d rather eat drywall than smell it again.

“Why is it saying what it’s saying?” you ask, your voice a sharp, trembling whisper, disbelief written all over your face. It’s so undignified to ask this. But dignity is a luxury you have to shed to get through this.

“Because I forgot my notebook for work the other day,” Viktor replies, his tone dispassionate, his eyes studying you like a scientist observing a failed experiment. This has truly backfired. Or rather, it has worked too well. In his wildest dreams, Viktor wouldn’t have dared to think he would find you curled up on the floor, your face swollen and defeated, exposing yourself to another blow.

“Do I have to wipe your face with it, so you answer my question?” you hiss, though the answer isn’t unexpected. The tiny dent made the last time you saw each other was, in the end, only a dent.

You wouldn’t even call it a crack—something you could peel off and peek inside. So, of course, you have to keep hitting.

His jaw tightens, but his voice remains cool, measured. “It is a pet name. A word you use for someone you are in love with.” He is hitting back. Your anger makes him angry. The fact that you are so angry and broken means that nothing has ended, nothing has resolved. And it boils the fear within him, and he attacks when he is afraid. Normally, it wouldn’t be a phrase to play with. But now, he is afraid.

The paper in your hand crunches loudly as you snap your fist shut. “It belongs to me,” you say in a dark tone, your voice brimming with equal parts defiance and anguish.

Viktor scoffs. “That’s rich. Nothing in here belongs to you, save for the trash you refuse to take out.” He stands up to accentuate his disgust. “Are you honestly being jealous right now?”

“No!” You shake your head and pick yourself up to level with him. “But this is just… cruel,” you shoot back, your voice rising, cracking under the weight of his dismissal.

“You will forgive me,” Viktor says with a bitter smile, “but I don’t follow. Which part of me doing the exact same thing that you are doing—moving on—is cruel?” He hasn’t moved on. He is standing stuck in one place. Julia is a distraction, and he knows it. And he knows it’s wrong to use someone like that, but he is only human. And there is no comfort in the idea of being eternally broken.

“You know exactly what I am talking about! Did you leave it here intentionally? Did you do this to hurt me?” Low. You are so low right now, the sound of you hitting this new bottom is echoing across your skull.

“You are so fucking full of yourself,” he spits, his voice dripping venom. “This is my house. It was on my fridge. As far as I remember, there was nothing in my fridge that you might possibly need to take with you.” Except for this exact note that I left there for you to see. That I left there to hurt you, and you are absolutely right about me because you know me better than I know myself.

“Why did you make me come here?” you demand, your voice trembling with rage and heartbreak.

“Do I look like a delivery man to you?” Another cold scoff. Fast, so fast, he’s afraid you are going to see.

“Viktor. This—this is not going to work the way you think it will. You can’t just get rid of me. I will be in your life. I—”

“No!” he roars, the crack in his composure finally showing. “I want you gone. You—you fucking abandoned me! You ran, as if I were some abusive bastard. You do not get the right to demand anything from me!”

You are actually being screamed at by Viktor. Your brain short-circuits, and you blink a couple of times.

“What about Jayce and Mel?” you counter, clutching at straws, desperate to find a thread that could keep you tethered to him. Why, though? Were you really going to be friends again?

“I don’t give a fuck about Mel. And if I can live without you, I can live without Jayce,” he snaps, his voice teetering between fury and despair.

“Viktor, you cannot be serious right now. Jayce is—”

“I would rip off my leg to rid myself of you,” he cuts you off, his voice raw and unfiltered, his accent thickening under the weight of his emotions. “The good one. There is nowhere I wouldn’t go to rid myself of you. I regret—”

“I could slap you for that,” you interrupt, your voice low and trembling with fury.

“I wish you would,” he shoots back, stepping closer, his face a mask of tortured defiance. “I wish you would do fucking anything other than run. I wish you had waited for me that evening and talked to me. I wish you didn’t wipe your face with a note. I wish you’d picked up the phone instead of turning it off. You ruined me. You stole so many months of my life. And you dare to be surprised that I have found someone.”

“You abandoned me first,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but the words hit him like a blow.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice tight, his eyes closing as if to shield himself from the truth. He knows. He knows. But for once, when he needed you to be strong, you were weak, and he couldn’t forgive that. Just once, when he crumbled under the pressure of stress, under the pressure of investors gnawing at him and Jayce, he just wanted you to stay put. To just be the person he came back to, day after day, until it passed. And when you crumbled, he hated you because you made him hate himself for being weak as well.

“You abandoned me first,” you repeat, louder this time, the words escaping your lips like a confession. “I loved you so much.” There are so many bottoms yet to be discovered by you, you realise. Stacked in layers, only for you to be painfully peeled off, like the paper skin on shoulders burned in the sun.

“Stop,” he says again, his voice faltering, the dent cracking as you keep hitting. As you keep scratching and clawing your nails at it.

“I tried to stay, but I couldn’t,” you continue, tears spilling over your cheeks, your voice alien even to you.

“Stop this,” he pleads, stepping closer. His hand reaches out, hesitating in mid-air before brushing against your face. His touch is tentative, trembling. His thumb sweeps the tear running down your cheek. His face, morphing in anguish, rage, something you can’t read—hesitation, resignation—all of those things watercolour across his eyes, his eyebrows, his lopsided mouth, transforming from one into another second after second.

“It ripped me apart,” you whisper, and his hand drops, his head bowing under the leaden weight of it all.

You feel the fear of the moment escalating or fading—both wrong—as now this is the most real thing that has transpired between you in almost a year. Your breath hitches when Viktor steps closer. And then.

He rubs his face against yours, his breath trapped in his throat as his composure fades. You freeze. The feeling of his skin on yours—so familiar. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple jumping, and finally, his golden eyes meet yours. And then. And then.

And then.

The featherlight brush of his lips—not yet a kiss. A strangled movement, hesitant and unsure. Your face cupped in his hands, the pull of gravity still stronger than the pull of his arms. And you stay, fixed in your place, breathing in his scent.

The last time you kissed was a long time ago, save for the absent pecks you gave each other when coming and going. And before that, you kissed many times. But never like this. Never so uncertain, so afraid.

He holds the back of your head as if you were water. It isn’t just one kiss. It’s plenty of lingering, sad kisses—no tongue, just his soft lips gently pressing against yours, making tiny smacking sounds each time he retreats to start again.

The outside of him is calm, but his heart flutters in his chest, and you can feel it under your hands, fisting his sweater. You kiss him back with equal, fleeting tenderness. Your hands travel to his neck, to his cheeks, ghosting over the beauty marks on his face. In the deafening silence of this space, all you can hear is his shuddery breath.

So this is how it used to feel. You remember. The one tremendous feeling that was missing, that you had forgotten about. Belonging. It crawls back into the periphery of your nerves—the sensation of being taken and kept, falling from his mouth to yours. But this time, you take him back; you keep him back.

He closes his eyes and kisses you deeper, pulls you closer. The familiarity of it erases all his careful plans to kick you out of his life. It clouds his judgment as he does the unthinkable. His fingernails scrape faintly against your cheeks, and you open your mouth fully for him, allowing him to swallow you. Your tongues touch, and Viktor groans. Because it feels different than with other people, and he can’t deny it.

His cane clatters against the wood as he leans on you, pushing you toward the windowsill. His fingers now dig into your ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs. You hop up, open your legs, and he is between them immediately. Leaning on you, squeezing the back of your neck, his hands all over you, under your clothes, and you gasp for air, rutting your hips against him to feel more of him—all of him.

Your hands fumble with his shirt and sweater so you can touch the flat plane of his stomach. His belly button glues itself back to his spine as you slide your palms underneath. Your breaths grow heavy as his hands fist your hair and press you further into his face until you can’t breathe. He gropes you so hungrily it almost hurts; all the clothes you are wearing hurt your skin, and only Viktor’s skin can soothe this pain.

You desperately pull the layers between you up and press your stomach to his. His hips buck into yours, his cock straining in his pants, and he wants—he wants, he wants you so much he whimpers, rutting into your core, the pang of lust and need twisting in his lower belly.

It all falls back into place when he suddenly remembers what it’s like to be just blissfully fucking you, what it feels like to be inside you, and he is aching. He thrusts against you hysterically, cursing his clothes, his hands grabbing fistfuls of your flesh, and you wrap your legs around his hips, digging your thumbs into the hollow of his cheeks.

And it’s only when you moan out his name that he remembers something else—how hard it was to breathe when you left. How bad he felt under Mel’s worried gaze. And he knows he wouldn’t survive it if it were to happen again.

So he pauses, breathing heavily, resting his forehead against yours. He snarls and pulls away, and you feel something hooked out of your chest violently, leaving a gaping hole behind. He disappears from your space so fast you can only register him moving further between your blinks.

When you open your eyes again, you see him in the far corner of the room, hunched on his cane, chest heaving, turned so that he wouldn’t face you.

“Get out.” His voice is flat and rotten, as if someone has made him eat poison.

Wordlessly, you take the box with the star chunk from your pocket and place it on the windowsill before leaving the room. You drop your belongings back into the previously gutted box, not bothering to seal it back up, drop the keys into the bowl by the door, and leave with a loud thud echoing all the way back to the bedroom.

Viktor stands by the window, waiting to see you out on the street. His hand clasps against his mouth, trying to suppress a sob, his eyes fixed on you down there, so tiny, waving in a cab. It swallows you and takes you away, alongside your things.

It’s getting late, but he still calls Julia. He gives her the worst, most generic talk he can muster. He gives her a weak “It’s not you, it’s me,” which is, of course, a lie. Because it’s about her—not being you. And he can’t bear another woman crying in his apartment on that day, but he braces through it. He doesn’t tell her about the kiss. She cries a lot, but they part in peace. She’s understanding like that. And he feels about one stone lighter when she leaves.

But it’s not enough. One stone lighter, that’s all he feels after. His apartment is still heavy, still weighed down by the absence of you. He locks the door, leans against it for a moment, trying to breathe. The quiet settles over him, a suffocating silence that makes his chest tight. It’s not like he thought it would be. He should be relieved, shouldn’t he? He doesn’t have to juggle anyone’s emotions anymore, doesn’t have to pretend to be something he’s not. But all he can think about is you. How you left, how he watched you go, how he felt that piece of him break off and disappear when the door shut behind you.

He makes his way to the couch, sits down heavily, his hand finding its way to his lips. His fingers press against the spot where you kissed him, still lingering with the faint taste of you, the memory of your warmth. He mumbles a quiet apology, but it feels hollow, empty, like he’s talking to the walls.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over, the words breaking him. “I love you. God, I love you...”

His breath catches on the last confession, as if saying it aloud will somehow make it real, but it only makes the absence feel sharper. It’s almost unbearable. The pain of not having you here, the pain of knowing he pushed you away. He presses his palm harder against his lips, as if trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers. He feels completely gutted.

And you come back to Paul with your gutted box of things. He lets you in, no words said. He makes you tea and sits you on the couch. And you feel... so rotten, so evil for doing this. He cradles your head on his lap and makes quiet, soothing shushing sounds. When it starts to feel worse and worse, you snort up your sniffle and sit up.

“I have to talk to you,” you say in a cracked voice, Paul still smiling, still not realizing, because he would never expect you to do something so horrible.

He cocks his eyebrows and hums. “Oh-oh.”

“Paul, I’m serious,” you say, your voice trembling. The tea in your hands cools as the weight of what you’re about to tell him crushes you into the couch.

“You sure you want to do this now? Seems like you had a hard day already,” Paul replies, his tone gentle, though his gaze searches yours cautiously, as if bracing for something heavy. He’s ready for many things. He understands breakups are complicated. He knows how fresh this is when you started. And he’s told himself he’s ready for this kind of moment as well. Yet. Yet.

“I need to tell you something,” you insist, setting the tea down and folding your hands in your lap to stop them from shaking.

“Let me guess. Things are not as over between you and Viktor as you thought they were,” Paul says, leaning back, his face unreadable but his voice still gentle, knowing.

“I—” you stammer, feeling a lump rise in your throat. Were you this obvious?

“You don’t need a genius to know that. It was pretty fast… you and me. I am aware,” he continues, his voice soft but tinged with resignation, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. He’s actually hoping to be wrong, but well.

“We kissed,” you admit, the words spilling out like a confession you can’t hold back any longer. And then you wince as the memory somehow becomes real once you speak it out loud. But you can’t tell him what kind of kiss it was. That you’ve betrayed Paul about a million times today, with each tender and longing kiss Viktor gave you—and you gave back to him. Let him think it was just a kiss.

“Oh.” Paul freezes, his expression shifting ever so slightly, though you can’t tell if it’s surprise or hurt—or both.

“Oh?” you echo, your own voice quivering with uncertainty, afraid of what will follow.

“Well, I… I didn’t exactly expect you to say that,” he admits, running a hand through his hair, his movements deliberate, as if giving himself time to think.

“What did you think I was going to say?” you ask, your voice cracking, the weight of guilt pressing on your chest like a vice. The bottoms just keep coming.

“Oh, I don’t know. That you’re not ready to move in yet? I don’t know what I was thinking, really,” he says with a bitter laugh, his shoulders sagging as he looks away from you for the first time.

“Paul—” you start, but he cuts you off with a raised hand.

“Do you want to get back together with him?” he asks, his tone measured, though the tension in his jaw betrays him.

“No,” you say quickly, but the certainty in your voice wavers under his gaze. No. No, you don’t want to. You’re sure you don’t want to. And yet.

“Do you want to move in with me?” he asks, his voice quieter this time, almost cautious, as if he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“I… don’t know,” you admit, your hands clenching into fists against your thighs, wishing you had an answer that would hurt less. No. You don’t want to.

“Do you still love him?” Paul’s question lingers in the air like a storm cloud. You swallow hard, your silence speaking louder than any words could. And you hate yourself for it. This poor, kind man. And what you did to him. Almost the exact same thing Viktor did to you.

Paul sighs, the sound heavy with understanding and pain. “Do you love me?”

“I—I don’t know,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes under the pressure of his scrutiny.

“Well,” Paul says, forcing a weak smile that makes his lines more prominent. “I guess that concludes it.”

“Paul—” you try again, desperate to say something, anything, to fix this.

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his voice breaking slightly. “I guess I should’ve known. Jesus, how have I been so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid. I am. I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, your chest aching with regret. He looks so hurt. And it aches to be so broken that you can’t love a nice, beautiful, boring man. It would be so easy if it weren’t so hard.

“Is that all it was? Just a wait up before you can get back with him?”

“Paul, I’m not getting back with him. And no, it wasn’t. I just… don’t think it’s fair. To be with you, when I’m not…” anything in particular. Not in the relationship, not outside of it. Just complacent.

“Do you have any idea… what it feels like to be with someone who is in love with someone else, all the time?” He looks at you and the answer is written all over your face, then takes a long sigh. “I’ll call you a cab.”

You sit in silence for a while. You drink your cold tea. You stand up, pick up your box for it to be taken from your hands and carried by Paul to a cab. He slumps it onto your knees and closes the door before you can say ‘thank you.’ Then he pats the cab’s roof and sends you away. He will make you his own box, soon.

And you come back home, to your dark place, with one box, and another already anticipated, to stack one on top of the other. Thoughts clattering in your head. Viktor, the mess you��ve made, the confusion—all so harrowing.

You should feel something, shouldn’t you? Relief, maybe? But it’s just emptiness, the kind that fills every corner of your flat, each inch of it reminding you of what you’ve lost. You try to focus but your thoughts slip back to Viktor, to the kiss, to the way he touched you, like he still cared, like he still wanted you.

Sitting down on the bed, you press your fingers to your lips, the memory of his kiss burning there, so vivid, so real. You can almost feel him again. The warmth of his hands, the way his lips fit against yours like they were made to. Your chest tightens, the ache deepening. You close your eyes, leaning into the pillow, whispering, “I love you. I miss you so much,” to the fabric, as if hoping that saying it aloud will somehow help you to repent.

And in that quiet moment, when the dust settles down, the truth you've been running from finally breaks through. It was always there, under the surface, but now you admit it. Now, you let yourself feel it, how much indeed you love him and miss him.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #nothings new

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arcadia-smith · 3 days ago

Note

I need next part for that undercover story.

Previous.

Undercover part 2.

The next day, you found yourself in an empty safehouse, standing in front of a mirror, frowning at your reflection. Ghost sat on the couch behind you, arms draped lazily over the backrest, watching your attempt at "practicing" with barely concealed amusement.

"Alright," you muttered to yourself. "Confidence. It’s all about confidence."

"You talkin’ to yourself now?" Ghost asked, voice laced with mock concern.

You ignored him. Rolling your shoulders back, you turned around, putting on your best sultry expression. "Hey there," you purred, slowly walking toward him. "Buy me a drink?"

Ghost blinked. Then, he snorted. "You sound like you’re auditioning for a bad soap opera."

Your expression dropped. "Oh, piss off."

He shook his head, chuckling. "C’mon, you can do better than that."

You exhaled sharply, planting your hands on your hips. "Alright, fine, hotshot. If you’re such an expert, why don’t you show me how it’s done?"

Ghost didn’t hesitate. In a blink, he was on his feet, closing the distance between you with that predatory grace he always moved with. His large frame towered over yours, forcing you to tilt your head to meet his gaze.

Then, his voice dropped to a deep, smooth murmur. "That’s a lovely dress, darling," he rasped, his accent thicker, richer. His gloved fingers barely brushed your arm, and the lightest touch sent a ripple of heat down your spine. "You mind if I join you?"

Your brain short-circuited.

It took a solid three seconds for you to recover, and by the time you did, Ghost was smirking, clearly pleased with himself.

You shoved him lightly. "Alright, alright, I get it. You win."

His eyes twinkled with mischief. "That was barely trying, love."

You groaned. "I hate you."

"Not yet," he murmured. "But give it time."

Your stomach flipped again. This mission was going to be the death of you.

***

The mission had officially begun, and you were regretting every second of it.

Dressed in a sleek black dress—one that Ghost had oh-so-helpfully commented was “too short to be practical”—you walked into Vasily’s lavish club, the bass of the music thrumming under your feet. The room was drenched in dim golden light, the scent of expensive cigars and top-shelf liquor lingering in the air.

Your earpiece crackled.

“Alright, love,” Ghost’s voice filtered through, smooth but tinged with amusement. “Time to turn on the charm.”

You gritted your teeth, ignoring the way your pulse jumped at the sound of his voice. This wasn’t the time to be distracted by your insufferable partner.

Spotting Vasily at the VIP section, you took a deep breath and made your way over, putting extra effort into each step, letting your hips sway just enough to look natural.

"Easy now," Ghost murmured, voice like velvet in your ear. "Don’t rush it."

You resisted the urge to mutter shut up.

Vasily noticed you before you reached him, his gaze dragging up and down your figure like a man assessing his next meal. You fought the instinct to deck him on sight. Instead, you gave him your best coy smile.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked smoothly, channeling every ounce of fake confidence you could muster.

Vasily grinned, motioning to the seat beside him. “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

Oh god. You wanted to gag.

But instead, you sat, crossing one leg over the other, leaning in just enough to seem interested.

Ghost’s voice hummed in your ear. “Good. Now keep him talking.”

Easier said than done.

Vasily leaned back, swirling his drink lazily. “And who might you be, beautiful?”

You offered a slow smile. “Just a traveler passing through.” You tilted your head, feigning curiosity. “But I’ve heard you own half this city. Thought I’d see for myself if the rumors were true.”

Vasily chuckled, clearly pleased by the flattery. “You hear a lot, then.”

You hummed, sipping your drink. “I listen to the right people.”

Ghost’s voice was quieter now, but still present. “Not bad, love. Keep him on his toes.”

As if it wasn’t nerve-wracking enough without his commentary.

Vasily leaned in slightly, his cologne thick and cloying. “And what else have you heard about me?”

That you’re a power-hungry bastard who needs to be taken down.

You smiled instead, tilting your glass toward him. “That you only deal with people you trust.”

His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “Smart girl.”

Your pulse quickened. Not from excitement—no, this was the feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if you’d fall or fly.

Ghost’s voice came again, softer this time. “Careful.”

Yeah, no pressure.

#writers on tumblr #simon riley #simon riley x oc #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x you #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod #undercover

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 3 days ago

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Marriage Problems Chapter 2

Summary: They’ve been married for 19 years, their 20th anniversary coming up soon. Older, busier, and stuck on the repeat of their daily lives, Y/N and Bucky are struggling. Their marriage is good, but feeling rocky the last few years as they’ve settled into this stage of their lives. Can they get their spark back? Or is it better to do the unthinkable, and move on without each other?

Warnings: language, forced kiss, eventual smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

Bucky rushed home after work that day. The presentation had gone well, securing his bonus, but had run over the time he’d originally planned. He had texted Y/N, but never got a response. He got home as fast as he could, walking into the kitchen to find it empty. Fuck, missed dinner, he thought, chastising himself as he unloaded his things and cleaned them. He walked toward the sound of the kids’ voices in the front room. They were all spread out on the floor doing homework, spouting off endless questions to Y/N, who was trying her best to help them while also mediating between Winnie and Becca, which seemed like a constant these days.

“Mama she won’t stop brushing her eraser shavings on my paper!” Winnie whined, trying to shove the eraser bits back toward Becca.

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” Becca whined back. “Not everything I do is to spite you. Maybe if you wouldn’t sit so close to me they wouldn’t land on your stuff!”

“Guys, please,” Y/N sighed, rubbing her eyes.

“Hello my loves,” Bucky called out, trying to distract them.

The kids all looked up at him with smiles on their faces, quickly getting up and giving him hugs and greetings before sitting back down. Bucky moved over and around them to Y/N, kneeling down next to her. She gave him a small smile in greeting. “How did your presentation go?” she asked quietly.

“We got it,” he replied, smiling at her.

“Congratulations,” Y/N’s smile widened.

It was one of the few real smiles he’d gotten from her in a while, and it made his heart soar. Before he could say anything else the girls were bickering again, and James started firing off questions.

“Quit with the eraser! Geez, do you just not get it so you keep having to restart? How stupid can you be?”

“Mama, did you sign that form for the field trip yet?”

“I’m not the stupid one, you are!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“And I have that bake sale coming up, did you sign up for cupcakes? Or muffins? Your cookies last year were good. Oh and my soccer uniform is all grassy, did you wash it yet?”

Y/N shut her eyes tight, trying to breath through the mounting noise.

“Guys,” Bucky said in a warning tone.

“Dad she’s being so annoying. Why can’t you just leave me alone? This is why you don’t have any friends.”

“I have plenty of friends. You wouldn’t know anything about that because all the friends you have are just guys trying to date you. How does it feel knowing that they don’t actually care about you, just what they can get from you?”

“At least I can get a date.”

“Mama, what does she mean what they can get from her?”

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP!” Y/N screamed, standing up fast and pushing away from them all, covering her ears. “SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU! JESUS CHRIST!” They all froze, staring at her in shock. “No, James, I haven’t done any of that yet. It will get done eventually. As for you two,” she pointed at the girls. “I know you’re both in a very weird stage of teen years right now, but if I hear one more mean thing said between the two of you I will ground you both for the rest of the school year, do you hear me?” They both nodded quickly. “I cannot stand this anymore. This constant bickering, the noise, the incessant leaning on me for every little thing. I’m so sick of the same thing day in and day out! I’m done!”

Bucky stared at her in shock. She had yelled at the kids before during rough moments, but this was different. Y/N looked at them all with a deep look of disgust. “I love you all very much. But this is absolutely ridiculous, and I will not put up with it anymore. I deserve better than this endless, repetitive, tedious bullshit! Don’t I?” Bucky stood up and walked over to her. She had started crying as she spoke, and as he cupped her face in his hands she looked up at him, her eyes pleading and exhausted. “Don’t I?” she cried.

“Yes, you do,” Bucky whispered, nodding as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against her forehead. “Just breathe, pretty mama. Breathe.”

Y/N sputtered, her hands in fists at her sides as she closed her eyes. She let herself relax against him for a moment, but just as suddenly as it started she shook her head again and pulled out of his grasp, sniffing hard. “I…I’m fine, I just–” she glanced at them all, her face twisting into a look of horror. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, then turned and ran up the stairs.

Bucky watched her run, sighing when he heard their bedroom door shut loudly. He turned to look at the kids, each of them with a look of shock and sadness on their faces. “It’s gonna be okay, guys,” he said quietly, sitting down on the floor with them again. “Mama just needs some time. But she’s right,” he said, looking down at his hands then at Becca. “Becca, if what Winnie’s saying is true, you need to find better friends. Boys, especially at this age, aren’t worth it.” She frowned and looked down. “Winnie, you need to let Becca have her time away from you. Just because you’re both close in age and go to the same school doesn’t mean you’re both the same. She is her own person, and you are your own person. Does that make sense?” Winnie’s lips tightened, but she nodded. “James, I know you mean well, but asking a lot of questions all at once is very overwhelming for Mama, and as much as she is willing to help you, she needs a breather just like everyone else. Got it?” James nodded sadly. “As for all three of you, you’re old enough now, and your mom and I have taught you enough by now, to be able to handle yourselves more. That means from now on you’re responsible for knowing your schedules, taking care of yourselves with your personal hygiene, cleaning up after yourselves, and as of now you’ll be responsible for getting your lunches for school ready, preparing your own breakfasts, and making sure you’re out the door on time for the bus. Also, laundry,” he said, glancing at James for emphasis. “Your clothes, your problem. Do you all understand?”

They all nodded solemnly. “Good. We are going to have to work together to take the brunt of the work off of Mama. She’s done too much for all of us for too long. Which makes her an amazing mother and wife–” he stopped, nearly getting choked up on his words, before quickly clearing his throat. “But it’s too much for just one person to handle. We are a family, and family loves and supports each other, right?” They all nodded again. “Okay. Are you all done with your homework enough for tomorrow?”

“Yes,” they all said in unison.

“Great. Then go get ready for bed,” Bucky said. “Good night, my spawn.”

They all giggled and gave him goodnight farewells and hugs, gathering their things and putting them away before trudging up the stairs to get ready for bed. Bucky sighed as he stood up again, stretching before looking around the main floor of the house. It was mostly pretty clean, so he got to work cleaning up the last few little messes and things he could see that needed to be done, then ate the leftovers from dinner.

When he was finished the kids had all settled down in bed, and he tucked them each in before heading to his bedroom. Bucky hesitated at the door, unsure of how to broach what had happened. He knocked lightly, waiting to hear anything, but after a moment of silence he slowly opened the door. He peered in and found Y/N already in bed, her soft snores the only sound in the room. Bucky walked in and closed the door quietly, walking over to her side of the bed and kneeling down. She was already in her pajamas, and judging from her makeup free face and the puffiness of her eyes, she had cried as she got ready for bed and up until she fell asleep. Bucky’s heart broke for her. He and the kids had been leaning on her for everything for so long. They had taken advantage of her. She had been suffering silently because she felt like she could only depend on herself to get things done. He reached up and gently wiped away the last bits of tears that were still wet on her face, then leaned forward and kissed her nose. “I’m so sorry, pretty mama,” he whispered, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I love you.”

Y/N squirmed a little in her sleep at his touch, but didn’t wake, letting out a short hum as she readjusted herself. Bucky smiled at her, fixing the blanket around her and tucking her in before getting ready for bed.

@cjand10 @sebastians-love @sherwoodforesttales @shanksstrawhat

#marvel #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #series fanfic #chapter 2 #mother!reader #father!bucky barnes #married couple #bucky x reader

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daughterofthesunandtheatregod · 20 hours ago

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[She unintentionally flinched at the volume of his voice, pupils having shrunken for a bit before they went back to their original size, letting her arms fall limply by her sides. It’s not like he straight up yelled, but she’s understood that when mother spoke that way, it meant three different stages. “You’re only getting a warning this time” was stage one {1}, the tone Will had was “you’re crossing the line here” which was stage two {2}, so stage three {3} was uhm…]

[By the way her heart was beating she had expected something, having blinked once or twice to ensure he wasn’t seeing a woman in front of her, instead seeing Will. He just looked a little scared this time, little younger, too… The tears were making her vision blurry, she couldn’t make out much of his face, it was the way he quivered that gave away she wasn’t really there. It took another blink to see the present Will, seeing that she really wasn’t being fair, she wasn’t being fair at all.]

“… I’m sorry,” [she whispered the apology to him as thought that any moment he'd do something, almost sounding like a plead to not do it. It's not like he'd ever do something, not physically, but this wasn't her. This was her brother, who's still with her, this is Will.]

[Anything coming out of her mouth in an emotional state are things mixed together from years prior, none of it holds itself together in its respective timestamp, all coming out just to worsen the situation further.] "I know- I know, I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that..." [The blood on her hands were from lives she lost, from the ones that were on the opposite side, some can assume it holds her own as well. ]

[It's not like she meant to sound as though- well, yknow what?]

[Just go back to be quiet, Archer... That's the best thing you're good at.]

-Open Starter-

[Will sits at his little desk in the infirmary, a desk covered in paper that looks wrinkled and folded and much less organized than the ones he usually makes nowadays, though they're still in his handwriting. The papers are stained with old blood from years ago, which is also different than the papers he usually is seen messing with.]

[There are also like three lamps in the room all turned on extremely bright and pointed right at him in contrast with the dark of night outside the infirmary as Will flips through papers, mumbling vaguely to himself, an opague water bottle by his side]

[He doesnt even seem to notice he has company in this room, less of a room and more just curtained off with dark light-blocking sheets]

(What do you do?)

Anyone can interact

Literally please I love any interaction

#shine they say? no i refuse to ☀️🌑

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ghostgirl-22 · 1 day ago

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Idk why I did this. But since I wrote it yall have to see it (if you choose to read it of course!). Blame my beloved agegap!anon I fear <3

CW: 18+, NSFW, AGE GAP, teacher/student, power dynamics, semi public sex, jealousy, mild possessiveness, super mild D/s

—-

Original.

Pt 2.

Art can’t really help himself. If he could stop he definitely would… Maybe. He wasn’t a virgin before he had sex with his tennis coach, Patrick Zweig. He’d just never been with a boy before. Now that he’s done it, and done it, and. done. it. All over Patrick’s house. He feels a little more confident in his sexuality. And it’s weird. Because now he’s suddenly getting even more attention.

He’s not a slut. Not really. He doesn’t always give it up. But he likes to tease. And he likes the attention.

A lot.

Probably what he likes even more than the attention is the way it seems to break away at Patrick's ever present cool and calm demeanor.

Art was barely flirting, honestly. Kneeling on Chase Roberts feet so he could do sit-ups. Chase has these really pretty brown eyes that sparkle in the sunlight, and Art wasn’t really straddling him, he was just crawling between his legs to get a closer look. He didn’t expect Chase to sit up and kiss him. Or the other boys to tease and jeer when Chase did it. Chase is smirking at him and Art shoves him back down on his back, licking his lips. “You’re such a freak.”

Chase laughs. ”You can’t blame me for wanting a little taste pretty boy.” Art sits up properly, when he hears Patrick blow his whistle. Conditioned for it by now. Patrick’s looking at him but it’s only for a second before he’s yelling at everyone.

“Enough messing around,” he shouts, “since we’re all in a silly mood without the silly skills to accompany it, we’re all doing fucking drills. He says. “Come on…get up. Line up behind the baseline, middle court. Roberts in front.”

Everyone gets up. Patrick bends over leaning in to whisper in his assistant coach, Meg’s ear. His little purple shorts, forming to his ass, riding up so Art can see more of his muscular thighs. Thighs Art has sat on, that he’s felt hot and warm beneath him while taking the full length of Patrick’s cock. He never felt more grown up. He bites his tongue trying not to get hard.

Coach Meg gets up and pulls on her baseball cap. “Okay everyone we’re doing baseline, mid court, center shots.” She shouts. “For every ball you miss or hit out of bounds you run a lap and get back in line.”

There’s some irritated mumbling as Art gets in line but no one gets too loud for fear it will get worse.

“Donaldson, come with me,” Patrick says. Grabbing his clip board and walking towards the locker rooms. Art looks around and some of his teammates are smirking. Roberts makes a kissy face at him.

“I hope you’re all paying attention,” Coach Meg says, whacking Tyson Wahler with her clipboard when he mimics a sloppy make out. Art grins and hurries to catch up with Patrick.

Art is breathless when they get into the facilities building. “Am I in trouble, coach? Art asks playfully, but Patrick doesn’t really give him anything. Just keeps up his breakneck walking pace.

He approaches his office and pulls open the door, holding it for Art. Art walks in and looks around. He’s probably only been in here once, with a teammate to ask about switching doubles partners because they were both left handed.

Art turns back around to face him. “So what’s the big—“

Patrick covers him mouth and walks him backwards up against the closed office door. “Mm Donaldson, you talk too much.” He’s all in Art’s face. Art’s heart rate speeds up quickly, blood furiously rushing to his cock. “Did you fuck him?”

Art raises his eyebrows.

“You can nod, yes or no. Did you and Roberts fuck?”

Art shakes his head.

“Did you fuck any other boys since the weekend?”

Art shakes his head again. He’s actually falling apart for how fucking hot this feels. Patrick going insane over a little kiss. He licks at Patrick’s palm just to get a taste of him.

Patrick presses his forehead against the wall next to him. “Mm…you have to fucking stop.” He whines and pulls his hand off of Art’s mouth.

“Did you fuck your girlfriend since the weekend?” Art says, grinning as he tries to catch his breath and settle down.

He can’t settle down.

Patrick pushes up against him and he can feel. Fuck. He can feel it. “You’re such a fucking brat,” Patrick whispers in his ear.

“And you’re a pervert, all over me and I’m barely out of high school.” Art breathes as Patrick’s rubbing up against him. “Won’t even let me fuck a boy my own age.”

“No one your age knows how to do it properly,” Patrick whispers.

Art starts sucking kisses into his throat.

“You… fuck… you know you make me crazy. Sitting on my court, showing off that body, crawling on boys laps and letting them… oh fuck it…“ Patrick grips Art by the waist, taking his mouth in a bruising kisses, all while walking him up against the desk and bending him over. Art is pushing back on him while he’s rummaging in his desk drawer. He pulls out a condom and then he’s pumping lotion out to use as lubricant. Art feels his mouth watering. As hot as he was earlier he’s going insane now.

“I knew you’d be this fucking tight still,” Patrick groans as he’s filling Art, big hand covering his mouth to keep him quiet. Or muffled at least. Art licking, talking, moaning against his palm. Fucking in Patrick’s office while the rest of the team is running around the court. Patrick, so frantic and desperate to claim him. Ramming his prostate over and over and over till Art is spilling all over the desk, muscles trembling, head dizzy. God. He can’t believe it took him so long to start. It feels so good getting full on Patrick’s cock. Art wants it every fucking day.

“Holy shit,” Patrick sighs as he’s tying off the condom and easing his shorts back up.

Art’s all dizzy and in love with him. And now he smells a lot like cherry almond lotion.

Patrick settles on his desk chair, manspreading as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. “I shouldn’t be doing this. Fuck. I’m gonna get caught and get fucking fired.”

“Have you ever done it with a player before?” Art asks, lightly.

“Are you kidding? I’ve done fucked up shit before. I’ve done stupid shit before, but never anything this stupid and fucked up.”

Art sits on the desk, he’s all sore and it feels so good he wiggles just to feel the ache and he puts his foot between Patrick’s thighs.

“If you give me your number, I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t fuck anyone else,” Art says.

Patrick takes a deep breath and pops a cigarette in his mouth before playing with Art’s shoe laces. He then takes the cigarette out of his mouth like he’s just realized he’s still inside. “No you’re a kid. You’re gonna be calling me and texting me at insane hours asking for things that I’m gonna fucking do because I have no self control. And I’m gonna end up seeing them blown up on a board in front of the school ethics committee.”

”I won’t say anything bad. I swear.” Art says. “If I’m horny I’ll just send you an eggplant emoji. Like 39 times. Isn’t that how old you are? Or is it one for good luck?”

Patrick snorts. “Get up and go back to practice, you little shit. And tell Megan we were in here talking about that recruiter that was here last week.”

Art shrugs and pushes himself off of the desk. “Can you come with me?”

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes… I promise.”

Art sighs and lingers to the point where Patrick just smiles. “Fine, come on. You get so fucking clingy after.”

“No I don't," Art says, defensive and a little warm because it’s true… Art does want to be around him. Though he doesn’t think clingy is the word.

Patrick straightens his office and Arts hair and checks himself in the mirror before they leave. He lights up as soon as they get outside. Art falls into lock step with him. “Try to relax— cause as soon as we get up there, you’re not sitting around me, it’s gonna be laps. And no more fucking kissing Roberts or anyone else.”

“I’ll try not to,” Art says grinning, knowing that if this is his punishment he might just kiss everyone on the team.

(Btw…Other anon with the brilliant ask in this au I can’t resist — I’m totally coming to that! A thousand percent! Trust!)

#also i wrote this while watching Emilia Perez #this is a joke right?#they’re gaslighting us cause there’s no way #13 nominations??#challengers fic #challengers smut #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #tw: age gap

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misfit0789 · 6 hours ago

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Forever Out of Reach?

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader

Summary: R doesn't get to follow through on her plans…or does she?

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, maybe main character death

This is part 2 to my other KCC fic! It is a bit all over and the POVs switch but I'm kind of happy with the way it came out and I hope you all enjoy it! I did change this from my inital plan so it is not as angsty as I originally planned but this will do. Also this is not proofread! I wanted to get this out.

Kyra POV

"Kyra we get it, you're excited to see Y/n but please sit still! There's still an hour left of the ride before we reach London." Steph groans having had enough of Kyra bouncing in her seat next to her on the plane. Kyra sighs stopping her movements, sitting back in her seat.

"Sorry," Kyra whispers, "Yes I'm excited to see Y/n but something just doesn't feel right. I can't shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen or has happened. To make it worse I can't send or receive texts and calls until we land so I can't reach out to Y/n to try and calm my anxiety." Kyra reveals. Steph looks at the younger girl with a look of sadness, reaching over to wrap her arm around the midfielders shoulder and pulling her into her body. Kyra lets out another sigh this one more shaky as she tries to hold in her sobs from the anxiety rattling her body, resting her head on Steph's shoulder.

"It's okay, I'm sure everything is okay. Like I said we only have about an hour left of the flight. Try and get some rest." Steph whispers, rubbing her hand along Kyra's arm. The younger girl nods leaning into Steph more to try and be able to relax enough to get some sleep. Eventually Steph feels Kyra's breathing even out and lets out a sigh herself hoping she's right in that everything is okay for Kyra. She's never seen the girl like this and she hopes she never has to again.

~~~~~

Y/n POV

"Y/n/n! Wake up!!" Harper yells, jumping on top of me. I groan at the feeling of her foot in my ribs. I turn over wrapping my arms around her, holding her to my chest.

"Shhh, sleepy time," I mumble. I feel her laughing as she wiggles in my hold trying to escape.

"Harps, go join RaRa in the kitchen for breakfast. Y/n/n will be there soon." I hear Katrina say loosening my hold on Harper so she can listen to her mother. My niece sliding out of my arms and running out of the room. I let out a sigh turning onto my back and staring at the ceiling. My view is interrupted when Katrina's face appears in my line of vision. "Nervous?" I nod.

"I'm confident she'll say yes but I still have that sliver of doubt she'll say no. I don't want to lose her Kat," I say emotion present in my voice. I hear Katrina sigh before she moves to lay next to me in the bed. I sit up and shuffle over giving her the space to sit. She wraps her arm around my shoulder pulling my head to rest on her shoulder.

"If I know anything it's that Kyra will say yes to you. She loves you. There is no doubt about that. You will never lose that girl. I'm sure of it." Kat says rubbing my arm. I let out a breath relaxing at the words from my sister.

"Thanks Kat. I needed that," I wrap my arm around her pulling her into a hug. She pulls back a soft smile on her face.

"Of course. You're my baby sister and I love you. There is no reason for her to say no to you. Now Clara and I made breakfast, why don't you get dressed and come eat. You have a few hours before you have to head to the airport." Katrina says standing from the bed, moving towards the door to her guest room.

"As long as Clara cooked and you watched then I'll eat," I joke throwing the covers to the side, rising to my feet and stretching. She rolls her eyes.

"I'm not that bad of a cook, you like some of the things I cook," She says watching as I grab my overnight bag, rifling through it to find clothes to wear for the day.

"Emphasis on the some there Kat," I say tossing my bag to the side with one arm as the other holds the clothes.

"You're an ass Y/n" Kat rolls her eyes not noticing the person hiding by the door.

"RaRa! Mama said a bad word!" Harper yells turning and running towards the kitchen where Clara is with Koby. I look at Kat with a smirk as she smacks her forehead.

"Someone's in trouble," I sing walking towards the ensuite. As I turn to shut the door I see Kat glaring at me.

"That statement rings true Y/n," She says before turning and running after her daughter. "Harper!" I chuckle shutting the door, moving to take a shower.

~~~~~

After I was showered and dressed I made my way to the kitchen for breakfast. I see Koby in his high chair, Kat sat next to him helping Harper eat as Clara finishes up the cooking.

"Morning Y/n! Have a seat, I'll make you a plate," Clara says, a beaming smile present. I smile and nod moving to sit opposite Kat and Harper.

"Y/n/n! Nanna got Koby and I gifts when we went to see them! Want to see!" Harper exclaims. I chuckle and nod.

"Of course! Give me some time and I'll come see what Nanna bought you once I've finished eating. Okay?" I ask, Harper nods eagerly before sliding off the chair and running into the other room. "Thank you Clara. What did Kat cook? I want to know what to avoid," I joke as Clara places a plate of food in front of me. I jump when Kat kicks my leg under the table.

"Watch it," Kat warns, I chuckle as I begin eating.

"What time are you due to pick Kyra up?" Clara asks a few minutes later as she cleans up the kitchen. I finish my last bite and answer.

"She texted me earlier, they are due back around 6 so I'll leave here around 5 to hopefully avoid traffic." I say, standing with my plate to place it in the sink.

"You nervous?" Clara asks, rinsing my dish. I let out a deep breath and nod.

"Very, but Kat helped ease my nerves a little. I was overreacting. Ky and I have been through so much together, I was an idiot for thinking she'd say no," I chuckle, Clara nods, drying the dish and placing it in the cabinet before turning to face me.

"Your sister was right, that girl loves you with everything she has. She won't say no to you." Clara reassures me. I smile and nod giving her a hug.

"Thank you, I'm so happy my sister met you." I say. I feel Clara smile as she gives me a squeeze.

"I'm happy too, she gave me my family to love and brought you into my life. I've never had a better nap than when I'm with you," she jokes laughing. I laugh pushing her away.

"I'm happy to be of service," I joke stepping back, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go see what my mother bought my niece." I point over my shoulder where Harper is with Kat and Koby.

"Oh you'll love this!" Clara laughs. I give her a confused look before moving into the living room where Kat is sat with Koby on her lap as Harper plays with what looks to be a kids doctor toy set.

"Look Y/n/n!! I'm a doctor! Like you!" Harper yells walking over to me with a white lab coat and a stethoscope around her neck. I kneel down to her level admiring her look.

"Wow! Looking good Harps!" I say bringing her into a hug," Nanna did a good job with your gift huh?" I ask as Harper pulls away from me. Harper nods eagerly.

"Uh huh! She got me these too!" Harper exclaims moving to grab what looks to be bandages and a toy syringe.

"Woah! Now you really are like me! Do you remember how to use this?" I ask pointing at the stethoscope still hanging around her neck. She nods running over to ger her teddy bear and show me.

~~~~~

"I'll see you guys in a couple days for dinner." I say to my sister as I grab my bag from the floor by her front door, looping the strap over my shoulder.

"We will see you and your fiancée then." Kat teases. I roll my eyes pulling her into a hug.

"Thank you," I whisper. Kat gives me a squeeze before she pulls away.

"Go pick up the pest. Enjoy your night together." Kat say giving me a smile. I nod and bid my goodbye to Clara, Harper and Koby before making my way to my car. I throw my bag in the boot, patting my pocket where I have Kyra's ring. A smile on my face at the thought of seeing Kyra and finally proposing to her.

I get in my car and begin my drive to the airport, music softly playing from a playlist Kyra had made. I quietly sing a long to one of the songs before everything goes black.

~~~~~

Kyra POV

"Ky where is your girlfriend? She should have been here by now." Alessia asks me. I let out another sigh as I check my phone for what feels like the hundredth time in the last 5 minutes looking for any message or call from Y/n.

"I don't know. She told me she was leaving Mini's at 5 to avoid traffic. She knew we'd be here around 6. It's almost 6:30, she'd never be this late without letting me know. Let me try Mini. Maybe they got caught up talking and she left late forgetting to call me." I unlock my phone pulling up Mini's contact and pressing the call button. The phone rings twice before someone answers.

"Kyra!" I smile hearing Harper's voice, though a much as I'd love to talk to her I'm too worried about Y/n.

"Hay Harps! Is your mom or RaRa around?" I heard her shuffle around before a new voice is on the phone.

"Hello?"

"Clara? Have you or Mini heard from Y/n?" I question quickly. My nerves at a high.

"Kyra? No? She left a little after 5 to avoid traffic to get you at the airport. Is she not there?" Clara questions, worry growing in her voice knowing how uncommon it is for Y/n to be late somewhere.

"No," I choke out, my worry increasing. "I've called her and texted her but her phone goes to voicemail and my texts are going unread. Clara I'm worried. Y/n would never do this," I say on the verge of tears, realizing something must be seriously wrong.

"Okay, I will call a baby sitter and Mini and I will come get you okay. We will figure out where Y/n is and what's going on. I need you to take deep breathes okay Kyra" I nod, forgetting she can't see me before whispering out a 'yes' as I begin to take deep breaths trying to calm my racing heart.

"Ky?" I turn to see Alessia, Leah and Steph looking at me in concern. Y/n was supposed to bring them to their apartments before we went home ourselves. I shake my head, saying a quick goodbye to Clara before hanging up.

"Clara said Y/n left their place a little after 5 and that they haven't heard from her since. Clara is getting a baby sitter then coming to get us." I explain, continuing to take deep breaths. They nod but stay silent having known Y/n long enough to know her being late is not normal.

After waiting a few more minutes my phone rings. I move quick to grab it hoping it's Y/n but instead it's Y/n's work. Why is the hospital calling me?

"Ms. Cooney-Cross?" A voice on the other side asks.

"Yes? This is her." I say confused moving away from the girls, avoiding their questioning looks.

"This is Casey from London General. We have you listed as the emergency contact for Dr. Y/n Gorry. I’m sorry to tell you but she was in an accident…" I stopped listening after that trying to wrap my head around what she said, standing in shock on the sidewalk in front of the airport.

"Ky?" I blink seeing Alessia's concerned face in front of me. "What's going on?" I just shake my head. The woman on the phone still talking. Alessia reaches for my phone passing it off to Steph who talks to the woman trying to understand what is going on.

"Y/n - " I cut myself off as a sob escapes me.

"Oh Ky…" Alessa rushes forward wrapping me in her arms letting me cry into her shoulder. Her hand runs up and down my back as she whispers quiet reassurances after Steph caught her and Leah up. "Y/n will be okay. She's tough Ky" Alessia whispers as I continue to cry.

"Kyra what's going on? Why are you crying?" I release my hold on Alessia to see Mini stepping out of her car, Clara following from the other side. I rush over wrapping her in a hug continuing to cry. "Woah!" She stumbles but wraps her arms around me any way, rubbing my back to try and comfort me.

"Y/n was in an accident," Steph starts. I hear Mini and Clara gasp as Mini tightens her hold on me. "They wouldn't tell me much, only that she's headed in for surgery. She was brought to London General." Steph explains as I let out another sob, not knowing she was in surgery.

"Okay, Less and Leah grab the bags and put them in the boot. I'll bring you two and Steph home after I drop Mini and Ky at the hospital for Y/n." Clara says gently leading Mini and I to the car.

"We'll stay at the hospital. Y/n is family. We won't leave." Leah says determined, bags in hand. Clara gives her a smile and nods helping Mini and I into the car as the others follow once our bags are in the car.

As Clara starts the drive to the hospital I sit in the back knee bouncing, showing my worry for Y/n. She's tough but she's never been through something like this since we've know each other.

Please be okay Y/n.

~~~~~

I jump out of the car as soon as Clara pulls up to the hospital ER doors running to the reception desk. Mini right behind me.

"I'm looking for Y/n Gorry?" I say as soon as I get to the desk.

"Are you family?" The girl asks.

"I'm her fiancée," I say before I can stop myself. Mini glances at me in confusion before responding herself.

"I'm her older sister," The girls nods before typing on her computer for what feels like forever. I anxiously tap my foot and my finger on the desk waiting for the girl. "Ky, take a deep breath. Y/n will be okay. She has to be," Mini says placing her hand on mine to stop my tapping. I nod.

"Looks like she just got out of surgery. Once she is settled in a room the doctor will come and get you both. Only family is allowed in." the receptionist explains. Mini and I nod before moving to the others who stand and look at us anxiously.

"Well?" Alessia asks when we reach them.

"She's out of surgery. They are putting her in a room then someone will come get us so we can see her. The receptionist says family only." Mini explains.

"You guys can go. It was a long flight. Mini and I will send you an update when we hear more." I say taking a sear next to where Mini sat.

"Absolutely not. Like we said before Y/n is family. We will wait here as long as we need to." Steph says, Leah and Alessia nodding in agreement. Steph moves to kneel in front of where I'm sitting. Placing her hands on my knees, crouching to be eye level with me. " I will wait as long as I need. Besides she's the only one that can reign you in, ya pest." Steph jokes. I let out a laugh, through my tears, pulling her into a hug.

"Thank you Stephy," I whisper. She pats my back before pulling away, a soft smile on her face.

"Always, You annoy me but I still love you," She presses a kiss to my forehead before standing to sit with Leah and Alessia.

"Y/n Gorry?" A man in a white lab coat calls, reading off a clipboard. All of us jump and move towards him. "Woah! I was told her fiancée and sister are here. I can only speak with them." He clarifies. Mini and I step forward.

"Sister," Mini says raising her hand.

"Fiancée," I say raising my own ignoring the looks from the others. The man nods.

"I'm Dr. Cursor, I handled Dr. Gorry's surgery. Please, follow me." He turns moving to a set of doors. He scans his badge to open one of the doors, holding it open, allowing us in. "Dr. Gorry suffered a concussion and three cracked ribs, one of which punctured her lung, which is why she needed the surgery. We lost her once but as you know she is a fighter. The rest of the surgery went great. She is still asleep but should wake up in a few hours. You guys are more than welcome to stay as long as you'd like." Dr. Cursor explains stopping outside a room. I nod though I didn't hear much of what he said after 'lost her once'.

"Thank you Doctor." I hear Mini say before she opens the door to the room. I gasp seeing my Y/n laid there on the bed looking so lifeless. Tears roll down my cheeks as I move to stand next to Y/n. I slowly take her hand in my, brushing my thumb over her knuckles.

"Oh Y/n/n." I whisper. I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, stepping back to sit in the chair next to her bed.

"She's okay Ky," Mini says placing her hand on my shoulder.

"She died," is all I say. I hear Mini sigh as she moves to sit on Y/n's other side.

"She did…but she came back to us. She's still here." Mini says, sounding like she's trying to convince not only me but also herself. "She's still here," she whispers.

~~~~~

Y/n POV

I hear a faint beeping sound as I begin to wake up. My eyes are heavy as I try to open them, though I slam them shut at the bright lights in the room. I blink quickly trying to get rid of the heaviness in my eyes and also adjust to the lights. Once my vision is clear I take note of the hospital room I'm in. In addition to the beeping I hear soft snores from my right, turning I see Katrina laid back in the hospital room chair fast asleep, a thin blanket covering her. I smile at the sight. Turning to my left my smile grows when I see Kyra laying with her head on my arm and her hand wrapped in mine. That explains the numbness in my arm. I give Kyra's hand a squeeze moving my right arm slowly towards her before gasping at the pain that shoots through my body. Kyra and Katrina shooting up at the sound.

"Y/n!" They both exclaim.

"I'll go get the doctor," Kat says squeezing my shoulder softly before stepping out of the room, leaving Kyra and I alone.

Once Kat is gone I make eye contact with Kyra. I frown seeing more tears building in her eyes. I reach up, ignoring the pain to brush away the tears that fell.

"Oh my love," I whisper reaching up to pull her into me. She breaks as she clings on to me. I rub her back trying to calm her. "It's okay. I'm okay Ky. I'm here." I whisper, as she continues to cry in my neck.

"You died," She whispers as she pulls away, cupping my face in her hands. I close my eyes leaning into her touch. I open my eyes to brush away the tears on her face, before leaning forward pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm so sorry my love, I - " I'm cut off as the door opens and Dr. Cursor walks in. Katrina in tow. I lean back in the bed from Kyra, but move to grab her hand, knowing she needs the comfort as much as I do.

"Good to see you awake doctor." he exclaims walking to the monitor by my bed. "How's your pain level?" he asks, writing notes on his clipboard.

"5" I grit out, he nods and starts to write that down. I wince when Kat hits my foot, followed by Kyra lightly smacking the back of my head. "Ow!"

"Tell the truth," Kyra says, Kat nodding in agreement. I roll my eyes.

"Yes ma'am…the pain is at a 9." I sigh. He nods, "I also have a headache. What happened to me?" I question realizing I have no idea how I ended up in a hospital bed.

"Well what do you remember?" Dr. Cursor asks. I go quiet trying to wrack my brain for what happened.

"All I remember is I left Kat's place after 5 to be able to pick up Ky and a few of the other girls, then…it's all black." I say laying back in the bed, taking a deep breath to try and alleviate some of the pain in my head. I feel Kyra brush her thumb along my hand trying to provide some comfort.

"You were struck by a drunk driver. They hit the passenger side of your car but your car flipped from the speed at which he hit you. You have a concussion and three broken ribs. Once punctured your lung so you went into emergency surgery. You coded once but we were able to bring you back. You've been out for a few hours from the anesthesia. Your sister and fiancée have been here with you since you got out of surgery." I look at Kat in panic at the word fiancée, but she shakes her head with a soft smile. Dr. Cursor doesn't notice as he continues speaking, finishing up his checks. "I'll be back in a couple hours to see how you're doing. I upped your morphine so you should be in less pain." He says before leaving the room.

"F-fiancée?" I question.

"Uhm, they would only let family in your room so I said I was your fiancée so they'd let me in," Kyra explains playing with my fingers. A nervous habit she has. I look at Kat who nods confirming what Kyra had said, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Speaking of, the others are still in the waiting room. I'll go let them know you are awake and double-check if you are allowed non-family visitors," Kat says. She moves towards me taking both my hands in hers, Kyra letting out a whine at the loss of contact with me, before putting something in my hand. "You got this," She whispers pressing a kiss to my forehead. I nod giving her a grateful smile as I feel the ring intended for Kyra in my hand. Kyra looks at me in confusion having heard Kat's words.

"You got what?" She asks. I smile and holding her hand in mine before taking a deep breath.

"When we met I knew you'd be the one for me. The way you brought out my chaos and the way I reigned in some of yours I knew we were perfect for each other. I had something planned a bit more our style but we are nothing if not spontaneous, so…with that said Kyra Lillee Cooney-Cross, will you marry me?" I ask holding out her ring in the palm of my hand. She looks at me in shock, before nodding her head.

"Of course I will!" She exclaims grabbing my face and bringing me into a searing kiss. I smile holding her waist in my hands as best I can with our current positions. I pull back when air is needed, resting my forehead on hers. "I love you," she whispers. I smile pressing another kiss to her lips.

"I love you too. Now I believe this belongs to you," I say holding her left hand in one of mine as I slide her engagement ring on her ring finger with the other.

"It's perfect," she whispers. I look into her eyes and smile.

"So are you, my love." I whisper pulling her into another kiss. We are cut off by cheers coming from the door. We part and see Katrina, Clara, Alessia, Leah and Steph standing at my hospital room door, smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes as they move further into the room

"Finally!!" Katrina exclaims, causing the others including Kyra and I to laugh. "Welcome to the family officially pest," Kat says wrapping an arm around Kyra's shoulder.

"I couldn't ask for a better one," Kyra says, squeezing my hand. I smile and bring her in for another kiss, ignoring the teasing from those in the room. "I love you," she whispers to me again.

"I love you too," I whisper back.

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