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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

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Taking Root 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Bucky and Leaf.

Summary: a neighbourly connection might be more than chance.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bucky cracks his neck as he approaches the large windows. He rubs his eyes as he snarls at the sunlight peering back at him. Steve always leaves the curtains open. Always gone before Bucky drags himself out of bed.

He tugs them shut but stays close. It's not noon yet. She'll be out shortly.

He's not much for television. He tried a few TV series, some movies recommended on that chat, but he just can't keep his mind from running. It's why he wakes up late. Most nights, he doesn't even sleep. This is what keeps him enthralled. There's not much plot, but the main character is fascinating.

He swigs from his mug as the city street chugs from down the alleyway between their apartments. Her balcony is slightly lower. The perfect vantage.

Pathetic. That's what he'd call himself if he wasn't him. All those guys on that discord Steve found are that very flavour. But he's not them. They're all weirdo virgins. He's had plenty of women. More than enough. She's just different. Like him.

As if beckoned by his awakening, she appears. Her railing is curtained with ivy, enough that she doesn't think of modesty. He doesn't mind. She comes out wearing a loose sweater that reads SWEET in large caps and a pair of her frilly panties. He likes those ones, they ride up when she bends over to pick up the watering can.

She goes about her usual routine. She checks the leaves, waters the soil, untangles the overgrown stems, and treats the plants with rot or infestations. The cluster of plants takes up most of the space. She's like a little chipmunk among them.

She finishes and takes the can inside. The sliding door gives a generous view of her place. Inside, she lingers at the window ledge and checks the row of cactuses. He admires her devotion to those plants. She'll haven't the big square planters soon. A few of the tomatoes growing up the posts look close to ripe.

He rubs the cleft of his chin and his stubble makes a bristly noise. He backs away at the unnerving idea. It's too much. Too soon.

Fuck that. He's not that weirdo Jensen. He's been tailing his married boss for three years. Now that's fucking desperate. Besides, they all made a pact, as lame as it was. They're going to make their moves. Either do something or get over it.

Right. Finish the coffee and get your ass together, Barnes. He rinses the mug then goes to make himself human again. Show, brush the teeth, untangle your hair, tie it back, no one will know the different, clothes. Alright. It won't be so bad to get out and it'll get Steve off his back about Vitamin D. Funny, the sunlight only makes him feel worse.

He heads off with a cap pulled down low and his hands in his pockets. There's a shop down the way, they have tables outside full of seeds and little pots. And a coffee shop right next door. He could use a second cup. Maybe a third.

He stops by the display of plants on the corner. There's a big red sign marked 'End of Season Clearance.' Better late than never.

The old woman who runs the shop offers him a shallow box to put his purchases in. Some pansies and violets. He doesn't know. The colours are nice, he guesses. She tells him to get a nice long bed for them and he should be able to have a nice bunch before the frost.

He gets his coffee, agitated as he balances his starters in one arm, then heads home. He gets back to the apartment and leaves the box on the table. He doesn't touch them as he paces around. He goes to the window. She reading in her chair, reclined, one leg bent, sweater rumpling to expose a bit of tummy. He narrows his eyes. He reaches for the binoculars nearby. Oh yeah. He shouldn't be so into it but he can see a little bit of hair sticking out the edge of her panties. It makes him chafe in his jeans.

He backs up as his stomach growls. Fine. He eats grilled cheese and canned tomato soup. He's still groggy. He goes to the window again. He stays there until she's gone. The censor will let him know if she comes back out.

Steve gets home. He's in a rush. His bag clatters off the bench as soon as he lets go of it. He huffs and picks it up, scurrying around. Bucky doesn't ask. He's on his way to that volunteer gig. They both know why he's in such a hurry.

"Have fun," Bucky calls out from the sofa.

"Oh, flowers?" Steve pauses as his soles scuff.

"What's it to ya, punk?"

"Nothing. You know I got allergies, right?" He sneezes as if to make the point.

"Sure I do. They're going on the balcony... tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Steve asks. "Why not-- achooo!"

"Cool off," Bucky warns. "I'll cover them up."

"Ugh, I don't got time," Steve mutters. "See ya. Oh, and you probably don't want the cat chewing on those n-n-neith-- achoo!"

"She's off terrorising the mice," Bucky snorts. "Get out of here, Rogers."

The night rolls by slowly. Hours spent with his eyes open. On the couch until his roommate gets back. Then his bed. Back to the living room. Steve gets up to get ready for work at the museum. Bucky puts Alpine on his chest and scratches her chin. Her box needs changing.

The sunlight softens between the curtains as he's left alone. He lets the cat out with him as he angles the box of flowers through the door. He got the big trays too and soil. He'll replant it like she did hers. Or try to. Steve keeps saying the place needs a bit of home to it. Goddamn it, Steve, shut up.

He puts the flowers on the iron table and sighs. He doesn't know where to start. The squeak of a hinge makes him tense. It's hers. He knows it without looking. She yawns and he trembles, fighting not to look down at her. He can hear her sipping from her porcelain mug. Is it the one with the lillies or the roses?

"Are those Blueberry Swirl Pansies? Those are so pretty."

He doesn't move at first. She's talking to him. He knows it. His chest feels like it's full. He pushes away from the rail and checks the little tag then faces her. He gives a small wave.

"That's what it says, yeah."

He leans against the railing and looks up at him, "I love flowers, if you can't tell." She giggles and it's music in his ears. The kind that sticks in his brain and he'll keep hearing over and over.

"No, I can't," he chuckles. "Wouldn't mind a few pointers. Kinda new at this."

"Well, I'd start by keeping the cat out of them," she points and he turns to find Alpine digging in a pot.

"Right," he mutters. "Thanks."

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #watchers anonymous #mcu #marvel #au #avengers #captain america #winter soldier #taking root

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noisyghost · 2 days ago

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(I started sketching this design nearly immediately after season 2 ended but just now had some time to clean it up so. Excuse me rambling out loud here)

TLDR; I actually really liked the initial design + direction for Warwick-Vander (I <3 human faced werewolves)! But the show design kinda felt like a transitory state between Vander and Warwick to me, so I wanted to try my hand at blending his Arcane design with his in game design. Like a "what would he look like if the transformation kept going" kinda thing. There's a few things I'm not fully settled on, but Im mostly satisfied :)

(rambling under the readmore, its 3 am as i type this lol)

When season 2 first started, I sort of had it in my head that the narrative would have Vander "die" for Warwick to finish the transformation into his final form, forcing Vi and Jinx to finally say goodbye together. Well! That didn't happen lol. I mean. Vander did "die", but whatever was left behind isn't really Warwick. I'm not quite sure what they were going for, either with him or with how Jinx "dies", its all just a little messy when i feel like there was a more obvious narrative conclusion.

Visually i think the final design in the show is cool removed from context, but it doesn't really make sense to me in regards to the story. Like. Warwicks whole thing is that he curbs his violent impulses by killing "bad guys" in the undercity. League lore is a hot fucking mess and I don't even go there so I get that they (the writers) were playing fast and loose but I can see why so many Warwick fans were less than pleased with where the show leaves him, because it doesn't really feel like the same character outside of his initial experimentation.

In my own idea palace, Jinx fakes her death and leaves Warwick to be Zaun's new mascot. Having this literal monster that eats bad guys and saves innocent people in the process become a new symbol for Zaun feels like a no brainer to me. Imagine the iconography they'd make for this thing! And it brings Vanders whole schtick back around; he still "dies" but the Literal Memory of him lives on in Zaun, still protecting the people he cared about most. You get the bittersweet ending of Vi and Jinx having to move on because hes not really their dad anymore, but their memory is what keeps Warwick "human", still with Zaun even if Vi is doing Piltover shit and Jinx is off exploring the world.

Idk! I know the implication that Jinx faked her death is there, but whatever happens to Warwick seems to be like they didnt really have the time to fully explore the ideas they were going for, so a couple characters just got kinda left floating at the end there. If Ekko and Jinx werent going to run away together, I wanted to see Ekko befriending Warwick so they could fight to make Zaun a better place.

I have more coherent ideas than this but it's 3 am when im typing this so sorry if im not eloquent enough to properly explain what im thinking. Ekko and his weird dog that used to be his uncle. Imagine.

#fan art #arcane #arcane spoilers #still tagging even tho were months out and i dont think anyone cares just in case lol #warwick #vander #i need to be so clear i dont play league i have never played league i just care about werewolf adjacent monsters in all pieces of media #its my sisyphean burden. my eternal curse forever #and i was on the 'vander is warwick' theory bullshit literally 3 years ago #i was not satisfied with his narrative conclusion in season 2 and unfortunately i have hands #i KNOW this is just slightly to the left of my own OC werewolf design leave me ALONE #im not tagging this as league #anyway. goodnight

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joelsrose · 2 days ago

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First Date? Part 6

Hi my angels, here is a long awaited part 6 xx its a tad bit shorter but i wanted to give you guys somethin as ive been holding out on yall. i love you guys sooo much pls enjoy - there will be another chapter!!

previous chapter

word count: 6k words

The days blurred together in an endless, suffocating loop, stretching out like an expanse of barren land where nothing grew, where nothing changed, where time was both crawling and slipping through your fingers.

You barely left the house. You barely ate. You barely slept.

It was pathetic, really— sulking like a heartbroken girl convinced her world had shattered over a boy, except this wasn’t even that. There had been no confession, no love declared and returned, no sweet promises broken. Just a drunken moment, a slip of the tongue, a feeling dragged into the light and left there to wilt under his silence.

And Joel—Joel hadn’t come to see you. Hadn’t so much as looked in your direction. He was out there, moving through the world, working, speaking, drinking, doing anything and everything except facing what he’d done. A part of you hated him for it. Not just for walking away, but for making you feel stupid for ever believing he might have stayed.

Spring crept in slow and golden, its warmth seeping into the bones of Jackson, melting away the last remnants of winter, softening the air, making the rivers swell and the ground smell of damp earth.

The whole world was moving forward. Days stretched longer, the snow thinned into streams, the buds bloomed against sun-warmed wood.

And yet you remained unchanged, frozen beneath the thaw, untouched by the season’s promise of renewal.

Regret sat thick in your chest, wound tight as barbed wire, pressing sharp against your ribs, scraping with every breath. You regretted it all—getting drunk, speaking too freely, telling him you loved—

No.

You regretted feeling anything for him at all.

Whatever it was—this raw, impossible, consuming thing that had settled deep inside you—it had become something you could neither hold nor rid yourself of.

It pushed and pulled, twisted and tore, made you ache with longing and fury all at once, until the two bled together so thoroughly that you could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.

And at night, when the world quieted and the town lay still beneath the silver glow of the moon, you thought of him.

Spring had arrived, but it had done nothing for you.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You forced yourself out of the house today, dragging yourself from the tangled sheets and the stale air of your room.

It took effort—more than it should have—to pull a brush through your hair, to find clothes that didn’t reek of days spent in bed, to step outside and face the world that had continued to turn without you.

You walked without purpose, without real direction, but your feet knew where to take you before your mind did, leading you down the familiar path toward the stables, toward something steady, something safe.

When you reached the stables, you pushed the door open without thinking, the familiar creak of the hinges breaking the silence. The smell of leather and hay washed over you immediately—warm, steady, safe, like stepping into a memory that wasn’t yours but still felt like home.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tightness in your ribs loosened, if only just a fraction. Your eyes found Winnie in her stall, the sight of her sending the smallest most fragile flicker of warmth through you.

Your girl. She was still here. Still waiting.

Her ears twitched at the sound of your boots scraping against the dirt floor. You moved toward her and reached for the stall door, brushing your fingers over the worn wood, when a sound stopped you cold.

A click. Subtle, metallic. Deliberate.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t dare look up. But you didn’t need to. You knew that sound. Knew it better than you wanted to.

When you finally lifted your head, your heart gave a heavy, painful lurch in your chest.

Joel was there.

He sat on the bench against the far wall, half-shrouded in the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the wood. His broad shoulders were hunched forward, his head bent low as he worked the gun in his hands, his fingers moving with an ease that didn’t match the tension carved into his face. His brow was furrowed, his mouth a tight, hard line, his eyes fixed on the task as if he could will away whatever thoughts had followed him here.

He looked good—too good—caught in the kind of light that didn’t seem fair, the soft, golden rays spilling through the gaps in the barn walls, framing him like something meant to be remembered, something holy.

The warmth of the day had coaxed him out of his usual layers, leaving him in nothing but a faded t-shirt that clung to him in a way that made you forget how to breathe. The fabric stretched taut over broad shoulders, hinting at the strength beneath, the sleeves brushing just enough to expose the curve of his biceps, the hard lines of his forearms—a quiet, unassuming display of power he didn’t even seem aware of.

The sunlight kissed his skin as though it had been made for him alone, drenching him in gold, illuminating every ridge and valley of his face, deepening the ruggedness carved into his features by time, by loss, by the weight of things unspoken.

Shadows stretched across his skin, soft and reverent, tracing the faint scars along his forearms like scripture, like devotion, like something sacred.

The weathered roughness of him—the calloused hands, the lines around his mouth that spoke of too many battles fought, too many nights spent awake—only added to the unbearable beauty of his presence. His hair was tousled, unkempt in a way that was careless but perfect, the strands falling over his forehead like they had a mind of their own.

And then he looked up.

It wasn’t just a glance. It never was with him.

His eyes—God, his eyes.

A deep, sin-darkened brown, rich and endless, like the earth after rainfall, like soil warm beneath the sun, like something meant to swallow you whole and never let you go.

They held depth, a heaviness, a sorrow that ran deeper than flesh, deeper than blood, something ancient, something eternal.

They were the kind of eyes that had seen too much, carried too much, and yet they softened when they found you, dark lashes casting shadows against his cheeks, gaze sinking into you like a whispered prayer.

For a moment—just a breath, just a heartbeat—the barn, the sunlit dust floating in the air, the aching hollow in your chest—it all ceased to exist. There was only him.

“Hey,” he murmured, soft and coaxing, a word wrapped in something gentle, something unfamiliar—so distinctly opposite to the man he was, it almost felt like a trick of the light.

Your breath hitched, stomach twisting, and you swallowed hard, tearing your gaze away with a force that nearly unsteadied you, as though breaking eye contact might somehow lessen the hold he had on you. As though not looking at him might make it hurt less.

“Hi,” you muttered, barely more than breath, barely more than sound, your voice catching against the tightness in your throat. You forced yourself to focus on Winnie, on the warmth of her nose beneath your trembling fingers, on the steady rise and fall of her breath.

“How are you?” His voice was soft, careful, like he was stepping onto thin ice, aware that any wrong move could send everything crashing into the freezing depths.

“I’m fine.” The words slipped out too quickly, too sharp, the lie embedded in every syllable. You hated the way your voice trembled at the edges, betraying the knot of tension in your throat. In your peripheral vision, you saw him shift, his jaw tightening, the slight clench of muscle betraying the sting of your tone.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t push, just nodded once—a short, measured motion, his expression unreadable as though bracing himself for the silence that followed.

Then—after what could’ve been moments, or minutes, or an eternity—his voice came again, cutting through the stillness like a blade softened at the edges, quieter this time, barely above a whisper, so gentle you might have missed it if not for the way it curled around you, wrapped tight and unshakable.

"Hey."

It was softer than before, rougher somehow, like it wasn’t meant to be spoken aloud, like it had been pulled straight from something raw and aching inside him.

You shouldn’t have turned. Shouldn’t have looked. But you did. Your heart stammered, stumbled, its rhythm uneven, a weak, faltering thing, as you turned your head just enough to catch sight of him.

"C’mere."

Two syllables. Quiet. Coaxing. His voice held that same impossible ache, that quiet longing, like he was pulling at a thread neither of you had the strength to break.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t move.

His fingers curled slightly at his sides, a subtle motion, barely a movement at all, but somehow it still carried weight, as if the gesture alone had the power to pull you closer, as if some invisible tether had wrapped around you both, dragging you toward something inevitable. His eyes were locked onto yours, deep and dark and unreadable, except—no. No, they weren’t unreadable at all. They were speaking, murmuring, pleading.

"You’re too far away."

The look he gave you—it was unbearable. The weight of it, the sheer intensity of it, the way it stripped you down with nothing but silence.

Your fingers curled against the edge of Winnie’s stall, gripping the rough wood like a lifeline. "I’m fine here," you murmured, the words quiet, forced, barely scraping past the tightness in your chest.

His brow furrowed. A flicker of something crossed his face, there and then gone again, replaced by something unreadable. But then his voice came again—low, rough, frayed at the edges, like a thread pulling taut, like something on the verge of snapping.

"I ain’t gonna bite."

There was something wry in it, something that might’ve made you smile if your ribs didn’t feel like they were caving in. Almost. But even his quiet attempt at humor couldn’t mask the weight in his voice, the guilt clinging to him like a second skin.

And still—you didn’t move.

He exhaled then, the sound quiet but heavy.

Then—soft. Barely more than breath.

"Please."

Before you could stop yourself, before logic or pride could anchor you to the ground, you moved. It was terrifying, how easy it was to move toward him after everything, how little resistance your body put up against the very thing you had sworn to fight.

You didn’t dare look at him, didn’t dare lift your gaze and risk seeing what might be waiting there, because you knew—you knew it would ruin you, that it would be too much, that whatever flickered in his eyes would only make the ache in your chest worse.

You reached the bench before you had the chance to second-guess yourself. You sat stiffly, carefully, deliberately leaving space between you, hands gripping your knees as though keeping them still might somehow keep your heart from threatening to break free from your ribs.

Joel's gun sat forgotten at his feet, abandoned without a second thought, but you could feel his attention locked onto you, unwavering, unrelenting.

You didn’t have to look to know that he had turned toward you, that his body had angled ever so slightly in your direction, that his shoulders had shifted like he was preparing himself for something, bracing himself against a force greater than either of you knew how to name.

Joel noticed the gap you had left. Of course, he noticed. He always noticed.

You saw it in the way his gaze dropped to the empty space between you, in the way his lips pressed into a faint line, in the way something in his expression tightened, just for a second, just long enough for you to catch it before he forced it away.

He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. You felt it. The quiet, unspoken wish, the way he longed for you to close the distance, the way he wanted—needed—you to reach for him first.

You saw it in the way his fingers curled loosely over his knee, in the way his shoulders tensed as if holding himself back, as if waiting.

He wanted you to lean into him, to let the warmth of your leg brush against his, to rest your head on his shoulder the way you used to, to fold into him like it was something instinctive, something natural, something you had both forgotten how to live without.

He wanted it more than he would ever let himself admit. But he didn’t ask. He wouldn’t. Because he couldn’t. Because he was the one who had walked away. Because he was the one who had put the distance there in the first place.

You swallowed hard, the tension coiling tighter with every second of silence. Words caught in your throat, heavy and clumsy, and you were scrambling for something—anything—to break it.

“Thanks—” you started, the word barely out before his voice cut through yours.

“Can we talk—”

The two of you froze, words colliding mid-air, tangled and awkward, stumbling over each other in the thick silence that stretched between you.

It was ridiculous, really—how hesitant, how unsure you both suddenly were, as if the past week of distance had left you fumbling, out of sync, two halves of something that used to fit but now felt just a little off-kilter.

Your eyes darted to his, startled, unsure, and found him already looking at you, his brows drawing together ever so slightly, the barest flicker of something indecipherable passing over his face—something caught between an apology and quiet amusement.

Neither of you spoke, neither of you moved, and the moment stretched long, thick with something almost unbearable, something teetering on the edge of too much, until the sheer absurdity of it—the hesitation, the silence, the way you were both acting like strangers—finally broke you.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest before you could stop it, breathless and unsteady, soft around the edges, but real, and the second it escaped, something in him shifted.

His expression changed, subtle but devastating, the lines of his face loosening just slightly, as if the sound of your laughter had reached into some hidden part of him and shaken something loose.

He blinked, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, like he had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

His lips parted slightly, caught between surprise and something softer, and for a moment, it looked as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. And then—

He smiled.

Not just a polite smile, not the distant, barely-there twitch of his lips he gave when he wanted to keep people at arm’s length.

No, this was different.

It was crooked and boyish, unguarded in a way that was almost maddening, something warm and reckless and so infuriatingly, devastatingly Joel that it felt like a punch to the chest.

It made him look younger, somehow—not in age, not in years, but in a way that made your throat tighten, in a way that made you ache.

And God, it was so Joel.

That impossible contradiction of him—the man who had lived through more than most could ever comprehend, who carried the weight of too many ghosts, but who could still look at you like that, like he had been caught off guard by something good, something soft, something he hadn’t quite believed he’d get to have again.

It was boyish and rugged, maddeningly beautiful, something both careless and careful all at once. Like an angel who had long since fallen, like a devil who had learned the art of tenderness, like something carved from both sin and devotion.

"Sorry." The word barely scraped past your lips, quiet, uncertain, almost fragile. Heat flooded your face before you could control it, rushing up from your chest, blooming hot beneath your skin, betraying you. And Joel—of course he noticed.

You saw the way his eyes flickered, how they lingered just a second too long, how something in his expression shifted, subtle but devastating, like he wasn’t just looking at you—he was feeling you, imagining the warmth of your skin against his, the press of your body, the way heat lived in your veins the same way it did in his.

Blood with blood. Flesh and bone. It was a fleeting thought, something primal, something dangerous, but it rooted itself deep inside him, settled into the quiet places he tried not to think about.

You dropped your gaze before you could drown in the weight of it, fixing your eyes on the dirt floor beneath your boots as though it held something worth looking at, as though the uneven, scuffed earth could offer you an escape, a place to rest your attention instead of meeting the impossible intensity of his stare.

And then he chuckled, low and quiet, a sound so warm and unguarded that it forced you to look at him, as if your body had decided before your mind had caught up.

He shifted slightly, his shoulders rolling beneath the weight of your gaze, his body adjusting like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself, like you were the thing making him nervous.

And then you saw it.

The faint blush creeping along the edges of his ears.

Joel Miller—this strong, unshakable, impossible man—was blushing.

"Don’t apologize." The words were soft, meant only for you. "You go first."

You hesitated, your fingers clenching slightly against your lap, unsure, unsteady.

And then, softer this time, lower, steadier, his voice curling through the thick air and settling over you like something warm, something solid—

"Go on."

“I, um…” The words caught in your throat, fragile and uneven.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you murmured finally, barely above a whisper, as if speaking them aloud might steal the last of your courage. “For taking me home the other night.”

He froze. The subtle rhythm of his movements—the faint sway of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched against his knee—stilled completely.

“What?” The single word came low and careful, but you heard it—the faint tremor just beneath the surface.

His head tilted slightly, and his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, your skin flush. Those dark eyes searched you, narrowing slightly, as if the answer to his confusion might be written somewhere on your face.

Thank me? The question didn’t leave his lips, but it hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable, his silence thick with thoughts he couldn’t bring himself to voice.

For what? For leaving you when you needed him most? For all the ways he’d failed you, all the promises he’d never kept? The questions burned in his eyes, sharp and unrelenting, but he swallowed them back.

You pressed on, your voice trembling, your fingers curling into the rough wood of the bench to ground yourself. “I don’t…” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sound steady even as your chest felt like it might cave in.

“I don’t remember much from that night,” you lied, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, each syllable heavier than the last. “Maria told me you… you took me home?”

Joel looked at you like he was trying to make sense of something, trying to find an anchor in a sea of things unsaid.

“Yeah,” he murmured finally, his voice rough, barely audible. “I did.” His eyes searched yours, dark and intent, like they were trying to pull the truth from you, to find something you weren’t ready to give.

“You don’t remember,” he said, so softly it barely reached your ears.

You don’t remember saying—

"I more than care about you. I love—"

He could still hear it. Still feel it like a ghost against his skin, something whispered, something fragile, something that had hit him so hard it had knocked the breath from his lungs.

And maybe if he were a different man, if he were better, he would’ve stayed. He would’ve let himself believe that you meant it, that it wasn’t just the alcohol speaking, that maybe—maybe—it was something real, something he could hold on to.

But instead—he had walked away.

And now, sitting here, listening to you say you didn’t remember, he wasn’t sure if it was a relief or a knife to the gut.

Because if you did remember, and you were pretending you didn’t, it meant you regretted it.

And if you really didn’t remember—

Then maybe you hadn’t meant it at all.

“You don’t gotta thank me,” he murmured finally, his voice rough, dragged out like it hurt to speak.

A pause. A breath. And then—

“You really don’t remember anything?” The words were quieter this time, almost hesitant, edged with something he couldn’t hide quickly enough.

“No,” you said softly, shaking your head.

The lie burned its way up your throat, scorching and bitter, but you forced it down, swallowing hard as you buried it deep.

“The last thing I remember is being sprawled out on Tommy’s living room floor.” You let out a brittle laugh, sharp and hollow, the sound grating against the stillness like shattered glass. “I must’ve made a fool of myself.”

He looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line as though holding back words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“I shouldn’t’ve let you drink that much,” he muttered finally, his voice quieter now, almost rough with regret. “That was on me.”

“You didn’t let me,” you said quietly, your voice wavering as you forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I made my own choices. I always do.”.

“Right,” he said finally, the word flat, drained of life, like it had been dragged out of him against his will.

God, his eyes. They were dark and intense, warmth swallowed by the storm of frustration and something far more devastating. Something that looked a lot like hurt. Those eyes—deep, unwavering, devastating—held only you, burned into yours with an intensity that felt like it might unravel you, echoing the silent, aching question that sat heavy between you - Why are you lying to me?

“Anyways,” you blurted, the word tumbling out too quickly, too sharp, cracking under the weight of his stare. You risked a glance at him, hoping for a reprieve, but his gaze had already shifted, fixed on some distant point like he could will himself anywhere but here.

“You were gonna say something before?” you asked, the question tentative, your breath catching as you waited for him to answer.

Joel blinked, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second before he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Oh. Yeah,” he muttered.

“Tommy and I are headin’ out on a two-day patrol. Overnight,” he said finally, his words slow and deliberate. He hesitated, his voice faltering before finishing softly, “So… I won’t be here.”

The realization struck you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for, the ache blooming in your chest so sharply and suddenly it felt like the air had been stolen from your lungs.

Two days.

It wasn’t a long time—not really, not when measured against the steady pulse of Jackson’s days or the quiet, unspoken permanence of the life you’d built here—but the thought of him out there, beyond the gates, scraped against something raw, something tender, something that ached before it even had the chance to bruise.

“Right,” you said, your voice quiet, brittle, as you fought to keep it steady. You forced a shrug, hoping it looked nonchalant, but it felt like it might shatter you. “Well… be careful, I guess.”

He watched you closely, his gaze fixed on the way your hands remained tightly clasped in your lap, fidgeting with nothing, refusing to find any anchor beyond yourself. You wouldn’t look at him—not really—and the absence of your gaze, the way you kept your eyes so firmly averted, felt like a hollow ache in his chest that he couldn’t ignore.

“Always am,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady, though a softness lingered just beneath, barely there but impossible to ignore.

His mind, unbidden and bitter, dragged him back to just a week ago, to a version of you who might’ve thrown your arms around his neck without a second thought, laughing as you made some teasing comment about him pulling his back out or grumbling about having to carry Tommy’s weight.

He could almost hear your voice, light and familiar, cutting through the heavy moments like it was nothing, like it had always been your natural gift to lift the impossible weight of the world off his shoulders without even trying.

You would’ve made him laugh, he was sure of it—really laugh, the kind of laugh that didn’t feel like it had to fight its way past the hardness of the life he carried.

A thought, wicked and insidious, placed there by the devil himself—selfish, desperate, utterly inappropriate for the fragile tension strung between you—urged him to kiss you, to press his lips to yours and steal away the hurt, to show you, not with words but with touch, just how much he needed you.

But all he could do was sit there, helpless and aching, watching as you pulled further away, retreating into yourself like a tide slipping from the shore, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake.

And before he could stop himself, before the rational part of his mind could scream loud enough to pull him back from the reckless, selfish thing he was about to do, his hand moved.

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t even something he thought about—it just happened, slow and deliberate, like instinct had taken over, like it was something he was meant to do all along.

His fingers found your cheek, rough and calloused against the softness of your skin, the contrast so sharp it made his chest tighten, made something deep and aching bloom in the space between you.

His thumb moved, treacherous and traitorous, dragging slowly along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward him with a reverence that felt almost sacred.

It was a betrayal of everything he’d been trying so hard to hold back, an admission he hadn’t meant to make, but he couldn’t stop himself now. His breathing hitched when your lips parted, soft and uncertain, the warmth of your stuttered breath brushing against his fingertips like a quiet plea, like something unspoken passing between you.

And still, his thumb moved again, dragging over your bottom lip this time, so slow, so careful, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him, as if this tiny act of closeness could somehow soothe the ache that had settled so deeply in his chest. It was reverent, desperate, dangerous—a quiet, trembling act of defiance against the walls he’d spent so long building.

His heart hammered against his ribs as his thumb lingered there, just a moment longer than it should have, and when your throat bobbed, when your breath stuttered again, he felt his control slipping further, felt himself drowning in everything he wasn’t supposed to want.

"Be good," he murmured finally, his voice low and rough, breaking under the weight of everything he couldn’t bring himself to say.

"Take care of yourself while I’m gone," he added, quieter this time, almost too soft to hear, and the words felt like they cost him something, like each one dragged a piece of him out with it. And then, as if the act of speaking hadn’t already been enough to break him, he swallowed hard and breathed, "You need anything, you go to Maria, okay?"

You didn’t answer—not right away, not in the way he had hoped, in the way that might’ve made this easier. Instead, you just breathed, sharp and uneven, the weight of it pressing into the space between you, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, slowly, like it physically pained you to do it, you shifted back, putting distance where there had been none. His touch slipped from your skin, his thumb no longer caught in the trance of you, no longer resting against the softness of your lips.

And because the silence threatened to swallow him whole, because he couldn’t bear the ache of it anymore, he did the only thing he could—he stood abruptly, the old wooden bench groaning loudly under the force of his movement.

It was sharp, unsteady, almost frantic, like he was trying to outrun whatever had settled between you. He reached for his rifle, grabbing it with more force than was necessary, slinging it over his shoulder in one quick motion, his jaw so tight it sent a sharp ache through his teeth.

"Well," he muttered finally, his voice low and rough, barely carrying the weight of the words. "I better get goin’."

You nodded once, a quick, small movement, like it was all you could manage.

Joel stood there for a second too long, hesitating, his fingers twitching slightly at his side like they wanted to reach for you one last time, like they couldn’t help themselves.

But then he forced himself to move, his steps slow and deliberate, each one feeling heavier than the last as he turned and walked toward the door.

The stable door groaned under Joel’s weight as he pushed it open, the late afternoon sun spilling in behind him in a flood of warm, golden light. The glow caught on the edges of his frame, outlining the broad cut of his shoulders, the curve of his neck, the tousled strands of his hair that curled just slightly in the heat. It painted him in shades of amber and firelight, casting uneven shadows across the dirt floor that stretched like reaching hands, as though the room itself couldn’t bear to let him go.

He paused there, one hand resting against the weathered wood, his fingers curling slightly into the grooves of it, as if something unseen was holding him back, as if leaving was harder than he’d expected it to be.

For a moment, you thought that was it. That he’d go. That he’d step into the light without another word, without sparing you a second glance, and leave you here, drowning in the ghost of his touch, in the heavy, suffocating ache of all the things you’d left unsaid.

And then, slowly, deliberately, he turned.

"Hey."

His voice was soft, a low, steady warmth that slipped through the silence like a balm, untying the knots that had coiled themselves so tightly in your chest.

You blinked, swallowing hard, dragging yourself out of the spiral that threatened to pull you under. “Yeah?”

"We’re okay, aren’t we?"

"Yeah. We’re good."

It was a lie. A terrible one. And the worst part was that you both knew it.

Joel’s jaw twitched—just the slightest flicker of movement, but it was enough. Enough for you to know he felt it, the weight of your dishonesty settling between you like a lead weight. He didn’t believe you. Of course, he didn’t. And you knew he didn’t. You saw it in the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides, in the way his chest rose with a slow, measured breath like he was holding something back, in the way his eyes stayed locked onto yours—steady, dark, searching.

And still, he didn’t call you on it. Didn’t say a word. He just stood there, staring at you, seeing you in that way only he ever did, like he could read every thought before you could even voice it, like he could reach inside you and pull out the truth no matter how hard you tried to bury it.

"Alright."

He turned then, his boots scuffing against the dirt as he stepped toward the open doorway.

And then—just like that—he was gone.

So quick. Too quick. Like a shadow disappearing the moment you tried to grasp it, slipping through your fingers before you could hold onto anything solid.

A shiver crawled up your spine as you stared at the empty space where he had been, something cold and unreal settling deep in your chest. It was dizzying, disorienting—had he even been here at all? Had you imagined the weight of his touch, the way his voice had softened, the quiet devastation in his eyes? Or had you conjured it out of thin air, a cruel trick of your own longing, your own inability to let go of something that had never truly been yours?

You weren’t a religious woman. Never had been. But there, in the quiet of that stable, with the last remnants of Joel’s presence still lingering in the air, you fell to your knees. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, before logic or pride could stop you, before you could convince yourself that it wouldn’t make a difference.

Your elbows braced against the edge of the bench where the two of you had sat only moments ago, your hands clasped together so tightly that your knuckles ached, and you begged.

Not to anyone in particular, not to anything you truly believed in, but to something—something holy, something divine, something greater than yourself.

You begged for the hole in your heart to heal, for the ache in your chest to ease, for the unbearable weight of loving him to lift from your shoulders.

You begged for the strength to let go, for the kind of peace that had always eluded you, for the impossible relief of forgetting what it felt like to need him. And, most of all, you prayed.

You prayed that he would come back safe.

And you prayed that one day, somehow, you would be able to stop loving him.

:) or :( guys comment down below

tag list:

@bbyanarchist @kanyewestest @locked-ness @bambisweethearts @pedritospunk @ickearmn @joeldjarin @disco-barbiexx @sherrye22 @vxrona @ashhlsstuff @dendulinka6 @ashhlsstuff @r4vens-cl4ws @divineangel222 @jasminedragoon @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @handsintheeaire @jaxmom66 @ashleyfilm @kateg88 @tigerlillyyy

@jethrojessie @eddiemunsonsbedroom @flowerydindjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @oscarpiasstri81 @tldix @grumpygrumperton

@dendulinka6 @agnus04 @tigerlillyyy @vampiredoggies-blog @julwar67 @kateg88 @martuxduckling @guessitwillallworkout @anoverwhelmingdin @thottiewinemom @keepspassinmeby @disco-barbiexx @emisprocrastinating @cuteanimalmama @moulinrougcs @lottieellz101 @laliceee @grumpygrumperton @meet-me-backstage @spacegirl-3 @nixpat-blog @martuxduckling

@materialgirl-97 @valkyreally @suzysface @ro-nahime-things @spacelatinos4life @churchofjoemiller @peepawispunk @materialgirl-97

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voxslays · 2 days ago

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Hello! I absolutely love ur fics and headcannons and I have a request! It’s optional obvi I’m not forcing. Can you make an Alastor smut/nsfw alphabet?

ALASTOR NSFW ALPHABET

Warnings: Power play, breeding kink (during ruts), mention of ruts & mating season, smut, AFAB!Reader. A/N: Probably no more Hazbin fics for a while—maybe not even until season two releases. I just don’t really care about the show anymore—my hyperfixation has ended (and moved to another fandom…but we don’t talk about that!). I just feel no motivation to write for Hazbin anymore. There hasn’t been any content from Vivzie in months either. I’m sorry.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

✮ Somewhat good? He will run you a bath and clean you off, but that’s about it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

✮ I don’t think Alastor would have a favorite body part on himself. For you though? Your pretty little neck. He just loves biting and sucking on it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

✮ Don’t let his fast pace fool you—you’re probably Alastor’s first partner ever. He may not have a lot of experience, but he’s damn good at what he does know how to do.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

✮ Doggy style. He likes the power dynamics.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

✮ Might crack a deer themed dad joke, but besides that, no.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

✮ I think Alastor would have a tough time expressing his emotions to a partner, and during sex it’s no different. He shows you through his actions, not his words.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

✮ Absolutely not. Unless it’s during one of his ruts. If you can’t help him, you’d best believe he’s jerking off in the swamp pocket dimension in his room.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

✮ Power play. Breeding kink (only during his ruts though—otherwise, the thought of reproducing and creating little brats repulses him).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

✮ The bedroom.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

✮ Prefers to give. He loves tasting your sweet sweet juices.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

✮ Very fast and rough. You and Alastor don’t have intercourse (as he likes to call it) very often, but when you do—you can’t walk for a few days.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

✮ Heavily dislikes them. If you’re going to do it, why not do the full thing?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

✮ 3-4 rounds. If he’s on his rut though…? However many rounds you can fit into 72 hours (because that’s how long deers mate for some reason??? Like what?? 😭)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

✮ Prefers not to use them on you or himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

✮ Will tease you with his fingers and tongue only a little bit. Doesn’t want you to suffer too much while waiting for his cock, unless you’ve been a brat and need to be retaught how to behave.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

✮ Very very low. For nine months of the year, you two fuck once in a blue moon. However, during the fall? Basically every day. Alastor needs you to help with his rut, afterall!

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

✮ Sleep…what’s that?

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor

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heavyhitterheaux · 2 days ago

Text

NOLA Stuntin'

See Me Through You Insta AU

Liked by joeyb_9, thewomancave, taylorrooks, erinthegymnast, lahjay10_ and 921,360 others

wifeyshiesty: It's clear that the Burrow babies want to be the star of the show tonight, but we're on our way to support daddy 😘💕 #NFLHonorsBound

lahjay10_: damn I swear you just told me yesterday you were pregnant. How much longer to go?

wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_ there's enough time for me to bust you upside your head for eating my food yesterday when we were at the parents house

lahjay10_: you LITERALLY said that you didn't want it! why are you so violent when your short ass barely comes up to my knee?

joeybenthusiast: WIFEY SHIESTY IN THE BUILDINGGGGG!

erinthegymnast: never steal a pregnant woman's food whether she says she wants it or not, I guarantee you that she does lol

joeyb_9: aww daddy loves all three of you and you look amazing princess 😘

joeyb_9: lahjay10_ take it back because next thing you know she's about to start yelling

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 you get on my nerves lol but nah don't try to save him. he deserves this ass whooping that he's about to get

lahjay10_: wifeyshiesty gotta catch me first Pebbles 😊

joeyb_9: wifeyshiesty well everyone in that pic is going to call me daddy at some point in time

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 JOSEPH! BEHAVE!

taylorrooks: you look beautiful! and why didn't we get a pic together?! I mean we are the hosts of the most streamed NFL podcast to date 😉

thewomancave: GORGEOUS!!!

wifeyshiesty: taylorrooks who knows?! But lunch on me tomorrow! And we can also plot my baby brother's demise for eating MY food that my dad made specifically for me

Liked by joeyb_9, cincinattibengals, thewomancave, lahjay10_, teehiggins, and 1,295,306 others

wifeyshiesty: my man, my man, my man 😍

lahjay10_: he was mine first

wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_ don't sit near me tonight because I will choke the shit out of you

lahjay10_: wifeyshiesty I'm telling mommy you threatened me

teehiggins: yall can't get along for anything lol

wifeyshiesty: he started it

thewomancave: wifey shiesty is always right about everything, we stand by it

joeyb_9: I didn't even notice you took these lol is this why you took so long to get ready?

erinthegymnast: uh oh shots fired

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 um excuse me, YOUR HEAVY ASS CHILDREN is why it took me so long to get ready

joeyb_9: wifeyshiesty you changed your outfit four times.....

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 watch it, I will make you sleep on the balcony tonight. you about to be on my list like Ja'Marr

lahjay10_: come on Joe, we can take her

joeyb_9: lahjay10_ and wake up dead? nah, that's all you bro. happy wife, happy life

Liked by wifeyshiesty, cincinnatibengals, erinthegymnast, lahjay10_, nfl, nflhonors, and 3,493,082 others

joeyb_9: Not exactly the award that you want, but I'm happy and proud of myself for persevering through a season ending injury to come back stronger than ever. Here's to me continuing to get better and moving forward.

wifeyshiesty: you did the damn thing and I am proud of you NO MATTER WHAT. time and time again, you have proven as to why you are one of the best players in the league and I will always stand by it. always going to be in your corner cheering you on. I love you long time

joeyb_9: wifeyshiesty I love you more and thank you for taking the time to learn how to play piano with me, that way I can serenade you any time I want 😉

erinthegymnast: yall make me sick, but are so ridiculously adorable. so proud of you, Joey!

lahjay10_: my boy did his big one!

teehiggins: well deserved!

jjettas2: making history one season at a time!

thewomancave: congratulations to our favorite number one listener!

Liked by lahjay10_, jjettas2, joeyb_9, lsufootball, cincinattibengals, thewomancave, and 1,475,362 others

wifeyshiesty: my favorite LSU boys! (yes,I coordinated both of their outfits, look at these divas!)

jjettas2: uh? am I not here too?! so, you just leave me out?

wifeyshiesty: Justin, please don't start with me. my feet hurt and I'm hungry and your ass was NOWHERE to be found. yes you are included in my favorite LSU boys category

lahjay10_: oh, so I'm forgiven?

wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_: no.

joeyb_9: but I'm number one right?

lahjay10_: uh no. my nickname is LITERALLY uno

thewomancave: uh oh, the girlies are FIGHTING

wifeyshiesty: imma delete this whole post if yall don't get it together smh

erinthegymnast: they asses have been on one since 2018, do you remember when we were out all night and it was 5 am and Justin was like what's the next move? and you yelled 'Justin, I can't even fucking see anymore bro. take me home.' lmaooooo

wifeyshiesty: erinthegymnast lmaooo I forgot all about that. I think I had like an exam that monday and all three of them were acting like it was no big deal and I was serious! my contacts were blurry!

jjettas2: I see you still graduated, so it wasn't a big deal obviously!

joeybupdates: literally just waiting for Joe and Y/N to adopt me

joeyb_9: joeybupdates slow your roll, I already got 2 on the way, inquire in about six months

wifeyshiesty: I.... you know what...never mind.

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow lsu #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow instagram au #instagram au #nfl imagine #joe burrow fanfic

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fleuriion · 1 day ago

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✦ Season of Love

ノ When the flowers started blooming back as the scent of spring slithers back into our body, whereas the season of love has just begun.

♡ What I think the current Chrysos Heirs' love languages are ⸝⸝ gn reader ⸝⸝ wc: 957

✦ Note ; beware of spelling mistakes and grammar error due to english not being my first language T_T ⸝⸝ while this writing was meant to be romantic, you can take it however you like! (platonic or romantic.) ⸝⸝ I won't write for Tribbios in this one! ⸝⸝ I apologize if they're ooc because this is my first time writing them

♡ Phainon, The Hero ノ Words of Affirmation ⸝⸝ Acts of Service (Physical Touch might work for him too,,)

For whatever reason it is, I see Phainon as the kind of guy to shower you with compliments that you totally deserve while carrying all the stuff you were struggling to carry with ease. Would always get down on one knee and kiss your knuckles like they're a treasure for him (Like you yourself isn't a treasure he holds dear already), if not that then bridal carries you.

Phainon is protective of you; you could trip and get a scar that is barely a scratch on your being and he would get into a teary-eyed dramatic frenzy panic. You can many times assure him that you are very much okay and he will still worry dead for you.

"Are you okay?! Do you need me to carry you up?! Should we go see a doctor?!?-" "Phainon, it's just a scratch."

Overall a massive head over heels sweetheart that is afraid of losing his loved one and would give his life away to protect you <3

♡ Aglaea, The Weaver ノ Gifts Giving ⸝⸝ Quality Time Okay I know this might not sound like it makes sense, but imagine juuust imagine Aglaea making clothes and/or accessories that reminds her of you and then gifting them to you. She will come across a fabric and then once it reminds her of you, even for the tiniest things ever, she will start sewing and sewing and then boom, an entire set for you just the next day standing at the corner of your room.

Aside from bathing together, Aglaea loves hearing your voice. As a demigod with a duty to protect Okhema, she will obviously be busy and that's no doubt, but she will somehow always leave a room in her busy schedule for you. For you, she will even endure the stupidest of the stupidest questions ever.

"Aglaea, what if the golden blood in the Chrysos Heir's bath is actually piss?" "Yes, My Dear."

You might be an idiot, but you're her idiot <3

♡ Mydeimos, The Undying ノ Acts of Service ⸝⸝ Gifts Giving It's no doubt that the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos prefers to let his actions speak for him because words have failed him multiple times already. While he may not verbally express his love for you much, Mydei would slay a god for you and hand you their heart as a gift. I'm just kidding, he's not just a hot headed brute. But, still, he will give you gifts that reminds him of you, or just things you like generally. Oh you were walking together and he heard you gushing over something of your interest? You will find that same said thing the next day you wake up placed on your nightstand.

Mydei will remember things about you, even ones that are tiny and useless. He will remember the precise number of the plushies in your room and your breakfast routine if you tell him. Would tag you along to have a bite at the restaurant that serves his favourite pancake, and would let you know that he actually likes the pink in his pomegranate juice. While Mydei becomes more gentle with you around, he also gets extra protective of you, by nature. Nobody really mess with you unless they have a death wish because of this.

"What? No no! Mydei is actually super nice! You just need to get to know him to see that side." *radiates passively agressive aura*

By the end, Mydei softens around you like a lion turning into a house-cat. His sarcastic remarks stays though! <3 /hj

♡ Castorice, Servant of Death ノ Quality Time ⸝⸝ Words of Affirmation Due to her curse, Castorice has been deprived of physical contacts for so long throughout her life. She is well aware of this, and because of it too, makes sure you physically keep your distance away from her at least a little. Not because she has any grudges against you obviously! The Servant, in fact, loves you very very much and deeply wishes she could hold you and vice versa. When it comes to this, Castorice makes a plushie resembling you for her to hold at hard times.

While she's incapable of touching you in fear of sending you to the not-so-sweet embrace of death, Castorice loves spending time with you. You two could sit under the white gazebo nestled at the garden of Marmoreal Palace, and she would tell you all sorts of story revolving around the history of the Titans and more. If not that, then she will make accessories together with you. Aside from that, Castorice showers you with sweet words that she wishes you know of too.

"[Name], I sincerely hope you are aware of just how blessed I am to be in your presence.." "I love you too, Castorice."

Castorice might be cursed with the touch of death, but just by your existence had the burden on her shoulders be lifted off slightly and The Servant is very grateful of it <3

#hsr x reader #x reader #phainon x reader #mydei x reader #aglaea x reader #castorice x reader #amphoreus #honkai star rail #writing #fleuriion #hsr

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fabuloustrash05 · 8 hours ago

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I will always stand by the fact that Raphael had the best character development in the 2012 series while Leo was kind of an opposite.

Raph learns to open up more about his emotions and feelings instead, I’m just resorting to violence. By the final season, he’s more affectionate with his brothers, openly cares about others without fear of being mocked or looking like he’s weak, gets a girlfriend and has a responsibility as a parental figure to Chompy. His relationship with Mona especially would’ve been very different if he met her in season 1. When everyone finds out Raph has a crush on her and immediately start teasing him, Raph doesn’t get angry or denies his feelings for her. He openly admits it and he’s never once afraid to show how he feels about her in front of other people. If season 1, Raph had a crush, he would’ve quickly denied it and probably punched someone (Mikey) if they even suggested it. Raph learns to be more open and it leads to him having a more happy life, which is why his happy ending in the series is him having the two most important people in his life with (Mona and Chompy).

Leo’s development is more of a reverse. Truly showing that the responsibility of being leader and later sensei of his clan has taken away his ambition and excitement he had in the first season. In season one he’s more open to the idea of bad people turning good but by seasons 4-5 Leo is very distrusting of people. He’s always serious and rarely has moments to be silly and goofy and act his age. April says it perfectly in season 5; “the weight of the world is always on his shoulders”. I pointed this out in another post of mine, but notice how Leo was the only one who doesn’t really have a best friend, just close associates or friends who are closer friends with his siblings. Leo’s role as a leader, and even a parental figure to his brothers, has taken away his excitement that he had in season 1. He went through all of this drama, pain, stress, and mental struggles, and for what? Also, he could be like his idol Captain Ryan.

An ironic thing about of the 2012 TMNT series is that as the show goes on, Raph opens up more while Leo shuts down more.

A bit like this:

Leo liked to annoy him much more in the earlier seasons. Then things got a bit too intense especially post season 2.

But Raph? Raph started out stubborn and guarded, but grew to be more soft and just overall more affectionate with his brothers.

#analysis #tmnt analysis #tmnt 2012 #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo

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starpoweredv1b · 19 hours ago

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have you ever thought of muscular MC

Like... Something about claymore wielding airheaded MC does things to me.

I'm sure it'd scratch something in the LL's brains too. Maybe Zayne's mommy issue having ass would dream of just being choked to literal death by the boobies. Sylus would probably love to wrestle and end up in physics breaking positions and end up gasping for air between MC's gargantuan muscular thighs.

Anywaysss, not as 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, but my brain juice is dry and my thighs happens to be thick with nothing to lay upon it

hi anon!! YOU'RE SO REAL ACTUALLY i have never thought about this but i feel like the boys would be so horny for a muscle mommy putting them in their place (believe it or not even xavier despite his dom-ish tendencies) this also made me think about mc pegging them while holding them in a headlock whewwwwww. thank you for planting this seed in my head actually. also i volunteer as tribute to lay upon thine thighs or however the saying goes ♡

the first time sylus is eating you out and you instinctively clench your thighs, he swears he felt all his sins be absolved and his soul instantly granted heaven. enveloped in you, tasting you, smelling you, he had never been so hard to the point of hurting in his goddamn life. he would have the most glazed dilated eyes as he goes pussy drunk, rutting the air pathetically the more you grinded on that crazy angled nose slope of his.

zayne would quite literally be the type to attempt to breastfeed from your tits i fear. and at work whenever someone mentions some biological terms for muscles, he might have to go rub one out in the toilet because he keeps thinking of the way your muscles ripple and tighten aroumd him when he's buried deep inside, waist crushed into nothing (because his waist was never there to begin with. body is tea as fuck). if you ever suggested pegging, he may or may not be extra sensitive and start cumming all over the sheets when you do.

xavier would be reluctant to openly agree for you to peg him but halfway through as his head is held in the crook of your bicep and elbows, thrusting into him with his ass smacking against the firm of your thighs. he would cum way too fast and way more than usual too. we're talking like big spurts. aftercare may or may not involve you having to let him fuck you like a rabbit during mating season because he has so much left to give and a huge favour to repay for making him go feral the way you did.

rafayel would be sending memes of being pegged and dommed by you as hints that are definitely anything but subtle. he'd be a literal housewife if you only asked. he would literally be so inspired and reverent of your physique he might make a statue of you based on an intimate polaroid of the view he has when you're giving his a firm thigh job. the way his dick slid against the ridges of your muscles, the way you were strong enough to hold him down when you're riding him, it makes him salivate everytime.

caleb is the type to loveeeee play fighting turned sex because let's be honest, that man is a freak of nature. he'd say he's way stronger than you, wrestling with lesser fear because he knows you can take it. so regardless of the end result, either him holding your thighs down and open as he carves your pussy out with his dick, fingers gripping the muscles and getting impossibly harder in your warm pussy, or you holding his head crushed against the valley of your tits as you bounce on his cock. to him, a win is a win.

#☆.thirsts #☆.anons #sylus love and deepspace #lads sylus #sylus x reader #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #xavier love and deepspace #lads xavier #xavier x reader #lads caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #love and deepspace smut

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nocturn-warrior · 2 days ago

Text

Ne t'enfuis pas

Adrian Ţepeş x reader

Summary: You are his first love reincarnated and after 300 years, you finally meet again.

Rating: fluff, hurt, comfort

Warnings: mentions of death, grief, Nocturn season 2 spoilers!!!

Nmed after Kate Bush's Ne T'enfuis Pas. This is heavily inspired in Bram Stoker's Dracula by Coppola and mayyybe Nosferatu by Eggers <3 It's been so long since i've written, i am honestly rusty. Sorry for taking so long with this one.

The water in the pond behind the chateau reflects the light of the crescent pale moonlight above your head. It is the first time in weeks since you could go outside after the sunset without worrying about getting your neck attacked by a servant of the Bloody Countess or a night creature. Small tadpoles swim around, feeding on bugs that have the misfortune of falling in the pond and you watch them idly and with a childlike curiosity. You didn’t want to ruminate at that moment, you wanted to think that everything was going to be fine.

Still, your unquiet mind couldn’t rest. The scene of the tadpole rapidly consuming the bug reminds you of your own thoughts consuming you. The dreams you’ve had before his arrival; a dark castle with infinite stairs, forests that you’ve never explored, and flashes of scenes flooding your mind every time he is near that feel so much more real than a mere dejavú. But how could you ever put this into words?

Smooth steps are heard padding against the grass and you softly gasp when you see the tall, pale man coming to the spot you are sitting on. His amber eyes glow like the ones of a cat in a dark night as he walks in the shadow announcing his not fully human nature.

“They are beheading the last one of the day. Won’t you like to see the show?”

Alucard asks with sarcasm, sitting on the opposite side of the pond in a pompous swish. The city's in ruins, but the people are executioning the aristocrats who stood in the side of the vampires during the attack. You don’t answer his question. In fact, the two of you stay in silence for a while, but now and then you peek through the fountain to see if he is still in there and he is perfectly immobile like a beautiful statue in the garden, except for his flouncy hair tousled by the soft breeze. In one of those moments of curiosity, your gazes meet and it feels intense as a lightning hitting your body, Alucard could see your hair standing on end.

“Although I think they should pay for what they did, I don't see the point of gathering in the town to see bloodshed. I’ve seen enough of this in the last few days.”

You answer in an awkward way and twirl your finger around the water, making the tadpoles hide behind a rock to dismiss the feeling that goes beyond embarrassment. Alucard narrows his eyes, cautiously watching your expression, wondering if approaching you now was the right choice. But how long could he keep this to himself? If there is something Alucard learned during these wandering 300 years is that human life is feeble as a crystal, that he’ll see his pals one by one perish to the fog of time. Leaving it be, ignoring the signals would spare him from the very known feeling of grief. Still, there you are. With another appearance, voice and name, yet eyes are the windows of the soul, they say, and Alucard lived enough to know that this might be true. And since yours met during the Eclipse, he knew that calling coming from overseas was not only his duty of destroying Sekhmet’s mummy. He was drawn to your presence like a boat to a lighthouse.

“May i?”

He asks before sitting on the same side as you on the pond, so pale that he seems to emanate his own light and reflect in the pond along with the moon. You nod and he graciously settles himself some palms away not wanting to be invasive, minutely investigating the possibilities and to what paths would they guide him. Your mind is racing with thoughts, so many it could burst. A feeling of urgency that takes you completely and is shared with the man by your side. Gathering forces from an ancient feeling asleep for so too long, you finally speak:

“You have found me… how?”

He hums looking into the pond before answering your question that is so easy to answer yet difficult to put into words when he measures the consequences.

“I felt you calling me.”

You shortly breathe, reminding the nights where that feeling of emptiness would set in as if there was something missing and you would pray for a light, something that could give you a clue of what was the other part of the whole. The dreams that filled your sleep in the following nights left you even more puzzled, but when Alucard arrived, everything was starting to be put in place, for more unbelievable that sounded.

Before you died, you made Alucard promise that he would find someone else. That he wouldn't have his eternity tied to your memory, that he would find other lovers to fulfill his heart and to give him the love he deserved. Your shaking cold hand held his as you collapsed to smallpox in your deathbed and finally the eyes of your mortal body closed forever. He did as promised. Tens of women and men crossed his path across those thirty decades, but no one of them were you. The same emptiness your oblivious, reborn self would experience now, the dhampir would drag along the mists of years; for you, what was an unknown spectrum, for him it was a very palpable feeling that seemed to almost materialize itself.

Your eyes fill up with tears, a rush of emotions suddenly rises as Alucard watches you break down, still hesitant. His slender hand reaches out to touch your shoulder and you shudder; like the sun coming out from the clouds, a myriad of memories start to bloom. Alucard’s eyes are wide open in shock, harm of fear is the last thing he wants to inflict on you. But how could he have been causing it when all you could see in front of your eyes was him and your life together? Piece by piece like a broken porcelain, you see snippets of the past.

You suddenly wrap your arms around his shoulders, a hug so unpredictable and strong that Alucard had to hold onto the bricks of the pond otherwise you would fall directly into it. Once steady, He slowly retributes the hug, face resting on the crook of your neck as you sob tears of unbelievable happiness into his white hair. A small salty droplet roams his cheek too and when he realizes the emotional boy he used to be was here again. Slowly, you pull off from the embrace, drying your tears with the sleeves of your dress and say while cupping his angelical face in your hands, strands of white hair sticking onto his skin. You smile and say before pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips:

“And you came to me… from the sky like an angel.”

#adrian tepes x reader #reader insert #alucard x reader #alucard imagine #castlevania x reader #alucard x f!reader

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oikarma · 12 hours ago

Text

terrible things

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: people like to say love is a static thing-it sparks at first sight and never fizzes out. but maybe it just takes on a different feeling, quite like the ever-changing colors of a flame.

a/n: new month new ending! this is the last part to the number one girl series. hope you enjoy <3

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by 703,924 others

f1gossipofficial: Max Verstappen was spotted walking Y/N L/N to dinner from electric lady studios! Two things are on our mind: new music and an old flame.

tagged: yourinstagram, maxverstappen

view all 53,681 comments

user1: i feel like this is going to get messy real quick..

user2: MY YNMAX HEART 🥺 ARE THEY FINALLY TOGETHER

user3: hello? what about lewis FREAKING hamilton?

user4: not y/n in her homewrecker era

user5: woah woah she was there WAY before kelly user6: kelly and max announced their split months ago user7: ikr how are people defending her

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

@/charmschoolgirl She is definitely releasing new music. So happy! I hope the Grammy's don't snub her this year.

@/its2ayem freak bro 😭 she just said that her and lewis have never agreed to anything beyond friends & he is one of her closest friends

@/genericuser5 who is this diva 💜

@/bananas I lowk felt bad when the interviewer asked about Max. You could like...see it on her face. How she didn't want to talk about it.

@/charlesdannate but!! she said they were on talking terms again!! and they'd reconciled and also that photo of them leaving els!!!!!!! YN LOVE SONG ABOUT MAX?

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lando, jennierubyjane and 3,910,514 others

yourinstagram: TOO MUCH TO LOSE / FEB 2

view all 702,193 comments

francolapinto: mother 🛐

user1: oh next year is going to be HELL for him user2: @/lewishamilton @/maxverstappen idek which one of you she's dating but DO SOMETHING yourinstagram: oh franco...don't you think i'm a bit too old for you? user3: @/yourinstagram y/n bae he dated a mother of like 3 kids or something age is nothing LMAOAOAO user4: franco's mommy kink allegations r never going away

user5: red is SO your color!!

user6: i love how even her looks r maturing? like on burnout it was all schoolgirl, teen, naive and this album is SERVING.

luxurylaw: pleasure to style you !!

yourinstagram: nono it was MY honor

user7: time to wager. is this a baddie (i eat men) album or a breakup (???) album

user8: well she's all cozy w max now so maybe something happened with lewis? user9: @/user8 WHYYY I LOVED THEM TOGETHER

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

r/popheads · 1 wk. ago jammies_on_all_night

Y/N L/N - TOO MUCH TO LOSE [MEGATHREAD]

This megathread is to be used for discussion regarding Y/N L/N's second album, as well as articles and reviews of the album. The album, Too Much to Lose, comes out at midnight in PST.

Please keep all reviews to the megathread - I will attempt to keep the post updated with reviews, please feel free to DM me if I've missed any.

Links to any leaks, as well as asking for any, will not be allowed in this megathread.

Album Links:

Spotify

Apple Music

TIDAL

Amazon Music

Tracklist:

we can't be friends (wait for your love)

prelude in e minor

cornerstone

tis the damn season

i love you, i'm sorry

heavenly

terrible things

don't look back in anger

This thread will be updated with important links for release day events, reviews of the album, etc.

ynsgirlfriend: I was expecting another pop-y album but this was so much more heartfelt. WCBF eats so hard. SO HARD.

↳ dannyric03: Love her growth. Also, the way the album goes from distancing herself (we can't be friends, duh) until the time is right and finding so much beauty in what time you have (terrible things). I don't even want to speculate who the album is about. It's...beautiful. ↳ User5: calling it rn. wcbf (wfyl) is going to be a smash hit on the radio

CharliesPrelude2: literally came up w my user after charlie's prelude (based off of chopin's prelude in e minor) SO Y/N ACKNOWLEDGED ME

↳ SalsaBird: LOL. Loved her on that track. Didn't expect them but they were haunting. Honestly, I'm surprised at how insane her vocals are.

Sharks1039: Trying to decode this. bear with me. [1/2] 1. we can't be friends (wait for your love) - i feel like this is pretty obviously about max. not exactly, bcs i think we've garnered it was y/n who left him first after THAT night (thanks burnout!!) but the fact that she's learning to live without him. even though she still wishes they could be friends. just my interpretation. 2. prelude in e minor - i don't know. it's beautiful. it's chopin. it's y/n. it's just there and a good transition into the rest of the album? it really cleared up my mind and helped me appreciate the other songs. 3. cornerstone - seeing that person in every place. "thought i saw you at the X, but it was only a lookalike." idk who's perspective this is supposed to be from. the message is imo such longing you look for it everywhere. 4. tis the damn season - i feel like the lyrics point toward max (hometown, etc.) but i also feel like we've never really seen anything in the last 4 years indicating a reunion like that. after we stopped seeing her and lewis (we saw them SM last year) i thought something might've gone wrong? i'm p sure they're still on friendly terms, they comment on each other's posts, etc. but less close. maybe some regret from her side?

↳ ApplestoApples: I KNEW I wasn't the only one who thought "tis the damn season" gave Lewis. They hinted at a sort of romance. Especially when Lewis visited Y/N in her hometown (they took a few pictures with fans who'd spotted them). "It always leads to you, in my hometown" is probably about her thinking a lot about that. Sad they didn't work out. Loved how well he treated her and how happy they seemed. ↳ Sharks1039: @/ApplestoApples how did i not know that. omfg it's so about lewis. ↳ Shakes1039: anyway part two of my yap. [2/2] 5. i love you i'm sorry - "you were the best but you were the worst, as sick as it sounds i loved you first" ??? i don't even know what this means but damn girl i hope you're ok now. 6. heavenly - this is such a love song. lowkey found it a TINY bit jarring when we went from ilyis to heavenly but it's more like. i love you (im sorry) to i love you (i'm not)? that's the only explanation i can think of. banger, though. 7. terrible things - MY FAVORITE SONG. ALSO SHOULD BE YOURS. "i can tell by your eyes that you're in love with me" hello. i bawled hearing this. i'm so glad she's found love because it seemed like the max thing shook her up so bad. "don't fall in love, there's just too much to lose ... i beg you to choose to walk away" oh my god. she still sounds pretty worried about how strong love is and how losing a loved one will hurt... 8. don't look back in anger - oasis cover. live. i feel like given the previous song (terrible things) it's like when you walk away to protect yourself from love, don't look back in anger. and at the end of the day, i think this is an album about max. some people talk about how she has growth through the album but honestly idrk about that. it's just her coming to terms with her actions. it's an album about being in love and all the bad things that happen when you're in love. it's an album about deciding to walk away to not hurt yourself. but at the end of the day, people are overcoming that desire to protect themselves. they want to love, even if it hurts.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lewishamilton and 1,203,864 others

yourinstagram: hello everyone! happy valentine's ♡ i just wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for the support you have shown my music. everyone says this, but the songs i put out are pieces of my heart. they are lessons i have learned and stories i want to tell. some of you have already figured this out, but a little piece of advice:

don't be afraid to love. there are much more terrible things to experience.

view all 291,473 comments

yourinstagram: i mean don't be afraid to love in reasonable circumstances!! 😭 don't be afraid to love if people discourage it, if your heart truly wants it. pls be afraid to love if you're being forced against your will. love you all so much, take care and make good decisions!

user1: she's so real for freaking out over misinterpretation user2: sorry ma'am reading fics of your man as a mafia boss has stopped me from mafia reasonable decisions

lewishamilton: happy valentine's, y/n

yourinstagram: hope the grapes did something for you user3: roman empire unlocked. user4: omfg 😭 not the grapes

user5: hold up. why is no one talking about that photo. it's not in any of her music videos?? she's in that dress in the dlbia live performance but WHEN WAS IT TAKEN

user6: i bet it's max. user7: it's totally max. user8: RELATIONSHIP UPDATE PLS @/yourinstagram

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by yourinstagram and 5,019,432 others

maxverstappen: Home is where the heart is.

tagged: yourinstagram

view all 715,893 comments

user1: HARD LAUNCH HARD LAUNCH

user2: it's real omg!!

user3: haven't seen y/n in ages THANK U FOR THE CRUMBS MAX

user4: the way he looks at her...

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by 732,891 others

f1gossipofficial: Max Verstappen spotted crying after last Dutch GP. All our hearts are equally as heavy.

view all 13,405 comments

user1: poor man. last year of zandvoort. i'll miss it too

user2: i'm sure y/n will cheer him up! missed seeing her at the last few races

user3: omg what if she's pregnant... user4: girl 😭 i like to think max would've learned from kelly and put a ring on her BEFORE the baby user5: @/user3 yea the last photo we saw of her was like months ago and she was wearing a fur around her waist so we couldn't see much

user5: rip dutch gp.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

maxverstappen: Life can do terrible things. But you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

tagged: yourinstagram

Comments on this post have been limited.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

BREAKING: Max Verstappen has retired from racing. He has reportedly moved back to the Netherlands with remaining family.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

INTERVIEW WITH HUGH L/N-VERSTAPPEN

...

INTERVIEWER: Moving on, congratulations on the Best Actor award!

HUGH gives the interviewer a shy smile. He takes a sip of the coffee in his hands: Thanks. I was so surprised. I didn't think people enjoyed my performance that much.

INTERVIEWER: Well I guess you were proven wrong. How do you feel about following in your mother's footsteps, instead of racing like your father?

HUGH pauses before speaking: I suppose...I sometimes wonder if I would be suited for it. If I could've done more. At the end of the day, acting feels like keeping my mother's legacy. Many people remember her as my dad's wife, or just a songwriter. She went into acting because she loved it. I just wish she was more recognized for it.

[ There is a moment of silence as Hugh plays with the cup in his hands. ]

INTERVIEWER: I know your acceptance speech brought quite a few people to tears. It was very moving.

HUGH nods: I didn't mean to. I just wanted to thank my mom one more time. And my dad, too.

INTERVIEWER: It was a good kind of tears, I'm sure.

HUGH laughs.

INTERVIEWER: Which of your mother's songs is your favorite?

HUGH: Well, my dad used to try singing "terrible things" to me. He's not a great singer, so emphasis on the try.

INTERVIEWER: If I'm not wrong, the song does say "now son, I'm only telling you this because life does terrible things." Is it like a message to you?

HUGH: Yeah. I know the song is about how hard love is and how painful it is. But she did it anyway. What's my excuse? Life is short and there's so much to experience.

INTERVIEWER is handed a note. THEIR eyebrows furrow, looking at HUGH: Sorry, would you be comfortable answering a question about your dad? I know you only agreed to talking about Y/N. We can cut this part out if you mind.

HUGH shakes his head: No, it's quite alright. What was the question?

INTERVIEWER: Well, your father hasn't made any public appearances save for your Academy Award win. It's been many years...would he like to pass on a message?

HUGH: Oh, my dad loves to talk. Let me think. He's old, you know that. I think he enjoys the quiet life. He wouldn't survive in an F1 car nowadays, but he still enjoys driving.

[ HUGH thinks. The INTERVIEWER doesn't prompt him. ]

HUGH smiles to himself: I don't think he'll be showing up at any of my future premieres. Don't expect that. It's been a while, yeah. But he's happy with his years. He said he's close to seeing her again.

INTERVIEWER only nods. There are tears in both their eyes.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: it's over! lowk felt bad for the ending. but i think i like it this way. sorry ynlewis stans. i just think. at the end of the day they would find their way back to each other.

#formula one #max verstappen x reader #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 x you #max verstappen #f1 smau #smau #x reader #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

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wosospacegirl · 11 hours ago

Text

I don’t even like boys - Arsenal teen! r

Summary: Reader has sex with a boy because she is confused about her sexuality but ends up having a pregnancy scare. Leah and Katie comfort her through it.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Talks of teenage pregnancy (but she’s not pregnant!!) a little bit of good luck, baby vibes?

Masterlist here

This was based on a request! Hope you guys enjoy it.

The Health check day at Arsenal was awkward. The team was split into groups of three, each assigned to a general practitioner, a physiotherapist, and a gynaecologist. All the girls had to be examined by all three before returning to training, as per house rules, Y/n guessed.

Y/n, Leah, Katie, and Kyra, sat bored in the gynaecologist’s waiting room. Leah tapped her foot in frustration. “This is ridiculous. We could be training at the gym instead of waiting here,” the blonde muttered.

“You say that every season,” Katie said, rolling her eyes. The Irish woman had a small rubber ball, which she kept bouncing back and forth against the wall.

“Yeah, because every season we lose at least two hours here just so we can go inside and answer the same questions Dr. Smith always asks,” Leah grumbled. “I know she is old and all that, but she always asks me if there is a chance I could be pregnant!” The captain continued, looking at the door as if making sure Dr. Smith wouldn’t hear her.

“I’ve told her I’m just into women like twelve times already,” Leah complained.

Leah wasn’t the chattiest person around, but mate —she could talk when she was annoyed at something.

“Don’t give the woman a hard time,” Kyra said, smiling at Leah. “It’s bureaucracy, they must keep records and stuff like that. Plus, you can’t just expect Dr. Smith to remember everybody’s sexuality. Not everyone in the team is gay.”

“The kid’s right for once,” Katie agreed.

“For once?” Kyra asked, noticing the teasing. “Shut up, McCabe.”

“You might have a point, Kyra,” Leah said, turning slightly to Y/n, who hadn’t said a word since the groups arrived at the waiting room. “Why are you so quiet, Y/n?”

“Maybe because I have nothing to say?” Y/n answered sharply, rolling her eyes.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Katie said.

“Shut up,” Y/n mumbled.

“Ouch!” The young girl exclaimed as she felt Leah pinching her arm. “Why would you do that?” Y/n snapped, looking at the captain and then at the sore skin on her arm.

“Don’t be rude,” Leah warned firmly using her captain's voice.

“I’m not being rude; you guys are just annoying to be around!”

“You guys? I haven’t done anything to you?” Kyra defended herself, a pout on her face.

Y/n hadn’t been in a mood when she woke up, but her day took a turn for worse when she received a notification on her phone from her period-tracking app.

Your period is a week late

She hadn’t realized it, being too caught up with training and school to notice how her menstrual cycle was irregular. Y/n wouldn’t have to worry about it if she had stuck to her rule —not having sex with boys — but it just happened.

Y/n wasn’t sure about her sexuality yet, but she knew she liked girls more than boys. Until last month, she had never kept any type of physical intimacy with a boy before, but it all changed when she met this nice boy from her school. He was a year old and just very kind to her.

The girl wouldn’t say she was attractive to him or anything, she actually didn’t want to have sex because she was horny, or any other reason teenagers normally have sex.

She just wanted to see if she would enjoy herself or not. If she was able to like boys or just girls.

Y/n was curious.

One thing led to another and when Y/n realized she and Chris had sex with the during a very cold Saturday afternoon. After they finished, well, he finished, Y/n put on her shirt and underwear, staring at the boy sleeping in her bed.

It felt wrong.

Not because he was rude to her or bad at sex, but because he just… wasn’t a girl.

“Hey, Chris,” Y/n poked the sleeping boy. “Mate, wake up.”

“Hm?” the boy mumbled, slightly opening her eyes. “What? Is it morning already?”

“What? No, of course not, it’s been just15 minutes since we—”

“Had sex?” The boy finished her sentence, a smirk displayed on his face.

“Well—Yeah! That’s why I need you to leave,” Y/n could see the smirk disappearing from the boy’s face, disappointment settling in.

“Leave? Like… back to my house?”

“Exactly.” Y/n left the bed, looking for her pants on the floor. Where were they? She could swear she had put it on her desk chair.

As Y/n looked around, she felt Chris’s eyes on her body. She didn’t like it.

“Did I do something wrong?” Chris finally asked, sitting straight on the bed, back against the headboard. “It was my first time too, but I hope I didn’t hurt you or anything.”

Y/n’s face soften. Maybe she was being a bit rude.

“No, Chris, it was alright, I just—I don’t think I really like…boys.” Y/n confessed, finally finding her pants under her bed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah mate, I’m sorry.”

Chris left the bed and began looking for his clothes, while Y/n stood there awkwardly. She shouldn’t feel awkward in her own house. When Chris was dressed and ready to go, Y/n led him to the front door.

“This could stay between us, right?” Y/n asked softly as she opened the door to the boy, the cold winter breeze meeting her face. She was just now realizing that Chris could very much tell anyone what they did.

Even the Media.

“I—I can’t have people knowing about this… the team and the contract—” Y/n continued.

Chris gave her a sad smile. “Don’t worry, Y/n. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

After a clumsy goodbye, Chris left, and Y/n was finally alone again. She desperately needed a shower.

And that’s how Y/n realized she was going through a pregnancy scare.

Y/n didn’t feel different, she hadn’t had any weird cravings. She hasn’t gained or lost any weight. Surely, she wasn’t pregnant. She wasn’t on any birth control, but she had made sure Chris was wearing a condom.

They were both a bit clumsy, but they had remembered to check if the condom had a hole or not before Chris threw it away. At least they’d done one thing right.

So yeah, Y/n didn’t know why she was so nervous. She didn’t have any reason to be. She followed the Sex Education’s rules to the letter… but, what if something had gone wrong? Was she even ovulating that day? She couldn’t be sure.

Y/n began biting her nails. Her teammates could sense Y/n’s tension, but they didn’t want to make the younger girl angrier than she already was — although they were all very curious about the reason for her foul mood.

After what felt like centuries, Alessia appeared in the waiting room, having just left the gynaecologist’s office. The blonde exchanged a few words with the other girls before leaving. Now Y/n just had to wait — Dr. Smith would call one of them soon.

Within minutes, the girls heard Dr. Smith’s voice through the door. “Next!” The old lady called.

Y/n probably got up too quickly from her chair, because Leah, Katie and Kyra looked at her like she was crazy. “I’ve never seen you so excited to go see Dr. Smith before,” Kyra said.

“You almost took the chair with you,” Katie added suspiciously.

“I—I just want to be one of the firsts! The last time we had check-up day, I was the last one to go,” Y/n said defensively, taking small steps towards the office.

“You were the last one because you were terrified of going to the gynaecologist,” Leah said, raising an eyebrow. “I literally had to go in with you. “

Did the older girls really need to remember everything all the time?

“I’m just a changed woman now,” Y/n sighed. “You all might see me as some kid, but I’m almost 18 —things change.” The defensiveness in Y/n voice was unmatched, so Leah just let her go without pressing any further

“Something happened to her.”

That was the last thing Y/n could hear before entering Dr. Smith’s office.

After completing the physical part of the exam, Dr. Smith sat across from Y/n at her desk, her notebook open on Y/n’s medical files. Y/n couldn’t pay attention to what the old woman was typing —she was too distracted by the sight in front of her: a replica of a uterus with a baby inside.

“Darling, I’m just going to go through the same questions as always, okay,” Dr. Smith said with a smile.

Y/n answered all the questions honestly. Yes, she had bad period cramps. No, she didn’t have migraines. Yes, it bothered her to play during her period. No, the training didn’t make the cramps go worse.

Everything was fine until Dr. Smith asked:

“During your last check, up you said you weren’t sexually active, right? How about now?”

Y/n blushed, staring at the doctor in front of her. Did she really have to go through this just to play professional football?

“Hm—So about that—yes,” Y/n fumbled over her words. She scratched the back of her head nervously.

Dr. Smith remained silent, waiting for Y/n to continue, but the young girl clamped her mouth shut, looking at the walls instead.

“Yes what, darling?” asked Dr. Smith. “This is a private space; you don’t need to be embarrassed.”

Private space? As if! Y/n thought, Dr. Smith had her whole hormonal history — and now sex life — written up in her file.

“I’ve had had sex since the last time we talked.” Y/n explained, no emotions on her face. She just needed to be direct.

“Would you be okay telling me if it was with a boy or a girl?” The poor woman was really trying to get Y/n to open up— Y/n had to give her that.

“Hm—” Y/n bit her nails. “Two months ago, I was with this girl. She was my first. And then last month, I had sex with this guy, but it was only once,” Y/n explained.

“So, you’ve had two sexual partners, correct?”

“Yes, but the girl was the only one who I slept with more than once.” Y/n was going to die of embarrassment, — she was sure of it.

“Alright darling, had you had any STI test after then?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Great! That’s great. What about your period? Have you noticed any changes in your cycle after having intercourse?” Dr. Smith questioned.

Y/n stared at the women. She had to tell her.

“Well, about that,” Y/n laughed nervously. “My period is kind of late, but it’s probably nothing, right? We used condoms, and not throwing up or anything, I just have to wait, don’t I?”

For a moment, all they could hear in the office were Y/n trainers tapping the floor.

“How late are you, Y/n?” Dr. Smith asked, a frown on her face.

“A week.”

“Hm,” Dr. Smith mumbled before getting up from her chair and opening a white cabinet. The older woman held a box with a baby printed on it and handed it to Y/n

Y/n started at the pregnancy test, not wanting to take it.

“We’ll have you doing this test, okay? Just go to the bathroom and pee on it. It will take 3 to 5 minutes to get the results.”

Y/n said nothing.

“You need to do it, Y/n, I know you are scared, but we can’t be sure why your period is late if you don’t take.”

Y/n took the pregnancy test, tears in her eyes.

Before Dr. Smith could say anything, Y/n was already bolting through the office door, straight to the bathroom. She heard Leah and Katie behind her. The older women were calling for her, asking what had happened, but Y/n didn’t look back.

When she got to the bathroom, she locked herself in one of the stalls, it wasn’t long before she heard the door open. Before Leah or Katie could say anything, Y/n was already crying.

Leah and Katie looked at each other, both very worried. They didn’t know what could have possibly happened back at the gynaecologist’s office, but they were sure it was bad by the way the young girl reacted.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong?” Leah asked softly. “Did something, why are you crying?”

“I’m an idiot,” Y/n answered, her hands shaking. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Katie and Leah shared an apprehensive look.

“And why do you say that kid? Leah questioned, trying to get the stall to open. “Come talk to us.”

Y/n was so distressed, she just wanted to get this test done over with.

“I—I had sex with this boy from my school,” Y/n confessed, tears running down her face. “I’m not even sure why, I know I don’t like boys, but I just wanted to be sure.”

“Okay, that okay, that’s completely normal,” Katie said. “It’s that why you are crying?”

Half the Arsenal team were lesbians. They’d been Y/n’s age once and knew how confusing it is to understand one’s sexuality.

“Did the boy do something to you, Y/n?” Leah asked, her voice angry. “If he did, we can find him and go to the police—”

“It’s not that,” Y/n said through tears. “My period is late, and Dr. Smith gave me a pregnancy test, but I’m just scared to take it.”

The bathroom was silent again.

“Did you use protection?” Leah asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” Y/n answered through the door.

“Okay, so the odds are in your favor, yeah, kid? Go take the test, and when you’re done, we’ll be right here with you.” Leah said.

“I’m sure it’s going to be negative, babe, don’t worry, take the test, and then we’ll figure stuff out.” The Irish women added.

That’s what Y/n did. She followed the instructions written on the box and just waited. She could see Katie’s and Leah’s shadows through the door opening. Who would have thought that shadows could be comforting?

A minute passed. Then two. And then five.

Just one bright pink line.

Not pregnant.

Y/n yanked the stall door open and threw her arms around Leah and Katie, who weren’t expecting the sudden embrace. The girl felt like she could finally breathe again, her heart slowing doing as her chest relaxed against Leah and Katie’s embrace.

“I’m not fucking pregnant,” Y/n said, hugging the women tight. “I might start crying again.”

“See, we were right, nothing to worry about,” Leah patted Y/n’s back

“I told you, no drama.” Katie said playfully. “Pregnancy tests are overrated anyway.”

After Y/n calmed down, the three women went back to the waiting room. Y/n had to go back inside the gynaecologist office to tell Dr. Smith she wasn’t pregnant after all. After a few minutes, Dr. Smith let Y/n go and told advised her to use birth control or IUD is she wanted to feel more protected against any potential pregnancy.

“Oh Dr. Smith, don’t worry, now I know I don’t even like boys,” Y/n said before leaving the room.

#woso fanfic #woso x reader #arsenal fanfic #arsenal women #woso appreciation #women soccer #women's football #woso community #woso

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