#and they really are part of the expiriance

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[mjrdm]

manifesting shinsekai yori discord server into existence. oooh you want to talk about squealer being right so baaad

[theoxvest]

Aw i hope things take a turn for the better for you soon! If you'd be up for it, could I request edvard and lilith interacting? They're my favourite silly nerds...

Some Nerds 'undercover' and continuing my limited color pallet colored pencil pack drawings

[nataliaphantomhivesblog]

I think it's really powerful that Snake's last action before death wasn't something that favoured the phantomhive cause OR Doll's/the circus cause.

He died stepping in to shield a child.

In the end, he didn't have the chance to pick a side, but he did what he felt was right. His decision was his own.

But what influenced him to be such a loving and good person was the families that shaped him.

The circus trope gave Snake so much hope and belonging in a world that caged and abused him.

These people gave Snake, who was once, emotionally stunted and abused, the feeling of love.

When he lost them however, he lost a part of himself. And was ready to avange the people who took them from him.

However, due to certain events, Snake gets employed by our earl. And he quickly adapted into the Phantomhive manor:

He wasn't just learning to embrace his individuality, he was also finally feeling another sense of belonging.

A sense of family.

And in the end, when he realized that both families lie to him. He crumbles, he cries, he screams, he is hurt.

But past that hurt, he mantained the love and care that he learned to harvest thanks to both familial experiences as he put his life on the line for a child.

Honestly? I love that we never got to see Snake pick a side. However, in the end, he wrote off his own faith the moment he steped in to protect the kid.

But it was his decision, his choice to mantian the image of Doll as he did back in the circus—someone who would never hurt people. His choice to not betray Finnian either, even after finding out he killed Jumbo.

Snake died as the accumulation of the expiriences he lived with both of his families.

He died...as Snake.

Not a pawn, not misled.

Just Snake.

[leikeliscomet]

A lot of people including asexuals really don't understand that asexuality is really the only form, or at least one of the very few forms of nonsexuality that exists outside of puritanism. It's one of the few forms of nonsexuality that isn't enforced or mandatory in a religious, spiritual, physical or mental sense. Its one of the few forms of nonsexuality that doesn't involve an active restriction or repression of desire or attraction but instead simply not having certain desires or attractions in the first place for people who never had them or no longer have them. It's one of the few forms of nonsexuality that is naturally occurring instead of being mandatory and enacted by a larger system. I know there's some feminist reworkings of celibacy and abstinence but those usually have an expiry date in the sense that after sexual conditions improve for women then sex can start again (with men). Asexuality does not. Whilst ethical celibacy or abstinence is usually in the context of women not participating in sex until certain conditions are met and improved, asexuality offers the ability to not participate ever. With no pressure to rejoin or join, no moral stigma. And I think that's pretty neat.

So when the forefront of liberal ace activism is to distance itself from nonsexuality completely, to constantly assert that asexuals aren't frigid prudes, asexuals aren't virgins, asexuals aren't vanilla, asexuals aren't ugly and unfuckable, asexuals have libidos like normal people, asexuals are never scared or uncomfortable with sex at all or have any not 100% enthusiastic opinions about it, that there's 0 trace of any sexual trauma or negative sexual experiences or anxieties because we're not damaged goods, essentially focusing on our hypothetical sexual potential more than the nonsexual realities a lot of us have, to say I'm confused and disappointed would be a massive understatement.

Yes asexuality is a spectrum and everyone's valid blah blah blah but not all of these experiences are the same and the community hasn't and doesn't want to prepare for that. We've advocated for how aces can still take part in (hetero)sexuality but what are those of us who don't supposed to do? There's no guide for what childless aces are gonna do in the next few decades when they have no biological descendants. There's no guide on how to have an asexual romance without sex apart from 'just cuddle' or basically just saying do 'normal' romance without the sex bit. There were no guide to QPRs until we made them. There's no guide on how to build an ace community in real life and how to deal with any loneliness or isolation that comes from not having a local community. There's no guide on how to be a nonsexual being apart from 'just don't have sex/do sexual things' which apart from being backhanded as hell for those of us who didn't get a choice, it doesn't go beyond that. We have this unique form of nonsexuality and nothing is being done with it, apart from ignoring, erasing or blatantly attacking it. Where are all those "harmful stereotype" asexuals supposed to go? There's no one around to help but us.

I care more about supporting asexual people's nonsexual needs than proving asexuals fit into some type of sexual normalcy.

[writingsfromhome]

That’s so True

A/N: this one’s sort of from a request in my inbox but coincidentally I came across a reel where this song was from the guy’s pov and it + the comments obviously got me inspired (IG: itschloeduvall—recommend!). It’s not my best but here’s a mash of your and Harry’s POVs based somewhat on Gracie’s TST <3

Part 2 (wip)

—————————————————

The stuffy room buzzed with the attendees of both schools that bordered our borough. There’s laughter and music flowing through the rooms and a laid-back atmosphere.

When our uniforms were on the school rivalry was always thick but at these sorts of house parties everyone was friendly. Yet despite it all I’m not as laid back as I want to be.

I lean against the kitchen island, and listen to my friends banter. From where I stand I can see the beer pong played on the table to my right but also all the way down the hall rammed with bodies to the front door.

“Bet you didn’t notice why I wore blue shadow,” Zoe bats her eyelashes up at me. She was a year younger than me and just as into me as all the other girls I’ve been with. She knew exactly how to handle herself and how to be fun. But that’s what made girls like Zoe cool. They adored you until they didn’t, and I would have fun with them before that expiry came around.

“I noticed,” I press a kiss to the shell of her ear.

“Really?” She laughs and pulls away. “You didn’t say!”

“Not right now,” I look down at her. I remember the first time she approached me leaning against my car in the parking lot. It was just days after I ghosted my last fling and I didn’t think I was going to have a new one so soon but when life gives you lemons...

“Why?”

“I was going to save the admiring for later.”

“Oh?” She puts her hands on her hips but there’s a tipsy sparkle to her eye. “Harry I don’t need to just be admired in private!”

“I’m here with you tonight aren’t I?” I brush her cheek, kiss her neck. “This is me admiring you publicly.”

“Really?” She murmurs.

I kiss her long and lingering in response.

“Well I don’t mind—public or private.” Zoe says when we part. The look in her eyes undresses me right there.

I don’t know why I look up just then but my line of sight to the door shows me exactly who walked in.

YN’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and I nearly remember the feeling of my burning lips against them.

The memory comes flooding back in a rush—the night we sat in my car by the chilly beach. We’d been hooking up for a couple weeks by then. And she had been crying and trying not to, and for the first time in my life I’d wanted to take all the pain away from someone. And it terrified me.

It got too close; I hated how it made me feel. I hated how it lingered. I had no choice but to quit her cold turkey after that. I try to push all of that out of my mind when I feel Zoe's hand on my arm.

“Would you be mad if I wanted to leave early with you? I bummed some stuff off my friend we could hang out in your car…”

“We can leave early,” I promise her. She was hard to resist. “Let’s just act like we’re interested in being here first though.”

Zoe gives me a peck and leans into me, her cheek resting on my chest. My gaze drifts back to YN, just in time for her to look my way. I force my eyes to slide off of her, she didn’t mean anything special. She wasn’t any more special than the girl in my arms.

But I can’t deny the physical jolt that goes through me, how the blood roars in my ears in the split second we locked eyes.

Fuck that. I don’t care. She should know I don’t. I imagine her watching me with Zoe, knowing she and I would only ever be another discarded fling.

“Your heart’s racing,” Zoe comments, cheek still glued to my chest.

“Feeling restless. I’m grabbing a drink.” I leave her a lingering kiss before I head to the beer pong part of the kitchen. But a sensation creeps up my neck I can’t shake.

I end chatting with some of the guys watching a football match—knowing them from the team when I played last season.

Zoe eventually joins me after making eyes at me across the room from the kitchen where she was caught in conversation. And even though there’s a few inches of space beside me and Marty on the couch she wriggles her way in, most of her body draped over me.

I don’t mind it, she was miniature sized. I tell her that.

“I could fit you in my pocket,” I muse.

She presses her palms into my chest, her eyes dark with want. “If I’m in your trousers I don’t want to be in your pockets.”

She laughs into the next kiss.

She really didn’t hold back.

“Watch watch watch,” Marty shoves my knee, jostling both Zoe and I as he leans forward on the couch beside us. “He’s gonna make thaaat—aw bollocks!”

We all laugh at Marty’s favourite player messes up a perfectly set-up goal.

“Y’sure he’s not getting paid on the side?” I joke.

“You shut your mouth,” he barely spares a glance to me, his eyes glued to the telly. “He’s a genuinely good guy.”

I glance at Zoe and amusement colours her face. I’m about to tell her something about the game when I feel a prick on the back of my neck. I glance around and there she is as real as the last time I saw her, her presence burning into my skin.

Zoe mirrors me, glancing around but clearly YN didn’t draw her in like she did me.

I distract her, tuck her hair behind her ear. If YN was watching I want her to see it all. I undo the clip in Zoe’s hair and it falls around her face. And just like she usually does, she cranes her face towards mine and I kiss her. She’s soft and smells like vanilla and vodka. She was confident and sexy but I’m bottomed out with a hollow feeling.

I fill it by kissing her again, desperate to get rid of it. Or maybe I just needed to get more drunk.

But my eyes betray me, flicking up briefly to YN. Her poker face betrays her with the clench of her jaw. I could hear her voice in my head accusing me of using Zoe, of being a coward. My heart picks up speed but I push it all down and focus on Zoe’s touch.

Maybe I was just feeling guilty because I knew she was going through a tough time personally. But it wasn’t my responsibility. I was a good person for feeling bad. I didn’t actually care about her.

-Your POV-

I only know time is passing because the muffled beats of the songs start and end like clockwork. Otherwise, I stay sitting on the garage steps in the dark. I’ve stopped noticing the dusty oil smell that clings to the air—it's all blended into the dark.

The party was getting too much as soon as I stepped in but I forced myself to stay because of my friends. But then an hour ago I was forced to stand there and watch Harry and his new girl slobber all over each other. I bided my time until my friends stopped watching me like a dog waiting to bolt—not that I could blame them. Because I bolted as soon as they stopped watching.

I wish I could get over it. All of it. Everything felt so heavy all the time.

Grams was moving to be closer to her sister now that she lived alone ever since Grandpa……left.

I couldn’t blame her. Wouldn’t I do the same? I was so selfishly thinking in the short-term when we both knew I’d be out of this damn town in a few months. And, I already booked my ticket to visit her this summer. It was supposed to be fine, right?

But why couldn’t I just move on?

And Harry. Fucking Harry. Why the hell did he get to me? He was taunting me and I was letting him.

But only in the dark here, slightly tipsy, a small part of me admits the hurt. It hurt.

But why? He was just some guy I had a short thing with. I wanted to lose myself to a fun casual fling. He was the type of guy who just liked to have fun, nothing serious. I knew it going in.

But he saw me so vulnerable. And the thing that gets me is how much he actually seemed like he cared that night. How his eyes drank in everything I was feeling and in that it felt like I wasn’t alone.

He surprised me by being sweet—which my rational brain knows is just a honey trap for girls. But it felt so genuine, like he truly was being sweet for me. How could I get over something like that!

Move on. He obviously has.

I let my eyes flick over to my phone, just for a second. I’m tempted to look at the stories from the party, from everyone inside. The party that I’m separated from by a single door—FOMO.

That’s a new low.

I pull my gaze away and try to ignore the impulse.

He had noticed me when I walked in. Even though he looked away I know he saw me because I saw him.

I’d heard he moved on—it’s crazy that this time last week we were in his car together. I was ready to trickle off after that heavy night but not before having a talk with him. It’s not like I was expecting him to be waiting around for me but I also didn’t expect him to be so cruel showing off and being obnoxious right in front of me with this new chick.

"Nah, I got it!" A voice near the door says. My heart skips a beat for a second. The voice—his voice. But it fades as quickly as it came.

I'm about to let out a sigh when the door swings open and a flood of light spills into the garage. It's blinding at first.

“Where the—ahh!” I whip my head up, but of course, I don’t need to see him to know it’s him.

He stands there, wide-eyed, caught off guard for a split second. Then he recovers, straightens his shoulders.

"What the fuck, YN?"

I don’t even answer him. I just turn away, chin on my knees, staring back into the dark.

In my silence he goes down leaving the door open a sliver to let the light in so he can see. I hold my breath when he passes, knowing breathing him in would engulf me in the exact same way it used to.

Not that I was nostalgic for it but I didn't want my brain playing tricks on me when I was a sitting duck here.

I track him as he heads to a small pile in the corner of the confined garage and pulls out a few six-packs. He stacks a couple and comes back my way.

There’s just enough space on the stairs for him to sit beside me without crowding me, and I can feel him hovering. I can feel him deciding whether to stay or leave.

Damnit. The step creaks softly as he chooses to sit, the door still cracked open behind him, casting a slice of light across his face.

I breathe in, catching the familiar scent of him. It floods my senses, sharp and heady like it used to. Shit.

I hate that a part of me wants to tell him to screw whatever game he was playing with me and just meet me upstairs. Somewhere dark and tucked away. But my dignity and the reminder of an unanswered text makes me pretend he didn’t affect me.

I hear the shift of cans in his hands. "Are you sulking out here?"

His voice is casual. Like us. Casual. He’s playing this like we can just go back to being nobody-classmates with each other.

I glare in the dark. "What’s it to you?"

"Didn’t take you for the sulking type," he says, leaning back a little like he’s amused by me.

"Well, that’s reassuring."

"What is?"

"How you don’t know me."

Our eyes meet for a beat, and it feels too much like everything between us again. But then his eyes crinkle with a cocky amusement and it pisses me off. Like he knows how annoying he is right now and it’s entertainment.

He adjusts the beer in his hands, then tilts his head toward the door, like I’m the weird one for not being inside with the rest of the people at the party.

"Why are you out here when the party's in there?"

I don’t answer right away. I can feel my pulse thrumming too loudly in my neck. I feel awashed in shame, hot waves down my neck; he knew exactly why I might be out here when the party’s in there. Is he playing dumb to show me how much he never cared, how unimportant my story was? Or is he trying to get me vulnerable again?

"None of your business," I snap, turning away.

The silence lingers a moment, but then—"s’it because of me?"

I blink. Did he just ask me that? He can’t possibly be that bold. And yet, the question is spoken like a secret.

I feel a sharp rush of irritation flood my chest. How dare he pity me. "Because of you?" I ask. "Do you really think the small blip of time we spent together affected me enough to isolate myself out here just because you brought some new shiny toy to the party? Get over yourself, Harry. I’ve got bigger things going on in my life."

For a moment, his face falls, the amusement fading, but it’s gone in a flash. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but the shout of someone inside calls his name. "Hurry up, man!"

I glance at him, his face had hardened into the cocky fuckboy we all know him to be. A complete contrast to the face that watched me that night.

He never existed.

"The eyes don’t lie," he says, leaning in just a little, his usual cocky smirk crawling back into place. "I see the way you’ve been watching me all night, YN. Say what you want to say—"

"Why are you here?” I interrupt. My skin prickles, my pulse quickening. I had something to say but he was making me too angry to say it. My words were for a gentler Harry, not this fucker. “Is it just to bother me because you can leave.”

He pauses, just for a second, his eyes darkening, but then he shrugs and gets up to go. "Well, sorry you’re missing out."

"I’m not missing out," I turn to say, my voice hoarse. "I’m just taking a breather."

But even as I say it, the words feel like a lie.

I stare at him, standing in the doorway. He pauses, half-turning. The smirk’s still there, but it’s thinner, like he’s pushing something down.

"Sad, sad girl," he murmurs, shaking his head, as if he's disappointed in me.

I scramble to get up--to cuss him out, to launch myself at him, I really don't know what; his condescending cocky tone sets something off in me.

But he knows exactly what that would do to me. By the time l've untwisted myself the door is slamming shut behind him and I'm left in the dark.

I swear loudly, the sound echoing off the walls like a threat. My fists clench. "Fuck him," I mutter.

All that responds is the silence and it feels suffocating.

-Harry’s POV-

She’s won’t give me the satisfaction of following me up but I know it gets to her—the way she stiffened when I said she was "missing out." And I know I’m a dick but it’s because for a moment there I almost fucked it all up and asked if she was okay.

I pull a new beer out, pop the cap, and take a long drink.

Your ego’s bruised, you’re trying to be cruel to hurt her.

I drink more.

I liked having fun. It’s part of being young—before I get old and have to settle down and get serious like all the adults in my life. I want to meet all kinds of girls and just have fun. I want to live without looking back with regrets—so no strings attached and no consequences.

Then she had to come along. With that sharp wit and broody eyes. She just approached me at a party like this one one day and by the end of the night we were hooking up.

My parents had been away for the weekend so the only thing to do was invite everyone over. But what started out as inviting my group, their dates, and some other girls led to nearly the entire class in my home.

“Mum’s gonna kill you,” my sister had said before she left the house. “You better clean it all up before she gets back and I’m not helping.”

“Duh,” I say. But it’s overwhelming this many people in my house.

After a few beers the overwhelm shies down to a forgotten thought in the back of my mind. I’m the man of the hour because I was throwing the party. Usually I was just attending them. This was different. Good-different.

Some of the guys are playing video games and I settle with one of the controllers but my loss is so painful I have to leave to get another drink and stay a few feet from any of the controllers.

After fucking around in the den and flirting with a couple girls younger than me I can’t remember the names of, I go back to where the game is being played.

My spot’s been occupied by YN—I’ve been in school with her for years but we’d only spoken a handful of times. We ran in different circles and she didn’t always show up to parties. But tonight she has a controller in her hand and her face is scrunched in concentration. It’s cute.

YN was cute, she was really smart and everyone knew she was going to graduate and do things that made the rest of us say we knew her when…

But in that way she was out of my league. Girls like her never bothered to hook up. They were always studying or in committed relationships. Last I heard she was dating someone in the year above us but they broke up before he graduated.

So that’s why I’m taken aback when she comes in second place and cheers with first. She knocks back her drink in celebration and somehow her eyes find mine.

I raise my brows and lift my beer to her. She grins and her face lights up—she’s really cute. I laugh and she mocks a bow while sitting. I shake my head at her before her attention’s stolen by first place asking her to play again.

My heart is pounding and I can’t stop looking her way. She agrees to playing again and even though I miss the round when I have to find more drinks, by the time I come back she’s just leaning into the couch, arms crossed and drink resting against her. She watches the screen but she glances when I walk back in.

She looks away. Then she looks back.

There’s a challenge in her eyes but I don’t know what she playing at. Girls like her simply didn’t hook up with guys like me so I didn’t want to read the signs wrong. She was probably being friendly and she was drunk.

But the stars must have been misaligned because after making eyes she stands confidently and walks over to me.

Her shoulders are bare in a sweater that wraps around them and when she comes closer it’s in a wave of a sharp clean scent. Her skin looks tantalizing like she’s put something glittery on it and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on her face and listen close above the music and my heart beating in my ears.

“You’re not jealous are you?” She asks.

“Of what?”

“Well I saw you playing earlier and it was…” she bites her lip.

“What?” I shake my head seriously. “You didn’t see that absolute loss happening from me.”

“I didn’t?” She raises her brow. “So that wasn’t you?”

“No! No it wasn’t. I uh, have a twin. Total loser. Didn’t you know?”

“A twin?” She asks with humour in her eyes. And I can’t believe her as she moves closer to me. The magnetism emanates from this new confidence she talks to me with. “What’s his name?”

“Why? Are you interested?” I ask.

“Well,” she blinks. “Clearly he needs some tips from a pro. I thought you could introduce me and I can show him how to win.”

Now she’s inches from me. I’ve done this dance a million times and yet I feel like I’m in unchartered territory. I always had the upper hand but she was catching me off guard. I had to flip this.

“Show him how to win?” I ask. I decide to make the first move, touch her. I take the hair that’s spilled over her shoulder and brush it back. Her eyes flicker down to my lips. “Why would a pretty girl like you waste your time doing that?”

“I’m more than a pretty girl.”

“Yeah I know. You’re smart as shit and a total killer over there.”

“Mhm,” she says. The sound shoots straight into my chest. “So? You won’t even introduce us? Tell me his name?”

“My brother…isn’t really your type.”

My hand slides down her back to her waist. Her hand comes up to my chest, up to my shoulders. I want to kiss her. Bad. Know what she felt like.

“You sound jealous. Won’t even give me his info.”

“Uh well,” do I kiss her—does she know I’m not into serious dating. “He’s…Gary….Styles.”

We lock eyes and then spring apart as laughter spills between us.

“Oh my god,” I choke. “I can’t believe that just-“

“Gary?!” She cries. “Was that-was that the best you could…”

She’s laughing too hard to finish, crouching down to contain herself.

“I was trying to think of a rhyming name!”

“Sure!” She tries to breath through her laugh. “Name him the most unsexiest thing ever!”

I laugh again. “I told you he wasn’t your type!”

That sets her off again and there’s a warm pride filling my chest at making her laugh this hard. Most people found me funny but seeing smart and pretty YN crouching down on my living room floor from laughing so hard, standing and brushing the tears out of her eyes—I could float on this feeling for a while.

“Fine.” She’s still smiling and I’m grinning just being around her. YN was cool—who knew. “Forget Gary.”

I slap my hand over my face and she laughs as she says it.

“C’mon,” she peels my hand off and instead of letting go she places it back on her waist. “You’ll do if he’s not around.”

“I-I’ll do?” I’m once again caught off guard. And if my ego wasn’t so inflated by her attention and laughter I would be fighting for dominance but she takes the lead once more. Like she was cool and confident and she knows what she’s doing.

“Yeah? Have you never hooked up Harry? I thought that’s what you did? Or was that your brother all along?”

“No!” I tug her waist. “That’s definitely me. Gary has no game.”

“Naturally,” she nods. “This is your place right? I’m guessing you have a room?”

She’s bold. Direct about what she wants from me. It’s different.

“I have to sleep in the room under the stairs. Gary has a bedroom upstairs though.”

“So all Harry’s sleep under the stairs then?” She grins. I laugh. She was cool. And funny. And cute, and flirty, and I wanted to kiss her.

“Most of them.” I look at her lips, they’ve got that glossy stuff on them and I imagine they taste like strawberries.

She quiets and leans in and when our eyes meet again I know she's thinking about kissing me too. We’re caught in limbo and when she tips forward it’s all the confirmation I need.

I grab the back of her head and bring our mouths together. She didn’t taste like strawberries. It was minty instead and the coolness prickles my lips as she trails her fingers up my neck.

My hands slide to her waist as we kiss and she moans when I slide my tongue into her mouth. She was so soft, and real. Her hands were on my chest, sliding over the fabric of my shirt. Holy fuck I was kissing YN. The feel of her lips was like a drug and I needed to get my fix.

I wanted to get closer. Know what her skin felt like under my palm. The idea made my heart beat faster. My hands travel there before I could think, my thumbs rubbing circles into her lower back.

“Maybe,” she breaks the kiss. Her eyes as dark as mine and her chest heaves against me. “Not here? We can find that bedroom.”

“Just what I was gonna say,” I can’t take my eyes off her. I don’t care how many people were here I wanted my lips back on her.

“So!?” She tugs me out of my daze and I apologize.

With a hand on the small of her back I guide her upstairs to my bedroom. Nobody’s here just like I told them not to be and by the time I close the door her gaze is flitting around my room.

“You like music?” She asks, pointing to the guitar and CDs in the corner of my room.

“I live and breathe it. Sorry for-“ I point to my clothes laying on my chair and the bed. I toss the ones on the bed onto the chair. I didn’t think I was hooking up with anyone like this tonight, too occupied with cleaning up later.

“You should see mine,” she shakes her head.

“Really? You seem like your room would be perfect.”

“Perfect?” Something flits across her face. “No. Definitely not. ”These days my room looks like a storm’s swept through.”

I walk back to her and brush her hair back again. Here, away from everyone else, she’s a little less bold. She’s softer. That overwhelming need to kiss her is still there but it’s enveloped by a need to hold her too. To savour her.

“My mum always says your room’s a reflection of your mind.” I say. “She’s always disappointed in mine.”

She lets out a short laugh. “Ha! That must be true.”

The look on her face again. I want to ask but I sense she doesn’t want to be asked. She looks behind us to my music instead.

“Yours must have a lot of music in it.”

“Yeah. Every moment.” I go with the change in subject. It wasn’t my business.

“Even this one?”

“Mhm,” I hum. I pull her in from her waist and press a kiss to her throat. I whisper against her skin, “Even this ones.”

Her body shudders and her voice is barely audible when she asks, “And what’s playing?”

I smile against her.

"You.” I tell her. “Your breath, your laugh, your heartbeat. It's a tune unique to you. Your song.”

“You’re good,” she laughs quietly before tilting her head towards me and our lips find each other again. This time we're alone and I don't feel bad for exploring. She was the most beautiful and surprising person I'd met and I didn’t want her to slip through my fingers.

She makes quick work of her sweater, pulling it over her head. It takes my breath away.

"Y’okay?" she asks.

I don’t know what to tell her with all the feelings rushing through me pumping with every racing heartbeat. So I go with, "You're beautiful."

Her face softens, I want her even more.

Her hands cup my face and I lean into her touch as she kisses me again. I let her have control for a bit, but her control is measured and soft and exploring. It feels careful.

She begins to take my shirt off and I do the rest, tossing it to the side. I nudge her gently towards the bed and she scoots up, taking down her hair. I never in a million years thought I would have her in my bed. That I would get to see this side of her. I feel lucky in a way. Luckier than anyone downstairs.

"So goddamn perfect," I say again. I climb onto the bed and kiss her lips. I work my way to her neck. It's the best thing I've had in a while. I reach her shoulder and suck at the skin there, the sound that escapes her lips is intoxicating. I want to hear it again.

I reach her collarbone, trailing wet kisses; she’s so much more perfect than I'd imagined. As we move and explore each other, she feels amazing but I pause when she slows down.

"What?" she asks.

"Are you…it’s just...you’re…" her eyes flash and I can tell she’s embarrassed that I’m pointing it out.

"I'm sorry," she blinks a bunch. “It’s sorta been a while?”

“That’s okay. That’s alright. We can take it slow.”

She nods and doesn’t speak.

“Is this okay? What do you want?"

"I want you." She's staring up at me and I see the want clear as day. “Not slow.”

The words go straight to my core."Then you have me."

Her hand trails down as I kiss her and it’s tentative as it reaches lower and lower. Warmth cascades down my body and I feel like I’m in a dream.

“You’re amazing YN,” I tell her. “You feel amazing.”

I tilt her head back for the taste of her, bite the skin of her shoulder. Her sounds alone drive me crazy. But I’m priming her, making sure she’d ready. When she buckles her hips into mine I tug at the elastic of her panties.

"Is this okay?"

She nods.

"Say it."

"Yes," she breathes. “God, you’re bossy. S’okay.”

I pull the dainty fabric off with a smile and throw them to the floor. She nods when I look at her, her eyes are hooded and dark . “Protection?"

"I have some." I lean over and dig through my nightstand. When I sit back she’s quiet but I’m focused with the task at hand so she catches my by surprise with her question.

“H-how many girls do you hook up with?"

I look up at her and she's watching me with those dark broody eyes. They're so wide and so deep and I’m drowning.

"Some."

"That's…not an answer."

"It is. You’re not getting posessive are you? We’re still haven’t finished getting to know each other.”

She flushes furiously.

"So a lot then," she continues.

I laugh. "Do you usually do this? Is this some sort of foreplay?"

"I-i just-I want to be sure you’re-“

“I’m clean.” I promise her when I realize why she’s asking. Idiot Harry. “Plus we’re using protection.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Okay. Good. Now come back here.”

She gasps when I sink into her and I can't help the curse that escapes.

She responds with her own impatient expletives. There’s a desperation in her voice that sets me off as her nails dig into me, like she wanted to lose herself here.

She’s present as we flow in my bed but I know when I’ve lost her, as her grip loosens and her eyelids flutter shut.

We collapse onto the bed, chests rising and falling as we finished one after the other. Her hair is splayed out on my pillow, her head resting on my arm and she looks angelic. I kiss her neck slowly, peppering kisses onto her shoulder, stroking her back. Slowly bringing her back. Gently.

"Harry,” she says my name. Breathes it. It makes my stomach drop. Something about her was stirring something within me and it was exhilarating but scary. I splay my hand on her abdomen and bend to kiss her, she’s more pliable than before, clearly spent.

"Stay here," I whisper. It’s the wrong thing to say but I don’t care about the party anymore. I just want to stay here and continue exploring this perfect woman here. Before she goes back to being the YN I knew from school. The one who I previously thought would never crawl into my bed willingly.

She blinks. "But the party-“

“Party’s fine without us for a bit.”

She smiles. "Okay. Fine."

I hold her against my chest and we stay like that. Neither of us speaking. Yet I can tell there's something on her mind. Has been most of the time we were together.

I almost ask if she wants to talk but remember she wasn’t my girlfriend, my anything. She was here to hook up not spill her feelings. I didn’t do feelings—I wasn’t anyone’s boyfriend for a reason.

Her fingers trace shapes into my chest and it feels nice. The softness is new so is the cuddling—if I stayed in bed like this with a girl it was usually to gear up for round two. But this is different, we’re simply just catching our breath and existing in this space together.

"I think I should go," she whispers, sitting up after a while.

"What?"

"Your party, won’t they notice you’re missing."

"And?”

“You should get back. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah," I sit up, I didn’t think I could convince her to stay. “Through there."

She nods and walks away with a few of her items. When the door closes, I can hear her sniffling. I want to go in but it would feel like an invasion of her privacy and our boundaries. I lay back and wait.

When she comes out, her hair is brushed and her makeup is fixed. She looks like she did when she came into the party. Except she’s only got a bra on.

“You missed a spot.” I tease. She blushes, self-conscious and so different to before.

“I did,” she plays it off. “D’you see my top?”

I spot it on the floor beside me and pick it up. She waits for me to get to her and reaches for it but I hold it tight.

“Are you holding my sweater hostage now?” She asks.

“No,” I don’t know what comes over me but I scrunch it and hold it over her head. She blushes again as I pull it over which isn’t very hard with how wide the neckhole is. It drapes back down below her shoulders. I usually undressed girls, I think this was the first time I helped one get dressed.

“You’re sweeter than you look.” She says once her arms are through.

“This is just so I can undress you again,” I tease.

I kiss her sweet and slow and it takes her by surprise. She leans back a bit but then meets me again, melting into me.

“We should get you a drink.” I tell her. She needed to relax more. She was suddenly tense after what we did.

“Ok. Yeah. A drink sounds nice.”

And so I spent the rest of the night with her, and she stayed tucked beside me with a quiet strength and a whisper of a smile the whole time.

Now she’s wriggled through every fucking belief I had and got too deep into my head. I can’t stop thinking about her. About the last time we were together. About how different she was. How the girl I saw in school and the girl she was in the dark with me were like night and day.

I want her and I hate that I do.

“Where’d you go?” Zoe asks, her voice tugging me back into the moment. Her fingers brush against my arm as I zone out.

“Huh?”

“The garage isn’t that big,” she says, eyebrows raised, clearly confused by my distance.

I offer a quick grin, leaning in a little too close. “No, but you know what is?”

It’s enough to get her laughing, pulling me closer. It works—just like it always does. But even as her hands trail down my chest, I’m somewhere else.

Zoe pulls me back into the present, tugging me to the dining room packed with friends now that beer pong is over. She sits on my lap, head resting on my shoulder as one of my friends tells some story about a haunted house down the street and we’ve all drunk enough to listen aptly.

Even in the middle of this, I find my eyes drifting across the room. YN, back from her garage break. She’s talking to somebody, a friend. Her friend touches her shoulder, tucks her hair behind her ear. I remember doing that too.

My stomach sinks as I remember the way her hair felt in my hands, how I could pull it into a knot, bury my face in the warmth of her neck. Her scent was sharp and clean, like fresh laundry and something else—an addictive kind of feminine softness that I couldn’t put into words but got into my bones.

Her gaze shifts, and I catch her eyes. It’s like a punch to the chest. I can’t look away. Not now, not when I see the flicker of something in her expression—something that was there that last night together in the car.

I found out later her grandfather passed a few weeks before. He had been sick for a while and she’d practically been raised by her grandparents so she’d been so broken after it; I told myself I wasn’t going to get too involved, that it wasn’t my job to fix her, but of course I couldn’t help it. Not when her eyes grew teary and doe-like. That night I did things I swore I never would. I comforted her feelings and held her, I let my guard down.

But then I ran once I realized I was in too deep, once I felt her pulling away. I left her alone with her grief.

I feel self-loathing creeping in, sharp and insistent. What the hell am I doing? I can’t shake this feeling, this pull toward YN, it’s not supposed to be this way.

It’s her fault. I keep telling myself that, over and over, like a mantra. If she really wanted something with me, she wouldn’t have stopped replying to my texts the day after.

And when I was down there in the garage with her, it was just us. There was no one else. It was a test—she could’ve been honest. But she wasn’t. She chose to shut me out. So now I have to be cruel. I have to push aside all this stupid, complicated shit in my head and make sure she knows I’m not going to chase her down.

I shove the thoughts of YN aside, convincing myself it’s not a big deal and tighten my arm around Zoe. I tune back into the story being swapped,the groups laugh about all the pranks and fights the schools have gotten into.

They pull me in, accusing me of skipping out on the last prank.

I laugh. "Nah, mate, you should’ve seriously seen it! Last time I went down there, I almost got my ass kicked!"

"Don’t tell me you were actually scared Styles?" one of the guys pipes in.

"Scared? Nah. I call it being smart," I say, but the words come out louder, more exaggerated than I mean. I can feel YN’s eyes on me from across the room. I want her to see me having fun, see me living my life like I don’t give a shit. I want her to think this could have been her.

A small part of me knows I’m being shitty but the drunk part of me shuts it up.

I take another swig, making a point of not looking over at her, even though I can feel the weight of her gaze on the back of my neck. But my eyes betray me when she walks out of the room altogether.

-Your POV-

We make eyes from across the room. The look is so intense, it feels like he’s reaching across the space between us, pulling me in like gravity.

Why the fuck are you still looking at him, I think.

I turn back to my best friend, trying to focus on anything other than him.

“…you should spend as much time as you can with her before she moves,” she continues what she was saying. “Be mad later.”

"I’m trying to be mad later," I insist. “I’m trying to savor the time now, but…” I let out a frustrated sigh. "When I’m not there—like tonight, I’m thinking about how I’m not with her. And when I’m with her, I’m just mad and want to get away.”

“That’s so fucking complicated,” she says, staring at me like she can’t quite make sense of my mess either.

I want to explain, really I do, but it’s too much. And right now all I can hear is Harry’s laugh cutting through the noise of the room. It feels like nails on a chalkboard. But then, a beat later, I can’t stop myself from looking.

And there he is, tugging at some girl with that stupid cocky grin of his. Josie or Zoey or something, I don’t even know her name, pretty sure she was younger than us, but she was in poster club with me and even though we didn’t really talk she was cool. Part of me feels bad for her, wants to warn her.

But I wasn’t over it enough, I wasn’t that evolved as hard as I wished I was. And it didn’t matter, because it’s not about her. It’s about me. The way his hands are so familiar as they slip through her hair, and my stomach turns at the memory of how we did that once or twice.

I don’t even know what I want from him at this point.

“He’s such a dick,” my friend says, clearly reading me like a book. “He’s obviously doing that to make you jealous.”

“No, he’s not," I snap, but my voice cracks just slightly. "He doesn’t care. He’s just a player."

“Then why else would he be so damn obnoxious?” she presses, but I don’t have an answer.

At first I was hurt and confused when he straight up ghosted me when I tried to communicate with him after. Then it made me angry. And now seeing him with her—I knew who he was as a player, I didn’t expect anything different. But that night he was so different. And the callous way he’s being tonight makes my heart chip a little.

“He’s just like that,” I reply stiffly. “That’s Harry. I don’t know what I saw in that.”

She shrugs. “He was just some fun for you. You deserved to have some fun after everything at home—sorry.”

“It’s true,” I murmur, rubbing my thumb along the rim of my cup.

She didn’t have to apologize. I had been looking for a distraction, looking for something to take me away from the heaviness at home. Grandpa’s sickness. The waiting. The slow, aching loss of him. The aftermath.

“Anyway,” she continues, shaking her head at Harry’s antics across the room, “he’s usually loud, but not like this. He’s putting on a show. Dickhead. It’s his loss for ghosting you.”

I nod, but it feels hollow. Because, in a way, I ghosted him first. After that night, when he was too kind and I didn’t know how to handle it, I shut down. I avoided him the next day. But when I wanted to talk he avoided me right back. I thought he just wanted space but a few days later I see him flirting with her. He’d just ignored me and moved on.

“Guys like him end up fat or bald by the time they’re thirty,” she jokes, dragging me out of my head. “He’s just another dude—don’t waste any more time on him. Let’s go somewhere else.”

I let her pull me away, though it takes everything in me not to glance back. But as we pass, I feel his eyes on me. I know, because I feel the heat of them burning through my skin, even without turning around. I fight the urge to look. Fuck him, I think, holding my head high as we walk towards another part of the house.

-Harry’s POV-

...What the hell am I doing?

The thought has been a constant echo in my for the last week no matter how much I distract it or smother it with alcohol. I feel like I’m being haunted.

All week I see YN in the regular spots at school but it’s always a reminder of not only our time together and how different things felt with her, but also how she was going through a hard time. How I was being cruel.

Jeez is this what it was to be sensitive. I fucking hated it.

It’s after school and I’m late to leave, walking down a mostly empty hallway. And of course I catch a glimpse of her in the computer room. Probably working on yearbook or whatever other club she was in.

That’s part of why it was so surprising when she approached me that night. When she willingly became a notch in my bedpost. It only took a couple weeks to find out she had been looking for a distraction. Usually that was my forte.

I linger, my heart wanting me to go in but my head screaming at me to go. I finally choose head and start walking away. But my squeaking shoe catches her attention and she looks up.

We have an awkward stare off. She swallows and looks away.

“Do you need something?”

I don’t expect her to ask.

I walk forward and lean against the doorframe. She can pretend she’s over it all she wants, but her cheeks are pink.

"I was just helping coach with something. I saw you and…"

I don’t mean for it to come out. God why did she have to make me feel awkward. I was never awkward. I didn’t feel awkward.

“Are you doing your nerdy shit?” I try to switch gears, slip into cocky jock but she’s too real. She doesn’t let me.

“Seriously? Are you trying to make casual conversation with me again?”

“Why not?”

“Why not.” She scoffs.

“No seriously YN why the fuck not?” I demand. None of the other girls I hooked up with did this! Once we were over they either treated me like it never happened and continued being friendly, or they just moved on themselves to someone else. None of them looked at me the way she did. Bit at me like she.

You also didn’t want them like you did her.

“You’re really playing the stupid angle. Or maybe it’s not playing.” She mumbles the last part but I still catch it.

I move a few steps into the room.

She sighs. “I don’t want this cocky…jocky Harry okay?”

“Okay.” I put my hands up; I also couldn’t give her the Harry from that night if that’s what she wanted. But I let my defences down a little. “Why can’t I make conversation with you?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s an unanswered text in your phone from weeks ago? Asking to talk?”

I don’t respond. Of course there was.

She gets fed up when I don’t reply, “So if you want to talk then I’m okay to talk about that. Otherwise I’m not interested.”

“You want to talk about that?!” I go for the humiliating angle and hate myself for it. “We weren’t a couple you know that right? We were just sleeping together and then we weren’t. There’s no us to talk about.”

Her eyes are rimmed red when she looks at me, anger burning in her eyes. A part of me acknowledges the hurt.

“I. Know.” She says slowly. “I’m the one that approached you to hook up. I know we weren’t dating or something. But I dumped a bunch of baggage on you when I didn’t mean to. A-all I wanted to do was apologize like a decent person. But you’re obviously too much of a dick to understand that. You thought I was like, hung up over you and your new fling!?”

I’m dumbstruck. My pride is shot to space. She wanted to apologize? For opening up? I was a dick.

I can hear voices coming down the hall. I don’t want anyone to hear this, to tarnish my image with whatever softness was here. I push the door closed and walk to where she sits, perching on the chair next to her.

"What are you doing?" she snaps, glaring at me.

"You wanted to talk" I shoot back.

“Don’t insult me and act like you care what else I have to say Harry. I’m sure you can find some other girl around this late if you’re killing time or something.”

“I want to listen.”

“No you don’t. I got that hint pretty clearly when you ghosted me.”

"I was ghosted first," I retort, like a petulant child.

"I had a good reas—actually that wasn’t even ghosting I was just taking some space to-" her words are clipped. "I wanted to collect myself before I spoke to you. Make sure I was in the right headspace. You on the other hand had no reason to cut me off."

"Cut you off?” I challenge.

"What's your excuse?" she rolls her eyes.

"I wasn’t ghosting you I-it-it's just wasn’t that deep," I say, trying to sound casual. Way to go you stuttering idiot.

She stares at me, a million emotions flickering on her face. I can almost hear her say it that night was deep to me. Or maybe it’s my own voice saying it.

But then her face blanks, like she’s given up.

"Well, whatever. I'm sorry," she replies even though I expect her to continue arguing with me.

I stare; her hair was pulled away from her face today into a half bun thing and her lips are glossed. I know what they taste like and that thought makes my stomach dip and lose focus.

She must think I’m confused because she sighs, “for dumping my baggage on you and for making you uncomfortable? M’sorry for asking you to handle me with care when we were just hooking up. I don’t-“

“Stop.” I can’t handle it anymore. “That’s enough already.”

How was she still somehow decent. Why did she make me feel like I wanted to protect her, tuck her away and save her. It scared me. I never felt this way—girls were just fun.

"I'm not mad," I say, the words tumbling out of me. "I just didn't know how to respond, okay?"

"That's why people say things," she snaps, exasperated. "Discuss things so you can sort out what to say.”

“Look,” I snap. “You’re obviously the most…I don’t fucking know. I don’t normally do this. You’re the most serious or…mature person I’ve ever…hooked up with? Nobody…I don’t know what I’m doing ok? I’m out of my fucking depth here.”

“And I know.” She emphasizes. “That’s why I said I was sorry!”

“No! Not like that I’m not trying to make you feel bad-“

We quiet as a group of people walk past the door, in the silence I realize how loud we’d gotten. She must too.

She leans forward, her tone serious. "Do you actually want to talk about it?"

I swallow, trying to collect myself. Trying not to get lost in her eyes. Trying to ignore the tugging in my stomach, the desire to touch her.

“Obviously not. But I’m trying to not be a dick or whatever.”

"Can we start with the text first?" She crosses her arms.

"Ok," I sigh, dragging my hands down my face. "I'm sorry for ignoring you. It's just easier for me if I'm an asshole.”

It’s easier to apologize now that she has. Easier to want to be decent and not cruel. For a second I glimpse us reconciling, her allowing me to touch her with a tenderness I’ve never felt before.

So I backtrack. I couldn’t do this open honest shite. I had to wrap it up tell her I couldn’t do feelings. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t me around her.

“I didn’t mind that you wanted someone to talk to. Like it was a lot but…I don’t do that sort of thing. I’m used to hooking up and no messy feelings okay? And you didn’t text me back the next day so I moved on. But didn’t realize you wanted to apologize.”

“Okay…”

“No hard feelings seeing me with other people though—like, I’m chill if you wanted to hang out some time but-

“That’s alright.” Her jaw clenches, I get the sense that I’m saying all the wrong things. And yet I feel so desperate and clingy inside.

“Not that-I get why you were uhm…” I freeze. I’ve never had a reaction like this—I’m just frozen.

She studies me and I try not to squirm. I’m afraid of what the results of her study show her.

“Right.”

We sit in an awkward silence until I can find my voice. “It was a lot. And I wanted to ignore it.”

“Yeah. Yep. I got that. Thanks.”

She was done. I wrack my brain. She was just apologizing and now she’s trying to end the conversation.

“Is that it?” I ask when her eyes flick back to her screen, now a screensaver.

“I guess so.” She says. And I’m stumbling over my thoughts to think of something else to say. All this time she really was just mad that I didn’t reply? She just wanted to apologize and go back like nothing ever happened. All those biting words and hurtful glares weren’t because I was with another girl?

Was I imagining all that fucking chemistry?

“You got…it out of your system?”

“Yeah!?” She glances at me. “I’m fine. I know what I know—I’m just a girl and you’re just another dude right? I got to say what I wanted. Two ships passing in the night and all that.”

“Yeah. Oh yeah okay. Alright.”

I’m dumbstruck yet again as my feet move me away from her. Out of the classroom. I stand there for a few just thinking of this feeling. Of tables turned.

She didn’t actually like me like…more?

The questions carry me home. My sister takes one look at me and laughs.

“Girl problems?”

“No.” I bite.

“Really? Because this looks like girl problems. L-o-v-e problems.”

“Shut up.” I want her to stop poking at the soft place.

“Fine,” she shrugs.

“I’m fine.”

“Hmph,” she eyes me. “I can say it’s nice to see you getting a taste of your medicine Har. Girls aren’t just playthings.”

I ignore her and she heads to her room, calling out “Pass me her details later I’m gonna write her a thank you card.”

…a taste of your own medicine. Girl’s aren’t just playthings.

“Hey I don’t think-“ I try to argue but she’s already in her room, door closed.

I didn’t think girls were playthings. But the girls I hooked up with we just had fun. They knew it.

What if some of them walked away from it like you are now, a voice in my head whispers. I want to shut it up. Shut it out.

I grab my phone, hit up Zoe and when she says she’s busy I find someone else in my phone. I needed to get this feeling out of my system.

But still, when I crawl into bed at 2 in the morning after being out all night, I’m wide awake thinking about her so hard I swear I see her in the brushstrokes of my ceiling.

All along I had just been punishing myself; that was the only prize I had to show for all this.

It all comes crashing down on me. I feel like a part of me was hollowed out, thinking I was fine but it was coming from a coffin. Because everything my sister said, everything YN said—every single thing was all so true.

[x0x0twd]

NSFW ALPHABET W DARYL DIXON

A - Aftercare: I don’t care what anyone else says, Daryl is the master of aftercare. He’s always worried about you, so he always insists u rest and take a minute after u two do anything, and gets a warm washcloth or tissue to clean you up, and or water. If you’re the type to get tired after sex, he sleeps with you, lets u sleep on his chest while playing with your hair.

B - Body Part: He likes all of you equally, but he’s a sucker for your breasts and hips. I will DIE on this hill. Daryl has a thing for hips, holding them while he’s fucking you, keeping them down while he’s eating you out, brushing his thumb along them while kissing you.

C - Cum: Daryl has a breeding kink. He’s already generally protective of the people he cares about, especially you, and that doesn’t change in the bedroom. The idea of filling you up, cumming inside you, thats what does it for him.

D - Dirty Secret: Daryl is a pretty reserved guy, so I don’t think he’d ever admit to any kind of dirty secret unless you asked first. But, he secretly really likes the idea of you riding his face, and really likes the scent of you.

E - Expirience: The only expirience Daryl has is from before the apocalypse, and even then it was never all that good. He was usually intoxicated when he had the occasional one night stand, most of his sexual knowledge coming from Merle. But once he’s with you, he’s very eager to please you, whether he knows what he’s doing, he WILL make it his mission to learn.

F - Favorite Position: Contrary to popular belief, I think Daryl is a pretty vanilla guy. He mostly enjoys missionary, he likes to be able to see your face, and hold you close. He also likes spooning, it feels much more intimate, and it’s usually a go to for sleepy sex. He also never complains when you want to ride him because god does he love it. But I don’t think he’d like to bend you over something or do doggy style, he feels it’s too degrading or disrespectful.

G - Goofy: Things stay pretty passionate and serious between you too when being intamite. But, when something is akward and happens to be funny, a little laugh here and there isn’t unusual, especially in the beginning.

H - Hair: I mean, it’s an apocalypse, I don’t think people are all too focused on how well groomed thier bits are. Despite that, he doesn’t let it get crazy, keeps it tame, very clean. He doesn’t like the feeling of being unkempt down there, it’s uncomfortable. As for you, who could give two shits bush or bald, as long as he can get in there, he’s a happy man. And if he’s being honest, he’s likes when you have a little more hair because he likes the scent of you.

I - Intimacy: Daryl is extremely intimate nobody is changing my mind. I don’t understand how yall think this man would fuck you like an animal against a tree, absolutely not. He’s very private about your sex life and plans to keep it that way. He’s quiet overall, but that doesn’t stop him from absolutely ravishing you. He likes being as humanly close to you as possible, whether that be spooning you, reverse cowgirl, pulling you impossibly close to him in missionary, anything.

J - Jack Off: Daryl isn’t much of a masturbater. Never has been. He doesn’t have the highest sex drive, and when he does, he has you. He’d rather have you than his hand, always.

K - Kink: Like I said, he’s pretty vanilla, but not to say he doesn’t enjoy a thing or two. He 100% has an oral fixation, going down on you or you going down on him, obsessed with it. He also likes pulling your hair every now and then, but never too hard.

L - Location: Only the bed. Yall are crazy for sayin ‘over a table’ ‘in the middle of the woods’ like what the FUCK are you on 😭. He’s a very private man, who prioritizes your comfort over anything else, therefore, the bed.

M - Motivation: I mentioned how he wouldn’t have a very high sex drive, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get turned on by you. If you’re in the mood, that’s his motivation. But also, seeing you all sweaty or working hard, or when he’s teaching you how to use his crossbow, seeing you use it, that turns him on hella.

N - NO: There’s a lot of no’s for Daryl when it comes to intimacy for you. He would never hurt you in any way shape or form, that consists of spanking, slapping, hitting, restraining, choking, etc. IF you asked him to choke you he’d be ok with doing it very lightly, but still worried. He’s not ok with risky/public sex, degrading you, and certain kinks like mommy/daddy. I hate when ppl say he’d have that, he’d hate it.

O - Oral: ORAL FIXATIONNNNNNNNNNN!!! This man is a certified MUNCH. Bro feasts like it’s his last meal alive. He love love loves that he can make you feel that good, because he’s exceptionally good with using his tongue, and has learned all the ways you like it. He likes watching the way you loose control of yourself, your face and your body. He also loooves when you go down on him, but he never says that. He actually has an extremely hard time containing himself when you suck him off. He usually doesn’t last long. Seeing you on your knees, looking at him through your eyelashes with his cock in your mouth, it’s his wet dream.

P - Pace: Depends. Depends on the mood, how you wanted, how you both are feeling, if he’s stressed, if he’s relaxed. I mentioned earlier he likes being intimate, therefore I’d say most of the time he’s not too fast or hard, maybe when he’s getting close or knows you’re getting close though. But times when he’s stressed, or he can tell you are, he’s a bit more fast paced with it.

Q - Quickie: Nope. 100% absolutely not. He despises the idea of rushing sex. He needs to feel comfortable in a safe environment where he knows he has time and there is no danger.

R - Risk: No risks. He doesn’t take risks with places, kinkiness, or new stuff. Unless you specifically say you want to try something and he’s ok with it, or he thinks it something, than nah. The only thing I could think of is he loves cumming in you, so there would be the risk of pregnancy if you are fertile.

S - Stamina: Depends again. He can go for long if you can, but when he’s tired, one round is enough to put him on his ass. But, just solely pleasuring you alone, he could do that all day.

T - Toy: He is definetly not opposed to anything that makes you feel good. If he were to ever stumble upon something on a run, or some other way, he’d definetly grab it. Using something like a vibrator or a dildo on you is definitely something he’s very open too, but when it comes to him, he’d rather not use anything.

U - Unfair: There is lots of teasing in your relationship in general, but when it comes to sexual teasing yes, but very subtle, never things other people would notice. But when it comes down to actual sex, neither of you like to be kept waiting.

V - Volume: He’s mostly quiet like usual. Grunts mostly, especially when he’s cumming, he usually burries his face in your shoulder to muffle himself. He loves to hear how vocal you are though. I think he could be a bit of a whimperer when you give him head too.

W - Wild Card: He doesn’t mind when you’re on your period, he’s just extra cautious with the mess. Puts a towel down or does it in the shower.

X - X Ray: He’s pretty big, not too big, but above average. It’s mostly the girth, cuz damn. Your first time with him had to be slow and steady because YOWCH.

Y - Yearning: Well, I already said this before but he had a medium sex drive, not awfully high. But if you do, especially if you’re younger than him, he’s more than happy to get you off. Eating you out, fingering you, letting you ride his thigh, whatever you want.

Z - zzzz: He gets pretty eepy 😴 He doesn’t like quickies because he likes to have his time with you, specifically time to cuddle you and sleep afterwards. Which is why he mostly prefer sex before bed/at night.

Hope you guys liked it!! My first time writing something like this, lmk how you like it and if I should do a SFW one.

[velvetvexations]

I genuinely enjoy Chappell Roan's music but as a bi and butch woman I def do have trouble getting as into it as other queer people. I try to remind myself that right now in the mainstream it IS revolutionary to have a huge pop star be so vocally disinterested in men, and on top of that Chappell is legit just one person who went from being basically no one to a pop sensation in like a week, she isn't gonna be able to be perfectly articulated 100% of the time, but yeah it does also kinda feel like she is very much a product of "girls, gays, and theys" queer culture which like unfortunately is super alienating to anyone who hasn't traded in their masculinity or identity as a man for their queer card. Every time she talks about how trans people matter she always comes back around to drag queens and trans women. I don't think I've ever seen her mention trans men or butches or drag kings. And yeah her music is very painfully cis.

I think at the end of the day the real problem is that Chappell is one person. In an ideal world we would have room for more femme queer culture alongside masc queer culture. We should have famous musicians who are trans men and butch and masc too, and ideally the bisexuality of so many current pop stars wouldn't be completely fucking ignored(also tbh that history of bisexuality being treated the way it is might be part of why Chappell went from publicly IDing as a queer woman to a lesbian), but we don't live in this world and so Chappell is serving as an icon and saint of ALL queer culture when in reality she's just a person who embodies one specific facet of queer culture. Chappell's camp and glitter and drag style queerness is never going to represent all queers. It can't, and instead of treating her like a saint and acting like she's going to save the queers or whatever we should uplift other queer artists alongside her.

I do wish she would back off on the man hate tho. Good Luck, Babe does feel really mean(and honestly more than a little biphobic now that I look at the lyrics, I'm sorry if a bi girl broke your heart Chappell but liking men isn't the problem there it's her leading you on, and trust me, lesbians are perfectly capable of doing it too) and like again, I give it a pass because she's almost certainly doing it to rebel against being treated like she should be focusing on or obsessed with men, I fully believe if she ever let out even the slightest hint of finding a man attractive the media would eat her alive and never shut up about it(I mean I stopped hearing literally anything about Lil Nas X from my queer friends after he posted about how he might actually be bi) and she's allowed to write music about her expiriences being a highfem4fem cis lesbian drag queen pop star, but still. It makes me flinch when she makes sweeping statements about how men suck in bed or how only women know what women want and how she never mentions trans men when she talks about how much trans people apparently mean to her.

I don't even think it's that revolutionary to be vocally disinterested in men. That kinna performative feminism is a well-trod gimmick and I'm not trying to say all of her feminism is necessarily performative but it can't begin and end with saying women rule, men drool.

[rambling-crerchur]

A good exhibit of Patricias flowery language being a tool to hide what she's actually saying. Because what is she actually saying here?

"Taboo kinks" (what she really means is incest and worse) are a part of queerness

Being abused is inherently queer

Developing a "complex" towards your parents is inherently queer (Freud could only have come up with something equal and I'm not even halfway done)

Its queer to have weird notions about consent and anyone who says they dont is deluding themselves.

Criticising people (her) for their kinks (her incest fetish) is transmysoginistic

Thinking of people who are into these things means you are repressed and your relationships wont go anywhere

All of the things she linked to queerness here are also inherently autistic

This is all the fault of society misstreating autistic children

This, apart from being extremely harmfull and untrue, is incredibely centered on Patricias own expiriences, yet she applies them to literally every queer and autistic person. What she is saying, to make it extremely short, is that every queer/autistic is into incest, that that is normal and that everyone who says they arent is actually into it and just repressing themselves but she knows better.

This is what Patricia is using her plattform for. Let me be very clear, she is saying these things primarily to justify her behaviour to everyone around her and maybe herself. This isnt her opinion on the expirience of being queer and autistic. This is her applying her own very specific lived expiriences and what those made her to everybody else thats queer and autistic.

[atxxokirina]

Unspoken Words PT. 2 — (18+ MDNI)

Neteyam x Mute fem Metkayina reader

part one here

contains: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, dom Neteyam, p in v, degrading, tummy buldge, oral (f receiving), creampie, very slight aftercare

author's note! (italic is used to symbolize when you, Neteyam, or anyone else are using sign language)

Your eyes flutter open, the bright sun shining through your Marui waking you. You look your your right, seeing Neteyam's body sprawled out on the cot, your head rested on his arm as it was wrapped around you. Carefully, you lift his arm over you, placing it back down softly to ensure that he stays sleeping. You stood up and stretched your limbs, quietly yawning as you keep your eye on Neteyam laying on his back, mouth wide open as he snores.

Since it's early, you figure you might as well get something to eat while you still can. Grabbing your gear, you throw it around your shoulder and give your mate a tiny kiss on the cheek before leaving. "See you soon, my love."

You make your way to the water, stepping in knee deep as you scope out for fish, readying your catching net just in case. As you continued to carefully examine the clear water, your eye catches something. A fully blue fish with with multicolored fins, floral flushed orange and yellow. You throw out the net, scooping it up and holding it to your face as you studied it's properties.

It was an interesting shape to say the least, large pincher's at it's mouth, while it kept an oval-like shape. Sloapek. You don't see these around too often, but you're happy to have caught it for you and your mate.

As you were traveling back to the common square, you hear a faint calling of your name. "Y/n!" Your ears twitch back, looking around, but you still didn't see anyone. That was, until you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around in an instant, you're met with Tsireya who's beaming at you."Tsireya, hello! It's nice to see you." You sign, smiling wide as your tail stills in content.

"It is nice to see you too, y/n! You are never out this early, is everything alright?" She asks, concern written all over her face. You nod. "I am fine. I just wanted to get something for Neteyam and I, see?" You hold up the net and her face drops in awe. "Sloapek!? Oh, I'm so jealous! I never see them anymore!" You held back a giggle as she spoke, nodding with a pleased look on your face. "You must have worked hard for this, I'm proud of you!" You awkwardly smile, knowing that it took you less then 2 minutes. "I should get back to Neteyam. He's might be missing me right about now."

"Oh, mhm! See you later, y/n!" You wave before going back to your Marui. As you approach the entrance, you get a glimpse of Lo'ak inside, he's sitting on your cot while Neteyam stands. As you were about to step in, you hear one of them speak.

"So, does she really not talk?" Lo'ak asked Neteyam.

"I mean, no. Not really.. She speaks with her hands."

"Shit, man. That's so weird.. how do you guys fuck?" You winced at his words, feeling shameful for yourself. "I don't know how you do it bro." He chucked.

"Don't say that." Neteyam defends. "..and we don't fuck, honestly. I don't know how to tell her and, plus, I don't wanna hurt her." He playfully scoffed, folding his arms. In all honesty, you wanted to expirience such things with him, but you never had the courage to ask. Your relationship consisted of pristine love, and though you have been together for a few months, neither of you made a move.

Not wanting to hear any more, you finally walk in. Greeting Lo'ak with a small head bow as you set down your net. Giving your mate with a short, but passionite kiss. "Y/n, hey baby." He pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arm around your waist. "Hey y/n." Lo'ak mumbled. "I'm gonna get going but, it was nice to see you- y/n. And, talk to you later bro." Before leaving, he pulls his brother into a breif handshake. "Tell her." He whispers in Neteyam's ear, gone right after.

Neteyam's body flushes with anxiousness, rubbing his hands together. You took the rest of your gear off, wrapping your coiled curls into a low ponytail and bending down to reach for the fish that sat in the net. "Wait, before you do that-" Neteyam starts. You freeze in your position, turning your head to look at him and holding your palm out. "What is it?" His mouth opens and closes before speaking. "Y/n, are you.. a virgin? Like, have you ever had sex before?" A lump formed in your throat as you gulp. You weren't quite sure what to say, you didn't really want to answer him. "No." You avoid eye contact, looking down as you go back to your standing position. "I have not."

Neteyam seemed taken aback by your response, his lips quivered for a moment. "Do you, want to?" He blurts out

You instantly shot him a look, the breath you had being sweeper from your lungs. A part of you wanted to. So badly.. but the other part was petrified of how it might turn out. Would it hurt you? Would you hurt him? What if you do something wrong? He holds your chin with his two fingers, turning your head to him as he stares down at you.

"I'll make it easy for you.. we can even go slow, how about that?" His melodic tone filled your ears, practically making you melt before him. You blink a few times, feeling like your heart was going to shoot out of your chest. He was patient with your response, letting you take your time before making this important decision. Hesitantly, you nod. He smiles and kisses your forehead. "Great," he starts. "You'll feel so good, I promise, okay?" Neteyam kisses you again. "Okay" Even though it was sign, he could tell that you were still scared. He reassures you by pulling you into a hug, you buried your head in his chest.

The scent he gave off never failed to chill your nerves. "I love you, y/n. I would never do anything to hurt you, okay?" He softly pulls back by your shoulders, facing down. You held a hand up, closing your middle finger, but keeping your pink, index, and thumb up. "I love you too."

"I have to get to my training session, but I will be back at eclipse." He ruffles your hair, earning a warm smile from you as he rushed out of the Marui.

Several hours have passed. It's almost eclipse and you can't stop your anxiety from building. You pace around the room, trying to take deep breaths and focus on anything else, but it was damn near impossible. You sit down as your mind raced, nervously fiddling with your hands. Closing your eyes, you inhale through your nose and exhale with your mouth. After a few huffs, your rushing heart starts to slow down. You lay back now, sighing and looking at your ceiling. And just as you started to relax, "Hey baby.." You ears perked at the deep voice your hear. Sitting up on your elbows, you try to smile, Neteyam sets his gear down, slowly walking toward your small frame. There's a certain look in his eye, it's dark, and it scares you.

He climbs onto the cot, hovering over you. "Are you ready for me?" He says lowly, and you can almost feel his arousal. You nod twice, slight fear in your expression. Neteyam brings his head down to your chest, tugging at your top with his teeth, causing you to shudder. "Don't be scared," He licks a stripe and your breath hitches. "It's just me." Right after saying that, he tears your top with his fangs, your pupils dilate in shock. He was an entirely different person.

He snakes his hand up to your hard nipples, squeezing your right bud as he spit on your left one, toungue circling your areola. You close your eyes, soft pleasure begins to overcome you. You've never had the urge to make a sound until now, you don't want to, but it's almost impossible to control. "H-hmh.." You mewl. Neteyam notices and his ear twitches, you felt his grin as he continues to suckle on your tits. He now brought his hand down to your loincloth, rubbing your cunt through the fabric as he grazes the formed wet spot. "Already so wet, hm? Such a good girl." He hums, words vibrating your sensitive nipples. Expertly, he unties his own, throwing it off. He comes up from your breasts, and you're met with his large, dark blue cock. Purple veins protruding as it twitches for more. It almost looks.. painful?

Your eyes were wide. "You can touch it, it's okay baby." He reassures. You slowly reach out to his member with your index finger, the second you touch the tip, it twitches again. You quietly gasp, he chuckled at your reaction. "That's how it reacts, pretty. Don't worry." He cupped your cheek, kissing your lips with desire. "Take this off for me", he tugs at the waistband of your loincloth. You comply, lifting your hips to untie it, trying to ignore your shakey hands.

Neteyam shimmy's your cloth down, bringing his head to your wet and glistening heat with a deep inhale. He slides his finger up your folds. "Mm.. so fucking wet baby, I think you're ready for me, wouldn't you say so?" He teases, scissoring you open with his digits as he makes out with your clit. Pleasure overwhelms you, hips subconsciously bucking up to him as you held back your noises, but he could fainty hear you. "Yeah? You speak now, hm?" Your eyes squeeze shut as his pace quickens, now shoving his two fingers inside of you and pumping them with a fast pace. "Uh huh.." You quietly whimper, he feels more than accomplished at the dirty sounds you make. "That's fucking right baby", he curls his digits, massaging your spongey walls, earning a gasped "Nghh!" from you. "Juust like that." He pulled his fingers out, sucking them clean with a pop.

Neteyam pulls your hips toward him, fisting his cock a couple times before aligning it with your entrance. He notices the twang of worry in your face. "You'll love this baby, I'll make you scream my fucking name." He promised. It made you quite nervous, but nonetheless, you nod at him and close your eyes. Without warning, his fat cock is forcing it's way inside of you, inch by inch, knocking the wind from your lungs.

Your eyes flew open, mouth agape at the feeling. He grunts, enjoying the way your delicious pussy is wrapped around him. "Mhmm, yeah.." Neteyam moaned while grinding his hips into you. "Am I making you feel good? Huh?" He growls. You can't sign, and you can't respond in any way. He uses this to his advantage, pulling out and plunging himself back into you, a loud and long moan escapes from your mouth, he smirks as he pumps his cock upward, hitting your sweet spot. Every. Time.

You squeeze your eyes shut, quietly cursing and whining under your breath. "Fuck! Oh fuck, Neteyam.." You repeat with a quiet breath, followed up by another moan, unknowingly making such lewd noises. "You can do better than that." He groans, fucking you faster as the sounds of your bodies coming together filled the room. "Hmmmh, so good! Sosososo g-ood.." You whimper, no longer caring about whether or not you speak, you just need him. More than you ever have before.

You wrappes your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. "More. I need you." You mewl. "Beg." He demanded, slowly fucking up into you. "P-please.. Nete.. yam." You moaned, "I want you, I want you! S-so fucking bad!" You cry out, breath shaky. "That's what I wanna hear." He huffs, pace increasing gradually. Your pussy clenches around him, exuding wet squelching noises. You whine, begging for something, but you don't know what.

He fucking loves the way you've let go. The intimacy and tension is building between the two of you. He scoffs at how you're still trying to supress your moans, as if you weren't just begging him to fuck you harder a minute ago. "Cmon, let me hear you." He thrusts harder, looking down at your tummy to see his cock poking out with each thust me makes. "Don't try to be all quiet now, you're not so innocent as I thought, huh? You're still a slut. A nasty slut who just needed to be fucked like this, aren't you?" You whine, moans coming out even when you try to stop.

He grabs your hand, placing it on your stomach. "Look at it", he grunts, holding your hand on the reappearing buldge. You watch the way his cock made contact with your tummy, pressing down on it at every chance you get. You felt so incredibly full, each pump in your pussy leaving you breathless. "Mmm.." Neteyam moans through gritted teeth. "Yeah. Keep your hand right there, don't you dare fucking move it." You whimper in response, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasure.

An unfamiliar feeling forms around your core. Your muscles tighten as you feel light. "Uhh! Nete- Neteyam.. I feel weird", You whine, pleading for him to stop whatever he was doing to make your body react this way. "Shh, shh, shh, baby, it's f-fine." His hips staggered inside of you. You truthfully felt like you had to pee. This can't be right. The feeling grew stronger, you can't control your body in it's essance anymore. You need something, some kind of relief. It's building up and it won't stop. "Ngghhh, more! Fuck! Harder, faster!" You moaned, fucking yourself up again him. He picks you up, holding your ass and making you straddle him as his hips slammed back into you. Making you scream and cry in pleasure as you meet his thrusts.

"Almost. Almost, almost, almost", you repeat like a mantra. "Me too baby. Fffuckk, I'm almost there. Gonna paint your insides, give you my seed." Neteyam gracefully moans, it was music to your ears. Suddenly, your pussy clenches around him. Way tighter than before. You gasp and wince. "Ah! Neteyammm!!" You moan your mates name, squeezing your arms around him. Just in time, he stops his movements all together, bursting his warm load inside of you with a low sigh, followed by another small thrust. You felt a heat form in your womb, pure bliss as he filled you up.

Your body goes limp, falling back down on the cot and curling up into yourself. Feeling worn out, like all of your energy had been drained from you. Out of breath, Neteyam lays beside you, gently running his hands across your curves. "You okay baby? You're not hurt or anything?" He checks. You answer with a quiet hum. He turns your face to him, pecking your lips as he briefly glanced down at your cunt, looking at his cum slightly pouring out.

He sighs in content. "Come, let's go get you cleaned up." He stands from the cot and slips his loincloth back on, then bending down to pick you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he secures you "I'm tired, Teyam.." You mumble quietly. "It's alright, I'll take care of you. Just rest." He reassures, tone soothing and low as he brings you to a secluded cave to clean you up.

[sunnie-angel]

Part 11: The Eavesdropper

part 10 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: no one really talks about how getting half of what you wanted is almost worse than nothing at all. as the killer haunting gotham starts closing in, you'll have to rely on jason anyway, no matter what it does to your poor heart

tags: off screen violence, reference to serial killer, reference to torture, implied (off screen) sexual violence, slight misogyny, implied sexual content

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.2k

a/n: surprise! @janybabyy left some wonderfully enthusiastic tags on the last update that hit my brain just right so now you have another chapter! we are getting darker with content, so please heed the tags and let me know if you think anything is missing

Sleeping with Jason Todd does not cure you of your feelings for him. If anything, it digs the knife in deeper. You know him now – the smell of his skin sleep-warm, the way his chin drops to his chest when he comes, how tender his voice can curl around your name –  only you don’t have any reason to keep your distance anymore. Can card your fingers through his curls in the privacy of your apartment, tangle your legs together, steal sweet mouthed kisses from him. You have Jason now, as much of him as he’ll let you have, and it hurts worse than having nothing at all. A slow acting poison that tastes sickeningly sweet as it slides down your throat burning everything it touches on the way down.

The pain of the distance he used to insist upon is nothing compared to the agony of his closeness. He whispers tender things into your ears he doesn’t mean, helps himself to your personal space with a casual cruelty, keeps being the friend (god you hate that word) that you’d fallen in love with only he won’t love you back.

It helps, a little, that there’s still this unseen line drawn between your friend – Jason – who you see in the daylight, and your fuckbuddy – Jay – that only appears when the door to your apartment is firmly closed. Jason is kind, brings you homemade lunches and takes your bag when he walks you home. He makes you laugh, bickers good naturedly with your friends, camps out in the library with you as long as you need. He pays attention to you, considers your words and the weight of them, makes sure your voice never goes unheard. Your friend Jason makes you feel like you could take on the world with the strength of his belief in you. If Jason makes you feel 10 feet tall, Jay does the opposite. Jay has you second guessing every move, every word, just in case you drive him away again. Has you wild eyed and sleepless over how you’re not good enough to love but good enough to fuck. Wondering if one day he’ll look at your desperate attempts to let him in – into your heart, into your bed, into your body – and see someone note good enough for that either. It’s not enough, nothing about you is enough, enough to make him stay. There’s a nebulous expiry date hanging over your head but you are too weak and greedy to do the smart thing and break it off.

You want to scream, to cry, to pound your fists against his stupidly broad chest and demand to know why. Why can he so easily disregard the fragile pieces of your heart underneath his boots when all of you is so ruthlessly consumed by him? It’s not fair. But then he looks at your with those smiling eyes and every angry part of you crumbles. Can almost hear the rubble as it hits the floor when he brushes your hair out of your face and false compliments fall from his tongue. Weak as you are, you steal whatever comfort from him you can.

Refuge, wherever you can find it, is necessary. If you weren’t almost being driven mad by your heartsickness, you would have lost yourself to fear ages ago. Three bodies now, girls that could be you, found in dark alleys. Maybe there’s more of them but the Red Hood has iced you out. Girls with eyes that look like yours, features you could describe with your eyes closed. Same height to them, same width to their hips. You can’t bear to look but you can’t bear not to know either. Jason won’t tell you the truth of it. So you force yourself to look. Check the news obsessively each morning, waiting with the most awful kind of terror from any kind of safety update from the university (too many bodies too close to campus – they have to say something even if it’s only to cover their asses).

You can feel the stares like a physical thing every time a body drops. Whispers behind hands as strangers compare you to the face on their screens. Everyone sizing you up, sizing up your potential to be found dead the next week. It doesn’t matter how many bottles of mace you carry or even that you’ve got one of Gotham’s own crime lords dogging your steps. The judgement lays heavy on you, breaths down your neck until the possibility of it is impossible to ignore. Dead corpse still walking. Only a matter of time before the grave calls you home but not before one of the most dehumanizing deaths the city has ever crafted. You can see it in the way your friends won’t look you in the eyes after every new article comes out. In the way that Dannika holds your hand tight and Lina doesn’t smile so widely anymore. It’s choking, this fear. Your cuticles are a mess and there’s a smooth spot on the back of your pearl pendant from all the times you’ve nervously rubbed it for comfort. Gotham doesn’t feel like home anymore, the alleys and side streets suddenly looming tall to suffocate you.

The GCPD is both horribly inept and terribly corrupt because it doesn’t take long before details of the murders start trickling out to the press in a steady stream. Always taken on a Friday evening. Bodies found early Sunday by garbage collectors. Beaten. Tortured. Mutilated. Violated. The list of adjectives drags on, swimming before your nauseated eyes. It’s not until the fifth girl is found that the last detail is leaked: all of them, every one, had made a single phone call from an unknown number in the early hours of Saturday morning to their loved ones. What it was that they discussed is unclear, but the news anchors all agree it was not a call they made by choice.

The screen fades in and out of focus as you read that particularly gruesome detail, heart breaking in to pieces at the thought of those poor girls’ last words. The ones whose calls got declined out of fear of a scam, the ones whose messages went straight to voicemail because of the early hour. Hysterically, you begin to think about who your phone call would be to. Your parents? You haven’t been on the best terms with them in years, been ignoring your mother’s calls lately because her fear is contagious. One of your friends then?  Jason? But a random murderer wouldn’t know those fine details, would probably just have you pick a number at random, whoever they thought would hurt the most at hearing your voice.

A heavy hand on your shoulder shakes you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“Hey,” Jason says and suddenly you can breathe again. “You won’t be one of them, so stop thinkin’ about the phone calls, yeah?”

You nod – a lie – and chew at your lip. A few months ago your only concern was finishing out the year and getting in to grad school. Now, you don’t know that you’ll ever feel safe again.

Campus remains relatively dead, people too afraid that the killer might deviate from his well established patterns and suddenly attack them at random. You scoff when you hear a couple of freshman discussing it; they aren’t anywhere near the killer’s type, not like you are. But for you, it’s a choice between sitting at home and staring at the walls, jumping every time the pipes rattle or a neighbour slams a door too loudly while your sanity slowly unravels, or this. Putting in extra hours as Professor Llewellyn’s research assistant, haunting the common spaces and libraries for the company of strangers, killing the time that stretches out between the brief moments you can spend with your friends.

You’re early on this particular Wednesday, desperate to get out of the apartment. Danika and Will are the only other ones haunting the student commons with you, Rei and Lina conspicuously absent. With a pang, you try to ignore the awkward silence that lives where Jason should be beside you. It’s quiet, save for the scratching of highlighters and the rushed clacking of keyboard keys as you work. Will’s not the best conversational partner and Dannika seems preoccupied by something. You’re so absorbed by your work that you don’t notice the stranger standing at the end of the table until he clears his throat. You jump and Dannika strangles a scream, knocking her notebook onto the ground. The man stoops to pick it up.

“Sorry,” he says with a grin that should be charming but your hackles are raised. “Didn’t mean to scare you all, I was just looking for my brother Jason. I was told that he’s usually here on Wednesdays?” He slides the notebook back to Dannika and she snatches it up to her chest.

Surreptitiously you send a text off to Jason under the table, unwilling to look away and let your guard down.

You: there’s a stranger here with a creepy smile that’s too wide for his face, says he’s your brother

Jason: that’s Dick

You sag with relief at the confirmation. Dannika takes her cue from you and starts to look at the man (Dick?) with less suspicion and more blatant appreciation. He simply beams under her stare.

Jason: wait please tell me you told him you think his smile is creepy

You: yeah I’m not doing not insulting your brother this soon after meeting him

“So,” Dick interrupts, still smiling that suspiciously happy smile. “Is he coming any time soon? I’d love to meet all of his friends if he’s gonna be a while.”

Will snorts at that you hold back the urge to stomp on his toes.

You: wants to know what he should do

Jason: tell him to go buy chilli dogs at the Batburger and I’ll meet him there

“Jay says to buy him a chilli dog from Batburger and he’ll meet you at the stand,” you say, jutting your chin out to indicate the order window on the other side of the commons.

“Jay, huh?” Dick says consideringly and you swear in your head.

Fuck. You really should know better by now to keep them separate. Dick shrugs and lopes off. The unfair grace must be genetic, you decide.

“So Jay, huh?” Dannika echoes, and you swear again.

“He doesn’t actually like to be called that,” you demure, frantically trying to dig yourself out of this hole before Jason actually does show up.

She turns to you, wraps a hand gently around your wrist where it lays on the table.

“No, no I’m just glad that you two made up. You both seem a lot less awkward around each other now. I’m just happy to see you less unhappy.” Her words are sweet but you can’t help but to clamp down on the wild giggle bubbling up in your throat. Less unhappy. Right.

“Yeah because she’s obviously fucking him,” Will interjects, derailing your train of thought. You slam your laptop closed.

“Oh fuck you too,” you hiss out through bared teeth. “You think guys and girls can’t be friends without sex? Newsflash Will, we’re supposed to be friends and I’d never in a million years fuck you.”

You grab your bag and storm off, shame and anger sparking in your chest and clawing their way up your throat.

“You know, it’s really rude to make comments about someone’s sex life or lack of one...” you hear a voice that sounds like Dick start to say.

You stumble out into the blinding whiteness of the snowy outdoors, squinting at the sudden change in light. Your coat is still slung over your arm but you don’t feel the bite of the cold yet, chest still heaving as an emotion you try not to look at too hard bubbles up inside of you. Why his words had landed so badly with you, well that’s not something you want to cry over in public before you can put yourself back together without anyone seeing. The frozen air cuts open your lungs with each heaving inhale but it grounds you, pulls you out of your racing thoughts and into the present moment.

“Hey!” Dannika puffs out, running into the cold morning air after you. “Wait up!” She bends in half, hands resting on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. She groans and stretches out her lower back, grinning at you ruefully. “Let’s find somewhere else for the rest of today. Will was so far out of fucking line. He’s been such a little asshole ever since he broke his wrist and I know we’re supposed to be understanding that he’s grumpy from the pain but that was just him being mean and neither of us need to put up with that shit.”

“You’re not gonna ask if it’s true?” you ask her, starring at the dirty snow on the ground.

“Well if it was true and you didn’t tell me, I’d assume you had a good reason. And if you didn’t have a good reason but were worried I was gonna judge you, I wouldn’t. But those are all hypotheticals of course.” She says it so kindly that you can feel the first pinpricks of tears in your eyes.

“One of the library group study rooms should be open, let’s go snag one,” you settle on instead of the secret that’s been burning a hole through your tongue.

“Sure! Oh lemme text Jason real quick to let him know we changed spots for today,” she agrees easily and you let out a sigh of relief.

No, sleeping with Jason Todd hasn’t cured any of your feelings for him.

'part 12

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 100)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (76) / Alexia Putellas x Character (52) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (29)

Masterlist (other parts here)

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YFN POV

“I need it to be perfect.” She said frustrated and a little disheartened. She read through her notes again, skimming along with her finger.

A strong hand took hers and gently lowered it. She willingly fell into the comfort of Lucy’s deep, green eyes. “Little one, it is perfect. You’ve made sure of that.”

“And the book-”

Lucy put her hand on the book to hold it down before she could pick it up and overanalyse every word. She paused to smile at the words on the front before she spoke. “The book too. Both are perfect.”

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t make me call Ridley.”

YFN crossed her arms at the threat. “Go on then.”

Lucy chuckled and shrugged, taking out her phone. She pressed call and put it on loud speaker, staring at YFN as if waiting to stop her. But she was stubborn, after all.

“Bronze. How’s doing?”

“I’m alright, just need your help with something. You busy?”

“I have a Spaniard between my legs, but go ahead.”

The sound of Alexia telling her off in the background was amusing. It sounded as if they were fighting over the phone before their faces popped up. They were clearly in the pool, Alexia lounging between Ridley’s legs and both very topless it seemed.

“We are swimming,” Alexia said in her cute Spanish accent. “Don’t listen to her.”

YFN chuckled. She always loved to see how happy they were. “I’m surprised to see you back already.”

“I missed home.” She said, exchanging a look with Alexia. “And I wasn’t lying but hey, we can Facetime you later on when it gets more sexual if you really want.”

“Riddlesss.” YFN warned to her cheeky grin.

“I’m jooooking. Christ. I’m a one woman type of girl. Voyeur elsewhere Bronze.”

“How the fuck did I get roped into this?!” Lucy defended.

The trio chuckled.

“What can I help you with?”

“YFN won’t stop trying to change the speech. She’s insisting it’s not perfect. I figured you’d have the right thing to say.”

Ridley shrugged nonchalantly. “Perfection is subjective.”

YFN’s mouth dropped open slightly. How had she not thought of that?

“And, before you start big-braining around whose perception of perfection is more important, just remember that you’re emotionally involved and biased having spoken to Mark and written both the book and your speech, so our perception is more pure. We are the audience, after all.” She got closer to the phone. “And baby… believe me when I say it’s perfect.”

She felt her lower lip tremble.

Ridley smiled at the look on her face. “That’s my girl. Now don’t you two have better things to be doing?”

“Speaking of perfect,” Lucy answered. “I do have the perfect day planned. First things first, I need you to put on this blindfold.”

“That is our time to leave.” Alexia said.

“Aw, sure we can't stay and watch?” Ridley asked.

“Goodbye you two.”

“See you tomorrow!” YFN said warmly.

The day was perfect, by any standard. Sex in the morning. A phone call with their friends. A surprise picnic in the park where they kicked around a football and then laid around, napping and reading their books. By the time the sun began to set, they packed their things back into the car and wandered hand in hand down towards the coast.

She’d been so distracted by their conversation and flirting that she hadn’t even realised where they were headed.

“So there’s the event and then the business afterparty, and then we can all catch up for food and drinks after while the footballers have a few days off..” she rambled, not knowing they’d stopped.

She looked up at Lucy who seemed to be smiling down at her, patiently listening and waiting for her to realise where they were. Turning, she saw the beach she’d met Jordan on. The exact same spot. The little alcove between the bushes, staring out over the sun setting.

“Oh, Luce…”

Lucy sat and pulled YFN down in between her legs, cradling her there. Taking in the moment, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in and out. The sea breeze whipped a few strands of hair out of her messy bun, which Lucy tucked behind her ear. YFN opened her eyes to look at the last rays of daylight as the wind shifted. A storm was coming – she could feel it. She smiled and looked up at the darkening clouds. She loved the feeling of the darkness creeping in, and the storm. She was unsure whether it was the potential violence of it, or the uncertainty, but she still loved it nonetheless. She felt comfortable in that space. Leaning back, she felt the warm comfort of Lucy. How much things had changed..

She looked around the beach and saw nobody. Sparing a thought for Jordan then, and where she was now, made her smile. How good the country had been to her.

They stayed for an extended period, until the sun had fully set and the sky was overcast with dark, angry, yet comforting clouds.

“It’s getting cold, my girl.” Lucy murmured into her ear.

She nodded, having thought the same herself. “It’s time to go.”

They walked up the beach and ascended the stairs as the wind worsened. She turned to look one last time before they headed back towards their car. Halfway back it began raining suddenly. Large, heavy droplets of water soaked them in an instant, though they weren’t too concerned. Laughing, they ran to the closest shelter they could find.

Lucy grabbed her by the waist and backed her into the little alcove, her eyes darkening. Fuck, she looked good when she was wet.

Unable to resist, she reached up to tangle her fingers in her soaked hair and drag her head down to hers. It would never get old, kissing Lucy. She was talented in everything she did, including intimacy. She pressed her body up against her offering her no escape, something YFN obsessed over, and tilted her head to deepen the kiss. They tongues met and she moaned into the taller woman’s mouth. She tightened her grip on her jacket in response to Lucy’s thigh pressing up against her and Lucy moaned in return.

“F…fuck. Little one.” She gasped, pulling away slightly. “Not here, it’s too public.”

“You really want to stop?” She challenged, pressing herself harder against Lucy's thigh, rocking slightly into it as her mouth found the soft flesh under her chin and sucked.

Lucy groaned.

“Fuuuuck. More.”

YFN hummed at the power she had over her, rocking her hips and getting the pleasure she needed from the friction of rubbing against her.

“Arghhh.”

Her hand let go of her jacket and slipped down, taking Lucy’s and guiding it up under her own. Lucy didn’t need any guidance from there, her hand kneading her naked breast, thumb brushing over the peak.

“I need.. I..”

“Mmn, what do you need, Luce?”

“I need you.”

“Then take me home and have me.”

Lucy pulled back and seeing that look in her eyes, she knew just what the rest of their night held. “Mmn.” She looked around to make sure no one was looking, and realised the rain had eased off just slightly. “Let’s get home. I need you.”

Chuckling, the two disentangled and Lucy took a slight step back, waiting for YFN who was looking around with a sentimental expression.

“Luce?”

“Ready?”

“I… do you realise where we are?”

Lucy looked around confused and then it hit her. “Oh… it’s... where we met.” That first evening with Jordan, and the rain. “If only I’d known.”

“Known what, Luce?” She murmured with pure happiness at the significance of where they stood.

Lucy took her hand and raised it, kissing the gold band she was so proud of. “That I’d met my wife.”

JORDAN POV

Jordan was finishing the last of her stretches on the balcony outside their London apartment when Blu came bounding out from the kitchen to involve himself. He’d been running between the two of them, excitedly padding around with his short little legs, and was beginning to get tired.

Jordan felt his tongue lick her cheek and chuckled. She grabbed him and rolled into her back, raising him over her like he was Simba. He loved that. His little legs moved as if swimming and he shook with excitement.

Jordan sat up and cuddled him to her chest, giving him a kiss on the head and looked inside through the glass doors to where Leah was watching them with a smile and a spatula awkwardly in her hand. She wasn’t a cook by any means, though she was trying, and that’s all that mattered to Jordan.

The slightly older woman released him and he bounded back inside to his other mother. She was on cooking duties today, though Jordan was just about to go in and keep her company.

She rolled up her gym mat and stepped inside, putting it back in its place and wandering over to where the delicious smell was coming from.

“Need any help?” She asked.

Leah turned and gave that genuine smile of hers. “Want to keep my company?”

“Of course.”

Without a hesitation, Leah picked the smaller woman up and sat her down on the edge of the countertop. “You can just stay right there, then. I have this under control... I think.”

“It smells amazing.”

Leah stirred the pot and then stood with her back against Jordan’s chest. She didn’t hesitate to wrap her legs and arms around her, kissing her cheek a few times. “Those lessons have been coming in handy, it seems.”

“I still can’t believe you went and did that.”

Leah shrugged and turned to steal one of the cheek kisses with her lips. “It was for us. Of course I did.”

Jordan happily hummed and rested her chin against Leah’s slightly taller shoulder. “What is it?”

“Just this… us. It’s all very domestic.”

“Well I’d like to think so after we had to convert the third bedroom into our closet.”

Jordan chuckled. “Hey, my place isn’t much better. Lucky YFN is living in London full-time with Lucy now – her room has almost more clothes than this one! She barely has room when she stops in for a few nights.”

“God, I just want to live with you already.” Leah grumbled, turning and resting her forehead against her collarbone. Being the only person who Leah let comfort her was not lost on Jordan. “Why can’t we have that?”

“One more season..” Jordan reminded, reassuringly stroking her back. “And then I’ll move to London.”

“Just let me move there, Jord.” Leah almost pleaded. It wasn’t the first time.

“I’d never let you choose me over Arsenal. It’s one year.. what’s one more season?”

Leah groaned, ditching the spatula to wrap her arms around her. “One more season away from my wife.”

A shiver ran down her spine. She loved when she called her ‘wife.’ It was even better than seeing it around social media. Leah and Jordan Williamson-Nobbs. They’d decided to hyphenate rather than choose like their friends.

“I’ve already begun to do some work with YFN.. can you give me one more season?”

Leah pulled back to study her. “Of course. Of course. I don’t mean to pressure you at all, I’m just being needy.”

Jordan draped her hands over her shoulder. “I love it when you’re needy.”

“Yeah?” She whispered, kissing her softly. Just tasting…

“One more season with a Christmas holiday in amongst it... this time with your folks. And as for the neediness, I say we Facetime more and pay your therapist extra.”

“Poor girl.” Leah chuckled.

“Until then, let’s make the most of it...” Jordan mumbled, pulling her close. Leah grabbed at Jordan’s oversized clothes, tugging her to the edge of the bench and sliding her hands under to feel her. Their mouths connected and as they did so, Jordan smelled burning. Looking over Leah’s shoulder, she saw the pot begin to bubble over the edge.

This wasn’t exactly unusual, even when Leah was watching it.

Instead of telling her, she smiled into her mouth and let herself enjoy the taste and feel of her for a few more seconds, knowing their night would probably end like it usually did…. with takeaway.

ALEXIA POV

Alexia dodged left to avoid an incoming Mapi. She used her body to protect the ball from Ona before dodging right and kicking to Caroline on the far side. With the defenders' attention now away from her, she chased forward quickly, pushing her legs to outrun them as she pointed to the spot where she wanted it.

Alexia yelled for the ball. Caroline kicked. The ball came directly to where she’d pointed of course, unimpeded even by Ona sliding through. Alexia’s boot connected exactly where she’d wanted it to, left foot and straight into the top right corner. Cata leapt and missed by barely an inch.

Perfect.

Alexia felt the grin lighting up her face at that glorious sound of the ball hitting the back of the net. The final whistle blew just as it did so and before she could really react properly, her training team swarmed around, all trying to get a piece of her. She usually didn’t let her team celebrate her too hard, but this felt special.

Everything was good.

“Yes, Alexia!” Keira yelled from behind her as she grabbed her.

“LA REINAAAAA!” Patri yelled into her ear far too loudly.

She felt her body being shook from every direction and tried to let herself enjoy it for once.

“That’s it for today!” Pere called to the team. “Well done to Alexia’s team. Go enjoy your event and I’ll see you all on Monday.”

The girls gave their thanks in amongst the celebrations, as the rest of the team came over to congratulate them.

“You want to take my trophies away again, huh?” Aitana joked.

“God, you shot so quick,” Ona smiled, genuinely happy for her friend.

She heard a person whistling in celebration and rolled her eyes. “Okay okay, enough celebrating now.” Alexia said, yet unable to stop her grin.

“Oh, that wasn’t us,” Mapi teased, jerking her head towards the sidelines.

Alexia’s heart jumped as she looked over and spotted Ridley sitting on the fence. She was back, and looking as relaxed as ever with Alexia’s sunglasses on, her legs slightly spread and a proud looking smile on her face as she watched from afar patiently with Chiquito sitting by her side.

Alexia tried to ignore the teasing from her group. Chiquito looked up at Ridley and then back to Alexia in a sort of question.

“Chiquito!” Alexia called.

He didn’t need to be called twice. The little, fluffy grey cat abandoned his spot to trot over to where Alexia and the girls were standing. She bent down to pick him up, saying her hellos before he was kidnapped by the rest of team. He’d become somewhat of a team mascot, having been around them all so often.

Alexia smiled as she watched him share the love and attention of the girls around, though her attention was now elsewhere as her feet took her towards her Australian.

As she reached her, she parted her legs further with her hands, her palms sliding up the bare skin of Ridley’s thighs and wrapping around her back. She tried to withhold the urge to groan at the comfort of it. Of her.

Her warmth. Her smile. Her touch. Alexia’s home. Ridley held her softly, leaning her head against Alexia’s and presumably watching the girls play with Chiquito over her shoulder.

“Congratulations, my girl.” She murmured in Catalan. “Amazing, as always.”

Alexia hummed against her, happy that she’d seen it. She’d never been the type to be too publicly affectionate, though that had shifted slightly with her relationship with Ridley, especially after their headline-making event with Bashir. Now she wanted to be near her wherever she was. It was such a strange, lovely feeling to have her on the sidelines at games, sitting amongst her family, and at training, talking to her teammates.

“You’re back..” she murmured into her, happy that she didn’t have to wait until that night to see her.

“Mmn. I saw an opportunity to come home earlier and I took it.”

That sent a nice shiver up Alexia’s spine for multiple reasons. Not only the fact that she’d called her ‘home’ but that she’d left her military family who she was so close to, just to come home earlier to her.

Alexia squeezed a little harder before pulling back to see her face. Ridley moved her sunglasses to the top of her head and tucked the sweaty strands of Alexia’s now more brunette looking hair behind her ears. She looked at the scar the bullet had left her with, cutting from just above her eyebrow and disappearing into her hairline. It was now a faded pink colour and looking less aggressive every day. She reached up to stroke it with her thumb, forever grateful that it hadn’t been deeper.

Ridley let her play with it, closing her eyes as Alexia’s thumb moved down and across the one on her cheek. She caught her hand as it reached her jaw and turned her head to kiss the pad of her thumb, and then her thumb, palm, wrist.

“Ready to go home?”

Before she could answer, the girls came over. “What time are you picking us up tomorrow?” Keira asked, handing Chiquito back to Alexia.

“Will we be flying in the Barca plane you bought for us?” Patri interjected.

“First of all, the bus will pick you all up from here at 9am. Secondly… Alexia wouldn’t let me buy anything. Barca has a long-term lease on that plane from my company instead.”

She pouted as if she were unhappy, but she’d still managed to work her way around the problem, of course. Alexia’s stomach fluttered at the cocky look in her eyes.

“But no..” Ridley continued and then chuckled. “No, we’ll be in something much faster and less conspicuous. Management don’t exactly want unnecessary trips while Lucy and Mariona’s faces are still on the plane.”

“You’d think they would have planned ahead.”

“It’s not like I didn’t warn them..” she murmured cheekily. “But never mind that, I’m here to take this one off your hands.”

“At least let her shower first!” Ona exclaimed as a few more of the girls came over.

Alexia stayed quiet as usual and turned to Ridley who looked her up and down with a smirk. “I think I’ll shower her myself at home.”

She rolled her eyes, having expected her to say something similar. “Do you mind waiting? It’s been a really hot day and I want to get these sweaty clothes off me as soon as I can.”

Ridley looked her up and down, seeming to enjoy the enjoying the ‘sweaty clothes’ and gave her a calm but hungry look. Like she hadn’t seen her in a week. Which was about accurate. “I’d wait forever for you.”

Alexia tried to hide her smirk and ignore the teasing noises from her teammates as she took a step back. She was eager to get showered and back home with her. As she’d expected, Ridley moved to follow, sliding off the fence and entering her personal space again. She was slightly taller which meant Alexia had to look up to see that smirk of hers.

A week was the longest they’d been apart since before the island. She could barely keep her hands off her now let along the thought of when they finally got home.

The group made their way into the changing rooms for their showers. Alexia forced herself to go slowly, knowing how frustrating it would be for Ridley, and even though she was annoyingly good at hiding it, Alexia was slowly getting to know her little tells of frustration and impatience. The shifting of her weight onto one foot, the clasped or pocketed hands as if to hold them back from reaching, her head tilt to overcompensate and remind herself to slow down.

Alexia checked herself in the steamed mirror one more time and dropped the towel in the basket as she left the showers. She walked into the changing rooms to see an array of her half-naked teammates all in different stages of dressing and talking. Her eyes found her locker and below it was Ridley sitting calmly, her eyes on Chiquito alone as he sat on the table in the middle of the room with multiple people patting him. The small smile on her face showed how proud she was of him.

Alexia’s first step into the room was met with was Ridley’s eyes flicking to her. Her head tilted as she looked her up and down. Regardless of how turned on she was, she knew the one thing they both wanted more than anything. A hug. She guessed her need to touch and show love was that Spanish side of her, but for Ridley it was different. She wasn’t necessarily a touchy person, unless it was with Alexia. It seemed to be growing on her as a comfort, and so it was never a thing that the Spaniard shoved aside or refused.

Alexia walked right up to the Australian, her knees in between her own and leant over her completely as she put her clothes away. She felt Ridley chuckling into her chest as she did so, gently grasping the backs of her thighs as if to hold her there.

“Ready to go home?” Alexia mimicked from earlier, looking down at her.

Ridley held up Alexia’s car key. “I’ll drive.”

“9am sharp!” Ridley called out to the girls as she drove off.

Alexia reached out to play with her hair as Ridley pet Chiquito who was curled up in her lap.

“He missed you..” she murmured.

“I missed you both.”

“Will you need to go back soon?”

“The team will handle the clean up, Lex. There’s no talk of needing me back anytime soon.”

Alexia hummed happily at that until she spotted a gash with dried blood behind Ridley’s ear. She inspected it with her fingertips. Before she could speak, Ridley did.

“I wasn’t on the front line, Lex, I promise. Wombat got a little too carried away with the working out.” She said calmly, making Alexia chuckle at the image. Since the incident with Bashir, she’d promised to not go front line again unless it was absolutely necessary for her team, or others. “Besides, you already know this. I know you and Duce talk behind my back. What a rat.”

“I like her.”

“She’s just trying to stay in your good books. They’re still getting used to knowing a bit of my personal side.”

“A bit?”

She rolled her eyes. “The biggest part of my personal side.”

“I’m very likeable, you know.”

“Jesus, I’m back for thirty minutes and I’m already copping it.”

“Of course. Someone needs to remind you that not everything is about you.”

Ridley’s mouth dropped open slightly which amused Alexia to no end. She loved every time she surprised her. It was rare.

Before she could get her composure, Alexia reached over and closed her mouth for her.

Ridley’s jaw twitched in amusement and she shook her head. “You’re a pain, you are.”

“You wouldn’t like me so much if I were easy.” She shrugged. “And besides, I’m your pain.”

She hummed in agreement. “That you are. And just to be clear, I’m not surprised you two like each other.”

“It doesn’t bother you at all..?”

“Honestly? The opposite.” She pulled up in front of Ridley’s house which they now shared, and turned to her. Alexia fell into those dark eyes of hers gladly and tightened the hold she had on her thigh. “It doesn’t bother you that I talk to your family often?”

Although she’d been hesitant at first, Ridley had eventually slipped into the fold of the family. It was a bit impossible not to with them, especially after they’d bombarded her at Christmas. “The opposite.”

After they’d made up for a week apart, the pair had spent the rest of their day snacking by the pool. It had been incredible to have a longer pool for the rehab and recovery of her knee back to a solid form. Ever since, she’d made it a habit to do pool workouts a few times a week. Ridley usually watched, sitting and reading a book or playing with a guitar as she did so. She’d been interested and invested in her rehabilitation and everything that went into it.

Ridley was also getting used to being in a relationship. Allowing herself to love and be loved. The island had been a start, but Alexia had known that. She’d never complained, though. They’d always communicated their needs and fears, no matter how difficulty, and were growing together.

It meant a lot less independence, and more teamwork. Less decision and more compromise. This included Ridley adjusting to become more physical. Able to touch, instead of look respectfully from afar. This meant pushing aside that military side of her which needed her hands free. Learning to be the one to initiate contact. To get used to sleeping with that warmth and skin to skin contact.

It also meant that as Alexia sat at the shallow end of the pool, Ridley could come up behind her, dipping her legs into the cool water either side of the Spaniard and cradle her arms around her, stroking her arms with her fingertips, her neck with her mouth.

Both of them had been rather hesitant with it – the worry of falling too deep – though they’d both had a realisation on the night that Bashir had died as to just how far they were in it already. There was no safety net now. They were all in, together.

“It’s almost 4pm,” Ridley murmured in Catalan as her lips explored along her cheek.

Alexia didn’t answer, because she was more than happy right there instead. She kept her eyes closed, head tilted back as she enjoyed the feel of Ridley everywhere. She could feel herself getting wet, even in the water, and her nipples hardening almost to the point of pain.

“Alexia,” she said again, this time in a more warning tone. Her movements stopped and she covered her cold nipples with her palms. The warmth was glorious. “Your interview.. and I don’t like how cold you’re getting.”

She opened her eyes and realised that the sun had set so low that they were fully covered in shade.

Alexia finished with her interview after an hour and wandered through their large house, in search of Ridley. Although it was very comparable to the way it was when she’d first moved in, due to their similar tastes, it now held pieces of herself also. Jerseys and trophies and sentimental pieces here and there. It felt more like them together, rather than just one of them.

She checked by the pool, the office, her art studio, the library, their bedroom. She checked her bedside table for the passport she’d need the next day and found it exactly where she’d left it, with Ridley’s note tucked into it. Smiling, she put it back and turned to see Chiquito at the door. He must have been spending time with her, as he’d missed her the past week.

“Take me to her…”

Ever the intelligent cat, he turned and led Alexia to the last place she could be if she was still in the house.

There by herself in the darkened studio, was Ridley. Her headphones were around her neck, her hand resting on a keyboard and eyes closed as she listened to the track back, presumably checking a note or lyric. It sounded perfect to Alexia. Something she hadn’t heard before. If she had to describe it, it would be… obsession, and adoration.

Although it was dark, she could still see the silhouette of her face, the emotions written across it as it slightly changed with each part of the song.

Just before it ended, Ridley opened her eyes as if she knew she was there. Her lips tilted up at the confirmation and watched Alexia as she listened to the end of the song with her. From the look on her face, she didn’t even need to ask what the song was about.

It was hers.

YFN POV

YFN shook with nerves as her Lumos team introduced her to the stage. She looked at the clicker in her left hand and the notes in her other, pausing as she decided to leave the latter behind. She knew what she wanted to say.

She walked onto the stage accepting the applause as it rang through the crowd.

“Really good job up there.” She praised her team as they passed each other. They gave her proud smiles and “good lucks” as she took centre stage and stopped to take a breath.

She pressed the clicker and turned to see the new company logo once again adorning the screen.

“We here at Lumos began with so much drive and passion that we forgot to introduce ourselves. Tonight, we remedy that. Good evening, my name is YFN, and it’s my honour to be the first to introduce you to Lumos – the first women’s sports media titan.” She took another breath to steady her heart. “When we started twelve months ago, we had one goal: to change the narrative, to give women’s sports the recognition, respect and platform it deserves and tonight, I’m proud to say we’ve taken our first bold steps and accomplished what no one has before. Lumos is now the primary media outlet for women’s football, covering all the top leagues across the globe with plans to expand into all women’s sports in the future. This is just the beginning, but what a beginning it has been!”

She paused to hear that warm, encouraging applause filling the room. Her gaze briefly met Lucy’s proud look in the crowd which steadied her, as well as Alexia and Ridley’s. Ridley being proud of her meant more than she realised and she felt so supported, surrounded by the people she loved most.

“Tonight, we want to share our story with you – not just where we’ve been, but where we’re going. You’ll see the heart of Lumos – our culture, aspirations, and our commitment to innovation and inclusion. You’ll see our platforms, culture, charity and philanthropic initiatives. But for now, more than anything, you’ll see the power of collaboration. This moment, and everything leading up to it, would not have been possible without the extraordinary women who live and breathe the game. Female footballers, and their fans from around the world have trusted us with their stories, their triumphs, their challenges. Their voices have shaped what we are unveiling tonight, and their courage continues to inspire everything we do.”

She paused to look at Mark, his cheek twitching as he realised who she was referring to. She softened her tone as she continued at that heart of her message.

“Lumos is more than a media company. It’s a mission. And at the core of that mission is a promise to shine a light on every untold story, to give a platform to the overlooked, and to honour the dreams and passions of those who came before us. At the heart of Lumos stands a charity dedicated to the legacy of a young girl who shared the same passions and dreams as we do. Her legacy is our promise: to stand for hope, inclusion and possibility.”

She let the weight of her words linger as the room fell into a deeper silence. Then, with quiet strength, she began her conclusion.

“And to begin our journey, comes the launch of our book… a prequel of our life so far, if you will. It is a reflection of the journey we’ve all taken together. From the friendships, to the love stories, football, the headline-making incidents, footballers, and to the charity at the heart of us. This book is about believing in the power of possibility, about working for something greater than ourselves. We’re here because we believe women’s sports can inspire and unite the world because women too, deserve the spotlight.”

She pressed the clicker in her hand and saw the screen behind her reflecting on the crowd and it were as if the world slowed as they stood to cheer. She took as much of it in as she could, appreciating the moment and all of the hard work she’d put into making the moment what it was. Her eyes flickered over the people in the crowd from Lumos who had made it possible, over Kate and a still unsuspecting William as he clapped for a company he had no idea his wife had created. She looked over the footballers, Katie, Caitlin, Kyra, footballers from Arsenal, Barcelona, and such. Alexia and Ridley were sat at the front with proud smiles alongside Lucy who was clapping loudest of all. She chuckled lightly at that and tried to hold back her tears.

After she took it all in, she smiled and turned to the giant screen behind her which was illuminated with a simple title: Sunsets and Footballers by YFN Bronze.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Hey there! I really enjoy your posts about our resistant big boy König. I was wondering if you could create some hcs for the reader pampering him and taking care of him. Like maybe he has a stomach ache, so the reader gives him an abdominal massage or something if you’re comfortable with writing something like that. <3

Okay so first, I'm so sorry for being late. I got super busy this week. I've gone on three 6 hour long drives in the past four days. Three!!! I've been travelling north and my lord I'm bouncing all over the place. But, you're not here for me whinging about driving, we're here for the 'RESIDENT BIG BOY'.

I'm taking notes on that one, btw. That one's too good not to use. Resident Big Boy is now the best way to describe him. But yes, I am more than glad to go over some headcannons! König is a very silly man when he gets a bit under the weather, so let's go over why below the cut.

To put it bluntly, König is a big suck. He really is. He's emotionally mature enough to know that he's overreacting, but he's trained to deal with the worst, not mild inconveniences. For him, having a full fever is easier than dealing with a small problem. The worst part of it all is that it's usually self inflicted.

König doesn't really get colds. He also doesn't really get hurt badly (unless he's come back from a mission, but that's another post entirely). He's careful, neat and considerate with his actions. That said, he has these moments where you really have to question how he's still alive.

You see, König has this little saying that he learned from his family. It's his catchphrase, at this point. Horangi groans whenever he hears it. Stilleto puts her head in her hands. Hutch's eyes glaze over as he looks far off into the distance and shakes his head, quietly muttering, "It's not right, man. It's not right." With all these reactions, you might be wondering what exactly is König's favourite catchphrase?

"It's not an expiry date, it's a best by date."

König has had food poisoning many times.

So when König goes on a whole rant about how 'it's not that moldy, just eat around it', the whole company knows to just wait. Almost like clockwork, the only thing König will be eating for the next 24 hours are his words.

When he's sick, he'll go home and he'll make it your problem. His stomach will be cramping, he'll be spewing vomit like a sprinkler, and he'll be stuck in the bathroom for hours at a time. When he crawls out, you'll be there for him.

You'll have to change his bedding religiously for him. He's sweating up a storm over here. Each time you do, he'll thank you profusely and then collapse into bed.

You'll have to change his bucket. He has a designated vomit bucket (he's gotten food poisoning enough to have one marked and ready for the occasion). He'll always thank you and hold your hand. Thankfully, the military forces him to keep short hair so you don't have to hold that back, but he does really appreciate you rubbing his back. Honestly, who doesn't? It's the least you can do for someone turning their stomach inside out.

With his cramps, he'll pretend he's fine but at this point, you probably know better than to believe him when he says it doesn't hurt that much. Instead, get him a nice supply of heat packs for the worst cramps. However, he much prefers you holding him or rubbing his stomach. It's much more comfortable. He's so happy to have someone care for him like this. He might not be able to give back while he's sick, but he won't forget your kindness to him. He'll pay it back three-fold soon enough.

Every time you make him a light soup, every time you carefully feed him a plain salad or some cut fruit, he's delighted. He knows it might be coming back up in less than an hour, but he's grateful for anything you provide him. As long as it's edible, he'll eat it. (Just please remember to stay away from foods that are hard to digest, like protein, dairy and carbs. Maybe some plain toast with his soup is alright, but it's a good idea to give sick people simple food. Just a pro tip.)

He will curl up to you and use you as a blanket when he gets cold. He will soak up your heat like he's in the ice age. He can't get enough of your gentle touches or soft words. He clings to them as he clings to you, a suffocating embrace.

When you are too hot, he'll begrudgingly roll away and kick off all his blankets and sheets. That's a good sign that maybe you can step away and do some household chores for him. The house doesn't clean itself, after all. When he can appreciate your hard work properly, he'll gladly kiss you and hold you close. However for now, he'll just curl up and lay perpendicular to you and lay his head on your abdomen when you get back. He may not be able to kiss you right now, but he'll gladly curl up on the mattress with you.

Sometimes, he might need help walking to and from the bathroom, and that's always an ordeal. Unless you're strong enough, he'll just have you both toppling over in a heap of sickness and sweat. It'll be miserable. Instead, he'll have to force himself to stand a bit so he won't have you losing your balance. When he collapses back in the bed, he'll huff and puff and grumble about the bathroom being too far, but he'll live. Maybe take the time to run your hands through his hair and scratch his scalp. He'd like that quite a bit.

Anyways, I hope these are some decent headcannons! I am most certainly comfortable writing things like this, and you've inspired a post about König getting fully sick, and how to deal with that! I also might make one about him dealing with minor injuries, like stubbing a toe or spraining a muscle while training. I imagine this guy is an amazing survivalist, but his civilian survival skills are akin to that of a lemming.

[cartoonistcoop]

ShortBox Comics Member Interview: Sloane Hong

Throughout the month of October, the Cartoonist Cooperative will be sharing interviews with members of the Co-op who have a new comic available at the ShortBox Comics Fair 2024! 

NOTE: The Cartoonist Cooperative is not affiliated, associated, authorized, endorsed by, or in any way formally connected with ShortBox.  

Today’s spotlight is Sloane Hong ( @plaest2k ) and their new comic for ShortBox, Expiry Date.

We’d love it if you could introduce yourself and tell us about your background in comics.

Sloane Hong: Kia ora, my name is Sloane Hong (she/her), I’m a Korean-tauiwi illustrator, comic artist and tattooer based in Aotearoa, New Zealand. I only started making comics professionally about five years ago but they’ve always been a significant part of my life for as long as I can remember.

Tell us more about your new comic?

SH: Expiry Date is an erotic, body horror, sci-fi short story about coming home from a long day at your shitty, minimum-wage job, crashing on your couch and fantasizing about how fucking good it would feel to just die.

I mean, it’s also about transness, labour rights, our relationship with our bodies and death under capitalism, etc but it’s mostly about shitty jobs.

My friend described it as “what if David Cronenberg was a transsexual dyke who grew up reading ero-guro”.

What are some early experiences as a cartoonist that shaped you or your process?

SH: My brother’s also an artist, probably better than I could ever be, and I basically owe any good taste I might have to him. Growing up, I always got home from school first so I’d sneak into his room to admire his drawings and read his comics. He had most of the usual stuff you’d find on any Korean kid’s shelf in the 90’s: Akira Toriyama, Masamune Shirow, Yoshito Usui, etc, and a couple of Korean manhwa that are all now damn-near impossible to find. As he got older, he started getting into American comics and brought home stuff like R. Crumb, Daniel Clowes, Fletcher Hanks, etc from the library.

But it’s not just that I had someone to introduce me to all this stuff, it’s the fact I’m six years younger than him and he was already reading this stuff earlier than most. So I think I started looking at all those misanthropic underground comics by horny white men when I was, like, what… about 10 years old?

Besides my brother, the trauma of working shitty jobs for years on end, The Terrible Boredom of Paradise, and this weird and fucked up miracle we call life are probably the wellsprings of both my inspiration and ceaseless burnout. 

Tell us about your creative process; how did you develop this comic and what are the steps you took to bring it to the final stage?

SH: I did something really stupid for the 2023 ShortBox Comics Fair. I have ADHD and one of the many ways it manifests is that I have a debilitating habit of overthinking my stories. “Are the themes too obvious? Is it too heavy handed? Are the motivations for this character clear enough? Is this the right way to phrase this? Is this the right word? Is this the right letter? Is this the right punctuation?” etc, etc.

On paper, it probably sounds like something every writer goes through but when I say debilitating, I mean interferes-with-my-ability-to-live-a-normal-life-kind of debilitating. It’s kind of impossible to articulate how bad it was but it got to a point where I was so sick of myself and all the stories I never finished that I said fuck it–maybe if I just jump into a comic with nothing but a stupid premise, no planning and an impending deadline, I won’t have time to think about all these inconsequential details. So I sat down and forced myself to write, pencil and ink a comic, page-by-page.

It was essentially an exercise in automatism: I was still thinking about draftsmanship, composition, flow and everything but I kinda just let the story tell itself by writing/ drawing whatever felt like a natural progression for the narrative.

That was how I ended up with Marrow, which was kinda funny because the whole point was to make a goofy, low-stakes comic about nothing to circumvent the pressure of having to write anything good. Instead I’d inadvertently made something that was layered and deeply intimate and won the sci-fi category in the 2024 Minicomic Awards. But, more importantly, the whole process helped bring everything together. It reminded me of something I used to tell young artists: developing a style isn’t something you really set out to do, it’s something that just happens. You don’t practice drawing to get better at drawing; you do it to better channel your voice. It’s only when you can stop thinking about how to move your hand that your heart can take the lead.

I’d forgotten my own advice. I was so concerned about the technical details of how to write a story that I was basically assembling components rather than writing anything at all. Marrow helped me realize I’d already internalized everything I needed to write long ago. I just needed to stop thinking.

Expiry Date was a continuation of that process and made in basically the same way. There was just significantly less stress involved now that I knew I could trust myself.

Mostly.

Read the rest of the interview HERE! And dont forget to check out the Shortbox Comics Fair to support these lovely creators!!

[pocket-jack]

Hey, guys! I decided to torture myself before sleep beacause... Why not? So, here's KidKiller's rough sheets with some headcanons I have for the guys (probably with a lot off mistakes cus my browser refuses to fix them for me)

Kid time, baby

I draw him differently now. I know his face looks more... diamond shaped in anime, but I can't get rid of his square coded energy, so... Heart-shaped it is!

When he recieved his eye scar he didn't lose the ability to see, but now it get's dry really fast and if he won't do something about it it'll gonna ache.

He had multiple piercings on his ear, but his powers just kept pulling them and one day almost ripped his ear of, so he (with a manly tears) decided to take them off.

I headcanon him wearing a corset, because he's a little chubby and he can't get rid of this extra fat (not with his appetites). Also everytime when he takes it off, not only he's forced to look at his hanging stomach, but he's also has to fight off Killer. Killer's only dream was for Kid to be well fed and happy.

Nor his, nor Killer's sexuality is defined by them, but actually based out of other's observations. Kid is pansexual because he's kinda gender blind. For him it's confusing that you're weak just because you have tits and extra hole between your legs. He's also demiromantic. Both of those preference he acquired during Kutsukku (where you couldn't trust anyone, even your lover. And where the gender norms were the least of your concerns)

He also have undiagnosed ADHD which mostly give him extra impulsivity and also now the metal can speak (thank ye, neurodivergency!). Sometimes it's stresses him the hell off, especially during Kutsukku. He could not sleep because of all of this buzzing he kept hearing from EVERYWHERE. Now he can control it, but sometimes it returnd and he has to suffer.

Metal also responds to his hidden emotions. It may float when he thinks, reflects or remembering something. It may rumble when he's angry, concerned, scared. Or it may form something if he's happy, in love or something like that.

He's hard rock kinda guy, we all know this, but I headcanon him as a music lover in general (so whatever makes his brain go bzzt, mostly rock). I find Thrown a couple of month ago and it's sounds like something Kid would like (probably even kin, esp Backfire). MSI is a basic thing for him to have (every punk need at least one song in their playlist). I guess not every person will understand it, but Пшлнхй is such a Kid coded song (Every Russian proverb, but one part is just sending you to fuck yourself is something that Kid would do irl. The chorus is just... mmm)

Killer, my beloved!!!!

I love headcanoning him as androgenous. He has a feminine features: oval shaped face, eyes with big eyelashes, even his lips is a little softer than the average male lips. That is the main reason why he hid his face, because everyone would bully him fot it when he was young. Killer was confused with a girl a lot during his time on Kutsukku.

During timeskip he strained a lot of muscles just to get stronger. He was neglecting himself most of the time, because he had a mission: to become stronger so he'll never fail to protect Kid ever again. They also been really distant during their training. Only when Killer hurted his arm they bounded again. Kid was surprisingly a good mentor for his healing. Probably because their trauma was almost the same

When he's wearing a mask he usually get's his hair out of the way so it wouldn't mess with his vision

Pre timeskip he wanted to work on his style, feeling obliged to do so, cus his crew was dressing up in colorful styles. He choose to fit into more West Bluish kinda style (cowboy boots and pants). But then anxiety hitted him and suddenly he felt too vissible and everyone was looking at him and... Let's just say it wasn't a pleasant expirience for him. He just wanted to show that he was a part of the crew too, but now he feels himself too overreacting and dramatic and stuff. It took a lot of time for everyone to convince him that it wasn't about the look, but more about the comfort. With their support Killer started wearing something he likes more, and it felt fantastic. He actually started to like himself in the mirror a bit more after timeskip and then Wano happened

Killer is asexual beacuse of the amount of trauma he suffered during his childhood. I hc him having a low libido too. He's still feels romantic attraction (only for Kid), and if he asks, Killer will have sex with him without hesitation. But it's only for Kid, OR for his sake

It is so logical for him to have OCD. Just him casualy living and then the dread that if he won't do something usefull his crew will see how fucking usless and worthless he actually is and live him behind the same his parents did just suddenly hits him. Oh hey! Anxiety! Abandonment issues! This man will explode, please, give him a hug.

It got worse after Wano. He's doing bad things with his face and no one knows. Even Kid. (I love making them suffer for the sake of Hurt\Comfort)

I am 100% sure Killer is a Queen guy. It just gives me Killer vibes... The same with Elton John. And also... To fit in his pre timeskip cowboy vibes into the oven,,, He's actually like country rock alongside with glam rock. Barns Courtney is his favorate

So... How do you like my silly little headcanons? Maybe I post something about Heat and Wire too. Welp, I'm fainting out of exaustion, bye!

[the-empress-7]

I wonder how long this cosplay will last she’s completely dropped her global philanthropist cosplay lol. Now the people in montecito she’s trying to impress all have successful brands so she wants to fit in but I’m sure they all know her brand is nonsense. She’s more famous than them so they don’t mind being fake friends with her (I don’t believe these Hollywood types have real friendships lol she’s the gatsby to their daisy).

I think she has to play at it for a while she’ll get a boost when the new season (really just part 2) comes out but what’s next? She isn’t building anything sustainable so this role she’s playing has an expiry date I just don’t know when.

Netflix has been a god send to her, they launched her show during a very quiet period so she could chart by the time the data comes out at the end of the year (her show will be at the bottom) people will have moved on but we’ll hear more about whether they’ll keep her on a lesser deal or not.

Netflix Harry has been a god send to her

Without Harry there would be no Netflix deal. Heck without Harry, there wouldn't be *points to everything in Meghan's life*