#and i see no one talking about how bad the writing is

[righteousdelusions]

You can also check bookmarks of authors/people you like.

'ao3 needs a like and dislike button'

what you need, my algorithm-rotten minded friend, is a grip

[captainkirkk]

I wish you would write a time travel au a la journey to the past with atla and the kids reckoning with a future not only where things are *good* but they're besties with fire lord zuko

Early Book 3 gaang accidentally pisses off a powerful spirit who retaliates by throwing them at the feet of the Fire Lord - just not the current Fire Lord. Maybe another spirit intervenes to save them. Maybe the spirit is just bad at using their immense power and overshot it. Maybe the spirit just thought it'd be funny. Either way, the gaang come face to face with Fire Lord Zuko sitting in his own bedroom, almost 30 years and still dressed in his sleep robes.

Safe to say it doesn't go well.

Katara freezes Zuko to his bedroom wall and they high tail it out of the Fire Palace. No one tries to fight them. The guards stationed at the palace walls see them coming and open the gates for them?? Sokka swears one of them wished him a good morning as they ran by?? And greeted him by name????

It takes them a while to figure out what's going on, and then even longer before they actually believe it. The townsfolk are happy and thriving in a way Aang remembers from before Sozin's reign. There's no whispers of war. No double-takes at their brightly coloured clothing. No guards chasing them down. And everywhere, on every street corner, they talk about Zuko.

Zuko eventually tracks them down, alone and unarmed. He's so different to the angry 16yo they remember. Older, and calmer, and kinder. And when the gaang refuses to return to the Fire Palace (because there's NO WAY they're going to fall for that trap, nuh uh, no way), Zuko decides to come with them. They try to argue- until he pulls out his heavy coin purse and offers to bank-roll their journey.

And that's how the teenage gaang ends up on roadtrip with the future Fire Lord.

The gaang are VERY distrustful and angry and occasionally aggressive. They're traumatised kids displayed over a decade in time (for Aang, it's the SECOND time he's been displayed in time, and it's bringing up a lot of trauma he never got a chance to deal with). Zuko draws on everything he's learnt from Uncle. He's patient and doesn't push. He lets them rage and doesn't raise to the bait when they throw Ozai or Azula in his face. And eventually, they come to open up and trust him - first Aang and Toph, then eventually Sokka and Katara. The gaang get to journey with an adult they can actually trust, who doesn't patronise them or expect them to be soldiers. Someone reliable.

Internally, Zuko is extremely freaked out by the baby versions of his friends, but he's doing his best not to let that show. He always knew they were too young for war, but having to stare at their little faces every day? God.

Also: Please picture the reactions of everyone else who encounters this ragtag group as they search for answers on how to send the baby!gaang home. Are those extremely stressed out kids okay?? Why is one of them cosplaying the Avatar? ........Is that the Fire Lord sitting with them????

[joonjuul]

fallen angel is so good wow it's like god answered my prayer because not long ago i was talking to myself about how i wish there's a good demon jk fic who likes to corrupt innocent souls and you served a very delicious meal thanks maam 🙏 i see your reqs are open! would you like to entertain this idea of werewolf jk who stole someone else's mate 😙 her mate could be abusive so that's why jk "saves" her or maybe jk did it for funsies bcs he's just obsessed with her lol 😆

creature of the night. jjk

pairing: alpha!jk x beta!reader

wc: 6.6k

warnings: werewolf!jk, softdom!jk, super super desperate reader, reader is taken, cheating, pwp this is nasty yall, slight coercion, light fingering (f receiving), light oral (f receiving), overstimulation, light crying, light blood, pet names, light voyernism, some aggressiveness/abusive behavior (not from jungkook), jimin is reader’s original mate !!

a/n: my first req !! tysm anon for requesting !! im not super familiar with the werewolf trope so i hope you like it !! (this fic lowk had me distracted halfway through writing phew its a nasty one) reqs still open !!

╋━

you were always happy with jimin. at least that’s what you told yourself.

it wasn’t until he stopped touching you that you realized something was wrong. he made excuses, he was busy, he wasn’t in the mood, he was stressed about his pack i mean being an alpha isn’t easy work after all. but you had been through three separate heat cycles now, and you were frustrated.

every month passed, another heat you had to endure, waiting for your alpha to take care of you, but he never did.

and then, there was jungkook.

he was the alpha of an enemy pack, a competitor, and jimin’s lifelong threat. and he was obsessed with you, the idea of stealing jimin’s most prized possession right out from under his feet drove him wild, and he never failed to show you just how bad he wanted you.

“you look tired, sweetheart. long night?” you hear the familiar voice creeping up behind you. you could smell him coming from a mile away but gave up on any attempts to avoid him, knowing he would always track you down.

you continue piling the wood in front of you, preparing for a long winter, after all it was your responsibility as the alpha’s mate to take a maternal role for the entire pack.

“no. and even if it was i wouldn’t tell you about it.” you respond coldly, you hated his presence, and you hated that he could see right through your relationship struggles.

you didn’t even need to look at him to hear the grin on his face, slicing his words in half as he spoke.

“awww is jimin really treating you that bad, sweetheart?” you can feel him coming closer to you, but you continue to ignore his approaching frame as best as you can, continuing with your woodpile with your back facing him.

“jimin is… jimin.” is all you can muster before grabbing a stack of wood and heading to your cabin, without even a glance at the man standing behind you. but you already know he’s following, like a lost puppy looking for his mother.

“that bad, huh? i know what will make you feel better.” his footsteps follow behind you as you approach the cabin. luckily for you, the whole pack including your mate were out hunting for the day, preparing for what was supposed to be a frigid winter. you knew if jimin saw him on his territory, he would throw a fit, nevermind speaking to you. he knew jungkook had taken an interest in you recently, but he never knew the true extent of it. the paw prints by your window in the snow, the scent he gave off when he was in your presence. the flirty comments were the least of your concern being that your heat was approaching again soon, and being alone with an alpha, especially not one that’s your mate, was a very bad idea. you didn’t have full clarity in your mind or control of your body during a heat, especially not around an alpha.

you threw the wood down at the foot of the cabin door, turning around to face jungkook for the first time since your interaction had started.

his frame was large, almost larger than normal, hair a curly mess on top of his head, with his arms crossed along his chest. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he looked like a real alpha, the one you’ve been dreaming of the last couple months. but you pushed these thoughts aside quickly.

“oh yeah? and what will make me feel better?” you mimic his stance, crossing your arms and tilting your head, keeping your cold demeanor as best as you can. it was hard to hate someone you had no reason to hate, especially since jungkook had been nothing but nice to you, aside from the occasional harassment. but you were jimin’s mate, and anyone jimin hated, you hated the same.

“me.” he smirks down at you, taking a step closer to you, towering over you as he slowly approached, his gaze darkening as you begin to feel a bubble arising in your stomach. your heat was supposed to begin tonight, and you needed to stay far away from an alphas that weren’t your boyfriend.

you resist the urge to back up as he walks closer to you, instead, walking past him and brushing against his shoulder in the process, making your way back to the wood pile that was calling your name.

“in your dreams, jeon. do you want jimin to kill you?” you call out as you pick up another pile of wood and begin bringing it back to the house. you feel your heart drop as jungkook takes another step closer to you, grabbing the wood from your arms and placing it next to the original pile by the cabin.

“jimin couldn’t kill me if he tried. plus, even if he did, i’d at least die going after something i wanted.” he glances at you, smiling, before going back to the wood and picking up another arm full, doing your job for you as he continues bringing more and more to the foot of the cabin.

“jungkook, you seriously need to stop with this. i know it’s your lifelong dream to destroy him or whatever, but find some other way to do it, i’m not getting involved.” you say, watching carefully as he finishes placing down the last piece of wood, leaning up so he’s now towering over you once more. he reaches a hand up, gripping your chin gently as he tilts your head to look up at him. you feel your stomach twirl at the small gesture, but never let your face show it.

jungkook however, as an alpha, has a very keen sense of smell. especially when it comes to betas that aren’t being properly satisfied, or are in heat. you, are both of those things. and jungkook could smell how desperate you were before he even reached the property line.

he smirks at you, watching your expression carefully. “you’re already involved, sweetheart.” he releases your chin and watches as your eyebrows furrow together. “plus, i couldn’t stop if i wanted to. not when im so close to getting what i want.” he tucks a hair behind your ear carefully before turning around and walking away, without even a glance behind him at your frozen stature at the foot of the cabin.

-

“do anything productive today?” your boyfriend’s sweet words echo through the dining room. you glance up from your food that you had barely touched and watch him as he eyes you carefully, waiting for a response.

“not really. brought some wood inside, that’s about it.” you bring your fork down to your plate, poking at the meat lightly before putting it down completely, leaning back in your chair. you couldn’t eat, not with the impending doom of your relationship in the back of your mind and that god forsaken alpha next door that won’t leave you alone.

jimin quirks an eyebrow before bringing his fork up to his mouth, taking another bite. “that’s strange because i heard you had a visitor.” he says in between chewing. you feel your heart drop. how could he have known? and the fact that you lied about it wasn’t helping your case whatsoever.

you gulp gently, trying to regain your composure. “y-yeah. i didn’t talk to him long though. i made him leave.”

“that’s not what it looked like, y/n.” his voice is calm, but that only makes you more nervous. how could he have seen? he didn’t get home until hours after your interaction with jungkook.

“jimin, i promise you have nothing to-“

“like hell i don’t!” you feel your body jump involuntarily as jimin smashes his hands down on the dinner table, causing the silverware to vibrate aggressively. you feel your heart begin to race, your mind swarming with thoughts as you watch him take a breath and calmly bring his fork back up to his mouth, taking another bite of his dinner.

“you know how i feel about him, y/n. why would you even utter a word to him. not to mention his obsession with you.”

“he’s not obsessed with-“

“i swear to fucking god if you finish that sentence.” you watch as jimin points his fork at you, almost threatening. you gulp again. you had no idea what had gotten into him lately. this wasn’t his first outburst recently, but if you had told the you that met him years ago that the sweet boy you knew would’ve turned into this monster, you would’ve never believed yourself

“jimin, please-“ you mutter, feeling defeated.

“you should be begging for my forgiveness, y/n. dumb fucking slut all you care about is getting dick. the second i get busy with the pack you start running off with my arch nemesis.” his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you feel your heart pang in your chest. how could he say those things?

“jimin i never-“

“the next time i see you even breathing the same air as him, we’re done. you want to be an alpha’s slut so bad? go have him.” you watch as the love of your life stands up from his spot at the dinner table, throwing his silverware down onto his plate and storming off.

you were in shock. you didn’t know what to say, what to think. but you didn’t have time to process this right now, your heat was approaching and you needed to prepare for the night.

_

you feel the warm water consume your body as you bring yourself into the bathtub. the heat comforting your cold heart almost instantaneously. as much as you wanted to push the day’s events to the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but hear jimin’s words ringing in your ears. you could barely control when jungkook approached you nevermind ignored him completely. it was nearly impossible!

you take a breath and exhale, sighing as you lean your head down and under the water, allowing it to swallow you hole.

you are only under the water for half a second, finally feeling some sort of relaxation, and then, it hits you. the first wave.

your body shudders, your heart dropping to your stomach as you feel a deep flutter between your legs.

you immediately come up for air, inhaling deeply as you cross your legs, trying to make the feeling subside in any way you can. the first couple waves are normally not that bad, but because you hadn’t been stuffed by an alpha in so long, the waves only got worse, and worse.

you feel a moan escape your lips, quickly covering your mouth before standing up from the tub and grabbing a towel, wrapping it around your bare body and escaping to your room with quick strides.

since you and jimin started to struggle, you had been sleeping in the guest room of the cabin, which is typically reserved for a member of the back during a time of need, but right now, that was you.

you quickly sit down on the edge of your bed, trying to breathe through the wave as best you can, your knuckles turning white gripping the towel across your chest.

the room is silent, air slightly chilly, enough to make your nipples harden underneath the now cold towel.

you groan, knowing that this is only the beginning, and that you needed to restrain yourself quickly before you got any funny ideas about running next door to find an alpha to mate with.

you barely had time to grab the restraints from your closet before another wave hits you, hard. you feel your knees buckle underneath you, growing weaker and weaker with each stride as the flutter travels from in between your thighs, to your desperate hole.

you feel another moan escape your lips as you regain your composure and bring the restraints to your bed.

typically you would prefer to be clothed during your heat, but right now you didn’t have time for that considering each wave was approaching faster and faster.

you lay down quickly, heart thumping in your chest as you fumble with the restraints, tying yourself to the headboard as best as you can.

once you’re fully immobilized, you take a deep breath, your legs clenching together as the heat circles around your core, the sweet tingling only making you more and more desperate, and before you know it, you’re a mess.

writhing on top of the covers, a thin sheet of sweat covered your body, your nipples exposed to the cold air only making you more sensitive. you couldn’t help the whines of desperation that left your throat. you were trying to be as quiet as possible, knowing damn well that a beta in heat without a mate was like a magnet for any alpha within a 10 mile radius, but there was only one you were worried about right now.

jungkook knew your heat was approaching before he even laid eyes on you this afternoon, and he knew that jimin hadn’t mated with you in at least three months judging by your scent.

he relived the moment he first saw you over and over in his head, staring at the ceiling longingly as he imagined how perfect you would look taking his cock, how much he would love to make you scream his name, how he would love for jimin to watch.

he smirks, feeling himself get hard at the thought of you.

but his smirk quickly drops when he hears a gentle cry in the distance.

jungkook had decided to sleep with his window open tonight, hoping that he could air out the lingering scent of you off his body before it drove him mad. but what he wasn’t prepared for was the sound of you whining across the pine trees from beside his window.

he feels his cock twitch as he makes the realization that those weren’t whines of pleasure, but whines of desperation. he figured your heat was approaching, but he didn’t realize it was here already. and not only that, but the fact that jimin wasn’t taking care of you filled him with a rage he couldn’t describe.

he feels a pinch in his palms as he opens his hands and sees the crescent patches painting his palms red, a sign of his anger, of his rage.

i should go check on her, make sure no lingering alphas get any ideas. but his thoughts are fruitless, as he’s already outside your window by the time the brain wave is complete.

but what he wasn’t prepared for, was the sight of your bare, naked body chained to your bed.

he groans darkly at the sight of you, writhing in desperation as your body pleads for some sort of relief. he brings his hand down to his pants, palming his hard on gently as his brain twists and turns at the image.

and got your scent. it was seeping through the walls. how could jimin function, nevermind sleep through this? never had he seen such a needy beta, not even in their first heat had he ever seen one so desperate.

what kind of alpha would he be if he didn’t take care of her?

you feel one of the waves finish, sliding off your body gracefully as if it didn’t leave you destroyed. each wave got more and more painful, and you were wondering how much longer you could put up with this before it consumed you completely.

your legs were shaking tirelessly, beads of sweat dribbling down your forehead as you take a deep breath in, trying to regain your composure as best you can.

but, there’s something wrong. you picked up a strange smell in the air, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

suddenly, you hear the gentle creek of your bedroom door. your body freezes, completely consumed with fear as you see a tall shadow standing in the doorway of your room.

jimin is not that tall.

you begin to whimper in fear, moving your legs so your sat against the headboard. your pleas are gentle, but any good alpha could easily decipher what they meant; please spare me.

you watch carefully as the shadow takes a step towards you, a beam of moonlight from the window shining on a small portion of his face.

“j-jungkook?” you whimper, your legs shaking gently at the feeling of another wave coming your way. you had to deter it as best as you could, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself once it arrived, especially not with him in front of you.

but, he didn’t respond, only walked closer to you, as if in a trance.

he brings a hand up to your leg, his finger gently sliding across your burning skin, carefully examining every mole and freckle along the way.

“jungkook?” you say a bit louder this time, and you watch as his face snaps up, awaking him from his day dream.

“i-i smelt you. m-my window was open, and i c-couldn’t stop myself.” he stutters, his voice less dominant and more nervous as his finger continued to trace lines up and down your thigh. you suddenly became aware of your naked state and felt a wave of guilt rush over you. jimin was going to kill you if he found out.

the feeling of jungkook’s hand on your skin stirred another wave of heat through your body, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as you double over, your legs shaking aggressively as a line of slick leaks from your throbbing hole, landing on the sheets beneath you.

you’d be blind if you didn’t notice jungkook’s eyes quickly travel from your thigh, to in between them, widening as he sees the mess you’ve made already of your bed sheets.

you feel another moan escape your lips at the mere thought of his presence, silently scolding yourself for feeling this way, but you couldn’t help it, it was in your nature.

“jungkook, p-please. you c-can’t be h-here.” you stutter in between whimpers, your body shaking aggressively now as the wave takes over completely, washing you from head to toe and causing more slick to leak out of you in the process.

jungkook however, is stuck in place. his eyes were dancing around your body, from your face, to your breasts, to your gushing hole and everywhere in between. there was no way he was leaving this room now.

he feels his dominance kick in at the sound of your moans, knowing that an intense wave just hit you, and suddenly, his alpha stature comes out.

he quickly takes a seat next to you on the bed, brushing the hair out from your sweaty face.

“shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay just breathe.” you feel your core twist and turn at his words. you had never seen him so gentle before. he was always just harassing you, his alpha side must’ve kicked in when he was you experiencing a wave.

“j-jungkook. please. i won’t be able to s-stop myself.” your legs shake, your eyes closed tightly as you fight the urge to lunge at him and break your restraints.

jungkook noticed and gulps, feeling his dick twitch at the thought of being able to fuck you, mark you as his, mate with you, while jimin is right in the other room.

his mouth salivates at the sight before him, his eyes locked on your core as he watches it leak more and more slick, the bed sheets saturated with your desperation.

before he has time to process what he’s doing, he leans down, his face now in between your thighs, his breathing short and ragged as he watches your hole throb around nothing.

“just one taste…” you hear him mutter to himself beneath you. you open your mouth, wanting to tell him to stop, but nothing comes out, and your body suddenly shakes as he licks a stripe up your core.

you moan loudly, hands wrapped tightly around the restraints in an attempt to hold yourself up, your legs quivering harshly as he licks another stripe, stopping at your clit and sucking on it tightly.

you feel feral, completely overwhelmed, your body sweating profusely now as he continues to lick and suckle on your core, you can’t stop yourself from the uncontrollable moans and groans that leave your mouth.

“f-fuck. jungkook, p-please stop.” you plead, your voice weak and trembling. as much as you wanted him to stop, for the sake of your relationship, your body was desperate for the slightest bit of touch he could give you, and the more he continues his ministrations on your core, the less you’re able to control your heat from consuming you entirely.

he wraps his arms under your thighs, getting a better grip on you as he continues to eat you out relentlessly, his tongue never once faltering as he buries his face into your sopping cunt.

you moan loudly, unable to control the volume of your screams as you internally panic at the thought of jimin hearing you, or worse, being able to smell jungkook in the house. you pray to anyone that might listen to you that he’s fast asleep, but you know better. he may have been able to conceal it, but jimin’s alpha instincts would never allow him to sleep during one of your heats, it simply wasn’t possible.

jungkook pulls away from your core briefly, his face covered in your juices as he looks up at you from between your legs. the sight of you covered in sweat and heaving struggling to retain any air in your lungs only fuels him more.

“you taste so fucking good.” his voice is low and growled as he begins to move so he’s hovering above you now, your faces merely inches apart as he looks down at you. his eyes tracing your figure, his mouth agape and lips swollen, skin shining with the reflection of your juices.

you feel like you’re unable to function or think under his intense gaze, you gulp harshly, your mind overwhelmed with thoughts of your relationship, but your body unconsciously leaning up into his, trying to gain any sort of friction you can.

“let me take care of you.” he whispers, leaning down into the crook of your neck as he peppers kisses along your sticky skin. you moan deeply, cursing your body for reacting to him so easily. you hadn’t been touched in months, and he was doing everything perfectly, like he somehow already knew your body inside and out, and it was driving you crazy.

“j-jungkook.” is all your able to mutter before he begins sucking harshly on your neck, marking you in desperation. you buck your hips up into his at the sudden force, arms pulling harshly on your restraints in a subconscious attempt to break free.

“so needy, so sweet, and all for me.” he whispers in between kisses, trailing down to your breasts before taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly. you feel another wave of heat consuming your body at his actions, causing you to scream out again, your legs trembling and core pulsing as it leaks more slick out onto the bed.

you’re about to protest, stop him, do anything to save your relationship until you feel his hand slide in between your thighs, prodding your wet hole before pushing inside you, still marking your breasts and chest along the way.

you moan out again, body tensing as you feel yourself tighten around his fingers harshly as he starts a steady pace on your cunt.

“let’s do something about that heat of yours, yeah?” you groan again at his words, the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you almost too much for you to bare. your eyes clench shut as you begin to shake even harder now, desperate to feel more. you bite your lip in an attempt to stay quiet but it’s no use, only breaking the skin on your bottom lip as it begins to bleed lightly.

jungkook smells the blood almost immediately and returns his attention to your face, admiring your swollen red lips. he continues his ministrations on your cunt but leans forward, devouring your lips in a passionate kiss, licking up the small drops of blood that hover on your skin.

you groan into his mouth, feeling the way his fingers curl up into you, and the heat of his tongue on yours, bucking your hips up involuntarily and pulling on your arm restraints harshly, wanting to be closer to him.

jungkook notices your attempts to escape the restraints and removes his fingers from your hole, feeling it tighten around nothing at the sudden emptiness. he brings his hands to your restraints and begins undoing them, pulling away from the kiss and watching as your eyes widen with panic.

“i-i won’t be able to control myself.” your voice shakes as you plead to him not to undo your restraints.

“i don’t want you to.” he says calmly as he fully releases you from your confinement, your arms falling down to the bed harshly as the panic sets in on the intensity of the situation.

he looks at your expression, seeing the worry in your eyes as your arms shake, your body fighting its natural urges to pounce on him and ride him until you can’t walk.

he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he reassures you.

“mate with me.” his voice comes out in a beg, filled with passion and need. you widen your eyes again at his request. he was asking you to leave jimin for him ? was he insane ?

“what?”

he looks at you again, his touch soothing the patches of sweat on your face, moving your hair so it’s no longer sticking to your forehead.

“mate with me.” he repeats, his voice just as desperate as the first time he asked. you’re unable to think. how could he possibly ask you to leave jimin ? he knew how much you loved him, not to mention your dedication to his pack. you suddenly get flashbacks to your dinner with him earlier, the way he yelled at you, his aggressive behavior, what he said about jungkook. you gulp harshly, consumed by your thoughts as you feel yourself begin to drift away from your current situation.

“you’re not happy, y/n. when was the last time he touched you ?” you feel a pang of shame in your heart at his words, you knew he was right, but you’d never be able to forgive yourself if you betrayed jimin like that.

“a true alpha would never let his mate endure their heat alone, even if he was mad. it’s not right and you know it.” you hear his words but you’re unable to respond, all you can think about was how jimin was in the next room, whether or not he could hear everything that was happening, all your happy moments together.

jungkook watches as you drift away from the conversation, and he brings his head back down into the crook of your neck, suckling the skin gently.

“mate with me.” his voice is more desperate now, kissing from your neck down to your shoulders. you feel yourself moan at his touch, your head lulling back as you allow him to take more space on your skin.

“mate with me.” he repeats, dragging his lips down to your collarbones and chest, passionately pecking any free patch of skin he could find.

“mate with me.” he brings his hands up to your shoulders and lays you back on the bed, kissing all the way down to your stomach and thighs, running his hands along the wet skin and scratching it gently.

“mate with me.” he leans back, bringing his hands down to his waistband and pulling them off quickly, his hands finding the hem of his shirt as well, pulling those off too, leaving him just in his boxers as he teasingly brings your hand to the waistband, tracing it gently.

you’re eyes widen at the sight of his hard on, he was bigger than you could’ve ever imagined. you feel his soft skin under the waistband of his boxers, feeling the gentle goosebumps arise as you run your fingers along it, instinctively wrapping your fingers around it signaling for him to take them off.

without a word, he follows your instructions, pulling his boxers down as you watch his cock spring free, drops of precum trickling down the head as he returns to his place above you on the bed.

he leans forward, his cock laying on your tummy as he kisses you passionately, your hips bucking up into his cock as you feel another wave rush over you. the feeling of his cock being so close to your core driving you wild.

you moan gently into his lips, your legs shaking slightly as you grind up into him, the base of his cock swiping against your core softly causing you to cry out again.

jungkook pulls away from the kiss, admiring how fucked out you looked already, bringing his hand down to his cock and aligning it with your entrance, prodding your hole gently.

“mate with me.” his voice now barely a whisper as he rubs the head of his cock between your soaked folds. you moan loudly again, feeling completely overwhelmed by every movement he made. you wanted nothing more than to say yes and allow him to fuck you right then and there, but you couldn’t stop thinking about jimin, and what that would mean for your relationship.

he brings the head of his cock back to your hole, watching as another heat takes over you, leaking hot liquid onto his tip. he growls at the sight, pushing the head gently into your core and watching as your mouth falls open at the feeling. he brings his hands to your hips, holding them in place against the bed as he stays still, only keeping the head of his cock inside you, and never once moving.

“mate with me.” his voice is now a low whisper, watching you struggle to keep your composure under him. you’re fighting against his hold, bucking your hips up as he holds you in place, anything to make him push into you deeper, but he never does.

“j-jungkook, p-please.” you groan, desperate for him to fuck you. you wiggle your hips at an attempt to gain friction but it’s no use with the way he holds you against the bed. you were cornered, you could either say yes and get what you wanted, or say no and watch as he leaves you even more desperate than you were before.

“mate with me, y/n.” his voice is sterner now, his gaze burning holes into you as you look up at him, his eyes dark and full of lust. you knew he would be an aggressive lover just by looking at him. nothing about him screamed gentle.

“p-please.” your eyes begin to well up at the overstimulation.

“do you know how fucking good i can make you feel?” your breath hitches in your throat as he rolls his hips forward, pushing his cock into you, slowly.

you feel your walls stretch around his length as he slowly moves his cock deeper into you, he was so big you thought it would never end.

“do you know how well i’d take care of you if you were mine?” you’re unable to form words as he bottoms out inside of you, still holding your hips in place as he settles within your cunt, stopping once he’s fully inside of you.

“you’d have your heat every night with the way i’d fuck you.” you feel a moan fall from your lips at the feeling of having him inside of you, his words only stirring the butterflies inside your core.

“mate with me.” he places a hand on your chin and forces you to look up at him, watching as your face is contorted with pleasure and overstimulation. and before you have time to process it, the word is leaving your mouth.

“okay.”

he quickly brings a hand up to your mouth, covering it tightly as he fucks up into you at an inhumane pace.

“good girl, fuck.” he mumbles, his cock stretching you out deliciously as he fucks you into the bed. you realize now why he covered your mouth as you begin to cry out loudly, his palm muffling the nasty sounds that spill from your lips.

his cock was big, bigger than you were used to, and the way it perfectly hit your g-spot with every thrust was driving you insane. you brought your hands up to his shoulders to find something to hold on to, feeling as they tense under your touch.

“god you’re so fucking tight. when was the last time he fucked you?” you moan again at his words, feeling him move his hand away slightly for you to respond.

“t-three months ago.” you stutter, your voice shaky as he covers your mouth once more, groaning as he fucks you even harder.

“fuck. i’m gonna take such good care of you, baby. you’re gonna forget he ever existed.” you feel your body shake aggressively as he picks up his pace, wrapping your legs around his back to allow him to fuck you deeper. he growls at the small action, moving his hand from your mouth to your throat as he wraps his fingers around your neck lightly.

“bet he didn’t fuck you like this, did he?” he tightens his grip around your neck, your head swirling as he cuts of your ability to breathe. you feel a head rush wash over you, your vision darkening slightly as you do your best to whisper a response.

“f-fuck, no he didn’t.” he releases his grip around your neck at your words, watching as you shake in pleasure beneath him. he can’t help the smirk that falls across his lips knowing that jimin was in just the next room.

he wraps an arm around your waist and flips you over so you’re on your stomach, pushing his cock into you once more as he grips your hips slightly.

you moan out loudly at the new position, already feeling like he’s pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“wanna hear that pretty voice, wanna hear you moan my name, want jimin to hear it too.” he slaps your ass harshly as he continues pulling your hips down to his own, fucking you from behind.

your knuckles are turning white from your aggressive hold on the sheets, your lips bit tightly between your teeth as you shake your head, the thought of jimin hearing you scaring you half to death.

but jungkook doesn’t like that response.

he wraps a hand around your hair pulling you back roughly, you let out a squeal at the sudden aggressiveness. his hips never stalled as he brought his other hand to your front, dragging it down to your clit and rubbing torturous circles with his fingers.

you moan out loudly as he continues to fuck you like this, his hands on your clit pushing you towards the edge faster and faster.

“wanna try that again?” he whispers into your ear as he continues to fuck into you, your mind is completely blank, all you can think about is your approaching orgasm and the way his fingers feel against your clit.

jungkook smiles to himself, noting how easily you get overstimulated, and lets go of your hair to watch your upper half fall back to the bed roughly. he brings both of his hands back to your hips and begins to fuck you harder.

“close already, huh sweetheart?” your body begins to shake, his mocking tone shooting straight to your core as you feel yourself begin to teeter on the edge. all you can do is moan loudly in response, you’re sure jimin could hear you, anyone in a 10 mile radius probably could.

“cum baby, wanna feel you cream on my cock like a good pup.” and at his words you can no longer hold back, your cunt tightening around him as you begin to squirt, coating his cock and balls with your slick, your vision turning black and head spinning as you scream loudly.

jungkook’s hips stall slightly at the way you squeeze him, almost pushing his cock out of you completely. his lower half entirely soaked with your slick as he groans loudly. he’d never seen a pup so desperate for an alpha that they squirted on him. he begins to fuck into you faster, his high approaching quickly too as he runs his hands up and down your sides, soothing you gently.

“shhh it’s okay, baby. you did so good, such a good girl for me.” his voice is shaky but he never shows how much you affected him. you begin to come back to reality, your entire body convulsing in overstimulation as you feel him continue to fuck you. his soothing actions by your sides only turning you on more, making the overstimulation worse as you writhe and wiggle under his hold.

“ahh- fuck.” you squeal, you had never felt this level of overstimulation before. normally jimin doesn’t even make you finish.

“almost there baby, fuck.” jungkook’s thrusts become sloppy as he fucks into you harder, making your cunt scream out in pain. he takes his final couple thrusts before groaning loudly and spilling his seed inside of you, filling you up completely. it’s more than you’re used to, you’ve never seen a man cum so much.

“fuck.” he mumbles, his thrusts slowing down as he fucks his seed into you. after a couple deep breaths he pulls his cock out, watching as the mixture of your fluids leak out, your hole pulsing with need as they drip onto the sheets below you.

you collapse onto the bed, feeling completely overwhelmed, but even more fulfilled knowing that you finally have an alpha that can take care of you and your needs.

jungkook collapses beside you, bringing a hand to your head as he tucks a hair behind your ear.

“what did he ever do to deserve you?” he mumbles just over a whisper, watching as you close your eyes gently out of over-tiredness.

just when you feel you’re about to drift into a deep sleep, you hear a creak in the doorway, your heart dropping to your stomach as you open your eyes widely, seeing jungkook’s cocky expression as he watches his gaze shift to the bedroom door.

“what the fuck.” you hear jimin’s familiar voice across the room, feeling an overwhelming sense of regret and shame wash over you, but you’re internally glad you’re not facing the doorway and can’t see his expression.

jungkook stands up from off the bed, reaching for his boxers before sliding them up over his legs and cock proudly.

“i told you i’d get her.” you hear jungkook respond confidently, finishing putting his clothes on before leaning back down to you and wrapping a towel over your figure, picking you up in one swift movement.

he looks down at your face, seeing your eyes scrunched up tightly, an expression of guilt painted on your beautiful features.

you can feel his chest grumble, but don’t open your eyes or respond as he shoots jimin a glare and brushes past him, walking out the cabin and into the wild.

you were his now, and he wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way.

[blommis-writes]

THIS. Another Italian peep, linguist and history enthusiast/student, here to explain how it works from the historic and linguistic point of view. As the person before me stated, it's not two different things because they have different names - it's the exact same thing.

The Roman Salute was used by fascists in Italy the same way the Swastika was used by nazis in Germany - it recalled the nationalist sense of using one's own "pure" roots, and where the nazis were all about the "arian race" and used the ancient norse sun symbol, fascists talked about the "italic race" and used a salute that was thought to be in use during the Roman Empire.

Fun history fact, fascists of the time were as dumb and ignorant as the ones we have today, because it was never actually used in Ancient Rome - the whole Roman Salute was a misconception born from a number of factors happening in the 18th century. The Romans did sometimes raise their right hand to symbolize honor and loyalty toward someone, but the arm was lower than 45° and slightly bent at the elbow, and the fingers were splayed almost as if pointing at somthing, you can see it in this statue of Marcus Aurelius:

The whole Roman Salute thing was born from the classicist mania for ancient things in the 18th century that brought on a lot of common mistaken theories that were immortalized in art before being proved wrong by actual scholars, in particular a work by Jaques-Louis David that depicted it was so popular that it forever set this version (arm at 45° with fingers kept close) as the "original Roman Salute":

Again, the Romans never did this. Powerful people sometimes did the dextera, the one you see Marcus Aurelius doing, but it was in special contexts (i.e. the swearing of an oath) while generally speaking in common contexts the population only did the usual salutatio by saying "salve" or "ave", sometimes while raising a hand in a "hello" motion, other times with a kiss or a hug. (there were so any other types of greetings depending on context, but y'all get the gist of it)

Dear old Baldyto Mussolini saw the wrong info left over from the 18th century, thought this salute really was the one used in Ancient Rome, and went "oh yeah this rocks, I wanna bring Italy to the glory it had during the Roman Empire so I'm gonna use this one".

But again. It's just. A different (and mistaken) name. Linguistically speaking, think of it as a rebrand. But if you try searching, even simply on wikipedia, "roman salute", the results will be about the fascist salute.

Also the English version doesn't let it on, but the Italian one does specify it:

English: oh yea it's just a salute also known as fascist, and it's also different from the nazi one which you can look up separately

Italian: it's also called Roman Salute yeah, but ma'am the romans never actually used that shit so it's more correct to call it Fascist Salute

The fun thing about manipulating the language you use is that you can basically do this kind of rebrand with anything, and very well use it for propaganda. You see how in the English page they separated the concept in two by giving different names?

The Nazi Salute described:

it's described the same exact way as the Roman and Fascist ones, but with a smart use of technology and language what you end up getting is three completely different ideas!

Nazi Salute: bad

Fascist Salute: eh still bad

Roman Salute: just somethin' fun the Romans did all the time :)

Reader, they are the same, exact thing.

TL;DR: "A rose by any other name is still a rose" typa shit.

There is. So much more to talk about when it comes to langauge and propaganda, and I don't have enough time or space to write it all down in a tumblr post, but what I can say is: there is a reason nazis and fascists, and Mussolini and Hitler during their speeches, spoke in a certain way, and if you wake up and look closely at how certain politicians nowadays talk, you will spot it. Language and its areas - syntax, semantics, phonetics, pragmatics, accents and cadences, they are ALL powerful propaganda tools.

what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?

would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone Part 2

Hi everybody! I'm back with the next part of my Yoga Steve Steddie AU. I've decided to call it Stretch Zone as a bit of a teacher joke 😅

Still not sure where this is going or if it will go further, but I will be officially starting a tag list after this installment so if you want to be added let me know if the comments or tags.

Part 1

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Despite his best efforts, Robin does not come with him next week to Chrissy’s yoga class. He tried to tell her, many times, that Chrissy was totally into her but she was impervious to his completely air-tight proof.

“She asked if I was your boyfriend and totally lit up when I said I wasn’t. She totally wants to get with you, Robbie”

“First of all, gross. Second of all, that is not proof of anything.”

So he came alone this week. Mostly, it’s the same thing as the first class but instead of introductions, they just get right into the exercises. Chrissy is a good teacher. Kind, patient, and always giving alternative ways to do the poses for people who want more or less difficulty. Of all the girls Robin has liked, she’s definitely Steve’s favorite and he’s determined to play wingman.

Chrissy always leaves enough time after class for everyone to mill around and clear up their stuff, which leaves Steve plenty of time to meddle.

“Hey Chrissy!” he calls out, jogging a little to reach her before any of the vultures do. Chrissy is a cute girl and he thinks more than one of the guys here are more interested in her than mindfulness. Probably some of the girls, too. “I wanted to thank you for the links you sent me. This mat is much better than the one they loaned me at the desk.” He says a little louder than is probably necessary, but he wants the vultures to hear and think that he’s already got an in with the pretty blond.

“Oh, no problem Steve, I was happy to help,” she says. She really is tiny, he finds himself thinking. Steve himself isn’t the tallest guy around but she has to tilt her head all the way up to look him in the eye. She’s going to look so cute next to Robin, speaking of which. “I didn’t see Robin this week. Was she not able to make it?” Steve once again curses Robin’s stubborn streak. Chrissy was very clearly hoping to see the other girl today.

“Nah, she decided it wasn’t for her. I don’t know if you saw, but she’s kind of clumsy,” Steve admits. “She told me to say hi though. She’s always talking about how great your ideas are for your writing class. I think she said something about peer editing? I don’t know,” he says with faux nonchalance. Robin most certainly did not ask him to pass on a hello and she would be mortified to know that the previously anonymous peer edits she submitted for Chrissy’s last paper are not so anonymous anymore. Steve would feel bad, Robin was definitely effusive with her praise, but if he’s right about this whole situation then Robin will thank him later.

“Oh! Robin was my editor last week? I didn’t know that! That review was so thoughtful and kind I was wondering who it was. I’ll have to thank her in class tomorrow,” she says with a bright, excited smile.

Robin is going to owe him big time.

Mission accomplished, Steve becomes aware that he’s taken up a good chunk of Chrissy’s time and there is a small pod of people awkwardly loitering around, probably waiting to ask questions that are actually yoga-related. One guy in particular is boring holes into Steve’s head like it’s his damn job, which is…well, it’s a little uncomfortable but Steve can appreciate he’s being kind of annoying taking up all the instructor's attention.

He says his goodbyes to Chrissy and turns to leave, catching that guy’s eyes again and sending him a little wave and sheepish smile. He might as well try and be friendly; they’re going to be in this class together for the next two months, after all. To Steve’s mild relief, it seems to snap the guy out of his single-minded glaring. He watches as the guy blinks hard and turns a charming shade of pink, clearly embarrassed to be acknowledged, and give a little wave back.

The guy is kind of cute, in a wet cat kind of way. He’s wearing black sweatpants and a shirt for some band Steve doesn’t recognize with the sleeves cut off and despite the fact that he’s got long, curly hair he clearly didn’t bring any kind of hair tie because the whole thing has become one tangled, sweaty mess. He’s not the kind of guy Steve would expect to be taking yoga classes, but he supposes anyone can get into this kind of stuff.

With one last look at the strange man, Steve continues toward the door, mind once again turned toward making sure Robin is prepared to talk to Chrissy on Monday.

—---

Eddie can not believe this is his life.

Of all the things he thought he would do one day - write an award-winning song, buy his uncle Wayne a better trailer in a better town, find a man to take his virginity - yoga was never on the list.

Eddie Munson is not, and has never been, the kind of guy to do exercise that didn’t involve running away from jocks and preps he’d annoyed to the point of violence. In fact, he’s been adamant that he would only ever do recreational exercise of the non-sexual variety when the sun fell out of the sky and Andy Johnson from high school professed his undying love to him.

Neither thing has happened as of yet but unfortunately, his best friend is the surprisingly cunning Chrissy Cunningham, who is determined to make Eddie into a healthier person. Chrissy, a bonafide jock but also the kindest person on planet Earth, has tried every trick in the book to get her best friend to commit to a better lifestyle, but Eddie has always been stubborn to a fault. Even he can admit that his dedication to cigarettes, microwave meals, and general sloth is not the best way to ensure he lives a long, healthy life, but old habits die hard and he’s still too young to be thinking about his inevitable death. 

No amount of pleading, cajoling, or petty theft from his apartment has gotten Eddie to commit to anything for more than a week, but Chrissy isn’t his best friend for nothing. She knows him better than anyone and that means she knows that Eddie is proud to a fault and when presented with a challenge he can’t - won’t - turn it down. She traps him into a bet he can’t win and in all her cruelty, she demands that he sign up for her three-month yoga course at the rec.

Three months.

Eddie won’t make it.

Eddie definitely won’t make it if the absolute snack of a man diagonal from him doesn’t start wearing something other than the tightest pair of yoga pants known to man. Seriously, Eddie thought this would be bad enough when all he had to worry about was his stiff joints and complete lack of lung capacity and then this man had the gal to walk in and set up not 10 feet away.

From the front, it had been bad enough. Droopy puppy eyes, sweet moles, a strong nose, and a fit body. And, well, Eddie is not a creep. He isn’t. But there is also an adonis of a man standing right in front of him wearing yoga pants and it’s kind of hard not to look at what's right in front of him. Much to his dismay, or relief he can’t tell, the adonis seems to know what he’s doing and has worn the correct undergarments to keep everything from flopping around.

And then he turned around and…

Dear god.

Those pants can not be fucking legal.

Eddie spent the entire class trying not to stare like the creep he swears he isn’t and failing. His only saving grace is that he doesn’t fall on his face, but it’s a near thing, especially when Chrissy guides them into these weird lunges that make the back of Eddie’s thighs burn and the man of his dream’s ass look completely biteable. He swears Chrissy is torturing him on purpose. She’s probably trying to get him back for being such a brat about taking care of himself.

When the class finally lets out 45 agonizing minutes after it started, Eddie feels like a wrung dish towel. He’s sweaty and gross and he’s going to be aching in places he didn’t even know existed until next week when he has to do it all again. Seriously, fuck bets.

When he finally summons the will to sit up, he is once again treated to the sight of the most fabulous ass this side of the Mississippi. The equally gorgeous man attached to it is chatting to Chrissy, something about yoga mats that Eddie doesn’t care to understand and general pleasantries that he tunes out until his brain hooks on something interesting.

Robin.

As in Robin Buckley the girl from Chrissy’s writing class that his best friend has been crushing hard on for weeks.

Very interesting indeed.

But he can think about that later. At the moment, he is more concerned with getting off the floor and shuffling a little closer to the front of the room for a better look at his future husband’s face. There’s something pleasant about the shape of his mouth, a thought Eddie has never had about a person before but is nonetheless true. There’s a curve to his smile that is present even as he speaks. Eddie kind of wants to kiss his teeth. He’s so caught up seeing if he can count all the moles on the man’s neck that he doesn’t notice him turn toward Eddie until he’s wiggling his fingers in a little wave.

Eddie is suddenly reminded that staring at another man’s moles in the middle of a yoga studio is not socially acceptable behavior, and this man definitely saw him doing just that. He can feel all the blood in his body rush to his face in record time. This is definitely the most embarrassing moment of his adult life. 

Helpless to do anything else lest he look like even more of a freak, he gives a little wave back, feeling supremely stupid as he does. The guy gives him one last look before walking out the door.

As soon as he’s gone Eddie collapses back onto his abandoned mat and covers his eyes with his hands, too mortified to face the world. He doesn’t care if there are still other people lingering around talking to Chrissy and cleaning up their mats, he kicks his feet into the air and groans loud and long. Let Chrissy deal with the weird looks for him, this is her fault anyway.

A couple minutes later the room dims even more as Chrissy looms over him. He refuses to take his hands away from his face, not wanting to deal with her no doubt smug face.

“See something you liked?” She asked, unperturbed by Eddie’s childish behavior.

Eyes still closed, he says, “You’re going to hell. This is best friend abuse.”

Chrissy just laughs.

-------

Little reminder that I am doing a little fanfiction giveaway to celebrate 500 followers. If you want to enter, go to this post for the details!

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Tag List Added

@aroseandherthorns @child-of-cuthulu @lumoschildextra @warlordess

[hivemuthur]

i haven’t seen this before but a viktor x doctor!reader where his pains are extra bad one day but he’s come to a standstill to his discoveries so he’s extra irritated already. and so reader tries to help him and he just snaps. can be full on angst or angst w/ happy ending if you please. idk much about the topic of chronic pains so hopefully this request wasn’t ignorant, tweak it if you want! love ur writings!!

Hi Anon! Here's your fic!

It Never Entered My Mind

viktorxgn!doctor!reader general audiences, angst with a vague resolution

author’s note: Okay, so this wasn't easy to write because I'm on the both sides of this coin, as a person with chronic pains and someone with medical degree. So, when I'm in pain I want people to pat me on the back and make me a cup of tea, and when someone announces they are in pain I'm this annoying dude that asks WELL DID YOU DRINK WATER TODAY? :O Title from Miles Davis, cheers!

word count: 1,3K

—

The first thing you hear is the door slamming shut and then a long groan as Viktor kicks off his shoes and drops his keys in a bowl. His movements are careful, deliberate—like with each one, he calculates how to hide the fact that something is wrong. But you see it anyway. The stiffness in his shoulders, the slight hitch in his step. The way he lingers just a little too long by the door, gripping the frame before finally stepping out of the hallway.

“Hey,” you greet him, eyeing his posture from under your glasses. “You’re late.”

“Hm,” is all he offers in response before strolling toward the kitchen. No teasing remark. No tired but affectionate jab about you keeping track of his schedule. Just that vague, dismissive sound as he moves past you, his cane tapping against the floor in uneven intervals.

Undoubtedly, it’s going to be another one of those afternoons where he sighs and talks mostly to himself while telling you not to worry about it. So you brace yourself and follow him.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not hungry,” he mumbles while searching through the tea cabinet. You frown. His coat is wrinkled, his hair more dishevelled than usual. And up close, you notice the tension in his face—the tight set of his jaw, the way his fingers curl into his palm even as he reaches for a cup.

Pain. It’s always there in some form, but tonight it clings to him heavier than usual.

You step forward, your hand already reaching out for his shoulder. “Viktor—”

“I am fine.”

The words come too quickly. A pre-emptive strike. Which only confirms that he isn’t and makes your frown deepen. You exhale and go for the obvious first.

“Do you want something for the pain?”

“No.”

He doesn’t even look at you. You can see his defences rising and feel yourself becoming annoyed with his martyrdom.

“Viktor.”

“I said no.”

He sets the cup down harder than necessary and sighs, defeated, as if you have just betrayed him somehow. As if it’s not the physical pain that he is looking to ease.

You cross your arms, studying him for a moment before shifting tactics. “Alright. Then tell me what happened.”

“It was just—” He waves a hand, as if dismissing an invisible nuisance. “Nothing of importance.”

“That’s not an answer,” you press, and all air leaves you. Why do you press in the first place? If he wants to sulk alone, you should let him.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. His patience is thinning, but so is yours.

“Viktor,” you try again, willing yourself to be softer this time. “Just talk to me.”

He hesitates, then finally, “I am stuck.”

You blink but say nothing, making space for him to speak. Your features soften at the sight of him cracking—just a bit.

“With Hextech. With my research.” His fingers tap against the counter, restless, agitated. “It is like hitting a wall, again and again. Every theory, every equation—I run in circles, and it is infuriating.” His voice edges with frustration, exhaustion—something raw beneath it all. “And on top of that, my leg—” He cuts himself off, lips pressing into a thin line.

When he doesn’t continue, you take a step forward and place your hand on his shoulder. “You need to take better care of yourself, Viktor.”

His jaw immediately tenses. “Not this again.”

“You don’t take breaks, you barely eat when you get like this, and it only makes everything worse—”

“Enough,” he growls, shaking your hand off.

But you don’t stop—meaning well but making it worse. “You push yourself too hard. You know stress makes the pain worse. If you just listened to me—”

“I am not your patient,” he hisses through his teeth. It isn’t loud, but it’s sharp enough to cut through your little lecture.

You stare at him, startled, words stuck in your throat. Viktor exhales sharply through his nose, gripping the edge of the counter as he fights for composure. When he speaks again, his voice is lower but no kinder—disappointed, for that matter.

“I do not need a lecture. I do not need to be told how to manage my own body, my own limits. I live in them every day.” His knuckles whiten before he delivers the final blow. “I need my partner. Not my doctor.”

And that does it. Because he is right. You’ve slipped into doctor mode without even thinking. Instead of just listening, instead of just being there, you’ve tried to fix it—fix him—like he was just another case to manage. Or an inconvenience.

And the worst part? You can see it in his face, in the way his shoulders have drawn inward like a man bracing for impact—this isn’t the first time.

You swallow hard, and with the lump in your throat go all the possible words you could say to him. I am sorry sounds like not enough. That wasn’t my intention sounds accusatory. I just want you to feel better feels too dismissive.

“I’m sorry.” You pick the lesser evil and reach for him again. “I’m here for you. Tell me what you need.” You say it quietly, moving closer, and it hurts you disproportionately that he keeps moving away.

“Viktor.” You plead, taking advantage of his slower coordination and sliding your hands around his waist. He raises his arms as if he’s trying to shake you off, but you persist.

“I do not need to be scolded like a child, that’s for sure,” he mumbles grumpily but lowers his arms. Still not ideal, as now you are wrapped around his waist while he stands stiffly, arms hanging limply by his sides. But he does finally look at you. “I just need you to listen, that’s all. To tell me it’s going to be all right.” Just tell me that you love me despite all of this.

You never meant to make him feel like that—like a problem to solve rather than the man you love. But how else are you supposed to react? When he is in pain, when he is hurting, barely keeping himself upright?

You exhale into his chest, trying to find your footing, trying to push back the instinct to argue—to tell him you know what’s best for him. Because that’s not what he needs.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wasn’t trying to—” You shake your head. “I just don’t want to see you suffer when I know there are things that can help.”

Viktor rubs a hand over his face, still avoiding your touch as much as possible. “And I appreciate that. But you have to understand—I have lived with this pain for years. There is no solution. No cure. No treatment that will make it all go away.” His gaze lowers to meet yours. “Sometimes, I just need comfort.”

Something in your chest aches at the admission. “I’m sorry for not seeing you,” you whisper, placing your hand on his cheek. You see something shift in his expression. “No more lectures. I promise.”

Viktor huffs out something like a laugh, tired and wry. “That is a first.” But his hands do finally move, settling on your hips, making you sigh in relief.

You press your ear to his chest and close your eyes. His heart beats unevenly.

“Can I at least take care of you?” you plead quietly, your palms flattening against his back.

His eyes close for a beat when he sighs. And then he hums softly.

“Yes,” he admits. “You can do that.”

[melercies]

pairing(s): nam-gyu x (gender-neutral) reader headcanons (squid game + post-squid game)

warning(s): dark/toxic relationship dynamics, including manipulation, gaslighting, possessiveness, emotional/psychological abuse, violence, obsessive behaviors, power struggles, mature/suggestive themes in some parts, death (nam-gyu + reader separately), drug/alcohol mentioned, my best interpretation of the character and lowercase use intended.

author's note: i decided to write some relationship headcanons when it comes to nam-gyu specifically. i will eventually write for thanos too, but at the moment, this guy is rotting in my brain. <//3 please let me know if i missed anything! likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated!

when it comes to nam-gyu, his idea of love is driven by his deep need for some sort of validation. if he feels that you're not paying enough attention to him, he might resort to making subtle gestures, lingering touches here and there or making you feel guilty for not putting him first.

your eyes gaze onto his figure, noticing the sudden shift in his demeanor. he was practically sulking and was slightly distant, trying to get you to notice him again, whether being more charming or taking actions that demand attention. "how can you be so cold to me? after everything i've done for you?"

for nam-gyu, love isn't about mutual respect or a deep emotional connection. it's about ownership. he wants to feel like he has you, body and soul. it makes him see love as some sort of possession, not someting fluid or free. you are his, and he makes sure you know it. clearly, he enjoys the power struggles in the relationship, pushing you to your limits just to see and test if you'll stay with him.

nam-gyu would never admit it, but he has a deep insecurity within him that drives for his actions where he is terrified of being abandoned, of not being enough. under all that exterior of his, there's a childlike need for affection and approval. the problem is that this vulnerability of his is masked by his pride and narcissim, making him push you away even if he desperately needs you.

sometimes when you call him out on his behavior, he'll twist your words, making you question yourself. he has his ways of making you feel guilty, even when he's the one in the wrong.

the dormitory was dim, the faint hum of distant murmurs filling the tense air. you sit on the cold floor, arms wrapped around your knees, trying to process what just happened. nam-gyu crouches in front of you, hands on his thighs, tilting his head with that infuriating smirk. "c'mon, you're really giving me the silent treatment?"

you glance up at him, jaw tight. "you didn't have to do that." your voice shakes with frustration. "that guy wasn't a threat. you didn't have to—"

"oh, so now i'm the bad guy?" he scoffs, rolling his eyes before leaning in, his hands settling on your shoulders. his grip was firm, gentle enough to seem affectionate in a way, but strong enough to remind you who's in control. "i did what i had to do. he was looking at you like he had a chance. what was i supposed to do? let him think you were up for grabs?"

you shake your head, trying to pull away, but he holds you still. "that's not what this is about, nam-gyu! you—"

"shhh," he coos, pressing a finger to your lips. "you're overthinking again, sweetheart. i know it's scary in here, but i'm looking out for you. you know i wouldn't let anything happen to you, right?" his tone is soothing, almost sweet—like he's comforting you. like he didn't just break a man's fingers for daring to talk to you.

you hate how your resolve starts to crack.

he leans closer, his forehead almost touching yours. "you trust me, don't you?" his voice drops, low and coaxing. "i only do this because i care about you. you'd rather be with some nobody who can't even protect you?"

the worst part? some twisted part of you believed him. he cups your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek as his lips ghost over your ear. "just stick with me. i'll get us out of here. you don't have to worry about anything—i'll do the hard part." the weight of his words felt like they were pressing down on you like a collar around your throat. and just like that, he wins. again.

nam-gyu makes it clear from the start: you stick with him, and he'll keep you alive. but it's not out of pure love—it's about ownership. his protection feels suffocating, but in a skeptical place like this, it's certainly better than being alone.

he'll steal extra food if he can, but he won't always share. if he does, it's usually because he's in a good mood, but pretends to not act as if he doesn't care—or because he likes seeing you beg for it. it was ridiculous.

"fine, fine. here, open your mouth," he teases, pressing a piece of stale bread to your lips. "see how generous i am?" if you hesitate, he tuts, shoving it into your mouth himself. "what, you don't trust me?"

the sleeping quarters are chaos, but nam-gyu always makes sure you're curled up besides him. sometimes, he keeps an arm around your waist to make sure you don't wander and let himself know that your presence is still by his side. especially within these fucked-up kid games.

when he suspects or catches someone else getting a bit too close to you, it doesn't end well for them unfortunately. a fellow player offers to help you? oh, no problem. nam-gyu makes it a personal mission for himself to make sure they don't make it through the next game or their life a living hell. he doesn't even try to hide it.

"told you not to talk to just anyone. guess they didn't listen." he spoke, shrugging, your eyes stare at him in disbelief after he had killed them.

nam-gyu practically lives for the moments where he can get under your skin—physically and emotionally. he loves watching every of your reactions, the way you try to act unaffected when he's so close, touching you just enough to leave you aching for more. no matter how many times you try to push your mind off of him.

whispers of alliances, occasional scuffle, and the ever-present tension of survival was all there was, but none of that mattered right now. not with the way nam-gyu had you backed against the cold metal bunk, his hands braced on either side of you.

"thought you were gonna sleep without saying goodnight?" he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement. his eyes gleam under the dim lighting, filled with something dark, something..hungry.

you huff, trying to push past him, but he doesn't budge. instead, he presses closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. "tsk. rude," he drawls. "after everything i've done for you? keeping you safe, feeding you...and you won't even give me a little gratitude?"

you glare at him, but your resolves wavers when his fingers brush against your hip—just barely, just enough to make your eyes glance down and breath hitch. his smirk deepens, that teasing little shit. he knows.

"what's wrong?" he coos, tilting his head. "nervous?" his hand slides lower, skimming the waistband of your uniform, teasing and testing as he watches your face for any reactions. you swallow hard, glancing at the other players—most of them asleep, others too wrapped up in their own survival to even care. still, the risk sends a thrill up your spine.

nam-gyu notices. he thrives on it.

his lips brush against your jaw—so light, so fleeting it almost doesn't happen. then, just as you start to lean in, he pulls back with a quiet chuckle. your eyes widening slightly by him retracting. "get some sleep," he whispers, his thumb tracing slow circles against your hip before finally stepping away. "you'll need your energy for tomorrow." and just like that, he's gone—leaving you breathless, flustered, and completely at his mercy.

usually it doesn't happen all the time, but sometimes, rare quiet moments during lights out happen with nam-gyu. nam-gyu lets his guard down. just slightly. "when we get out of here," he whispers, "we'll start over. just you and me. no one else." he says it like it's a dream—one you both know probably won't come true unless luck is on both your sides.

if you make it out alive, but he doesn't? whether he went out protecting you or because of his own recklessness, his final words haunt you. maybe it was him trying to act tough, a cocky smirk on his lips or maybe, in his last moments, he was soft—gripping your hand weakly and whispering, "you better win. don't make this all for nothing." the light in his eyes slowly dying down as your grip on his hand tightens, refusing to leave his side as the pink guards come by to place his body into one of those black-and-pink coffins.

no matter how he treated you, a part of you aches knowing you made it and he didn't. even if you tell yourself it was for the best, you can still hear his voice lingering in your head—taunting, possessive, maybe even affectionate in his own twisted way.

you'd flinch at familiar smirks. you turn when you hear someone laugh like him. sometimes you swear you can hear his voice when you're alone, murmuring, "miss me, babe?"

if you were the winner, you can't just enjoy it. not without thinking about him—about what he would've done with it. would he have taken you away somewhere? spent it recklessly? it doesn't matter. because now, you'll never know.

a jacket, a ring, something small that he always had on him. you don't even realize why you keep it at first. but one night, holding to your chest or staring at the item, you would find yourself admitting quietly: i miss you.

if nam-gyu makes it out alive, but you don't? denial. that's what he feels at first, he doesn't believe it as they announce the player numbers that have been eliminated. he waits for you to show up. even after the game is over, he expects to turn a corner or see you amongst the crowd of remaining players and see you. however, when reality finally sinks in, it's not pretty.

if he witnesses your death in front of him, he fucking snaps. whether it's screaming your name, lunging at whoever caused it, or making a promise right then and there—"i'll kill every single one of you fucking—" he does not go quietly.

if he's the last one standing, the prize feels...empty. he'll still blow it on reckless things—clubs, alcohol, drugs—but none of it fills the hollow ache in his chest. every victory tastes like ash without you there to enjoy it with him.

you were the one thing that kept him (somewhat) grounded. without you, he spirals. he's quick to throw punches, to lash out at anyone who reminds him even slightly of you. it's easier to be angry than to feel the loss.

no matter how self-destructive he gets, there's one thing of yours he keeps—an article of clothing, some accessory of yours, maybe even a stupid joke/line you used to say. sometimes, when he's sure that no one's looking, he presses the item to his lips and mutters, "you should've been here."

late at night, after too many drinks or he's so high from overpowering drugs, he would lean back against his seat and mutter, "what, no snarky comeback? you'd be rolling your eyes at me right now." then, silence. and for the first time, he hates it.

[yourlocalchronicdaydreamer]

Thanks for the tag!

1. Bridgerton, Arcane, and A Man on the Inside (I’m so bad at motivating myself to watch new shows though lol)

2. Tbh I’m pretty boring and just wear identical plain socks that are hidden underneath my converse

3. Not really

4. I have this one dress that I just wear every time

5. Fried is my go to, but I like scrambled as well

6. I have like fifty plain white bookmarks and I keep a few of them in various places around my room so I can always grab one when I’m reading

7. My closet is mostly black, white, and blue, with some green and purple (I don’t wear warm colours lol)

8. I don’t anymore, except that I like to buy my favourite books, but I have crystal and eraser collections from when I was younger

9. I don’t really know tbh

10. I like the really specific aesthetic ones

11. No

12. She’s really good at getting things done, she’s really easy to talk to, and she treats our dms like her diary and sometimes leaves me 70 messages at once

13. Black pen normally, though if I’m scribbling ideas down quickly I’ll do that in pencil

14. My bedroom and the library

15. No, the only plants in my room are fake hanging ones that I have fairy lights mixed in with

16. These aren’t hoodies, but my favourite jumpers are my folklore cardigan that I got for Christmas and a purple cardigan that my best friend crocheted for me

17. I don’t really order things online

18. Ooh nothing too dangerous lol, I’d probably want to get closure on some sort of historical mystery

19. Me and my best friend dressed up as Steve and Robin from Stranger Things a few years ago

20. Anything that doesn’t involve visual stuff (I hate graphs and all that)

21. Uh I don’t really know anything about art history, but my favourite current artists are Matt Beyrer and Thomas Kinkade

22. Iced! (I’m addicted to iced tea)

23. I don’t sing in the shower

24. Tbh I haven’t really gotten past the early stage where you’re too nervous to be confident or enjoy it, and instead of practicing I just … don’t drive (I’ve had my license for over a year and barely used it 😭)

25. No, and I don’t really want any

26. I love baking! Mostly just cakes and cookies

27. Er I don’t think so

28. Tbh I feel like swimming is more trouble than it’s worth, so I don’t really swim that often

29. I had so many Lego friends sets

30. Yes! Everything that hangs has a designated coat hanger, and everything that doesn’t is roughly organised into how often I wear it

31. I don’t really watch music videos much

32. I feel like streaks of dark blue or purple would look really cool

33. Earbuds

34. Yes - I purposefully have an analog watch so I don’t get out of practice

35. I had like ten beanie boos that I loved

36. Um I don’t think I’m really good at any of them

37. As long as they’re not just watching me, I’m fine

38. Ik it says tv show but I’m putting the marauders era because that’s my biggest obsession rn and I don’t have any irl friends to talk to about it :(

39. Lying down on my bed after getting home from school

40. Any pretty trees that give strong autumn vibes

41. Either lemon Myrtle or chai

42. I don’t have many, and I frequently uninstall them to save storage, but my favourite is piano tiles

43. On

44. Either put it in my bag or in a spare wallet that I barely use

45. I can’t do cursive well, but my print handwriting is very neat (unless I’m writing really fast)

46. The Naturals by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

47. Yes! They’re my only form of exercise

48. No

49. Curl up with the window open with a book and (if it’s cool enough) a warm drink and a blanket

50. I just need it to be cold 😭 (it’s summer here rn, it never gets below like 21c at night, and I am SUFFERING)

I’d like to know more about all of my moots, so moots, if you see this, please consider this me tagging you

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

[temporarywelcome]

A Bit of Lunch and Thievery - Spencer Reid

REQUESTED!

The Request: HI! I have a request: What if, kleptomaniac!reader has lunch with spencer at the BAU and keeps yapping loudly about her interests (or her job) and she keeps like taking things from his desk and he keeps slapping her hand away (perchance cameo of some amused BAU members?) -anonymous

CW: light swearing, a suggestive comment, klepto!reader, technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series but each part can be read as standalone

AN: sorry I was gone for so long lmao lacrosse, school, and depression is rough. also does anyone else struggle writing fics when they're down bad for someone? anywayyyy-

_______

Words: 1.3k

It was a normal day at the BAU office. 

Well, obviously not a normal day considering they were even at the office and not on a jet across the country. The BAU was having a mysteriously mundane day full of filling out and organizing paperwork, so normal and boring that it was almost odd to them.

Of course, the peace had to end eventually. 

Spencer Reid’s phone rang, and he was fishing it out of his pocket immediately. The ringtone for this contact was different from the default ringtone that came with the device, different from the ringtone literally every other contact had. She had took the time to download the ringtone herself, stating he should always know when she was calling him because she was oh-so important.

Well, to him, she was. 

“Hello?” he said simply, leaning back in his chair. He could see Prentiss seated at her desk, JJ standing over her with a coffee complaining about some over-the-top thing her son, Henry, had done the night prior. 

“Hey, babe!” his girlfriend, Y/N, chirped on the other line. She was always so chipper, always so energetic. He was not. 

“You know I’m at work, right?” he deadpanned, though the corners of his lips curled ever so slightly. He could never be stone-faced when talking to her. 

She was used to his dry tone, not acknowledging it, “Why, yes, I do. Now let me in, I brought you lunch,”

Instantly, his eyes brightened, “Wait, you’re outside right now?”

“Mhm. Now let me in before the food gets cold.” 

Within the next six minutes and seventeen seconds, Spencer was back at his desk, but this time, with his lovely girlfriend seated next to him. He quietly ate the Spanish food she had bought as she spoke about her day. It was only 1 p.m., and he was sure she woke up extremely late, but, not to his surprise, she had a lot to say. A lot to say, despite the fact her day consisted of waking up and driving to get Spanish food and visiting him. 

“...yeah, I think we should get a dog,” Y/N said after explaining her run-in with a woman and her large doberman. Being herself, upon seeing the doberman running dead at her, instead of running away, Y/N had opened up her arms excitedly to hug the beast. 

She was lucky it was a nice doberman. 

“A dog?” Spencer’s brows furrowed as he contemplated the idea, “I don’t know…” 

“Well why not?” she pouted, and, not to his surprise, snatched the stapler from his desk. 

“Because I’m barely home,” he replied, gripping her wrist (a reflex at this point), other hand plucking the stapler from her and placing it back where it was before. “You’d be the one taking care of it the most, and that’s not fair.”

“Hmph,” her eyes darted to the stapler again then back to her rice, “I wouldn’t mind,”

Her hand reached for the stapler again and he gently slapped it, not even acknowledging it. See, his beautiful, wonderful girlfriend had her issues. Main issue being her diagnosed kleptomania, a condition that gave her uncontrollable urges to steal objects, no matter how useless and unneeded. 

Like the stapler which she kept eyeing. 

Upon his team finding out about her and her condition, they were all incredibly iffy on her, except Garcia, who was the one who uncovered everything anyway. One by one, Y/N was able to get the approval of each teammate, even Rossi, who had disliked her the most. 

He still didn’t trust her very much, but the rest of the team found her antics quite amusing. 

“Yes you would,” he told her, taking a sip of his drink, “You’d be fine with it for the first month or so, but then you would start getting annoyed with me and telling me I should be helping you take care of our son or daughter or whatever you would like to call it,”

Y/N paused, knowing he was 100% correct. Especially about the son or daughter part. “I think I’m more of a boy mom,” 

“Ignoring the point, I see,”

“Shut up,” she grumbled. 

“Hey, Reid, good afternoon Reid’s girl,” Morgan greeted with his usual smirk, a decent-sized stack of papers in hand, “Food looks good,”

“It is,” Spencer confirmed. Morgan plopped the papers down onto the genius’ desk. “Did you know there are over one hundred, twenty thousand varieties of rice- Y/N,” he slapped a hand down onto the stack of papers as Y/N went to snatch it up. “No,” 

“Sorry,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“You are way too fun and entertaining to want to read those,” Morgan joked before deciding to leave back to his own desk. 

“Yeah…” she muttered, bringing her hand up to bite her thumb nail nervously, “Way too fun and enter….” she trailed off, Spencer picking up his pen in time before she could snag it. “Shit,” she placed her hands onto her lap, “Maybe I should go…”

“No no no,” Spencer took her hands into his own like he always did when she was getting her urges, “I’m happy you visited me. Stay a little longer,”

“I am a kleptomaniac in a federal building, this was a bad idea,” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, that’s what I’m here for,” he gave her hands a gentle squeeze, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure you don’t leave with anything,”

“A klepto dating a federal agent is so ironic,” she chuckled humorlessly, “How do you deal with me?”

“I don’t deal with you, I don’t tolerate you,” he replied, “Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you. I’m simply with you, because of the fact I love you,” 

“Don’t talk to me like that, I’ll fuck you,” she huffed, pulling her hands away while blushing red. 

“You did not just say that at my place of work,” he gasped, now blushing as well. He swiftly looked around to see if any of his coworkers were listening. He was sure every single one of them were, considering how nosy they were when it came to his relationship.

“Your fault, don’t talk to me like that,”

“Don’t talk sweetly to my girlfriend?” 

“Makes me all blushy and giggly,” she shrugged, beginning to smile as she looked away. 

“I’ll talk to you like one of your directors, I suppose,” Spencer teased gently. Y/N was an incredibly strong dancer, and had her experiences with rude and stress-inducing directors. 

She rolled her eyes and laughed, “I’ll kill myself,” Her eyes met his and she giggled softly, leaning in for a quick kiss, which he returned happily. 

“They’re so cute,” JJ told Prentiss fondly, taking a sip of her coffee, “They’re really good for each other,”

“They are,” Prentiss agreed with a nod and smile, “They’re the kind of people who you would least expect get together, but it just makes sense when they do,” 

At that moment, Hotch entered, a stressed look on his face. JJ and Prentiss exchanged looks, already thinking it was time to pack for a new case. 

Instead, he simply asked, “Has anyone seen my ID?”

Agent Aaron Hotchner? Losing his ID? Something so important, belonging to someone so aware and responsible? A completely out-of-character thing for him to do-

“Uh,” Y/N cleared her throat awkwardly, giving Spencer a knowing look. 

With a sigh, Spencer held out a hand, allowing her to drop Hotch’s ID into it.

[captain-huggy-bear]

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…"

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Clayton is feeling self conscious about his eye since his injury, you are not having any of it.

Notes: I've been noticing that Clay's still got some bloodshot and damage to his eye and just wondered if he feels a little self conscious about it (even though he shouldn't because he's so handsome.)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Clayton is staring at himself in the hallway mirror when you get home from running some errands. Turning this way and that, long fingers pulling at the skin around his left eye where it’s still somewhat bruised and swollen. The eye that is still bloodshot and damaged from the puck he took to the face a few weeks ago. It’s been a slow to heal problem, one he seemed to not be bothered by, until now.

When he lets out a rough, heavy sigh and glances over at you with a frown, you know somethings wrong before he even starts to speak. It’s all in the set of his shoulders, in the downturn of his mouth, the way he’s not smiling at seeing you back home.

"I look fucking awful right now." 

The comment has you dropping your shopping bags to the floor, not caring too much about your shopping, hands falling to rest on your hips as you glare at your boyfriend. Your handsome, wonderful boyfriend who had just dared to call himself anything but. 

"Take that back right now." Clay rolls his eyes at you, at the harsh tone of your voice and the way you’re standing like a disapproving parent. He knows he looks awful and doesn’t want your pity, his eye looks like someone’s burst it and the skin around is all weird mottled colours, sickly yellows and greens. It’s ugly. Disgusting. He’s surprised you’ve been able to stand looking at him the past few weeks and he doesn’t want your pity, your false reassurances. 

"But, I do, my eye is so fucking messed up still...fucking ugly." The words are spat out, like they taste bad and they certainly leave a bad taste in your mouth as you close the short distance between the two of you, hands falling to his wrist, landing over his bracelets as you tug until he looks at you. Your thumb brushing against the delicate skin of his wrist. 

Some of your anger, your bite is gone the moment he looks at you because he’s so…so sad, you can tell that Clayton genuinely feels like his eye is ugly, like the bruising, the bloodshot nature of it all, makes him any less wonderful. You’re not used to him being self conscious or sad, he’s always so level headed. It’s usually you in his spot and him in yours.

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…" Your voice doesn’t have any of the bite that it might have done a few minutes ago, in fact your voice is quiet and soft as you look up at him. Your hand slips from his wrist, fingers twining with his to hold his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Y/N..." He groans low in his throat, deep and scratchy, head tilting and falling to his shoulder. He doesn’t believe you, you can tell, he thinks you’re just trying to make him feel better and that’s just not on. 

A strand of his hair falls forward from where it had been slicked back, you reach up with your free hand to push it back and out of the way, taking the opportunity to cup his face after, fingers rubbing at the skin around his eye gently. 

"I mean it. You're not ugly, it's not possible. The only thing I think when I see your eye is that I hope you're not in pain..." That’s all you’d been concerned about for the past 3 weeks, that Clay was comfortable, that every time you kissed him you weren’t causing him more pain. The idea that he wasn’t as handsome had never even crossed your mind. You’re not actually sure it’s possible for Clay to be anything but handsome.

“You don’t have to say stuff to make me feel better, baby…it’s okay, it’s ugly and it’s fine.” 

“Clayton John Keller.” You snap out, hand cupping his cheek more firmly and turning his eyes to look at you, really look at you as you step further into his personal space, “Stop assuming i’m lying. I have never lied to you, not once.” It’s something you’ve never felt the need to do around Clay, even when you first started dating…it didn’t matter how bad the situation, you knew that Clay wouldn’t judge you or yell at you, so you’d never felt that panic, that need to hide anything from him and you certainly weren’t going to lie about this. “You could lose an eye, you could have bruises across your entire face, a broken nose, split lip, and I would still think you’re the most handsome man on this planet, Clayton Keller and I am not lying about that.”

“C’mon, baby, you can’t seriously tell me that this,” Clay gestures to his eye, to the big red blood spot across his sclera, “is attractive?” 

“Why not? I…” He raises an eyebrow at you when you stop yourself short and you work up the bravery inside you to admit something you’ve kept quiet, “I actually think…this makes me a terrible person by the way and I'm sorry, but I actually think you look hotter injured.” You close your eyes tight, scrunching up your features, before opening one eye to check his reaction.

“What?” He’s stumped, looking at you like you just told him the president was an alien or that chocolate was actually made from insects. Clay’s mouth is open, jaw dropped just slightly, brows furrowed, blue eyes confused and it’s adorable, even if you feel embarrassed about your confession. 

“Look, I know it makes me a terrible person but there’s something about you covered in blood and bruises…” 

A smirk starts to grow on Clay’s face once your words sink in, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him since walking through the front door. His blue eyes gleam with a sort of twisted delight, a mischief that makes your stomach buzz with butterflies, as his dimples start to show on one side of his mouth. 

“...Is that why you practically jumped me after the Winnipeg game, sweet girl?” You don’t even realise he’s corralling you, moving you until your back hits the hallway wall and he’s leaning over you, forearm pressed against the wall beside your head. 

“Shut up…” You murmur it, unable to do much more as your body fills with giddy, nervous energy (the good kind), as your face warms and your toes curl because of how he’s looking at you, all half-lidded eyes and a toothy smirk that makes you want to scream like a teenage girl. How he ever thought he was ugly you can’t comprehend when he makes you feel like you’re combusting right now.

“...You still think I'm handsome?” It’s teasing, mischievious as he leans ever closer, until your only response is a high pitched giggle that gives you away because fuck, he’s so hot…you’re not sure how you nabbed him, what made him pick you of all people, but you’re thankful for whatever convinced him you were the one.

“Baby? Do you think i’m handsome?” He asks again because apparently your giggles aren’t enough of an answer or more accurately because he hates you and wants to torture you even as he smiles down at you all dimples and teeth.

“I always think you're handsome…especially when you smile like that.” 

“C’mere,” It’s silly how he always says that, but he’s the one that moves towards you. Clay’s quick to close the distance between you, slanting his mouth over yours into a sweet but firm kiss, it lasts longer than you expect, long enough for your hands to make their way into his shoulder length strands, long enough for him to practically press you into the wall,  “Thanks for keeping me in check, baby,” He’s practically murmuring it against your lips, not pulling away any further than necessary and you consider this an achievement. That you’ve taken his mood from self conscious and dower, back to teasing and sweet, back to standard Clay. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Just know I'm never going to forget that you’re a little freak who thinks I'm hotter when I'm bloody.”

“Clay, I swear to God!”

[xo-adeline]

"Happy Birthday..."

⋆°• ☁︎ - Celebrating your birthday

Feat. Alexis Ness, Michael Kaiser, and Silver

AN: Happy birthday to me!! And this is my gift to y'all after being off for so long! (I got sick and then had a bunch of work I needed to finish but I should be back to writing a little more often now!!<3

-> Waking up on the day of your birthday was nothing special for you; however, for the brunette-magenta-headed boy who was no longer next to you in bed, this was one of the best days all year. The only thought process through Ness’s head was how much he could make it known that he loved you. After all, this was the day many years ago you were brought into the world, how could he not be excited to celebrate it? The morning of your birthday, he could only get up super early to start making breakfast. He had learned over the many times that he was fascinatedly sitting near the kitchen while you whipped up something for him to eat before he headed off to practice. While it might not have been as good as what you were able to make, it was the thought that counted. The second that you woke up, he came stumbling into the room with the food on a tray, making sure that you were comfortable as he set it down on the bed for you, making sure to kiss your forehead and wish you a happy birthday, making sure to be the first person to say it. Through everything, he would always be the first person to tell you a happy birthday for this year and many years to come.

-> You knew that your boyfriend had never been very good with affection, however when you started getting more and more comfortable that barrier soon started to fall, ultimately leaving you with somebody more willing than anybody to accept any love you were willing to give. Michael, knowing that you had always spoiled him to the moon and back on his birthday had been planning for months on what to do for yours. Starting off with making sure you got to sleep in while he got some of the gifts he had been collecting for you throughout the few months and making sure they were placed nicely on the counter of the kitchen island before you awoke and started scolding him about the amount of gifts he had. However, when you finally did wake up, about to start scolding him for not waking you up when he got up, you were shocked to see the gifts on the table, and your smiling boyfriend on the other side of the kitchen. He smirked as he walked over towards you, pulling you slightly towards the mountain of gifts, and no matter how much you tried to speak he would hand you a gift. Kaiser knew that you would be so pissed off the second he let you speak, seeing all the expensive and even not-so-expensive gifts being placed into your hands one by one, but too bad there were so many it would be a while before you could even get a word out.

-> The breeze of the wind was a nice change of pace when your boyfriend came to pick you up on a broom heading to a secret location for your birthday. Silver wasn’t normally somebody to surprise you, more like when he could just tell you directly head-on instead of beating around the bush, but with some wise words from Lilia, he decided to make this birthday a little more special. You soon arrived at a nice, open field a way away from the school. Noticing just a few trees but mainly open ground with many flowers and plants scattered around, and sitting in the middle of it all was a small picnic area. A blanket and a picnic basket sat among the many flowers, and right as the two of you sat down, many small animals started to surround you and the silver-haired man sitting across from you. The small talk between you and Silver, as well as some of the small woodland creatures, went on for not very long before he pulled out something from the basket, something that you had been looking at forever but never ended up buying before the words “Happy birthday…” accompanied it. He knew that you had been looking at it for a while, and with the help of Diasomnia he was able to make sure he could get it when you weren’t around to see it. Knowing that he had been paying attention, even when he was asleep over half the time, was better than any physical gift he could’ve ever gotten.

[isaisliterallyhim]

hi omg i love ur writings You are literally one of my fav writers 😭😭 can you write sae with a reader who has their nipples pierced??

AAAA THANK YEW ANON BBY FOR UR KIND WORDS! yikess, nipple piercings sound like they hurt but they seem super hot! yr wish is my command anon >:3

"baby you're the baddest - baby you're the baddest girl"

ft. itoshi sae . ooc! sae ? . fem! reader . boobs . boobs . boobs . have i mentioned boobs yet? . smut..? . piercings . unreliable narrator :^ . open ending.?

wc: 0.4k

imagine itoshi sae finding out his beloved partner got nipple piercingss!

we all know sae itoshi was not only a butt person but he was also the number one GOAT when it came to patience LMFAO. that certainly contradicted his actions today.

the both of you came back from a day out, sae came back from training, you came back from getting piercings. :3 you never specified where to the itoshi.

he was baffled when he came into your shared bedroom to see you in one of his shirts! >.< well not really baffled, his ass was too tired to notice, except for how the oversized shirt softly framed your perky tits.

his teal eyes sparked some light. "[name]-" he gulped as you shot a look at him. "oouh, hi sae!" you greeted. your smile was absolutely gorgeous, lighting up the darn room. your smile complimented everything ohhh fuck.

the prodigy felt his pants tighten. you smirked a lil, you knew the toll you had on him. the man couldn't help but jus literally POUNCE on you like..

he was swift to get you pinned on the bed and slip his shirt on you up. he shifted the shirt above to your chest. he felt his mouth literally water at the sight of your boobs..

"you got your nipples pierced.?" he asked, his hand moved to your nipple, playing a little with the bud. they were still some what sensitive, you let out a small whine.

his cool calloused fingers had a contrast to your soft warm flesh. he paid some attention to the piercing. he tapped it ever so slightly, having you jolt back.

"you still sensitive?" he asked. you nodded. nah he didnt fucking care he dived straight into your boobs weheejje. you glared at him. it's been a few hours. "you're sucking my boobs like youre a baby, aren't you bored?"

he looked up at your through those looong long lashes... peeling himself off, "nah." and dived back in. "you talk such big game about being patience look at yourself right now, also go shower you stink." you giggled. (ok the man is sweaty but he was training give him a break.)

he peeled himself of your boob again. nodding and understanding what you wanted him to do. he muttered something, "voy a violarte, hermosa."

when he came out the shower (sHIRTLESS AND EVERYTHIGN? oh yesss god.) jus a towel around his waist. "i want my shirt back." sae demanded as he towered over you, the soft mattress sinking due to the weight.

"huh-" you were cut off as you got flipped onto your stomach. your ass and boobs are going to be so sore tomorrow.. hey, your sensitive nipples are going to GET it the moment you wake up, piercings and him abusing the fuck out of the buds :((

— ©isaisliterallyhim, 2025

tags: @twijaxx ♡, @kyvkc

a/n: woohoo i finally posted!sorry this took so long to get out everythings j lyign in my drafts my bad anon this was a lazy ahh post... not proofread btw so the english is fried GAHAHA i gave up half ways o im sorry for not being able to serve but shhh, i tried... sae's hot you're hot nipple piercings oh gawd

[utilitycaster]

Imo (as someone who didn't watch the finale, so I'm happy to be wrong), one of the bigger problems with the ending that isn't being discussed is that religions don't work like that. I'm not talking about cosmology or divinity, which people have already spoken on plenty, but the people who actually believe the beliefs.

There are people who believe their god was in some way mortal (Buddhists, some Christians), but they still practice the belief. I'm Jewish, and if it was definitively proven that God isn't real, I would still be a practicing Jew. The gods of Exandria becoming mortal would definitely cause schisms and theological debates, but the gods as concepts would continue to hold power regardless of their mortality or continued existence. Vasselheim would change, but it wouldn't be rocked to its knees.

Obviously, the cast has their own biases and thoughts on religion. That's understandable, but in a campaign and world that is increasingly about How Religion Amd Gods Shape Things, why is religion treated only as a plot point and not a dynamic of understanding the world, yaknow?

This is a hard question to answer since I think to truly give a good answer I'd need a thesis statement and several weeks of writing, but in short, as myself a practicing Jew and philosophically somewhere between weak and apathetic agnosticism I agree that Exandria as a setting did a good job of exploring individual faith/devotion to divinity, and a very bad job of exploring the concept of religion on an anthropological level.

I do think the fact that most of the people with whom I can have a conversation about this are either fellow non-Christians existing in a Christian dominated society; left-leaning Catholics from a rigorous intellectual tradition in the Protestant-dominated US; or people who left a more conservative Christian sect for a more progressive one and in doing so interrogated the nature of religion and faith is telling. I think if you were raised strictly Christian and either swore off religion entirely (the ex-Evangelicals who never unlearned lack of empathy/self-centeredness and simply applied it in a different direction) or were raised Christian but not particularly religious and live in a culturally Christian society in which that is the norm and thus you never had to see yourself as a person with an identity and a practice outside said norm, you are far more likely fail to adequately notice this as a problem with Exandrian worldbuilding.

Something that struck me as I thought about this (on my solo walks to and from synagogue today, no less) is that I am someone who for various reasons, academic, religious, and otherwise, has spent a lot of time thinking about the role of ritual in daily life. And the thing is, "ritual" has in many cases been coopted into a thing you do very much for yourself, often with a capitalist slant - self-care as consumption as ritual. (If you look up companies named Ritual, it's zero proof spirits and vitamins/supplements and takeout). It is individualist and is intended to soothe one's self.

Ritual is far more than that. Ritual is a sign of community. It is a means of remembrance. It is a reminder to look outside of yourself. We light candles on Friday night not for ourselves - indeed, we are prohibited from using them as a light source - but to welcome someone of something else. We blow the shofar to wake ourselves and our community up to what we can can change and do better.

Jester and Caduceus are in my opinion the strongest practitioners of ritual across campaigns, but both are from very small groups of practitioners. We meet many clerics and adherents, but their stories or their experiences with religion as part of daily life are largely untold.

And this is just about ritual, which is in many cases neutral or even positive, but as discussed there is no real hegemony - Vasselheim holds respect and serves as a vault for divine secrets, but outside of that has little political sway. Caduceus and Fjord do not answer to Hierophant Ophera. We also see very little of those theological questions or debates - one must imagine they occur, but it, like the world of ritual or religious service, feels oddly empty. There are temples, and there are keepers of those temples, but the temples always feel like they pop into existence for the PCs and vanish when they're not present. I remember during Campaign 2 there was a great discussion of how D&D offers a concept of religion without the need for faith in the unseen - the gods exist definitively - and it just feels like that's never been reflected meaningfully in the world of Exandria, and that wasn't really a problem with Campaigns 1 or 2 and it very much was with the concepts C3 attempted to tackle.

[ohburgee]

𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

soft-yandere!dragon x princess-fem!reader

tw: kidnapping, murder, violence, obsession, yandere themes / soft theme (don't mind this on tw just remind) an: I'M BACK!! how are you all my gees well another soft/fluff yandere I miss writing soft ones and this is a simple yandere story so yeah, the dragon is inspired by Alduin. Mhm, he is my favorite dragon in video games also loved the lore of Skyrim <3 Also, this is the first fantasy story I have written here.

Walking around in your castle's garden, the beautiful and breathtaking flowers around those blossoming pink, purple, and other colors made you feel at peace.

You pick one by one some different flowers and put them in your small basket after picking you get up and walk out of the garden and see your personal maid waiting outside the garden.

"Your Highness," she said and did a low bow and you smiled and walked towards her and gave the basket to her as you both walked inside the castle and saw your future husband, to be the king.

"My princess where have you been, I've been looking for you," he said and walked towards you and took your hand and kissed it.

You look at him sternly you don't want him, as he is too much of a show-off person, and never wanted to marry him due to the royal rules.

"Let's talk about our wed-" you cut his words "I don't have the mood to discuss that, please will you excuse me," you said as that shows disrespect but you don't care and walk past him and walk away from them.

You try everything to tell your father but he doesn't listen and says that it's a good way for your royal family and you try to your mother to convince your father but she said the same thing to you and you feel everyone is not sided with you.

As you keep overthinking to find a way to stop and the only way is to run away, you don't want to leave your family even if they don't listen to you but still love them.

...

After a boring hour staying in the dining room and after dinner, you went straight to your chamber and locked yourself inside.

You lay in your bed looking at your ceiling with some stars art around as you silently admire it, you wish you just disappeared.

You suddenly get up and look at your terrace as the cold breeze wind flows inside your room and you decide to run away and stay at your former nanny.

You secretly send a letter to her, telling everything about the marriage as you don't want to be and the plan to run away.

You walk away from your bed and take your well-prepared bag, you have been planning this for days and find the right time and it's now.

You slowly open your door and peek out to see if there's someone or some knights around and proudly there's no one outside as you walk out to your chamber and walk away.

After you walk downstairs and head to the back door of the kitchen room before you go, you check if someone is walking and see none, might the knights have their own time or break time.

You finally got out of the castle and headed towards the stable to get your horse, you took your horse and rode out of the stable and quickly went to the back forest behind the castle, you secretly made a way there so that knights wouldn't see you.

After a few travel with your horse, you travel through the forest it is dark but the moon keeps it more bit light through the road when suddenly you hear a loud thud from the ground and you look up to see the trees move and you look confused, you wanted to check it but you don't want to delay your journey... So after a minute, you decide to look for it.

You slowly ride through the forest and you stop your horse let go and walk towards where the sound came you see a human, a man, set down behind the tree and you look widened to see it's bleeding as it keeps covering the wound from his hand. Wait how is there a loud sound and it's just a man?

You walked towards him and slowly approached him and he quickly took the attention to you and looked up to see you looking at him.

"I'm sorry but you look in a bad condition right now," you said softly trying to calm him down he shrugged and hissed at his wound "Let me help you," you said softly as you approached him and checked the wound, the wound is bit worst and you look around to find something to heal it and found a leaf that you remembered your nanny use for your wound, quiet rare plant but good for healings.

You take a few leaves and take a small bottle from your bag and pour it on the leaf and you look at the man, as he staring at you.

"Will you let me?" You ask nicely and he looks like trying to process everything then he nods his head and you slowly walk closer to him and take his hand from his wound.

You put the leaf around the wound to cover it as he hissed in pain and you slowly pat it and pour small from the bottle and you scratch your dress to make a cloth and wrap around his waist where the wound was.

"There it's good, not move for a while taking a rest," you told him and he nodded his head, "Where you come from, did someone try to kill you?" You ask wanting to know where he went from.

"There's no need to know, and thank you," he said well that was a bit rude but he still had gratitude to thank you for helping him, you sat in front of him and asked another question.

"Well, at least you have something to go to?" He looked at you sternly like why you asking questions, "Look I don't want to leave you here, since you are in bad condition and we are in the middle of the forest" you said looking around hoping no predators were around.

"You look like a princess," he said and you looked at him as the moon glints on you see your face clearly, "Well uhm... Look I don't want to get married I don't want it I never dreamed of being a married woman," you told him and that was bit stupid as you said that in front of a stranger, really.

"I just want to live a peaceful life and do what I want and have some freedom," you said to him as you hugged yourself.

"It's just I don't want to, also living with that bastard is worse" you added as he just looked at you trying to breathe and you slowly got up and reached your hand to him.

"Come I'll bring you to my nanny it's safer to stay there than here" You got up and offered your hand to him as he slowly got up from the ground and you guided him and led him to your horse.

After a few minutes of travel, you reach your nanny's village and stop in front of her house and you find her outside waiting for you.

"You're here I'm so glad you are safe" She walked towards you and hugged you and you hugged her back and smiled.

"Oh dear, what happen to him?" She notices the man behind and she quickly approaches him and guides him inside the house.

After treatment, your nanny told him to rest and he followed her words and you approached your nanny.

"How long are you going to do this?" She asked and you sighed patting her shoulders "They're going to look for you, I know your father" she added and you nodded your head.

"Just have some little freedom," you said and smiled as you both sat at the table talking.

...

The dark shadow dragon, the so-called destroyer, after he purposely stabbed himself to fake and pretend he was hunted to gain your attention.

He had been stalking you after that happened when you saw him in the middle of the forest too he was for real wounded at that time in his dragon form he wanted to kill you but you didn't do anything that could make him mad instead you stared at him.

He thinks you have been seeing something in your imagination or hallucinating he can read your mind.

Suddenly his reaction made him shocked as you approached him and touched the wound from his wing behind and saw glints of light then disappear and the wound healed.

Then you both looked at each other him being confused and you worried but felt glad you helped this dangerous creature.

"I hope I saved you," you said softly then walked away from the dragon and disappeared, he wanted to chase you but heard a man's voice and quickly flew up, fly away and he will remember what you did.

He didn't expect a human to heal him and never be scared of him even in his true form and you, you are the first and only person to be like that.

He was impressed, captivated, and after days he couldn't stop thinking about you, how fearless you are, like it's very rare to see it like a gem of ruby, those are the colors full of braveness.

After he finds out you're getting married and you don't want to and tries to run away twice but fails. He watches you walking around your castle.

And finally, he decided to take you, to take you away from your family and go with him away from them, he was planning this after you healed him, and he became more captivated by you.

He found out that the royal Edfield was the one who arranged the marriage and the son of King Edfield, the marriage was for alliances, and he knew the son, the prince of Edfield was a coward.

He stabs himself pretending to look like he was attacked and transforms himself into a dragon he sees you riding your horse and he feels thrive as he expects you to run away again, and he acts to fall into the forest and lands behind the tree and transforms into his human form and wait for you to come.

Then finally you are there looking worried and approaching him and healing him, the way he saw you the same day when you healed him. He was captivated, fascinated he wanted you, he wanted you to stay with him.

He doesn't know how this feels and words keep ringing in his mind but he wanted you, and he will do everything to get you and kill and destroy if anyone tries to get in your way.

After that, you healed him and took him to your nanny and he heard the talking between you and your nanny. You really wanted to go away and he will do it for you.

...

Morning came and you and your nanny ate breakfast after that you carried a small bowl with some carrot soup and helped him eat as you slowly let the spoon into his mouth.

As his eyes stared at you, you caught his eyes watching you and quickly looked down to the bowl and continued to help him eat, after finishing you told him to lay back and walked towards the kitchen to wash.

You suddenly heard your nanny calling your name and she looked at her confused, "The prince is here" she said and you looked scared and a bit defeated, you quickly got out of the house and saw the prince smiling when he saw you and ran towards to you and hug you but you push him away from you.

"Please come back to me," he said trying to be caring, and you were disgusted and walked backward away from him.

"Come on let's go back," he said and started grabbing you and your nanny tried to grab you back but the prince pushed your nanny and that made your anger boil up and pushed him and he grabbed you again harshly taking you to the carriage.

You try to get off his grip but he is gripping it hardly and makes it bruise your wrist you look at your nanny on the ground as you start to cry then a loud thud comes and you both look up and see the shadow dragon, the destroyer, many people and kingdoms feared him.

His yellow fire eyes stare at you and the prince starts to raise his sword the dragon flies down towards the prince and you finally get off his grip and fall on the side ground you watch as the dragon attacks everyone as they try to hit the dragon with swords but not working.

When you ran towards your nanny and helped her get up from the ground you watched everything chaos as the dragon throw fires on them.

When all the knights are dead and the prince is left alive he crawls away from the dragon the dragon takes him and traps him in his hand as the prince keeps begging for mercy.

"You are clever and most coward prince" the dragon spoke in his deep, husky voice just like the man you saved, wait where is he?

You look towards the house and look back to the dragon as he still keeps the prince in his hand.

"The princess doesn't want you, so why force her," the dragon said as the dragon's face turned to you, "How about I say your kingdom is in ashes now" the dragon added and the prince's eyes widened and started yelling at the dragon.

The dragon suddenly didn't hesitate to crush the prince's body and blood splashed around you looked scared and a bit relieved since the marriage is no longer.

The dragon's head turns to you and you make yourself a cover for your nanny the dragon slowly approaches you both and the head stops near your face as his fire-looking eyes look at you, your eyes suddenly catch the wound from its belly behind and your eyes widen.

"Yes, that's right my dove" You turn to him your eyes look terrified but you are surprised "You are the man I saved, you are a dragon," you said and the dragon swayed his tail towards you and grabbed you slowly away from you're nanny.

You try to struggle to get off but the tail wraps around you tightly but not harshly, "The prince is Dead, you are free now" he says as his eyes stare at yours and you stop yourself struggling.

"Well thank you, as much I don't want blood I also want him dead," you said feeling confident as you said, the tail slowly put you on the ground when you think he let go of you but suddenly grabbed you by his hands.

"I'll take your little princess with me," he said and started to swing his wings and fly away from the village, you looked shocked and tried to stop him but he didn't listen and flew away.

"Where are you taking me," you asked the dragon you didn't mind struggling yourself or you might fall you both now in the high sky, and you left your nanny confused and terrified.

"I'll take you with me, don't worry you want freedom right, you want to runaway far away from here," he said and you realized how he knew what you wanted and you started to get confused.

"Let's go on a long journey together my dove, and I'll show you what's freedom," he said as he bit started to fly faster and you decide to go with this dragon, he might not want to kill you.

You want to stay with your nanny for the rest of your life as a normal person and leave the royal but this with the dragon is better, he can take you away from them and fly all over the world, if the dragon doesn't want you dead but hearing those words want you to be with him.

[rose-honey-lemonade]

In college I took an English lit class on ecological/nature writing. It was fascinating and I genuinely enjoyed the vast majority of it even if I had already read a third of what we studied since I like that kinda stuff.

But one moment in class stuck out to me as very sad:

We were reading this one piece and the writer said that the window in her writing room let the nature come into her. It was a beautiful piece and when I read it alone in my apartment I thought to myself "oh wow, me too!" Because in that apartment I spent a lot of time looking out my bedroom window.

My bedroom window looked out into an alley off the main square of our small town. The alley was full of birds and plants growing in the cracks. A rogue tomato plant grew behind the pub from a discarded bit of sandwich. I watched a family of western kingbirds grow up. Pigeons roosted on the roof of the building across from mine. Raccoons occasionally raided the dumpster. I had the perfect angle to view the glorious Texas sunset.

When we got to class and the teacher asked if anyone had ever experienced something like what the author had described about her window I EXCITEDLY said yes!!!! And proceeded to talk about how I looked out into an alley and saw all the nature there. My professor had a weird expression on her face and asked "but does it really *come into you*? It's an alley" and while I proceeded to insist that it did, she quickly changed the subject, clearly uncomfortable with the idea that nature can exist in a fully urban setting.

I felt really bad for her tbh. Imagine only being able to see the beauty of nature in a fully "natural" area and yet teaching a class on writing about it. Nature is literally everywhere. And it's beautiful.

"I can't connect to nature because I live in a city" Incorrect.

"I can't connect to nature because I can't travel" Nuh-uh.

"I can't connect to nature because I-" Wrong.

Anyone can connect to nature. Please, remove the mindset that nature is something *out there*. Nature is all around you.

The dandelions peeking through pavement cracks, the birds you don't notice on your windowsill, the brambles in the alleys, the storms and sunshine.

All of this is nature. You are surrounded by it. Notice it, learn about it. Write down when you notice the days getting longer, when more butterflies appear and when ripen blackberries ripen. Connect to the nature that lives outside your window, just past the boundary of your front door.

Watch nature documentaries, build a small windowsill garden, let the spider in your room corner stay for a while.

Connection is not determined by proximity, but by effort.

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤

a/n: this is a story i wrote + published on wattpad (user: thesvnandthemoon). i recently finished writing the last chapter and i love it so much i decided to post it on tumblr as well (my first fic i’m posting here hehe)

summary: natasha romanoff x female!reader. based on the movie “the notebook”; you’re allie, nat’s noah

warnings: none! :) (i think. if you find any, let me know!)

word count: 5.8k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

They say one summer can change everything — you never thought it would be yours.

In hindsight, you won't be able to say when exactly it all started, but it must've been at the town's annual fun fair. Popcorn and fried dough, old carnival rides and duck ponds, neon signs and bells ringing.

You come reluctantly, dragged along by a friend who insists it'll be fun (and then proceeds to ditch you after meeting some guy at the hot dog stand). You don't expect much — just the usual: sticky cotton candy fingers, cheap thrills, and a fleeting distraction from the monotony of summer evenings. What you don't expect is her.

Green eyes and a black bomber jacket that looks way too warm for a hot summer day, her red hair in a loose braid. Bruised knuckles, painted in all shades of blue and purple, and a faint scar above her left eyebrow. She's leaning against the side of one of the booths, a cigarette dangling from her lips. For a moment, your eyes get stuck on her. But when her gaze meets yours, you turn back to the shooting gallery in front of you.

It gives her the opportunity to let her gaze linger on you, sharp and assessing. It's not the kind of look that makes you uncomfortable — if anything, it's curious, like she's trying to figure you out. Her eyes trail from the sundress you're wearing to the smudge of sunscreen on your wrist, then back up to the necklace that glints against your skin as you lean forward to aim.

Your fingers curl around the grip with a mix of hesitation and focus. In front of you are bright red and yellow circles, each one suspended on a flimsy wooden board. Some are shaped like ducks, others like stars, but they all feel impossibly far away.

The gun's plastic body feels awkward in your hands, too light to mimic the real thing, but you pull the trigger anyways. Just as expected, you miss, the dart-like projectile whizzing softly as it flies past the target.

You miss one shot. Then two. Then three.

Natasha, deciding she's had enough of seeing this pretty girl embarrass the hell out of herself, stomps her cigarette out with the heel of her boot before approaching you. She steps up next to you, the sound of her boots quiet against the pavement. You turn your head, a frustrated look on your face that doesn't waver even when she smirks. Without a word, she grabs the fake gun from your hands.

"Let me show you how it's done", she says, her voice low, just for you. She doesn't wait for your response before taking aim.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she hits the first target, then the second, then the third — each shot landing perfectly. You huff quietly as you watch her, trying to hide that you're somewhat impressed by this stranger's skill. She's not even showing off, just doing what she knows best.

It makes you wonder who she is. You don't know her, despite this town being quite small. You'd remember her, you're sure of that. She seems like the kind of person who'll float around your head like a little faded cloud until the day you die.

When she looks at you again, you quickly clear your throat and force a small, teasing smile. "Not bad", you say. "Now let's see if you can do that blindfolded."

Natasha smirks, her eyes glistening with amusement. I like her, she thinks, handing the plastic gun back to you. She feels a spark deep in her bones. She doesn't want to let it fizzle out.

"How about you let me take you on a date first? Then, maybe we'll talk about you blindfolding me."

"Wow", you muse, suppressing a small smile. This is dangerous territory, flirting so shamelessly with someone you probably aren't allowed to have. The odds would be against you. However, nobody said you can't have a little fun. "A marksman and bold. Lucky me."

"You don't know the half of it", she says, raising an eyebrow. She nods at the targets in front of you. "Come on, your turn. Let's see if you're a visual learner."

You adjust your grip on the gun and aim once more, feeling her eyes on you. There's something predatory about the way she studies others, like she's waiting for them to slip up, but there's also a hint of something softer underneath. In that moment, it's reserved for you.

Right before you pull the trigger, she leans in and whispers: "Hit the target and you're going on that date with me."

For a moment, you consider giving it your best.

You could take the shot. You could make it. But for some reason, the thought of it feels too simple.

The projectile misses the target by a wide margin. Natasha frowns, her arms crossing in front of her chest. You turn around and your eyes meet.

"Guess I'm not ready for that date yet", you say.

"I'm starting to think you're making this harder on both of us", Natasha mutters, giving you a look that's somewhere between amusement and frustration. "Good thing I'm stubborn."

"Half of this town is stubborn", you say, unimpressed but equally intrigued. This woman seems determined to take you on a date, and honestly, you like the thought of being pursued so actively. But you're convinced your family is more stubborn than whoever she is.

"If you think this is stubborn", Natasha says, her eyes glinting in the afternoon sun, "you haven't met the real me yet."

Your lips twitch into a small smile at the sheer confidence in her voice. It's attractive, in a way, but also riling you up. You can't tell her why you're so adamant about saying no, so pushing her away is your only choice. Deep down, however, you know you'd say yes in a heartbeat if you weren't such a coward. And maybe she realizes that, too.

"Let's assume I say yes", you challenge. "Then what? You think a few hours with you will change everything?"

"Maybe it won't change anything", she says, though she's convinced it will. With Natasha, it always does. "But something tells me you're the kind of person worth taking that risk for."

Her words make you hesitate. She watches your expression fall in a way that makes her frown.

"You don't know me", you start carefully.

Before either of you can say anything else, you hear your name being called. Your friend comes hurrying back, this time with a peace-offering bag of popcorn. She gives you an apologetic grin and tugs at your arm. You avoid Natasha's gaze as you let her lead you away.

You don't expect to see her so soon again, but maybe that's just your luck.

You're on the ferris wheel. Natasha spots you a few gondolas away, lost in thought, your friend talking to someone on the phone.

She's used to being reckless, but not in order to impress other people. This time, it's different.

You caught her attention. You made her ask you out on a date. You said no.

Maybe she should give up. She doesn't even know what this will be, after all — a fling? A quick flirt? A one night stand, perhaps?

It could end up being nothing. Something about the way you looked at her earlier makes her believe otherwise, though. She can't give up so soon.

As the wheel slows to let others on, Natasha stands up and carefully grips the framework on the sides of the gondola. She stands on the small seat for a moment, balancing her weight, before she begins climbing to where you are. She moves expertly, ignoring the gasps of a few onlookers.

You look up when she reaches your gondola, and your friend almost drops her phone. Gaping, you stare at her.

"Are you insane?", you finally ask, reaching out to steady her. She slides into the seat next to you, loose strands of red hair fluttering around in the wind.

"Say yes to that date", she says, "or I'll jump."

You ignore the stunned look your friend gives the two of you. Sighing, you realize that this woman has managed to chip away at your resistance with ease. You didn't want to say no before, to be fair, but you felt like you didn't have a choice.

You still don't. You just decide to ignore that fact.

"At least tell me your name."

"Natasha", she says, smiling.

You tell her your name as well. You spend the remaining ten minutes of the ferris wheel ride in uncomfortable silence, trying to escape the stares of both Natasha and your friend.

. . .

The date goes better than expected.

She takes you to a diner, where she talks the owner into letting you stay after closing hours. With the door locked and the lights dimmed, your focus is entirely on Natasha. She was charming before, but it doesn't compare to the way she's treating you now.

You twirl the rose she handed you between your fingers, noticing that someone has carefully removed all the thorns. This town doesn't have a flower shop, you quietly remind yourself.

"It's nice here", you say, your eyes scanning your surroundings very briefly. Checkered tiles, a jukebox, red vinyl booths. Chrome finishes on tables, counters and stools, and milkshakes with cherries on top. It's like a place straight out of the 1950s. "Can't believe I've never been here before."

"You're here often?", she asks, dipping the end of her straw into the whipped cream and licking it off.

"Every summer. I'm visiting my grandparents."

A hum forms in her throat. You smile faintly, catching her eye.

"I've never seen you here before", you eventually say, stealing a dollop of her whipped cream with your own straw. She doesn't complain. Her smile widens instead.

"Looks like this town does have its secrets, after all."

You soon figure out that Natasha's different from the other people you've gone on dates with before.

She makes you laugh. It spills out of you before you can stop it, surprising you.

She's all bruised knuckles and scarred hands, hinting at a grittier life — she's not polished or sheltered. Instead, she's resilient and strong and self-assured.

Her presence feels electrifying. Every brush of her fingers against yours sends shockwaves down your spine.

When you exit the diner, you pause. You don't want to leave, and neither does she. Her hand touches yours meaningfully, and she lingers — just enough to make you pause. Her eyes search yours, her confidence softening just enough to feel like a plea. It's intoxicating, the way she makes everything else disappear. The moment feels unhurried, deliberate, like a silent question.

Are we on the same page?

You should turn around and go home. Your family is probably wondering where you are.

Instead, you let her pull you into a kiss.

For Natasha, it's more thrilling than climbing a ferris wheel.

. . .

You're used to keeping secrets, but this one is your favorite so far.

Natasha is a force that keeps drawing you closer. Before you know it, you're sneaking out of windows and hiding behind corners of buildings. Her lips seem to be getting softer each time you touch them with your own.

You meet again on a Friday night, this time in the quiet of her car. An SUV, surprisingly, one that you wouldn't have assumed would be hers.

"You seem more like the pickup truck type", you tell her, a genuine smile on your face.

"That's insulting", she replies, smirking, and starts the car. "Tell me where you want to go."

You can't think of anything, so you shrug. You let her surprise you. With her, everything seems to be a surprise.

Natasha doesn't appear to be in a hurry. She handles the steering wheel with calmness, a sense that, no matter where you end up, it'll be a night to remember.

In the end, the silent streets take you to the outskirts of town. An old sign reads Sunset Drive-In. The parking lot is almost empty, save for a few cars littered across the place. The screen stands tall and cracked against the backdrop of dark trees. Neon lights, once-vibrant and now dead. It feels like a place lost in time.

"Here?", you say, trying to conceal your amusement.

"Trust me, it's better when no one else is around."

She parks the car in the middle of the lot, far from the old speakers that still dangle from rusted poles. A breeze sweeps through your hair when you step out of the car and follow her. She pops the trunk, revealing a blanket that she uses to cover the hood. Side by side, you sit down.

You both stare up at the starry sky, feeling each other's presence. Her hand touches yours.

"Not what I expected", you admit, glancing at her. She smiles.

"I told you it'd be different," Natasha replies. She leans back against the windshield, folding one arm behind her head. The soft hum of the old projector flickers in the background. "But you can't say it's not romantic."

"Never said it wasn't."

A black and white movie starts to play. Your smile widens and you laugh quietly.

"Is everything about this place old?", you ask.

"Apart from us? Probably."

You hum in acknowledgment and nod, watching the scenes in front of you slowly flesh out into a full story. Your hand slides across the blanket, fingertips touching hers. She takes your hand and holds it in her lap. Her calloused fingers trace your knuckles, one by one, repeatedly.

Occasionally, you glance at her. You shift closer to her on the hood, so your sides are flush. At some point, she wraps her arm around you and you rest your head on her chest. Her heartbeat is steady and grounding in your ear. You allow yourself to close your eyes — you haven't been focusing on the movie for a while now, anyways.

Natasha's lips brush against your hair, lazy and soft. You turn your head to press your cheek against the fabric of her shirt. She smells like leather and mowed grass, perfume and something faintly metallic. It's the trace of a life lived on edge, so very different from how you were brought up.

What you remember from your childhood are two things: the inability to choose for yourself and the knowledge that you're safe and protected.

Money was never an issue, and neither were security or stability. But with it came rules — endless, unyielding rules about how to act, what to say, who to be. Every choice predetermined, every step carefully calculated.

Who are you taking to prom? Who's taking you to prom? What dress will you wear? What will you study? What kind of life are you aspiring to have someday? Kids, no kids?

Don't drag your family's name into the mud. Don't even think about doing this your way. Your grandmother would be so disappointed. You'll ruin your future.

Quiet voices in your head, echoing past questions and letting the hollow pit in your stomach grow again.

Automatically, your head turns. You breathe Natasha in. For a moment, you dare believe she might be the freedom you've been wishing for.

The movie plays on, its lights flickering across the parking lot. Sometimes, the screen goes dark, pulling you into the darkness as well. The stars above you seem brighter than ever, twinkling sympathetically.

Then, the end credits start rolling. You glance at Natasha, realizing she's been looking at you.

"Enjoyed the movie?"

"It's old", she simply says. You smile faintly.

"Not a fan?"

Her hand starts drawing circles on your shoulder, your arm, your side. You exhale to suppress a quiet laugh.

"There's exactly one thing I liked about it", she says meaningfully. It makes you want to kiss her.

Unfortunately, the moment is ruined when some drunk guy starts yelling at his girlfriend. She yells back. Then, glass shatters. A high-pitched 'what did you do to my fucking car??' rips you out of your moment of contentment.

The shouts echo through the nearly empty parking lot, piercing through the quiet night air. Natasha's arm around your shoulder tightens when the man jumps out of his car. He's clearly drunk, standing there unsteadily and waving his arms. His girlfriend yells once more.

You sit up slowly, Natasha following in suit. Her jaw tenses as she watches the fight — she looks like she's about to spring into action. Something sharp flickers in her eyes, alert and calculating, and it sends a jolt of attraction through your body.

Again, you quietly wonder who she really is. She doesn't show much of herself. But something about her promises an escape from everything else.

"You okay?", she asks. The arm that's lazily draped over your shoulders gives you a squeeze. Her eyes, however, stay glued to the offending couple.

"Yeah", you confirm. You lean into her subconsciously. She feels like stability in a world that's falling apart.

Her gaze doesn't leave the scene until the couple's fight fizzles out. A car door slams, tires screech against the gravel, and the lot falls silent again.

Natasha exhales and her shoulders relax as she looks back at you. The intensity in her eyes softens. "Sorry about that. Not exactly the ending I had in mind."

You smile faintly, unsure what to say. The bubble you were in moments ago has popped. Instead, you're surrounded by darkness and the sound of crickets. Her green eyes search your face in the darkness.

"Do you want to head back?", she asks after a beat. You shake your head so quickly you even surprise yourself.

"No." You pause, watching her carefully. "Unless you want to?"

Her lips curve into a small smile, the tension melting away. "Not a chance." She nudges your shoulder gently, coaxing a laugh out of you. "I know a spot. If you're up for it."

You quietly decide your parents can wait a little longer.

. . .

You tell Natasha about everything.

She tells you about nothing.

You're in her car, tucked into the backseat. You're leaning against the car door and your knees are pulled to your chest. The milky moonlight bathes your features in a gentle glow. It makes it hard for Natasha to focus on what you're saying, but she tries her best.

"They're strict", you begin, absentmindedly playing with the laces of your converse. "It's hard to explain. I guess it's how they were brought up, which doesn't excuse things, but whatever. When I date someone, it's not without their approval."

Natasha trails her fingers down the length of your shin, leaving a pleasantly tingling feeling in their wake. She's grown increasingly comfortable around you.

"They're rich, too. Like, really fucking rich. It's crazy." You pause. "I don't even know. I guess I'm trying to say that this — whatever it is — won't be easy."

Her eyes find yours, green and steady. She rests her hand atop your shoe, her fingers tracing the laces.

"You're still here", she says. "Guess that says something."

You smile weakly. You haven't thought about it that way yet, but she does have a point — despite everything, you're here. In her car.

You reach out to grab her hand and intertwine your fingers. Natasha leans in closer, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Her skin is pale in the light seeping in through the window behind you.

"When do you have to go home?", she asks. Something needles at your chest as you realize how that question makes you feel. Despite being an adult, you're acting like a teenager with a curfew.

Cheeks warm, you shrug. "An hour?"

"That's not much", Natasha points out. "We'll have to make it count."

"Or you kidnap me", you suggest, half-joking but also half-wishing she'd take you up on the offer. But she just smiles and shakes her head. Her hands push your legs apart as she crawls in between them.

As your eyes meet hers, you can't help but wonder how you ended up here — how everything in your life seemed to collide with this moment, with her.

"Can't imagine you being on the run, if I'm honest." She leaves a quick kiss on your lips. "You'd miss the AC and the fancy espresso machine."

You cup her cheek with one hand. You coax her into another kiss, a firmer one this time. Her hand, resting on your hip, slowly slides under your shirt. Her warm palm feels electrifying against your skin.

"You don't know me that well", you mumble yet again. You dive into another kiss. "Maybe you will one day."

Natasha looks at you. Something unspoken passes between the two of you. Your thumb grazes the faint scar below her jawline.

"I'd be thrilled", she replies, her voice softer, then kisses you deeply. Her tongue pushes past your lips. Her hand moves higher until her fingertips brush under the fabric of your bra. Rain starts pattering against the fogged up windows, quiet and steady, but you don't notice it happen.

Instead, you cradle Natasha's face. You taste the beer you had earlier on her tongue. It's mixed with something uniquely hers. You let her in, completely, and you suddenly find that you don't care about the consequences anymore.

. . .

She takes you to a small house by a lake.

It's afternoon when she suddenly shows up. You're not entirely sure how she managed to find your grandparents' house, but she did — she's right here, leaning against the gate with her back turned to you. Her red braid is a pattern against the smooth fabric of her black leather jacket.

You'd be thrilled to see her if it weren't for your grandfather walking past the kitchen window.

Your heart leaps into your throat. With one swift movement, you sling your bag over your shoulder.

"Be back soon!", you call out as you rush through the door, letting it slam shut behind you. You don't wait for a response — you don't want to risk it. Instead, you hurry to the gate and push it open with a quiet creaking sound. Natasha glances at you and smiles.

"You're insane", you whisper harshly, grabbing her arm and yanking her away from the gate. You glance back at the house. The kitchen window is empty for now, but it won't stay that way for long.

"Nice to see you, too", she says, a smirk on her face. She lets you drag her along without protesting. "What are you so worked up about?"

"Are you being serious? You were supposed to pick me up at the diner, not here! They could've seen you!"

"Yeah, yeah." Natasha frees her arm from your grip to take your hand. She's so utterly at ease that it makes your chest tighten.

What's it like, not caring about anything or anyone?

It's a thought you don't dwell on. Natasha spins you toward her, her free arm encircling your waist. Before you can process what's happening, her lips are pressed to yours. Firm but soft, a lingering taste of mint on them.

You let out a soft noise and wrap your arms around her neck, momentarily forgetting about the looming risk of being caught. She smiles against your lips and slowly pulls away.

"Now", she says, leading you down the sidewalk and toward her car, "let me take you somewhere."

"Where?", you ask as she unlocks the car. She doesn't answer, so you sit down and buckle up, the scent of her leather jacket surrounding you. The engine of the car hums to life. You reach out to tap the back of her hand. "Nat, where are we going?"

"I thought you liked surprises."

"I do", you reply and glance out the window. The winding road, shaded by towering oak trees, takes you past lush gardens and monotonous picket fences. A neighborhood that screams uniformity, but to you, it's nostalgia in its purest form. "I'd still like to know. Finally taking me up on that kidnapping-offer, maybe?"

Natasha smiles. Her hand moves to yours thigh, just barely brushing under the hem of your skirt. "Just be patient. You'll like it, I promise."

Her skin on yours makes you feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with the summer heat. You put your hand on hers, squeezing lightly to distract yourself. It doesn't work.

"I'm curious", you say. The pad of your thumb finds a scar on the side of her hand and you start tracing it.

"Patience", she repeats. She looks at you and smirks. "How much time do we have this time?"

You hesitate before eventually telling her the truth. "A few days. I told my parents I'm staying at a friend's house."

"Lying to your parents for me already?"

A red flush blooms on your cheeks. "Don't let it go to your head."

You drive past the slow life of the town you're in. A post office with a fading American flag fluttering outside, a little café where locals sip coffee, a general store. You spent years exploring everything on your bike and getting to know every nook and cranny.

Eventually, you reach the more rural part of town. Natasha drives down a hill and brings the car to a stop. Grass brushes against your bare ankles as you step out of the car.

In front of you, you spot a small house that's nestled into the landscape like it belongs there. It's surrounded by swaying trees and green grass, the summer sun making everything look like straight out of a children's picture book.

Your breath hitches for a moment. Your hand touches the hood of the car for a moment, grounding you.

"Is this...?"

"It's mine", Natasha confirms. She grabs a suitcase and joins you. A few strands of hair have escaped her braid, curling slightly. "I bought it a while ago. Just, you know. For someday."

You inspect the house. It's small, unassuming. Completely unlike the modern apartment you'd imagined her retreating to whenever she wasn't with you.

You love it.

"Someday?", you ask, glancing at her.

She smiles and averts her eyes. There's something vulnerable to her. "I just thought...maybe one day, I'll need a place like this. Away from everything. Away with someone."

You're not sure how to respond to that, so you don't. Every word you consider seems to fall short.

You fall into step with her, following her up the creaking wooden steps of the porch. The door swings open quietly. Natasha, red-cheeked for the first time since you've met her, quietly admits that she oiled the hinges.

You barely hear what she says. The house, albeit minimal and almost spartan inside, feels like a memory.

A mattress on the floor. A table with mismatched chairs in the kitchen space. A few boxes, some overflowing with blankets.

You absently adjust a few books on the bookshelf, pushing them backwards so their spines are aligned. Natasha's silent, not daring to disrupt the silence.

She doesn't tell you that you're the first person she's ever brought here. She doesn't have to.

"It's cozy", you murmur. You faintly hear the gentle thump of the suitcase as Natasha sets it down. "You've been here before?"

"A few times." She tucks her hands into the pockets of her jeans and watches you explore. "Don't expect too much. There's no WIFI, no cable. Not exactly a five-star getaway."

"No WIFI?", you tease, picking up a ceramic mug that's sitting next to the sink. It's patterned, chipped at the top — so ordinary it makes you smile. "How will I survive?"

Natasha smirks. Her hand finds yours and she leads you to the back of the house. Through a sliding glass door, you reach a small porch. Beyond it, a lake stretches out, its surface shimmering in the sun. A hammock swings between two trees, a bed of wildflowers underneath. It smells like grass and cedar.

The warm breeze washes over you. You breathe in the air and let it seep into your system. Out here, the rest of the world seems very far away.

"It's beautiful", you finally say.

"It is", she says quietly, her gaze never leaving you. You look at her when you feel her fingers intertwine with yours. The sunlight softens her sharp features into something gentle and fragile.

You reach out and brush some hair behind her ear. The light touch of your fingertips against her skin is enough to make her relax.

Natasha puts her hand on yours, keeping it pressed against her cheek for a moment. Then, she nods at the hammock.

"Come on", she says. "Let's see if that thing still holds."

. . .

The days are a blur.

You sleep on the mattress on the floor, one with a dip in the middle that pulls you together by dawn. The bedsheets, soft and worn, have a faded floral pattern on them. Morning light streams through the windows.

You wake slowly when the warmth of the sunlight hits your face. Natasha's arm is draped over your waist, her breath hitting your neck. Sometimes, she wakes before you. She kisses your shoulder and pulls you closer.

You eat sitting on the table, legs idly swinging over the edge. The table wobbles slightly, but it's nothing a folded napkin can't fix. Natasha stands next to you, her hair unbrushed and falling over her shoulders in auburn waves. Her voice is quiet and raspy when she speaks. The faintest hint of a Russian accent is present, making you wonder about her more than ever.

You still don't know much about her. She's a mystery you can't solve, but you're dangerously close to promising yourself you'll spend your entire life trying to.

You share your coffee from the chipped mug that you found sitting next to the sink. You steal bites of food from her plate. You bask in the warmth that's ever present in this little house.

The rest of the day, you're mostly outside. Staying indoors doesn't seem to be an option in a place like this. You enjoy the butterflies, the sun, the lapping of the lake far too much.

Natasha finds a canoe behind the shed that's next to the lake. It's old and doesn't look like it'll keep you above the water, but Natasha insists it's still seaworthy. To your surprise, she's right — the canoe, paint peeling and wood scuffed, stays afloat.

She rows you to the middle of the lake. Her muscles flex under her shirt as she pulls the oar. You sit behind her, legs dangling over the side, and enjoy the view.

When she suggests you go swimming, you give her a skeptical look. But the redhead has gotten up already, her shirt peeled off to reveal a black bra underneath. Scars crisscross her skin in a startling blend of old and new — some pale and softened with time, others pink and raw. A past she's never spoken of. You know better than to ask.

Her jeans follow. The canoe rocks precariously as she jumps. When she comes back to the surface, her hair is slicked back and water drips from her face. Natasha looks happy, unbothered, and it pulls at your heartstrings.

You ignore the plea of your body to stay warm and dry. Instead, you take your clothes off as well and join her in the lake. Water, cold and refreshing, envelops you. Her hands find your waist and you meet her lips with yours.

After this, you start bathing in the lake every day. You run around the house naked, lake water dripping on the floor and Natasha's laughter trailing after you.

Corners and hallways offer little moments of intimacy. Her body feels warm against yours. You let your hands run over her sun-kissed skin, her lips pressing against the side of your face. Natasha's hand trails down your front and dips between your legs. You're hers entirely.

At night, you curl up on the mattress. Hair damp and skin sunburnt, you feel like the season has claimed you. You've soaked up the joy of summer, and from now on, nothing will be able to compare to this.

Not everything is perfect. As you spend so much time with her, you realize that Natasha and you clash like fire and ice — two forces that shouldn't mix but somehow do.

It's the little things and it's the bigger things. Jackets left in random places, or arguments caused by different ideas of what comes next. Somehow, you're both curious about the future — but you also avoid that topic as much as you can.

You try bringing it up. Gently, carefully, as if not trying to scare away a wild animal. Your head on her chest, the pads of your feet pressed against her calves. Her heartbeat is steady in your ear. You close your eyes and speak, asking her what she thinks.

Natasha is not one to hesitate. This time, she does.

You have no clue why. You don't know that her job requires her to be able to up and go at any given time. You don't know that her life, unlike yours, is fragile and unstable. You don't know that she doesn't want to drag another person into this mess.

There's just one issue: Natasha has fallen in love with you.

It was meant to be a fling. A quick summer flirt. Just a pretty girl to make her days less lonely in this strange, unfamiliar town.

She couldn't have possibly known you'd end up meaning so much to her, but here you are — all messy hair and sweet smiles, burrowing your way into her chest as if you were always meant to be there.

This transition from casual to everything but happened way back. She never noticed it happen. And now, she's in love.

It's the kind of love that takes root deep inside you. It doesn't always fit into neat plans or pretentious families, and it's not always easy, but you both try. Some days, trying is easier than on others.

The days are a blur, and they're a dream as well. But dreams don't last forever.