#but after being injured i liked it more by comparison

[deliasmilkshake]

☀️FNAF DCA x Y/N Fic Recs🌑

All of them are DCA x Reader Fanfics. NSFW fics will have a 🔞sign (I tend to like those that have plot and/or have fluff <3)

Inspired by: Pillowspaces' DCA Fic Recs.

Each I've read and made me fall for Sun&Moon all over again.

If you see your fic, you can ask for it to be removed if not comfortable with it being here.

PLEASE check each fics tags before reading them.

Last updated: 23/Sept/2024 [Gave Naff's two mer fics a doodle]

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☀️Solar Lunacy by BamSara (AO3 account required)

Same body!Sun/Moon/Eclipse x Staff!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @bamsara]

You weren't a technician, you weren't a security guard, you weren't a daycare assistant. You're just an employee. Staff. The ‘jack-of-all-trades’ employee with mediocre at best skills and specialty in none, tasked with doing miscellaneous jobs that robots couldn't do and human staff couldn't care to. The job is unpredictable, but it pays good and it's relatively easy.

Except for the part where all the animatronics are more sentient than you thought, and you're roped into a mystery surrounding the Daycare Attendants, who are bit too curious about you for your liking.

You don't think this was in your employee contact.

| Words: 225,814 | Chapters: 16/?

🌑Love, Death and Rollerskates by Spadillelicious

Rollerskater!Sun, Janitor!Moon, Metalstar!Eclipse x Staff!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @spadillelicious]

After moving to Crescent City in the 80s, you pick up a job at the local roller rink Party Planet. Ironic, considering roller skating is definitely not one of your talents.

On the bright side, you get to work with the friendly Sun. On the other hand, you also have to interact with the gruff janitor and security guard Moon on a daily basis.

But when staying after hours one day, despite being strictly instructed not to, you find out a terrible secret that changes everything you knew about Sun, Moon and Crescent City forever.

| Words: 98,091 | Chapters: 18/?

☀️Celestial Sundown by clutterspace

God!Sun, God!Moon, God!Eclipse x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @pillowspace]

There was something slumped beneath a tree, and you had no idea what it was. The sunlight shone brighter where it laid, despite the leaves above not differing from any of the other foliage.

It was such a small thing to notice in comparison to everything else, but it brought a small hysterical giggle out past the lump in your throat as it finally clicked in place what you were seeing.

It was a god.

You are a peasant living in the middle of the woods, Sun is the god of day you brought back home with you, and Moon is the god of night tucked away in the Celestial Realm.

| Words: 83,805 | Chapters: 7/?

🌑Celestial Omens by BamSara

Siren!Sun, Siren!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @bamsara]

When you are ten years old, you find two creatures, bloodied and injured, trapped a net on the beach near your home. You save them, make friends with them, and return them to the sea, leaving you to wonder later if your friends with the Sun colored scales and fins that shone like the full Moon were real or imagined up by a childhood of loneliess.

Time passes. You hear stories of monsters, Sirens in the water, one that is a good omen if spotted, promising your safe voyage as long as you respect the rules of the ocean, and one that sinks ships and eats people for fun. Just folktales meant to scare children.

A decade later, they return the favor, though they don't plan on leaving you so easily this time.

| Words: 36,318 | Chapters: 3/?

🔞The Pizzaplex Nighttime Mechanic by crickyluv

Same body!Sun/Moon, Glitch!Eclipse x Mechanic!Reader

~~ [Sun Design by: @crickyluv, Yn,Moon&Eclipse: Me & @crickyluv]

You finally got the job as the nighttime mechanic at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex! Unfortunately, you get a double shift. At least you get to spend time fixing the animatronic you knew best: Sun!

This is a slow burn that eventually turns into NSFW. There is a TON to get to before the spice comes.

| Words: 213,892 | Chapters: 47/?

☀️In Deep Dreams Between the Waves by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Mermaid!Eclipse x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: Me & @naffeclipse]

You see a fish, but the fish isn’t really a fish, because he looks up at you with big yellow eyes, wide with fright. Large black pupils dart around frantically. He’s small, less than half your size, which surprises you. You know mers are supposed to be big sea monsters that sink boats or cause storms, but you don’t see a monster. You think of a baby while staring at his chubby round face, creased with fear, and his small tail.

| Words: 55,644 | Chapters: 5/5

🌑Song Fish Amid the Stars by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Mermaid!Sun, Mermaid!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: Me & @naffeclipse]

This is a type of sequel to In Deep Dreams Between the Waves.

A pang hits your heart, going out to the little fish struggling to escape the cruel and entrapping lagoon.

But they look like mers. Sea monsters.

| Words: 69,362 | Chapters: 6/6

☀️Sleuth Jesters by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Detective!Sun, Detective!Moon, MafiaBoss!Eclipse x Vigilante!Reader

~~ [Yn,Sun&Moon Designs by: @sunnys-aesthetic, Eclipse: Me & @naffeclipse ]

“If I may, Detectives, I believe that the score is set at a tie on how many times you’ve both let me slip away under your watch.” You grin at the sun and moon like faces of your opponents in this game of cat and mouse. The narrow slice of Detective Moon’s gaze becomes threatening, where Detective Sun curls and uncurls his fingers in anticipation of whatever scheme you’re concocting.

| Words: 174,134 | Chapters: 15/15

🌑Pisces Caelestis by S_V

Mermaid!Sun, Mermaid!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @sortvaniliekrans]

Underneath the glowing eyes, a great maw opened to hiss at you, baring several rows of needle-like fangs, wicked looking and sharp and also glowing in the blacklight. As the thing hissed, the cries started up again, more frantic this time, and accompanied by- it almost sounded like scratching?

And it was coming from behind you.

The bleeding creature had never been the one wailing.

| Words: 76,588 | Chapters: 13/?

🔞Demon support by Megafacts

Demon!Sun x Demon!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @megafactuals & Me]

You decide to try and summon a demon to destroy the world as a big bang to end all of humanity. Then earn the lavish life you wanted when you went to hell.

Instead you get two small demons who say they can satisfy your very desire, except the desire you called them for.

Bull. Shit.

| Words: 10,801 Chapters: 2/?

☀️Cryptid Sightings by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Cryptid&Animatronic!Sun/Moon x CryptidHunter!Y/N

Perhaps this would scare a person, being all alone in the woods in the dark, but not you. You’re too intertwined with the paranormal and inexplicable. It’s in your blood. That doesn’t mean your heart won’t pound with terror when you face something with fangs and hungry eyes for flesh, but you don’t run away, and that’s what matters most.

~~ [Designs by: Me & @naffeclipse]

You will face the monsters.

| Words: 253,823 | Chapters: 21/21

🌑Apex Polarity by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

SirenOrca!Eclipse x Photographer!Y/N

~~ [Designs by: Me & @naffeclipse]

n the Arctic, all is beautiful and cold and lethal. You tread over ice and underneath, a dark, powerful siren stalks you. Though you try to resist, you succumb to the lure of the mer and his decision to have you.

How do you survive an apex predator?

| Words: 125,998 | Chapters: 12/12

🔞Love for the endangered by Megafacts

Seahorse!Sun x Seahorse!Moon x Researcher!Y/N

~~ [Designs by: @megafactuals & Me]

You worked as a researchers for endangered species at a sanctuary.

One day, two of the newly discovered seahorse merfolk species come into the sanctuary after being caught in a net left in the ocean. Instead of releasing them back to the wild, the upper ranks at the sanctuary decide to use them for a breeding program.

Over the next few months you must decide to help your new friends escape or force them to spend their first mating cycle trapped inside of the sanctuary.

| Words: 28,299 | Chapters: 2/2

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If you have any fic you wish to recommend me, please do!

Though that will not guarantee it entering this list.

[sukibenders]

"Rhaenyra isn't the stepmother, she's the mother who stepped up!"

The HOTD writers themselves are hardly doing anything to support that narrative, so I take this rhetoric with a grain of salt. While I think, in some way, Rhaenyra does care for Baela and Rhaena....if I had to point out a motherly figure for them that could pose as someone stepping in Laena's place, Rhaenyra would not be it.

[house-of-angst]

Y'all mind if I talk about Present Mic's quirk for a second? Great.

So, my partner and I have been having Erasermic brainrot lately, and while we were binging content with them, I became interested in Hizashi's voice quirk. I began searching stuff about how sound/volume works, and linking it to his canon stuff.

I'll just say, the info I found makes him a pretty scary guy. It's a shame he's so underused in both canon and fanon.

Frequency

First of all, I want to talk about something everyone knows about him: his quirk is potent enough to shatter glass. Now, when it comes to decibels, it's always important to consider the time and distance a certain note is held for, since these can impact the "hit" a certain sound wave can have when influenced by effects such as the air or vibrations.

(Please keep this in mind for the reminder of this post)

When it comes to glass, however, it breaks almost instantly under the pressure of his voice. Our most constant example of this is the man's poor lenses, but there is a scene I'd like to talk about the most, it being he one where he completely shatters Shigaraki's tank.

One might argue that the glass was already weakened from Mirko's kicks, but that's honestly part of something that makes this so impressive to me; Mirko's legs are strong enough to straight-up rip a high-end Nomu's head clean off, yet this tank was tough enough to withstand two attacks from her - including her ultimate move - before starting to leak; and the fact she was heavily injured doesn't fly here, as we very clearly could see she wasn't holding back one bit.

Now, let's get technical.

According to Google, a normal tone of voice would be around 50 decibels, while the required to shatter glass would be a minimum of 105. For comparison, that's roughly the same volume as a jackhammer. Now, you might be thinking, "Oh, that's not so bad! Some singers can do that!" and you'd be right, but there's also some other things to consider. Allow me to explain.

Some singers can reach a pitch that can make glass vibrate enough for it to break, but I've personally only heard of this happening if the person has their mouth close to a smaller, empty cup, and even then the volume would be distributed around. Hizashi, on the other hand, was standing several feet away from this reinforced tank and was able to shatter it immediately, using the directional speaker around his neck to aim the volume. This would naturally require for him to hit even higher decibels, specially when you take into consideration that one's frequency must match the glass' for it to vibrate, which drastically increases when it's dampened. (Read next topic for more info on this)

And then there's his glasses which, like I've stated before, are the most common thing he breaks with his voice. Obviously, this is not directed and it's not a total shatter, but there is something to be observed; say, did you know the necessary volume for lenses to crack, when not being directly aimed at, would be that of a nearby shot from a highcaliber gun? That's roughly 140-170 decibels.

Harm factor

Boy, oh boy! I'm betting most of you were looking for this part when you clicked the read more, right? Look no further, I've got you covered, you just better remember what I mentioned before about distance and duration.

Hizashi's parents were unfortunate enough to have a mutant child that was born with his quirk already active, and I'm willing to bet a newborn doesn't have the slightest bit of control over a power as destructive as a sonic-powered voice, which immediately resulted in everyone in the room bleeding from the ears.

Sound-related ear bleeding is most commonly associated with a ruptured eardrum, which can happen at around 150 decibels and is about the same as a jet engine taking off. While a baby most likely unleashed his maximum voice power on the first breath, I believe something like that would, thankfully, only develop fully after puberty, just like with non-powered people like us, since his quirk is a drastic intensification of a common function and not a new ability altogether.

With that being said... The Finals Exam.

In this, Hizashi was standing very far and, even with the directional speakers, there were many obstacles in the way that kept him from landing direct soundwaves on the students. Regardless, Jirou's ears bled in less than 30 minutes being exposed to this.

This could have happened due to the fact that she has a hearing quirk, which would make hers much more sensitive, but let's study this, shall we? We don't have the exacts of what happened there, but the students are visibly uncomfortable upon the first soundwave, which would suggest it was at about 120 decibels upon impact (with 85 already being enough to cause damage to your ears) and being emitted even higher by him, considering distance muffles volume. Still, I think all that would be nothing compared to the scream he let out after those bugs started crawling on him, with how unfiltered that was.

With Jirou, it comes to no surprise this volume at this distance and time almost rendered her deaf, and realistically would take several months of healing time. How much do you want to bet Hizashi got a solid scolding from Shouta? I mean, it was supposed to be a challenge, but homeboy came this close to breaking her quirk.

Another thing I want to point out is that his voice is powerful enough to actually fucking launch people, and this only happens due to an event called acoustic trauma, basically meaning Hizashi can surpass supersonic levels. Although, it's important to note that this effect is caused mostly due to pressure and not so much as sound, so while it's not freakishly loud (about the same as thunder), it can still cause hearing and psychological damage.

! WARNING !

The following part contains graphic mentions of injury, and death. Do not proceed if these are sensitive topics for you.

Now, we look at the disturbing side of Hizashi's quirk. Buckle in, because it's a wild ride.

Remember what I commented earlier, about him having to hit even higher frequencies to be able to shatter Shigaraki's tank? First of all, as the doctor was sent flying, this qualifies as supersonic, but that's not all. To shatter such a protected tank, with liquid inside increasing the density, he'd have to hit over 200 decibels; which is considered extremely dangerous and most definitely fatal, as the threshold of pain is of 115-140 - this can cause damage such as crushed ear bones, ruptured lungs, or embolism. For comparison, this would come close to standing right next to a Saturn V Moon Rocket during launch, and is no longer considered a "sound" due to the vacuum.

With that being said, the man came very close to dying by Hizashi's hands (voice?) twice. Not only was he so close during the lens incident, literally being inches away from his face and in risk of getting his eardrums ruptured already, but if Mic had decided to raise his voice even more during his rage, it'd be possible for the frequency to make the doctor's inner organs malfunction, or straight-up burst from the pressure.

But that's not the worst part.

After establishing that the lethal amount of over 200 decibels would be necessary to shatter the tank given the circumstances, if he exceeded 240 and the doctor happened to be in the way of this, it would be enough to cause his head to explode upon impact. That old man better be grateful that he was standing a feet few away, and that the supersonic blast blew him away a bit more, or it'd be an immediate game over.

With all this being said, how devastating would it be for this guy to scream his rage out?

(Please keep in mind that many of the extreme cases in this are actually impossible to happen in a real-life scenario and are purely speculation!)

[spacingstars]

Sometimes, I find myself breaking down Kix’s character, turning over his traits, his patterns and behaviors… and more and more I find the personality construed by fandom for Kix to be so wildly jarring from what we do have of Kix.

Kix has, roughly, 17 minutes of screen time across the entirety of TCW, which, when compared to the likes of Fives and Rex, who clock much more screen time than most other clones, this doesn’t seem like a lot—but when you factor in most clones' screen time, we get a lot of Kix, and there’s a lot you can learn about him if you pay attention to the moments he does have on screen.

And to illustrate my point, and because I genuinely love Kix, I’m taking it upon myself to examine what we do have of Kix—both for my own purposes, creatively, and because I also happen to enjoy being neurotically intense about my favorite characters.

From “The Deserter” (S02:10) which is also Kix’s debut episode:

1. Kix speaks with a softer and gentler affliction in his voice compared to other clones (as seen with Jesse, who debuts alongside Kix and contrasts him in being more assertive.) I generally extrapolate this to be reflective of a softness that underscores Kix’s mannerisms. 2. When confronted by Suu, Kix doesn’t react with aggression of defensiveness (even if he’s also escorting an injured Rex and has a rifle pointed at him,) instead he opts to gently, and slowly, explain the situation, (in fact, Suu cuts him off and it is Jesse who has to explain, Jesse, who speaks quickly and in a more assertive manner than Kix did.) Kix’s tone is also likely influenced by caution. 3. The most notable scene in this episode that Kix appears in is when he’s tending to an injured Rex—I say notable because I think it informs much of how Kix treats his patients, even when they’re being uncooperative. Because in this scene, Kix is nothing but gentle an caring towards Rex, even when Rex tries to order Kix into letting him back into the fight despite the nerve damage he’s taken from the shot to his chest. When he pulls rank on Rex it is done so firmly, but kindly, and his face is one of sheepishness. If this scene shows anything, it’s that Kix is patient.

From Kix’s debut episode, what can be described about his character is that he’s much more reserved and gentle in comparison to the much more assertive personality of Jesse—from his mannerisms to the tone of his voice. He will be firm, but he is not unkind. He also shows patience towards his patient, even when said patient is, initially, being uncooperative.

From Umbara (S04:07 - S04:10) which is when Kix gets the most screen time:

1. The first moment of note Kix appears in is when he raises concerns to Rex about the pace Krell has had them marching at, that this pace is taking its toll on the men and they need to rest. Kix raises these concerns respectfully, secondly, Kix is doing his duty as a medic, which, is fundamental to his character, finally, Kix cares about those around him and he does what he can to ensure the welfare of these men. (And also, I think it’s quite telling that Kix doesn’t press the issue after Krell scolds them for it, as noted before, Kix does not have an assertive personality.) 2. When Kix is taking care of an injured clone he’s dragged into cover Kix retains his professionalism and keeps himself together even under stress. Kix comforts his patient instead, and I think it speaks of that gentleness I keep mentioning that Kix says, “You’re gonna be okay, buddy, this’ll ease the pain.” Kix is comforting, and he holds himself together under stress because he has his brothers to take care of. 3. I think it’s also notable that when Torrent is starting to express their distrust in Krell, though you can tell Kix is beginning to get frustrated with the treatment of the men (expressing that with Krell’s plan, casualties will be high,) his comments are not nearly has harsh as those of Tup or Jesse. Once again, Kix is shown to be more reserved, and I see it as him maintaining his professionalism in raising these concerns, even as he is beginning to grow frustrated with this poor treatment. 4. The note of Kix beginning to grow frustrated with the treatment of his brothers will be expanded upon throughout the Umbara arc; especially in light of Kix taking his frustration and horror out on the wildlife of Umbara for feeding on the corpses of his brothers. If I am to extrapolate, those dead clones serve as a reminder to Kix; a remainder that he, more and more, has been unable to properly care for all his injured brothers. These clones are a reminder to Kix of the brothers he could not save. This is the first crack within Kix, due to the stress of Umbara, and I have to emphasis, this is not Kix’s normal pattern of behavior. 5. Continuing the thread of Kix beginning to crack under the pressures of Umbara, there is a moment in Umbara where Kix is tending to an injured clone—one that’s in his arms, and this clone gets shot to death in Kix’s arms. This is directly Kix being unable to save a clone’s life despite being right there, because Umbara is that overwhelming—to such a degree that he’s forced to leave behind the injured in this moment, even if he can save them. And this is another crack in Kix’s composure, because he snaps at Rex, he drops his professionalism and his respect, and even resorts to barbed comments against Rex for ordering him from tending to the injured because Torrent needs Kix alive. This is not Kix’s normal behavior, this is Kix, stressed and crumbling under the weight of Umbara. 6. The last notable scene Kix appears in, and this is the moment where Kix finally breaks under Umbara’s pressure—it’s the moment where he starts haphazardly firing his blaster at the enemy. This is intended to be shocking—because this is not how Kix nominally acts, he’s in immense distress, and it takes Tup pulling him into cover to get him to calm down. Kix holds his composure for so long, and when he does break, he breaks hard. 7. To cap off the Umbara thoughts, though Kix does have more scenes, he is relegated to a background character for the most part—but, I can only imagine what was going through Kix’s head when he had, under the orders of Krell, fired upon other clones, it is completely counter to who he is, both as a person and as a medic, and I imagine it cuts deep—as it did for all clones involved in that moment, but for Kix… some of that hurt I imagine would be coming from how he’s meant to save his brothers lives, he’s the medic… and yet, in that moment, all he did was take theirs.

Umbara shows that Kix—who has been shown to be a respectful, kind, and helpful clone who just earnestly wants to do his duty in providing his brothers with the care he needs—is broken by an inability to help.

From the Chip arc (S06:01 - S06:04):

1. Not much to be said about some of Kix’s first appearances in this arc, as Kix is doing what he does as a medic (and expressing concern for Tup.) But the scene where Tup is in the infirmary, and Kix is confused about what’s wrong with Tup, I do think that Kix being willing to say that he can’t figure out what’s wrong, and that if they want answers, he’ll need to be sent back to Kamino, is indicative of Kix is aware of the limitations in his knowledge and is willing to humble himself. 2. This is more light-hearted scene (at first, anyway,) and is mostly conjecture on my part but I find it too amusing to leave out. That is the scene in which Kix is checking himself out in the mirror at 79’s. I do not think this is indicative of Kix being conceited about his looks—rather, I think it’s indicative of something else entirely in light of how he also talks in this scene. When he realizes someone else walks in, he talks with a deeper tone that I can only describe as Kix trying to present himself as being cool and mysterious. All the while he’s nonchalantly brushing his shoulders off. It’s so funny to me, especially when he realizes it’s Fives who just walked in, and immediately he tone switches to his typical inflection—and his mannerisms return to the typical ones we’ve seen of him. (Yes, I also think Kix had the haircut he does because he tries to present himself as cooler than he actually is, I imagine he grew embarrassed by this insistence given he grows it out later on—Kix is a dork, I said what I said.) 3. And yes, Kix immediately jumping to concern, before offering his help to Fives—even if his duty would insist that he turn Fives in because of the attempted assassination—I think, this is because Kix fixates on Fives’ distress, and he focuses on how to alleviate that stress, so even as it’s clear he’s confused by what Fives has gotten himself into, Kix still offers his help, and gives it freely in getting Fives in direct contact with Anakin and Rex at his behest. It’s a strong moment for his character, and his face when he asks what he can do to help… it’s so earnest. He’s loyal to his brothers.

And finally, there is the Echo arc of season 7, (S07:01 - S07:04):

1. When their gunship gets shot down, Kix is the first to notice that Cody was injured in the wreck and is trapped; I put this down to Kix being attentive and keeping track of the head count of the party he’s with, something done because he is the team medic and he is responsible for the well being of those around him first and foremost. 2. Then there is the scene at the campfire, which, firstly shows the bond Jesse and Kix have given the ease of banter between them and the comfort between them in their interactions. Secondly, I find it interesting how when Wrecker strangles Jesse, while Rex resorts to more direct action (trying to pull Wrecker by his collar,) Kix kind of just hovers, it’s a pretty… non-violent action when Rex and Jesse both jump to the defensive with the batch (Rex, even more directly, later on, when he actually punches Crosshair.) Similarly, even when Crosshair shoves Kix away, Kix shoves back before getting stuck in a headlock, and even after getting out of the headlock, at most he puts his hands on Crosshair to keep shoving him away. Generally, Kix is a lot less confrontational compared to either Jesse and Rex are in regards to the batch—which, circles around to my point of Kix not being as assertive, neither will he be overly aggressive towards allies. (This may be extrapolated as Kix refusing to take more direction action against another clone, given Umbara. But, that’s just extrapolation; a theory, a musing on motives.) 3. (Also yes I am aware that Kix makes jabs about the batch and I mostly construe this to be that Kix can be judgmental about others when he’s skeptical of them, I have my reasons as to why I’m not putting a lot of weight on this but it’s tied to a critique of the arc’s writing, which is not what this is about.)

In summation, Kix is shown, repeatedly, to be someone whose kind and helpful—what matters most to him is the care and well being of his brothers. He’s earnest in that care, and he’s got a softness that underscores a lot of his mannerisms and speech. He does his best to hold himself together for the sake of his brothers. He gets frustrated and breaks down in the face of mounting casualties and an inability to help his brothers. He’s respectful and professional in how he conducts himself as a medic, and even if he pulls rank, he’s firm but kind about it—he expresses patience in how he handles those under his care. Additionally, and in my own conjecture of his character, Kix tries to present himself as cooler than he actually is, suggesting a level of dorky insecurity to him. He’s also shown to lash out and make barbed comments when he’s incredibly stressed, and Kix carries judgment towards others when he’s skeptical of them.

What Kix is not is a hard ass medic whose sick of everyone’s shit, who berates and scolds his patients relentlessly—complaining about how they make his job harder. He is not quick to anger nor does he easily take his frustrations out on those around him—especially those under his care. He does not constantly throw his rank around to get those under his care to do what he wants.

It is a far cry from Kix’s character, and I think it’s a damn shame Kix’s actual character gets ignored in favor in fanon, because honestly, Kix as he is in canon is incredibly interesting—carrying a host of traits that can be explored and examined in their own right.

(Also, in quick references, I’ve narrowed down two videos that compiled Kix’s screen time across TCW, this one which clocks at ~14 minutes, and the second one with clocks in at ~17 minutes.)

[mysumeow]

. . . ꒰ FOUND WOUNDED

Warnings: afab genitalia, gender neutral pronouns. PIV unprotected sex, Lilia takes a dominant role throughout the smut, hair pulling (reader giving), overstimulation (reader receiving), cunnilingus. not proofread it is what it is.

Summary: Out of the kindness of your heart —and naivety mixed in— you nurse back to health the injured fae you came across with in the forest.

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: if you find a mistake just ➖➖ close your eyes like that and pretend you dont see it. my contribution for general lilia lovers (myself included💗)

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . KOFI | NEXT

At first, General Lilia was like a feral cat when you tried to get close to him.

Injured and almost unconscious; that was how you had found him. A gaping wound on his abdomen. Regardless of his blurry vision, he could still make out the smell of a human.

Thus, through deep breaths and pained winces, he demanded that you not come closer. Those demands were accompanied by curses and hisses, of course.

Perhaps you were naive or had no sense of self-preservation, or both, because despite his refusal to receive aid, you carried him on your back.

Had the fae been in better condition, you wouldn't have made one step forward without some inconvenience happening.

Lilia's first instinct, when he awoke the next day, was to attempt to flee before you realized he was up. Granted, the pain from recent battle wounds sliced through his being, rendering him to fall back on the bed.

His heartbeat picked up once he saw you walking into the room, kicking the door shut, and carrying breakfast in your hands.

The fae's words were nothing short of disdainful, accompanied by threats.

You were aware of the complex human-fae relationships and weren't surprised by his outburst. Instead, you ignored his empty words, left the breakfast on the little nightstand next to the bed, and left.

Although the general wasn't pleased at the fact you dismissed his words as if he were blabbering, he himself knew he wouldn't hurt a defenseless human like yourself. He's willing to turn a blind eye to those that aren't part of the Silver Owl's; after all, you weren't an immediate threat to him.

He sighed, turning to look at the source of the appealing aroma on the nightstand.

He wasn't that hungry, right? He could just wait a while longer, just to establish a sense of power over you—he didn't need you as much as you thought he did.

The grumbling from his stomach made his thoughts pause.

By lunch time, you decided it was a reasonable idea to check back on the fae you rescued yesterday.

The plate was clean, as you expected.

Without sharing another word, you gathered the plate and the utensils to head back to the kitchen, until the fae’s low voice and dry manner of speaking interrupted you.

“You know our kind have had conflicts of interest, right?” You couldn’t identify any sort of hostility or ill-intent from him when he spoke his mind.

“I...” You stopped to wonder if you actually considered that detail when you decided to bring this stranger into the safety of your home. “I wouldn’t be able to turn my back on someone who’s about to die,”

Lilia stared at you; you couldn’t discern how he took the comment.

“Hmph,” he said, crossing his arms. “You humans underestimate faes. I’ve survived worse wounds. This is nothing in comparison.”

“Yeah, yeah. You're, oh, so dangerous, and I'm, oh, so fragile. Please don’t kill me, Mr. Fae,” you feigned a squeakier voice. You reveled in amusement at his displeased expression. Suddenly, you realized you didn’t even know his name. “By the way, I don’t know what to call you.”

For a moment, Lilia considered not telling you. He would flee this place as soon as he could, so what was the point? He reasoned. Despite that, he figured that you would be more fearful of him if he revealed his name, as everyone knew the title that was accompanied by it.

“Or do you want me to keep calling you Mr. Fae?” You kept poking fun at him.

“I’m Lilia Vanrouge. Does the name ring any bells to you?”

You stopped for a moment to think.

“To be honest, no.”

Lilia wondered how you were still alive at this point, being so detached from the current events going on. You had just enough information to know about the war that was going on.

Unbelievable. He shook his head before looking down at the bandages wrapped around his lower abdomen.

The dull pain that comes from wounds was still present, albeit less than yesterday. He made an effort to sit up on the bed and undid the bandages, wanting to check the wound. If he applied less strength than usual, the sting was bearable.

You stitched his lesion while he was unconscious. Even though your work was decent, he couldn’t help but wish there were fairies nearby who could speed up the healing process. He couldn’t stop thinking back on his troops, the princess, his kind—they needed him right now.

Lilia’s troubled pondering stopped when you came back.

“I was just about to ask how you were feeling. The stitches haven’t opened, right?” You dabbed the rag into the water, looking to use the piece of cloth to clean up any dirt or blood that might’ve been left over from the prior day.

“Halt, human,” he tried to scurry away, flustered. “I can do it myself. I managed to eat on my own. I don’t need your help. Wait outside,”

“Okay, but you still should clean the rest of your body. I thought I could help you walk to the bathroom so you can use the shower,” you said, placing a hand on your chin. “Will you be able to reach your back? Bend enough to clean your legs?”

Lilia narrowed his eyes, partly out of suspicion. “If I were you, I’d be more cautious of a stranger,” he sighed. “I’ll allow you to help me clean my back. The rest, I can manage. Try anything funny, and I’ll make sure you’ll regret it,”

“Anything funny? You mean killing you? Do you think I would go to these lengths just to murder you?”

“My point stands.”

You guided the fae towards your bathroom; you left him alone so he could undress and wash what he could without your help. Once he was done, he called to you, where he was waiting, sitting on the wooden bathroom’s stool with a towel wrapped around his hips.

He didn’t acknowledge you entering; he just sat there in silence, waiting for you to pour water on his scarred back. Some scars were new, some were old, and others were fading.

His ears flicked when he heard you sit behind him.

The session was…awkward, to say the least. You both were quiet, and you wondered what he was thinking about during his silence. You resisted the urge to trace the scars on his back. You surmised that it must be a sensitive topic for him. You knew about the hardships of war, but having a glimpse of the surface of them awakened a sense of pity for him.

You slid the rag along his back. Albeit having a thin frame, there was some tonification...

He shivered, interrupting both your train of thoughts and your languid movements.

“You done?” he asked, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Yes,” you answered curtly, ashamed of yourself for allowing your mind to wander that much.

From then on, having the general living under the same roof was...an experience. To you, he seemed to have some sort of internal conflict when speaking to you; sometimes, he would speak in a kinder way, and at other times, he would go back to his withdrawn and indifferent attitude.

Like he was afraid of getting too attached soon.

You would tease him, proclaiming that he had developed a soft spot for you. He would either roll his eyes, huff, or deny, until he stopped paying attention to your “pointless ramblings” (as he called them). You couldn’t help but find amusement at the idea of this fae getting tired of your teasing and preferring to ignore them.

Of course, the general would rather die than admit his days in relative leisure with you were quite endearing—he wouldn’t admit his true feelings to himself either—as having someone looking out for you was a change of pace for his days of solitude. Solitude comes in the form of having no one else but himself to rely on.

For a human such as yourself to be selfless enough to nurse him back to health, even if not necessary until a certain point, made you stand out over the rest of the past human interactions he’d experienced.

Avarice and thoughtlessness were, after all, the reasons why the fae clashed with humanity.

Alack, he couldn’t stay here with you for the rest of his life.

Basking in the last rays of sunlight, sitting on the fresh grass as you shared a meal, you didn’t expect Lilia to have a gloomy expression.

“You’re going back to your military camp?”

“The war isn’t over yet. I’ve wasted enough time waiting for my wounds to heal,” Absentmindedly, his hands hovered over where the gaping wound once was. “You’ve been…”

“Hm?” You directed your focus to him, expecting him to finish his sentence while you munched on a slice of bread.

“I’ll give it to you. You’ve been helpful, but also annoying. I wouldn’t have imagined someone to have the ability to both heal and damage someone at the same time,” he took a sip of the tea and turned his head away in agitation.

“Would it hurt too much to just say ‘thank you’?” You rolled your eyes.

“Thank you,” he agreed, so you would drop the topic.

The sun had long since set, the single light source coming from your home. Lilia gave one last glance at your profile, noticing you were deep in thought.

He opened his mouth to tell you he was going inside again. Then he closed it again, thinking maybe you didn’t want to be disturbed by whatever you were reflecting on.

For the past few weeks, stress over how his troops were doing has built up. The general couldn’t wait any longer to go back to them.

He departed that same night.

Lilia took a quick look at the bedroom he has been staying in, checking if there was anything he should take with him before departing.

Alongside his mask, he wielded his magical lithic with practiced ease. 

He placed a hand on the window and pulled the lower panel up to open it. With a foot already on the windowsill, he hesitated.

I haven’t said goodbye to...

Almost as if driven by instinct, he went back to the living room, where he last saw you a couple of hours before.

At first, he didn’t see you. He rationalized that you were in your bedroom now; however, a soft snore made him realize that wasn’t the case.

Sprawled on the couch. Blanket on the floor. Your head is almost falling off the edge of said furniture.

That’s how he found you sleeping.

He deadpanned, reaching down towards the blanket on the floor and draping it over your sleeping form.

Did Lilia feel at fault that he didn’t get to say goodbye? Yes. Nevertheless, the fae was set on answering the call of his obligations before letting himself realize it.

Being a proper general like him, he located the camp with ease. Every single one of his comrades celebrated his return.

Now, this was an environment he was used to. It felt right; this was what he was familiar with.

And despite that, he couldn’t shake you off his thoughts. Not even the next day.

His mind kept reeling back on the idea of heading towards your small cottage to apologize.

Lilia groaned in frustration, turning around on the makeshift bed inside his tent. He stared at the walls, asking himself if it made sense for him to have these feelings.

Humans are weak. I should check on that human. Yeah, that’s it. That human is clumsy.

While putting on his armor and tying the knots in their places, he couldn’t believe himself—he was going back just to see you.

It was past midnight. Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to go see you, but he hoped you were up. He remembered that you tend to stay up past that hour.

He found himself smiling fondly at the memory before his smile dropped at the smell of smoke and fire in the distance.

With a racing heart, Lilia hurried to where he knew your home was.

Engulfed by fire.

The orange embers reflected on Lilia’s eyes as he gawked at the unbelievable sight. Soon, his attention was brought back to unknown faces inspecting around the perimeter. He identified the silver armor, and Lilia didn’t waste any more time acting.

“The general!” One of them shouted, the others unsheathed their swords, and they prepared to attack.

By the sound of it, Lilia supposed that this was an ambush, since it appeared that they were after him and set the house on fire to have a better chance of hunting him down.

“Where’s the human?!” Lilia demanded, pushing the lithic blade against the soldier he trapped.

“Calcinated, perhaps,” he spat.

As she was about to slice him open, something stopped Lilia.

With a hand on his arm, you managed to halt his movements. Had you come any later, the soldier would’ve had his neck chopped.

You didn’t give him a chance to question you; rather, you pulled him away from the burning place and into the forest.

To say the fae was speechless was a way to put it—he was baffled. Up until a certain moment, he managed to regain his composure and grab you by the shoulders.

“Why didn’t you let me end him?!” He shook you. “You allowed those pesky pests to get away with it!”

“Lilia—”

“What?!”

“You’re digging your nails. It hurts.”

His arms dropped back to his sides, as if you were scalding hot.

“Now what’re you going to do? Your home…”

“I have no other choice other than traveling back to town.”

“Alone? In the middle of a war? You’re lucky enough I was willing to spare you, but I can’t guarantee other faes will do the same,” Again, his hands were on you. “You’re coming with me,”

Your mind stalled.

“Huh?” You followed him when he began heading in a direction only he knew where it ended. “Are you accompanying me towards the town?”

“Do I look like someone who has that much time to spare?” He squeezed your hand more. “I’ll take you to my camp,”

You stopped walking, pulling on his hand.

“You can’t be serious. Aren’t they going to kill me?”

“Dare anyone lay a hand on you, I’ll return the action tenfold.”

“How are you so sure they won’t dare hurt me?”

“Because I’m their general.”

“So, when were you planning on telling me that minuscule detail?” Your voice became increasingly louder as you spoke from shock. “That all this time, I’ve had the general in my home?!”

“You’re going to attract an enemy’s attention. Shut up,” he said, covering your mouth with his hand. “Let’s get going,”

You managed to escape unscathed from the fire but were exhausted from the stress of having to flee. You hugged yourself while you followed the general, fending off the chill of the night that was starting to seep into your being.

There was someone waiting by the camp’s entrance, and Lilia knew who that was.

“General, there you are!” The man’s green eyes fixed on you; sheer disdain reflected on them upon seeing you. “What’s that human doing here? They didn’t harm you, right?!”

“Quiet, Baur! This human is coming with me,” Lilia looked at you for a second. “This person is... who found me wounded back then,”

It seemed as if Lilia had mentioned you to this fae named Baur before your meeting.

“I trust you’ll keep this a secret. If the soldiers ask why this human is with us, tell them that they’re being held hostage to aid with manual labor,” Lilia had made up his mind. There was no way he would let you dive into danger.

“General… I trust your judgment above all, but—”

“My decision isn’t up for debate.”

Baur shifted his gaze back on you, unconvinced of the general’s judgment. Regardless, he recognized his position and didn’t object further.

You were drowsy. You didn’t notice you followed Lilia into his tent.

Lilia, too, occupied with his own musings, didn’t bat an eye at the arrangement.

"It would be a better idea if—" he turned around and saw you had already made yourself comfortable on his bed. You had shrugged your coat off in a messy manner, one sleeve still up your shoulder.

Acting out what felt natural, he kneeled on the makeshift mattress and finished pulling the sleeve off your body. Then he grabbed the blanket to place it over you, but you stopped him by putting your hand on his cheek.

"You look tired too," you noted with a whisper.

"Not more than you."

"My body's exhausted, but my mind's wide awake still," You moved your hand away from his cheek and reached behind him to slide the hair tie off. His ponytail became undone, locks of hair falling on either side of his face.

His hand snatched yours, albeit his face was flushed and his ears red. He held your gaze, bodies rising in temperature, until he couldn’t hold it anymore and leaned down to kiss you. It started as a vehement desire to demonstrate the feelings bottled up inside.

You weren’t faring any better, hugging him close to you despite how his fangs would bite down on your lip, almost drawing blood from his eagerness. Lilia rested his weight atop yours, pinning you down against the bed, hands wandering around your torso and squeezing what he could.

Breathless, Lilia pulled away, panting, his fangs peeking.

Intrigued by their shape, your thumb touched the pointy edge, feeling its puncture on the surface.

“Your fangs. They’re very sharp,” Your thumb moved away from the impressive canine teeth, preferring to graze it across his reddened bottom lip.

“Keep touching me like that, and I’ll use them to leave marks on that pretty neck of yours.”

You swiped your finger over his lip again.

His hand went straight to your head and pulled to expose your neck; a soft mewl escaped you. In no time, restless hands undid each other’s clothes in a haze. Lilia reminded you to avoid waking up the slumbering soldiers with your constant moans.

Had his mouth not been occupied slurping and sucking your clit, he would’ve had to control his voice too; Lilia had told you to get on top of him, baring your pussy in the most vulnerable way possible by placing your knees on either side of his head. You started by trying to not suffocate him, fearing that it might be too much—Lilia couldn’t care any less about that since he pulled you closer by your hips.

Sloppy—the very image of starving and making a mess between your legs. He guided your hips to move in backward and forward motions, just making it harder for you to quiet down. 

“Lilia,” you tried to warn him of your approaching orgasm.

One hand tightened on your hips when he sensed you trying to get off, while the other slid up the small of your back to push you forward, making it easier for him to reach your clit.

“I’m going to cum, Lilia. Please,” You weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but your hips trembled, and you didn't want that satisfaction to end.

You bit down on your hand to silence yourself when you reached your climax.

However, Lilia’s hunger wasn’t satiated. You felt as if he was about to pounce on you, which wasn’t far-fetched, because he proceeded to change positions and push you on your back.

You couldn’t hold back your whimpers as Lilia kept teasing your sensitive clit, trying to tell him you were still coming down from your orgasm, but your own mind betrayed you. Lilia’s grin was fiendish, adoring the way you were so responsive to him.

“That was all it took to get this pussy this drenched?” He fingered your hole, and beyond indecent sounds came from there. “Listen to that. You’re beyond soaked. Even the insides of your thighs are covered with your cum. Didn’t you enjoy that a little too much?” he teased.

“F-Fuck, shut up,” your cheeks burned from embarrassment.

He wasn’t better off himself either. Beads of precum both roll down his dick and drip on your thigh. With the same hand he masturbated you with, he used your slick to further lubricate his cock, even if it wasn’t necessary given how wet you were.

He aligned it with your entrance and pushed in, panting from how good you felt to him. The moment he was completely inside, he began thrusting with unparalleled pace. You bit your lip, along with teary eyes, making your best attempt at keeping your voice down. Lilia noticed you struggling and bent down to shut you up with his own lips. For that instance, the tempo staggered but was still thrusting hard.

Through your foggy mind, you wondered how such a slim body like his was able to muster this much force at such a rapid pace. How a fae with a pretty and charming face like his could be this debauched...

“Ah…” he moaned against your neck, hunger overriding any sense of rationality. Lilia hid his face in your neck, licking and kissing it.

Without you needing to tell him, the general busied his hand with your clit again, pushing you closer to an orgasm. At this point, he went back to that sloppy tempo, and your hands darted to his disheveled hair, tugging those lovely locks of magenta and black hair. You tugged slightly harder without you discerning as you orgasmed, your body quivering from the intensity of the climax. A small grunt left him and came shortly after you.

After a while of catching his breath, he pulled away and lied down next to you.

“You’re lucky these soldiers are heavy sleepers, and my tent isn’t close to theirs.”

You covered your face, realizing that you were basically surrounded by more faes. “I don’t want to show my face to them,”

Essentially, the soldiers were heavy sleepers thanks to the weariness of having to train early in the day, do manual work, fight, run up and down the mountain, and everything else. They didn’t hear a thing. As for Baur, however...

[sophiethewitch1]

Since Tim the bastard is sadomasochist, I feel like him and a reader who is very caring and worries a lot about those she loves; would be really interesting. He would probably like it a little TOO MUCH, probably comes to you all injured and bloodied up just to see you all teary eyes and fussing all over him. -TD anon

The first time he comes to you after a fight, he doesn't do it on purpose. He just got the shit beat out of him. Everything aches and stings, and the blood dripping from his forehead makes it impossible to see. And he doesn't go home. It's just pure instinct that guides him to you.

And it's the best thing he ever does. You take him in with loving worry, cleaning and dressing his wounds. You're crying as you take care of him, as you feed him and tuck him into your bed. You don't even notice the deep inhale he takes of your pillow's scent. You're just too busy worrying about him. He's so used to taking care of himself after days like this, that the comparison is impossible. Dizzying, heavenly, addictive. He feels like he's going to faint, but it's probably just from blood loss.

Anyway, you've unknowingly created a monster after that. He will take more risks, he will lean into hits, and sometimes he just simply won't dodge. All just so he hurts a bit more, all so he comes back to you worse for wear. He realises this is bad for you, putting you through so much emotional turmoil but it's just... You're too pretty like that, okay? And he can patch you back together. He can fix whatever he breaks. Takes so much pleasure from these moments, and even the family can tell he's baiting fights more, letting himself get hurt worse. They think it's a form of self-harm or something but he's just being a massive pervert.

The first time you discover his erection when you're cleaning the blood from his face, he realises maybe he should've thought this through better. Still wonders if he could convince you to get him off anyway.

[bet-on-me-13]

The Hades and Persephone AU

So! It had been a coincidence. One of the Rouges Cass had been chasing down had dropped a stray Bullet Casing, and she had managed to miss it as she ran after them. All they could hear through the Comms was her startled yelp as she tumbled 3 Stories, directly onto her Back.

Batman had rushed to the scene, hoping that his daughter was still alive, but when he got there he came across a very different sight. A Tall, shadow covered Knight Carrying Cass in his Arms. Before he could do anything, the Shadow Knight turned away and walked deeper into the Alleyway, were a Lazarus Green Portal stood waiting.

Batman could only watch as his critically injured daughter was kidnapped by some sort of Dark Armored Demon. And into a Portal glowing with the same light as a Lazarus Pit no less.

When he returned to the Cave, Bruce immediately contacted Constantine. Within the Hour, Constantine had arrived and had been lead to the scene where Cass had been taken.

"Well, I don't know what you did to catch their ire but it seems like Orphan was kidnapped by a Realms Being." He explained, "And by the looks of it, by the Right Hand of the Ghost King himself. How did you manage this?"

"Where can we find her?" Asked Batman in a Hard Tone. This was his Daughter, and she had just been kidnapped by Royalty from another Realm. He didn't know why, but they were going to pay.

"Well, the Ghost Zone is a treacherous Realm. Ordinarily I would advise against even considering going there, but I know you will either way."

Constantine gave them Directions to a small town in Illinois, where supposedly a pair of Techno-Mages had managed to open a Permanent Portal the the Ghost Zone. They would have all the Weapons, Armor, and Transportation he would need to venture into the Zone.

Finding the Tecno-Mages was easy (though they preferred the term Ecto-Biologists), and surprisingly convincing them that they needed their help was even easier. Once Batman explained that his Daughter had been kidnapped by a Being from the Zone, they offered their help immediately.

"We understand, if it had been one of our own Kids who had been kidnapped, we would be doing the exact same. If only we could get into contact with our Son, he has connections in the Zone that may be have been useful, but he's been busy for the past few days."

After a day of preparing, the Team was ready to delve into this alternate dimension to save their Missing Family Member.

...

Meanwhile Cass is living out her Mythologically Accurate Romantic Fantasy (I have a headcanon that Cass adores myths). She was basically Kidnapped like Persephone, except it was under very different circumstances.

Basically, David Cain had made a deal with the Previous Ghost King. David would be given access to Fresh Lazarus Pits for the League, and in return the Ghost King would be given his daughters hand in marriage upon her Death. And while Cass was technically still alive, her Near-Death Experience had drawn enough Ecto to her that it pushed her Liminality past the point of Human Limits. She was no longer technically Alive, so the Contract had activated.

Thankfully, when Fright Knight noticed his new Queen-To-Be's condition, he had rushed her to the Far Frozen to be healed. Then he brought her to the Castle and had informed Danny of the development.

Now, Neither of them was really ready to be married, but a Contract like that needed to be canceled by the one who made it. And Pariah was still locked in his Box. So, they had delved into the Ghost Writers Library to see if they could find a Loophole.

And Study Dates have never been so fun.

Even though she isn't ready to be married yet, Cass still thinks that Danny is kind of cute. And she likes his goofy little smile, and his slightly glowing eyes, and his smooth white hair, and-

Oh, that Persephone comparison might have been a little more accurate than she thought...

[whumblr]

Infection

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” Zayne shot up in bed. “What are you doing, it’s the middle of the ni–”

Jay’s shallow breathing and soft pained moans continued despite the outburst, half asleep but still awake enough to feel the searing pain stabbing into his abdomen. He lay almost motionless under the covers except for the occasional harsh twitch and his torso quickly rising and falling.

Zayne’s anger evaporated; his voice softened but was still urging. “Turn over.”

Jay felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him onto his back.

Even in the dark, with barely more than some moonlight and streetlight trickling through the blinds, Zayne could see something was very wrong. Jay’s face, gleaming with sweat, was wrought into a grimace, his eyes squeezed shut, lips parted to allow fast shallow breaths.

A large hand slid over his forehead and instantly pulled back again. “Shit, you’re hot.” He wiped his hand on the covers. “And sweaty.”

He pulled the covers back and Jay mewled softly as cold air brushed over his searing skin. Even Zayne’s fingers, brusquely grasping at the hem of his shirt, felt icy in comparison. “Don’t… don’t touch me—” he muttered, cut off by a soft gasp as the cold air directly swept over his abdomen.

“Shit.” Zayne’s voice.

Jay glanced down. The cut crossing the side of his abdomen, graciously bestowed on him earlier that evening, had opened up again. The skin around it was almost as red as the pulsing core of the wound. Blood pooled in the cut, as if reluctant to seep out. And when he shifted, a drop of liquid did tip out, tickling slowly over the swelling, but the colour was murky and he couldn’t quite call it blood.

Shit… he mentally agreed, and let his head fall back onto his pillow.

The mattress shifted. Hurried footsteps circled the bed. Clattering noises came from the bathroom, cabinets opening and closing again in fast succession. Water rushed against the sink, the stream interrupted every now and then - fingers checking the temperature - before it turned off. Then a short silence. All the lights turned on – he squinted and turned his head with a protesting groan – and the mattress dipped under him again, this time on his side of the bed.

Fingers brushed over his side, but with more care. They were warmer as well, leaving little drops of water, likely to evaporate soon against his hot skin. A hand over his ribs nudged him lightly and without thinking Jay followed along, turning away and turning his side up.

Waterdrops tinkled against ceramic, a cloth being wrung out, the hand on his ribs pressed down harder and despite these warning signs, Jay was still caught by surprise when a sharp pain stabbed into the cut.

He yelped out a protest, bucked fiercely and twisted round wanting to bite Zayne’s head off like an injured dog.

“Don’t touch that!” he snarled.

“I have to,” Zayne simply said, nudging him back onto his side.

The water burned in the sensitive wound, as if the knife dipped in again. The fibres of the cloth scratched like spikes of sandpaper instead of soft cotton, scraping over the swollen skin. Jay cried a strangled note into his pillow, fingers tightening into a fist clutching his duvet.

Zayne carried on; ignoring cries of pain was something he was quite good at by now after all. But his trademark grin was nowhere to be found and his expression betrayed an utmost focus. He carefully swiped the cloth over the wound, dabbing at the blood, cleaning it the best he could. He caught the drops of water running down Jay’s back with a towel and lightly rested a hand on his hip, giving an uncharacteristic but reassuring squeeze.

All alarm bells went off in the form of liquid sloshing, the bottle of anti-septic being turned upside down against cloth, releasing a sharp scent and fresh anxiety. Jay flinched hard, but the hand now clamped on his hip was merciless and kept him firmly in place.

“This will—”

Jay shrieked, buried his face into his pillow and screamed some more as Zayne spread the stinging solution over every millimetre of the long cut.

Finally, he pulled away. The burning still lingered, but Jay’s shoulders relaxed and he resurfaced from his pillow.

“Do you think we need to use the ointment too?” Zayne asked, rummaging in the first-aid kit and holding up a tube.

“If it’s clean, it’s clean,” Jay managed in-between sharp breaths, really not looking forward to more. He was fully awake by now.

Zayne nodded, still inspecting the cut. Then a soft thunk as he dropped the tube back.

Jay lightly turned, watched as Zayne hesitated which dressing to use. “Not that one,” he breathed out. “It’ll stick to the wound.”

Another nod and Zayne carefully dressed the cut, coaxing out some more smaller moans of pain but they quickly died down.

Jay sighed in relief when the fingers brushed away and he felt Zayne sit back up. He was surprised to hear the same exhale from Zayne. They sat in silence for a bit, back to back, until Zayne said:

“Your breathing is less shallow.”

“It’s not hurting as much now.”

He heard light tapping and shifted onto his back, peeked an eye open to see Zayne reading something on his phone.

“Where are you?” Zayne suddenly asked.

“At home. In bed. With you,” Jay finished crankily.

“Okay, so you’re not confused or delusional…”

He was very confused, actually, but more because of Zayne’s genuine concern.

“Do you have muscle cramps?”

“Not more than usual.”

“Do you feel dizzy?”

“No, just tired.”

“Did you pee less than usual today?”

“What?”

“How is your—” A muttered curse and two fingers pressed against the side of his throat, just under his jaw. “Okay… I think,” he said after counting for a few seconds. He put his phone on Jay’s side table and picked something else from the first-aid kit. “Open up,” he said, nudging Jay’s chin, and forced a thermometer under his tongue. He held up a stern finger into his face. “No protesting.”

Jay still moaned an indignant tone, but kept his mouth shut. Stared straight up at the ceiling until he felt Zayne pull at the thermometer and opened up again.

“38.6…” He glanced at Jay in question.

“Quite high for me, but should be fine.”

A hand slithered to his neck and tilted him forward. Zayne pressed a glass to his lips and Jay carefully took a sip. Winced at the taste and sputtered, twisting his head.

“Drink up, you baby.”

“You caused this!” Yet he also fixed it… And before he could protest further the glass was forced to his lips again, tinking against teeth. All gentleness had evaporated and he drank up obediently, pulling a face at the last sip as the last remnants of the crushed aspirin slid down his throat.

Zayne ignored the disgusted blegh and put everything back into Jay’s first aid kit. He eyed the white dressing over the cut, as if daring it to turn red again. “Maybe go see a doctor tomorrow?”

“Not if I don’t have to.” Jay swiped Zayne’s hand away that was reaching out to pull his shirt back down. He could do that himself, thank you. He did let Zayne pull the covers back over him. Which, yeah, he could’ve done himself, but large movements were… well, he didn’t fully trust Zayne’s wound dressing, he mentally settled on to push the gratitude away. He let himself slide down from the pillow, wincing and hissing as the movement pulled at the cut.

He heard Zayne rinsing the glass in the bathroom. A thunk next to him as a new glass of water was offered – deposited – for the night without a word.

Then the lights turned off and, unfortunately, Zayne got back into bed again. Jay couldn’t turn away from him—or well, maybe he could, but pain had shifted to a light fear and he didn’t want to unsettle the wound or tear it open again so he just lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, lightly pondering what had just happened. He was tired as fuck anyway, he’d soon drift— Zayne’s soft voice pulled him back.

“Wake me, if something’s… if it feels wrong.”

-

Tag list:

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror

@susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime

@freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks

@hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion

@afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8

@itsmyworld98 @painless-and-colourful @withdrawingramen @lolrpop @nugget4427

[itadore-you]

pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader c/w: implied smut, not canon events but it should be w/c: only 600 words today sorry <3

The way how Nanami tears off his clothes when he gets home: his tie already loosened the second he gets in the car; the dents at the back of his stiff, expensive oxford shoes because he can't be bothered to take them off properly; the trail of clothes left along the hallway as he finally reaches you. You've been waiting for so long for him to come back home, to be in your arms again. All those hours spent in a dull trance, wary and anxious that he's been badly injured from this mission.

The second that the hallway lights spill from underneath the door, you stand up giddily, knowing that he's back.

'My love...' Nanami says breathlessly, the chill from outside still burning on his cheeks. You rush into his arms, relaxing at his touch.

'Thank god you're back, Kento, I missed you so much.'

'I know, honey. I missed you too.'

You help him to unbutton his shirt, knowing how much he hates being in his work clothes. Nanami is eager to kiss you the moment it drops to the ground, hands circling your waist to bring you in closely.

'I quit today. It's all over now,' He pants between your kisses. 'You don't need to worry anymore.'

'What? What's over?" You're praying hard between each second you hold your breath, the day has finally come -

'I quit the job. No more fighting, and no more curses. Today was the last day.'

With his words, you can almost feel how each and every fibre of muscle in his body finally relaxes, how something comes back to life in his eyes again when he looks at you. Something about loving someone so deeply has imprinted on your soul, to a point where you start to think that maybe you become your other half somewhere along the way. Maybe emotions aren't all for one to bear - when one's away, you can still feel the other's suffering.

'When Nanami's happy, you're happy' is an understatement. The two of you are euphoric as you hold each other; Kento sweeps you off your feet as he's unable to contain his joy.

"I might have to burn these clothes forever. I never want to see them again," He sighs after eventually setting you down.

"I know it'd remind you of the past, but Ken," You watch as he kicks the shirt, tie and harness to the side - "I do always love seeing you in a nice suit and tie."

He raises an eyebrow in response, making you giggle. "I'll just have to find a new signature colour for you, won't I?"

"I'd love that, Kento..."

"Come, let me show you how much I love you."

With one swift motion, he's got you in the closest room possible, making sure that the surface he pins you against isn't too uncomfortable - it's a little indecent that he could barely keep his hands off of you in the hallway, but with the way how you look tonight (it's simply the radiance that happiness gives you), he can't help himself. Kento Nanami is a lost man until you give him purpose.

Just as he nips at your neck, he pulls away, blond hair falling into his eyes. "I apologise for coming on so quickly, I just-"

"No need to ask Kento, I want you right now."

He nods, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips, almost shaking when he eventually pulls away. "Mhm?"

"And I'd want you again. And again. It can all be tonight or tomorrow, whenever," You pant between kisses. "We have all the time in the world."

------------------------

Death comes to many too often, and even the life of a regular person can be cut short in an instant. Smaller threats outside of jujutsu sorcery still exist. But what's the point in thinking about that? In comparison to Nanami's previous daily life, it feels like nothing can harm him now.

Maybe, just maybe, both of you can grow old together, like this.

[local-new-kid-super]

Little things the Raccoon and Friends Squad do for a New Kid!Reader during and after a battle.

Raccoon:

☆ Shares food with you mid-battle, even his beloved honey-soaked sopapilla. He's pretty selfish on the field (as with everything else), so he doesn't share with anyone else. Expect the rest of the team to get pissy he's not sharing with them.

"Fatass, Captain Diabetes is literally collapsing, give him some fucking food!"

☆ Checks on you first after the battle, trying not to seem like he cares too much, but he's even willing to 'shed' his claws off for a moment because it's next to inpossible to bandage you up with them.

"The fuck?" He snaps, struggling to open up a band-aid pack with his sharp digits. "Fuckin' shitty Terrance and Phillip band-aids, these Canadians don't know anything about battle, New Kid."

Captain Diabetes:

☆ Stays right by your side, often in front of you. Most of his attacks are head-on, and he can take quite a few kid. Sweet Scott is more than willing to take a few hits for one of the few members of the franchise who are kind to him.

"Not to fear, new kid! No hits to thought for the power of diabetes!"

☆ Always asks for you to 'sidekick' for him. He loved being by your side when Cartman first had you partner up with him after joining the franchise. His desire to have a sidekick is a mix of it making him feel like a real, respected member of the franchise, and a slight fear if you hang out with the others, you'll realize he's kinda lame in comparison to guys like Raccoon, or heaven forbid you switch teams and meet Mysterion.

"New Kid, hey! Listen, if Raccoon assigns us partners today, will you be mine? I've even got some super snacks for us to share!"

Human Kite:

☆ Kite's always willing to provide aerial support, or pick you up to help you avoid an enemies attack. This of course pisses of Raccoon, who just gets laughed at when he takes a hit.

"Ey! Kite, you fucking traitor jew, save me! I'm the fucking leader!"

"Shut up, I couldn't lift your fatass if I wanted to! Hop on my back, New Kid."

"Ey!"

☆ He's got a bunch of little home remedies his mom gives him when he goes out to 'play', and even some packed food. After a battle, he's more than happy to plop down on the curb with you and laugh at Cartman crying post-battle.

"My mom made her special stew if you want some, it's cold as balls out here..."

Mosquito:

☆ To be honest, Mosquito can't do a whole lot to help himself, much less you, but he's gonna try and show off, just for you. Whether it means flying in and draining some enemy blood, or even taking a hit to the head because he's too busy flexing his barely visible arm muscles.

"Check it out, New Kid! I'm getting pretty ripped, bzz bzz!" He immediately gets clocked by an enemy, but please don't make fun of him crying 😥

☆ After battle, he's in charge of hydration, so he'll go around and hand out water bottles, and 'blood' for himself, which you've come to realize is kool-aid powder in sprite. He'll give you your water bottle, and hope you won't poke fun at his streaky tear marks and wobbling lip.

"H-heres a bottle, drink up for... for strength, bzz bzzzzzz." He's outright sobbing now.

Fastpass:

☆ Fastpass makes sure to crack extra jokes when you're hanging around, throwing away his respect for comedic timing to slip in a one-liner after every. Single. Hit.

"C-consider t-t-this ass-kicking e-expedited!"

"Did someone o-order t-this fist with s-s-same day delivery?"

☆ Fastpass is pretty much ready to take off after a successful fight, especially if it's the end of his patrol. Hop on his back, and he'll take you somewhere cooler than this storage facility you just whipped Prof. Chaos's ass in.

"L-lets go! I've g-got a coupon for City Wok, and I've got some post fight mu-mu-munchies!"

Super Craig:

☆ He's not really enthusiastic during battle, so if you get injured or knocked out, then he'll step in and fuck up the opposition. Otherwise, he's more than willing to ditch mid-battle and go doing something more interesting.

"This fucking sucks, new kid. Let's go get a slushy."

☆ He knows fighting can be pretty stressful from when he used to battle alongside Tweek, before the whole Freedom Pals incident, so he's happy to take you back to his house to distress with him and Stripe.

"Don't worry, Stripe. Me and the New Kid really showed those assholes not to mess with Raccoon and Friends. Now, give him a carrot new kid, he makes this real funny squeak..."

[fairuzfan]

(This got soo much longer than I meant for it to be omg... sorry about that!!)

American Holocaust by David Stannard is a flawed book with some dated language, but of everything I've read, I think I like its explanation/argument against this weird sort of... competitive genocide stuff. I'm gonna butcher it a little by cutting out a LOT in order to not nuke your inbox with a super long ask, but:

[…] To say this is not to say that the Jewish Holocaust-the inhuman destruction of 6,000,000 people-was not an abominably unique event. It was. So, too, for reasons of its own, was the mass murder of about 1,000,000 Armenians in Turkey a few decades prior to the Holocaust. So, too, was the deliberately caused "terror-famine" in Stalin's Soviet Union in the 1930s, which killed more than 14,000,000 people. So, too, have been each of the genocidal slaughters of many millions more, decades after the Holocaust, in Burundi, Bangladesh, Kampuchea, East Timor, the Brazilian Amazon, and elsewhere. Additionally, within the framework of the Holocaust itself, there were aspects that were unique in the campaign of genocide conducted by the Nazis against Europe's Romani people, which resulted in the mass murder of perhaps 1,500,000 men, women, and children. [...]

Each of these genocides was distinct and unique, for one reason or another, as were (and are) others that go unmentioned here. In one case the sheer numbers of people killed may make it unique. In another case, the percentage of people killed may make it unique. In still a different case, the greatly compressed time period in which the genocide took place may make it unique. In a further case, the greatly extended time period in which the genocide took place may make it unique. No doubt the targeting of a specific group or groups for extermination by a particular nation's official policy may mark a given genocide as unique. So too might another group's being unofficially (but unmistakably) targeted for elimination by the actions of a multinational phalanx bent on total extirpation. Certainly the chilling utilization of technological instruments of destruction, such as gas chambers, and its assembly-line, bureaucratic, systematic methods of destruction makes the Holocaust unique. On the other hand, the savage employment of non-technological instruments of destruction, such as the unleashing of trained and hungry dogs to devour infants, and the burning and crude hacking to death of the inhabitants of entire cities, also makes the Spanish anti-Indian genocide unique.

[…]

A secondary tragedy of all these genocides, moreover, is that partisan representatives among the survivors of particular afflicted groups not uncommonly hold up their peoples' experience as so fundamentally different from the others that not only is scholarly comparison rejected out of hand, but mere cross-referencing or discussion of other genocidal events within the context of their own flatly is prohibited. It is almost as though the preemptive conclusion that one's own group has suffered more than others is something of a horrible award of distinction that will be diminished if the true extent of another group's suffering is acknowledged.

Compounding this secondary tragedy is the fact that such insistence on the incomparability of one's own historical suffering, by means of what Irving Louis Horowitz calls "moral bookkeeping," invariably pits one terribly injured group against another […]

Denial of massive death counts is common--and even readily understandable, if contemptible--among those whose forefathers were the perpetrators of the genocide. Such denials have at least two motives: first, protection of the moral reputations of those people and that country responsible for the genocidal activity (which seems the primary motive of those scholars and politicians who deny that massive genocide campaigns were carried out against American Indians); and second, on occasion, the desire to continue carrying out virulent racist assaults upon those who were the victims of the genocide in question (as seems to be the major purpose of the anti-Semitic so-called historical revisionists who claim that the Jewish Holocaust never happened or that its magnitude has been exaggerated). But for those who have themselves been victims of extermination campaigns to proclaim uniqueness for their experiences only as a way of denying recognition to others who also have suffered massive genocidal brutalities is to play into the hands of the brutalizers. Rather, as Michael Berenbaum has wisely put it, "we should let our sufferings, however incommensurate, unite us in condemnation of inhumanity rather than divide us in a calculus of calamity."

The whole thing is available to read on the Internet Archive if you're interested. (This part starts on pg 149, if you'd just like to have the full context without the parts I chopped.)

Additionally, Carrol Kakel's book The American West and the Nazi East, while imperfect, too, is also very useful in getting at the core issue with these arguments and what makes them harmful--regardless of intent. I'm gonna spare you and not quote too much from this one, but the general gist of what it's about and argues in favor of is summed up like this in its conclusion:

In the case of the Holocaust and its contexts, the new ‘optics’ helps us see that – contrary to the prevailing image of ‘industrial genocide’ – many aspects of the Holocaust are akin to earlier ‘colonial genocide’. It is worth noting (and emphasizing) that the distinction I make between ‘colonial genocide’ and ‘industrial genocide’ is not to suggest some type of crude and arbitrary ‘partitioning’ of the Nazi Holocaust; it is, rather, to suggest and reassert the (settler) colonial roots, content, and context of the Nazi project in the ‘Wild East’ – a content and context linked, in Hitler’s and Himmler’s ‘spatial’ and ‘racial’ fantasies, to the ‘North American precedent’. And finally, the new ‘optics’ also allows us to understand that the ‘genocide and colonialism’ nexus holds the key to recognizing the Holocaust’s origins, content, and context; that the Nazi Holocaust is not a copy – but an extremely radicalized variant – of earlier ‘colonial genocide’; and that ‘holocaust’ is not a separate category from, but the most extreme variant of, the blight on human history we call ‘genocide’.

One of the more infamous examples of someone trying to argue against comparison (at least in the NDN circles I run in, anyway) was Deborah Lipstadt claiming that "[What the United States did to Native Americans] was not the same as the Holocaust" because, she says, "The Native Americans were seen as "competitors" for land and resources. There was, therefore, a certain logic-horrible and immoral as it was-to the campaign against the Native Americans."

Just for context, the full paragraph from her blog post:

What the United States did to Native Americans was horrendous. I have not studied it closely and it's not my area of expertise, however, it seems clear that the treatment of the various Native American tribes was revolting. However, it was not the same as the Holocaust. The Native Americans were seen as "competitors" for land and resources. There was, therefore, a certain logic-horrible and immoral as it was-to the campaign against the Native Americans. [Please note: I am NOT justifying the attacks.] The German campaign against the Jews had no logic and was often completely illogical. People who were "useful" to the Germans were murdered or exiled, e.g. slave laborers in factories producing goods for the Wehrmacht and scientists who were producing important technological advances for the Germans. In a prime example of illogic, in June 1944 at the time of the landing at Normandy, when the Germans were truly on the defensive, they used precious ships and men to go to the Island of Corfu and deport the 1200 Jews who lived there. They ended up in Auschwitz. Approximately 100 of this old Jewish community survived.

This is obviously a repulsive take, but the bizarre rationalization of abject evil isn't what I think makes this such a good example of the big issue at the heart of the constant emphasis on "uniqueness." There are plenty of people who hold these "exceptionalist" beliefs without taking it that much further and dismissing other genocides altogether. No, the thing that makes this such a perfect encapsulation imo is the very first sentence, where this historian, this professor of "Holocaust Studies," this woman who's ostensibly spent most of her entire life studying genocide openly admits she's never really bothered to look into what, exactly, happened to all those Indians way back when.

This is ultimately what I, personally, see as the main issue with this line of thinking. The harm doesn't necessarily come from holding the Holocaust up as "worse" than any other genocidal event, though that way of thinking definitely has its own problems, but from holding it up as fundamentally different.

It's the way this view holds it up as completely separate, in its own little bubble of history where we can study it and analyze it and teach about it all we want... all without ever having to broach the subject of colonialism. You can have entire classes where you study every single minute detail of this one specific genocide without ever having to mention or--god forbid--criticize the system that's driven pretty much every other instance of it.

Deborah Lipstadt has spent the better part of a century learning everything there is to know about the Holocaust, but in all that time, she's apparently never felt the need to look into the events that its perpetrators openly and repeatedly referred to as their inspiration.

This is what makes this sort of framing so dangerous imo. You can spend your entire life educating yourself about genocide, but if it's only in the context of one genocide and the belief in the uniqueness and incomparability of that single event is core to your understanding of both it and your worldview as a whole, you will still be completely incapable of recognizing the signs when it starts to happen again.

this is a really informative ask. thank you so much for sending this in (love the citations haha) i think it adds a lot to the overall discussion.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

casually adding onto this with my thought process for writing "don't let me love you" but—kieran's character is one hell of a ride guys i swear to you. i'm genuinely impressed at the layers they gave him liKE????? it's like there are so many calculated moves from him, but also so much of his character seems to lean into the role he has of serving sylus that it's so. fun to look into his dialogue?!

and like. first of all. his words are always so... sharp. he feels definitely like the harsher of the two, and as far as first impressions go he doesn't seem to be very fond of mc whereas his brother feels more open to the idea of her being around, he even goes so far as to take luke's taunting further with regards to the hallway which like,, idk that stuck out to me bc this was right after he witnessed luke get threatened and played 😭

and more than that, he also feels the most loyal/obedient to sylus. he seems to put sylus and sylus' orders first, mostly focused on duty before anything else—when we first see the twins he: (a) makes sure to injure mc's captor first and (b) simply walks off once sylus steps in (a la "my job here is done" vibes). it's a big contrast to luke who approaches mc first instead, and also lingers a lil to watch/taunt as sylus' evol strangles the guy

BUT SIMULTANEOUSLY . he's also always the first to extend a hand to mc, even if it means potentially going against sylus' wishes? which is so interesting to me. because luke might be more prone to expressing concern through words, and his tone of voice comes off warmer in comparison, but—

kieran, despite being generally colder/harsher with his tone, seems to show appreciation through acting on it.

in all three of those situations, he was able to garner that mc wasn't okay with certain things—(1) being "trapped" (although they were leading her to sylus anyway), (2) not knowing how to find the brooch (although the items they gave her were only jokes), (3) being wary of sylus and his intentions. and he's the one acted to provide some comfort, first.

in the first, luke might have tried to reassure her with words that it's better for her to stay, but kieran is the one who opens the door enough to ease her anxiety about it. in the second, kieran is the first one who speaks and suggests helping her at all, and granted, it gave her enough courage to do something risky, even if the given items were fake. in the third, kieran is the only one who addresses her doubts about sylus and deliberately chooses to reassure her—without intending for sylus to know of it, despite the loyalty he seems to have for him.

i.e how i wrote it in dlmly;

like do you. DO YOU SEE. do you see how many layers they haVE DESPITE BEING SIDE CHARACTERS AND HOW INTERESTING KIERAN'S PATTERNS ARE DESPITE HOW LITTLE DIALOGUE HE HAS. IN THIS ESSAY I WILL—

[antianakin]

i saw that you put finnrey as your “most potential” ship and i was just wondering what makes you see them as more romantic over a platonic relationship? especially considering the finnpoe presence lol

and to be clear, definitely not judging you or saying everyone has to prefer finnpoe, i just haven’t seen very many people talk about finnrey as a romantic pair, or at least i haven’t interacted with it, so i’m curious for your take :)

I'm going to start this with a disclaimer: I do not dislike Finnpoe at all, I actually quite enjoy Finnpoe as a ship, I think that Finn and Poe's dynamic in the movies is (mostly) enjoyable, and I do think there is an obvious foundation for the interpretation of them as romantic based on what we see in the films.

Finnrey are pretty obviously set up as a future romantic couple in TFA, to the point that the person who wrote the novelization has said that that is how he wrote them because it seemed REALLY REALLY OBVIOUS that that's where they were going with that relationship with what he had seen of it and he was pretty surprised when future films didn't follow up on that. There is arguably more explicit set-up for Finnrey in the first film of their trilogy than there was for Han/Leia (and also Luke/Leia since their sibling relationship wasn't established yet when ANH came out) and even for Anidala in their respective first films together.

It's Rey that Finn goes back for, fulfilling a place in her life that she's been waiting on for literal years, becoming the first person Rey feels like she can trust. Finn gets jealous when he thinks that Rey is going back to a boyfriend on Jakku. There's an entire running gag that is about the two of them holding hands, something usually pretty connected to romantic couples. Finn only joins the Rebellion because he cares enough about Rey to want to go back to save her (and he also answers his call of destiny by doing so, as visualized by him being given and then using Anakin's lightsaber as part of that decision). Rey answers her own call to destiny when she calls Anakin's lightsaber to her, something she only does in order to save Finn after Kylo has injured him. The two of them impact each other's storylines in a way that NO ONE ELSE DOES.

I also personally feel like Finn and Rey were originally built as CO-LEADS in TFA, neither one was supposed to be "the main character" over the other. They were BOTH intended to be Force sensitive, BOTH intended to become Jedi, BOTH intended to be the awakening in the Force. Their connection was the whole heart of the story in TFA. Allowing them to be love interests for each other just helps cement that. Finnrey being allowed to remain love interests throughout the Sequel trilogy could've helped keep Finn from being sidelined, it could've helped keep REY from being sidelined, it could've allowed Kylo Ren to remain a villain, it could've helped keep some of the more interesting themes of TFA from being completely and utterly dropped.

By comparison, Poe was supposed to die in TFA. He and Finn share maybe 2-3 scenes total with each other, which are split up between the very beginning and the end of the second act of the film, leaving a LOT of time in-between where neither we as the audience nor Finn in universe even SEE Poe (and he mostly disappears when the third act on Starkiller Base starts up, too). Giving Finn a love interest that isn't Rey also opens the door for him to be sidelined in favor of Rey. This is something we can actually see done intentionally in TLJ with Finn and Rose. It pulls focus from what was set up as the focal point and heart of the narrative in TFA (Finn and Rey's relationship) and provides an excuse for why Finn isn't taking part in the bigger storylines with Rey.

And last but not least, I don't personally believe that there was ever a snowball's chance in hell that Finn and Poe were ever going to become an canon couple in a Disney Star Wars movie (it wouldn't have happened in a Lucas-run Sequel Trilogy either, but that's not really the point here). Finnrey could've. You can even argue that it SHOULD'VE happened and that it WOULD'VE happened (if Rian Johnson hadn't come in and decided to ignore everything that was set up in TFA). And Finnrey theoretically still HAS a shot at being made canon. It seems a LOT more likely that if they continue to explore the characters in the future that we'll see Finn and Rey get together romantically than that we would see Finn and Poe get together romantically.

So while I like Finn and Poe, I don't feel like there was real potential that actually got squandered in the films when they didn't happen, whereas there was ACRES of potential for Finn and Rey that got completely thrown away, and doing so really hurt both of their characters and the trilogy as a whole.

[copper-16]

Hothead

Jule gets injured, and Lena tries to deal with her worry on top of the fact that she's still trying to keep it a secret that she's hopelessly in love with her best friend.

Luckily for her? Someone happens to feel the exact same way.

(a/n: Someone asked me MONTHS ago to write this...and well I'm like 6 months late but better late than never I suppose! Also I started writing this when Feli was still at Wolfsburg so she's still at Wolfsburg for the sake of I was too lazy to change what I had already written, take it or leave it.

I love getting to write Obi...so much. Like SO much! So much that I actually didn't edit this at all I just scrolled over it really fast and said MEH it's probably good to post (so sorry if there are mistakes). Also this is cross posted from ao3 because I'm pretty sure the request was sent on here, if I remember correctly. But anywho, enjoy!)

It was a dirty foul. 

It was a really dirty foul, in fact, and pretty much all of the Wolfsburg girls are ready to throw hands when they see what has occurred. 

Jule had been taking the ball up the right side of the pitch after Obi had sent her a lovely little long ball, when the Werder Bremen defender had gone right for her ankle instead of the ball. It was a crunching tackle, a dangerous and thoughtless one from the Werder player, and it sent the blonde winger tumbling to the ground with a cry of pain. 

It was late in the game, they were up by one goal anyways, but as soon as Jule was hitting the ground, all hell broke loose. The Wolfsburg players were immediately going for the Werder defender who dared to hurt their golden girl, none leading the charge more than Lena. 

The brunette was halfway across the field from Jule when she went down, but suddenly Lena was right next to Jule as she pressed her face into the grass, her ankle ringing with pain. 

“Jule? Are you okay, should I get the medic?” Lena asks softly, her face close to Jule’s. The blonde can smell the patchouli and ylang-ylang of her perfume, and the way that Obi tugs her kit down from where it had ridden up before she placed her hand gently on the wingers back. 

Jule hated the medic. She hated going down, didn’t want to hog attention away from the others, stop play, or force a substitution to be made unless it was absolutely necessary. 

But the pain in her ankle isn’t subsiding in the way it should be, and she knows that she won’t be able to walk it off like she normally should. The blonde screwed her eyes shut in frustration as she nodded, moving to turn over on her side and eventually back as Lena began to flag down the team medic. 

Which of course, happened to be the exact same time that the Werder defender decided to open her mouth, her words callous and unkind. 

“Oh Jesus, why is she being such a baby? She’s fine, I hardly touched her,” the defender scoffed, and here’s the thing. 

Lena knew that she had a reputation for how easily she found herself in the middle of a fight. It was a fair one, she knew that. The midfielder was the one most likely in her team to be found arguing with the referee, or to get into some sort of a brawl with another player, or something of the sort. 

But her hot headedness in general paled in comparison to any sort of reaction that she had when it involved her blonde teammate. 

It was a known fact at Wolfsburg that Lena and Jule just had an inexplicably close relationship. Ever since the winger had joined the German side, her and the midfielder had been completely inseparable. 

For the older women in the team, the writing is on the wall, clear as day. But Jule is rather oblivious to the fact that her best friend is hopelessly in love with her. She would never imagine that Lena would actually reciprocate what she told herself was a silly little crush. 

But it wasn’t just that, for either side. 

Jule was gentle, maybe not always on the pitch but she was known for being incredibly sweet. Lena wasn’t exactly known for her saccharine like personality, but her and Jule just always seemed to work together. The midfielder was fiercely protective of the younger girl, whether that be batting away creepy men at clubs or making sure that she had eaten that day. It was the fact that they were complete opposites that seemed to make them work so well together, totally balancing one another out. Jule had this uncanny ability to calm Lena down, no matter what was occurring, whether it be in a game or when they are getting too competitive playing a board game with teammates. And in kind, Lena makes sure that Jule isn’t stepped on or bothered by anyone around her. 

So for someone to say something like, something that is so blatantly rude and careless, all of the Wolfsburg girls were immediately turning to Lena, knowing what was about to happen. 

“Oh you absolute BITCH–” Lena started as she turned toward the woman in a second, and she would have slammed right into her if it wasn’t for Feli, who wrapped her arms around the brunette at the last second and pulled her away. 

“Not helping right now Miss Hothead,” Feli grunted out as she hauled Lena back with everything in her, the midfielder still practically snarling at the woman as she strained against her teammate heavily. 

“Lena?” 

The brunette turns on a dime at the sound of her name being called softly by the winger, and Feli nearly falls over at how quickly the midfielder moves away from her, completely abandoning her course of action in favor of turning toward Jule. It wasn’t very often that Jule used her real name as opposed to calling her Obi like the other girls, but when she did, the brown eyed girl knew to pay attention. 

The blonde didn’t actually need the midfielder, but she knew that Lena was on the cusp of a yellow card, and the last thing she wanted to do was turn this into a card party, especially not when Lena had managed to make it through nearly the whole game without one. 

“Are you alright?” Lena asked as she knelt down next to the winger, the anger wiped from her face in favor of a kinder, softer expression, the kind that was only reserved for Jule, and Jule alone. 

Her eyebrows were knit together lightly, her head tilted to the side in worry as she looked down at her teammate, who shook her head slightly. 

“It's a bad sprain or a possibly fracture,” Jule explained, parroting what the medic had told her as he nodded along. Lena hated the fact that she could tell Jule was trying not to cry, and it made her equal parts sad and murderously mad at the defender for causing the blonde to hurt this much. 

“Help me up?” the blonde asked, breaking Lena out of her train of thought as she nodded. But the German midfielder was more than a little panicked, staring down at Jule who was looking at her with big, misty eyes, and clutching at her ankle. 

The brunette hardly even thought about it, she simply acted. She didn’t think about the setting or the consequence, but rather on what was right in front of her. 

The older girl reached down, hooking her arms around Jule’s back and under her knee, and lifting her into the air with a slightly scary lack of effort. Suddenly the blonde’s face was right in front of her own, and Obi could stare directly into the wingers eyes. 

(Behind them stood Ewa, Alex, and Feli who, alongside thousands of fans, all but had their jaws on the ground) 

But Lena isn’t focused on that, but rather the way Jule is looking at her, her eyebrows pulled together in concern. The wingers face is red, if not from exertion than from this interaction, and the midfielder can see the baby hairs that have loosened from her ponytail and frame her face. 

“Obi?” Jule asked, her voice very soft, only loud enough for the brunette to hear. 

“Yes?” She replied instantly, her heart jumping into her throat. 

Sometimes Lena had these…moments with Jule, where she thought maybe it was possible that the other girl felt just as strongly as she did. 

“I can walk…I–I need to walk off the pitch,” Jule said, louder this time, and Lena startled at her words, despite still holding the blonde safely in her arms. 

The moment popped like a needle, and the brunette flushed an even deeper shade of red at the realization that she was definitely just kidding herself. 

It simply wasn’t possible that Jule felt the same for her as she did.

“Right! Yes, well, here we are,” Lena said quickly very carefully lowering Jule to the ground and waiting for the medic to 

Which left their teammates to watch the whole interaction, Alex, Ewa, and Feli still standing in a line as they looked back and forth between the winger and midfielder. 

“Did she just–” Alex started, her voice incredulous as she was cut off. 

“Yes.” Ewa says, never one to mince words. 

“In the middle of a–” Feli tried this time, faltering when the Polish forward answered yet again. 

“Yep.” The striker said again, and the three women were stuck standing there in amazement at what had just occurred. 

“Hopeless lovesick idiots, the both of them!” Lynn whisper shouted as she walked past the trio from just behind them, her hand cupped over her mouth as though she was trying to be sly, despite the volume of her voice. 

But neither Jule nor Lena heard their scheming teammates, both of them too focused on trying to get the winger off the pitch to be paying attention to their teammates. Obi helped Jule to wrap her arms around the shoulders of the medic as she hobbled off the field, Vivien taking her place on the pitch. 

Lena doesn’t bother looking toward her coach, she knows that she won’t get a sub out, not this late in the game. But her heart isn’t really in it anymore, it’s back in the medical room where she knows that Jule is, probably getting an x-ray or something of the sort. 

Not that it really matters though. Jule’s injury has sucked the energy out of the match as quickly as it had come, and it ends up being a passing game for Wolfsburg for the remaining few minutes of the game. 

Meanwhile, Jule had just gotten situated on a bed in the medical room when Svenja had burst in the doors, her eyes searching for and immediately finding the blonde winger. The older woman hadn’t been playing, had only been sitting on the bench when Jule had gone down, and had instantly gone to get permission to go check on the younger German. 

It wasn’t news to anyone that Svenja was absolutely the team Mom of the group, now even more so because she was an actual Mom. But she always made it her mission to look out for the younger girls, in whatever way she could. 

Like when they got hurt, and she knew that they would likely be stressed and in pain. Jule can’t help the relief that washed over her when the door swung open to reveal Svenja, her eyes watering. 

“Hey kid,” the forward soothed gently as she came to stand next to Jule, who swallowed thickly as she did her best to offer a smile, even if it came out as more of a grimace than anything else. It was Svenja who sat with her for the next twenty minutes as they ran more tests, brought in a portable x-ray machine, determining that it was a small fracture in her ankle. It was minor, she would likely be out for the next four weeks and in a boot, but it meant that she wouldn’t have to have surgery, which of course was good news. 

The doctors had just given her a boot to wear as well as some crutches, slipping out of the room and leaving Jule to get down from the table, when they first heard it. 

At first glance, it sounded like a commotion in the hallways, and Jule thought that maybe it was the girls celebrating the win. 

But it only took a second for her to realize that was in fact not the case. It’s Obi’s voice that she hears, high and shrill. The midfielder sounds beyond stressed and panicked, and Jule feels her eyebrows furrow in concern at the noise. 

“Where is sh–” Obi cuts herself off when she all but busts open the door to the med room, Feli hot on her heels. 

“Jule!” the midfielder exclaims, her eyes widening as she realized that she had found the winger. 

“Jesus, did we have to sprint the whole way?” Feli pants, following Obi into the room with sarcasm dripping from her tone. Svenja forces down a chuckle but Lena doesn’t even bother paying her any mind, her eyes wild with concern. 

“Are you okay? What did the doctor say? Is everything alright? Do you need–” Lena started, only for Svenja to very quickly cut her off, sensing that the German midfielders' panicked energy was not what this room needed right now. 

“Feli, could you help Jule with her boot and crutches while I talk to the lovely Ms. Oberdorf for a second?” Svenja said, a question that wasn’t really a question at all as she drug the brunette out of the room, leaving Feli and Jule both to stare after them, a little bit lost but shrugging all the same. 

Svenja closed the door behind them, turning to Obi with a disapproving glint in her eyes. 

“Okay, you need to get it together lover girl, because you can’t–” Svenja started, but Obi shook her head, pulling back in clear disagreement, her expression weak. 

“Lover girl? I don’t even know what you’re talking abou–” she started, only for Svenja to double it and cut her off again. 

“You can save the denial for someone who actually believes you. We all know you love that girl, it’s about as clear as a sky blue sunny day, but perhaps we aren’t ready to have that exact conversation. So for now, I need you to calm the hell down and rein it in. You’re here to help that poor girl relax, not to stress her out with a game of twenty questions. Understand?” Svenja asked bluntly, knowing that sweet talking her way with Obi wasn’t something that was really all that necessary. 

The midfielder swallowed thickly before she nodded, her cheeks tinged with pink from embarrassment. But Svenja just pays her no mind, turning back toward the med room, where Feli and Jule were having a conversation of their own. 

Obi had to give herself a bit of a pep talk before she went back into the room, and by the time she reenters the med room, Jule is upright with a boot and crutches. 

“Lena, I’m going to take Jule home, would you like to come with us?” Svenja prompted, gesturing as subtly as she could toward Jule. 

It didn’t matter either way, because her sentence was barely done before the midfielder was responding. 

“Yes, absolutely!” Lena chirped out, her voice about two octaves higher than normal. Jule was a little pink in the face from using the crutches, but she still looked up with a quirked brow, entirely unimpressed with how fake her friend's voice sounded. 

She chose not to comment on it further, her foot throbbing painfully inside the boot as she made her way slowly out to the car. The winger is so focused on her journey, in fact, that she hardly notices the way that Lena hovers behind her, just on the off chance that Jule stumbles and needs help. 

She also entirely misses the several eye rolls from both Feli and Svenja as they walked out to the car, both women equally annoyed by their collective cluelessness. 

Not my circus not my monkeys, the defender mouthed to the forward, whose face immediately dropped in indignation. 

“Yes it is!” She exclaimed, shooting a dazzling (and decidedly fake) smile at both Obi and Jule when they turned back around, equally confused by the seemingly random words. 

But Feli waved them off, a thrilled grin on her face at Svenja’s little outburst. The defender helped get Jule into the forward's car before saying goodnight to her teammates and heading back to her own apartment. Lena followed Svenja’s car in her own, figuring it would be good for them to have possible means of transportation if they needed anything. 

It was Svenja who helped Jule instead, getting her set up on the couch and dolling out pain medication before she began to go over the list of what to do with Lena. 

She didn’t bother with asking the brunette if she was staying with Jule, she just…always had been. There was no use in denying the inevitable, really. 

“Okay, and you call me if you need anything, alright? Even if it’s the middle of the night,” Svenja told Jule, who gave her a small smile and a nod. 

“Yes, yes, of course Mom. Thank you for everything today,” the blonde replied softly, and the older woman squeezed her arm affectionately before seeing herself, leaving only the winger and midfielder in Jule’s apartment. 

It was hardly the first time that Lena had been here, quite the opposite really. The two of them were practically inseparable, and spent most of their time together, at one of their two apartments. 

Obi was so used to Jule’s apartment, the younger girl practically considered her a roommate. The second bedroom had a dresser with her clothes in it and a toothbrush for her in the bathroom, so it wasn’t that big of a stretch honestly. 

But for some reason the midfielder can’t seem to sit still today, floating around the apartment doing odds and ends, asking Jule if she needs something every few minutes (seconds, really), and exerting a rather tumultuous energy over the whole place. 

After about fifteen minutes, Jule sighs heavily. And right on key, Lena appears by her side, looking down at her with wide eyes. 

“What! What is it?” She asks breathlessly, having run in from the kitchen. Jule shakes her head, her expression set with exasperation that masks the hurt she’s beginning to feel. 

“Lena, if you do not want to be here you can just go home! I broke my foot, not my entire body, I do not need a babysitter,” Jule huffs out, having mistaken Lena’s nerves for annoyance. 

But she’s surprised by the way that the brunette’s face falls, and she instantly settles down on the couch next to her teammates, shaking her head. 

“No, no, there is nowhere else I want to be, I promise. I just…I don’t…” Lena trails off, struggling to find the words. Her face is screwed with indecision, and it makes the wingers heart leap into her throat. 

“You don’t…what?” Jule prompts lightly, her voice light and barely audible. It sounds rather breathless, and she hates herself for a moment by how much her voice gives her hopes away. She prays Lena won’t pick up on it…or maybe she prays that she will. 

Obi looks over at the blonde, her heart thumping in her chest. Jule is looking at her with an entirely unreadable expression, and for just a moment the brunette wonders if it would even be possible for her friend to feel the same way that she does. 

She couldn’t explain her attraction to Jule, nor could she articulate how strong it was. It felt like the winger was the sun, and the brunette was simply made to orbit around her. 

Everything was better when Jule was there. Her laugh, her smile had this completely contagious property, and it made Obi feel lighter, happier, better. 

She made Lena better, just by being herself. She was warm and kind where the midfielder was callous and gruff. She was soft and forgiving, forcing Lena to relax and give herself some grace. 

It wasn’t something she could explain, because how on earth are you supposed to describe the one person in the world who means everything to you? 

Lena opens her mouth, her feelings on the tip of her tongue. They’ve been sitting there for a now awkwardly long period of time, the silence clinging to them both, hanging in the space between them. Jule is staring back at her, her jaw clenched shut, her teeth clenched with a nervous anxiousness, wondering if this is the moment where everything will change.  

But doubt creeps into the brunette’s mind, and the thought of confessing flees her mind as quickly as it comes. 

“I just don’t know what to do to help you feel better, that's all,” Lena finally says lamely, and it takes everything in Jule for her expression not to drop in disappointment, swallowing the feeling and offering a smile instead. 

“You make me feel better just by being here,” she admitted, and it was the truth, if not the entire truth. 

Was it lying, if it was a lie of omission? 

Jule isn’t sure. She isn’t sure what she’d rather be: filled with regret because she never said anything, or filled with regret because she had. 

“But if you’re just going to sit here with two working feet I wouldn’t say no to a sandwich,” the blonde tacked on at the end, the breath stolen from her lungs at the way Lena’s face lit up, a laugh tumbling from her mouth. 

“You got it, coming right up!” She announced as she hopped up from the couch, leaving Jule to her thoughts. 

Just as she often did, the German winger spent the next few minutes mulling over the pros and cons list that had only grown as time dragged on. 

To tell her best friend that she was in love with her, and risk all of the fall out if she didn’t feel the same? Or never tell her, and simply live with what could have been, if she was a little less scared? 

It seemed like an easy choice when she framed it like that, but the actual implications of her actions somehow seemed so much larger. 

She’s so lost in thought, that she hardly notices Lena coming back with food for them both, until the midfielder is placing her hand gently on Jule’s thigh. The touch causes the blonde to jump, and Lena retracts her hand just as quickly, as though she’s been burned. 

“Sorry, sorry,” the midfielder is quick to say, but Jule shakes her head emphatically. 

“No apologies, please. I was just lost in thought…about my foot! About my foot, I was thinking about my foot!” Jule explained, seeming a little too happy to be thinking about her foot when the person on the receiving end of her words doesn’t realize its a coverup. 

But really, what was she supposed to do? It wasn’t like she could just tell Lena how she felt, right here and right now. 

“Thank you for the food,” the blonde rushes to say instead, and the two fall into gentle chatter as they eat their food. Jule is honestly glad for the distraction, would rather do anything other than talk about her injury right now. 

She’s lucky it wasn’t worse, that it wasn’t badly broken, or required surgery, but it still sucked to be injured regardless. 

The winger knew that she was lucky to have Lena to sit here and make her laugh, to drop whatever she had been doing to be here. So amidst her confusion over whether to admit her feelings, still her gratitude toward the midfielder balloons in size. 

When Jule leaned forward to put her plate on the coffee table, Lena is looking at her closely. 

“What else do you need? What can I get you?” The older girl asks, and Jule shakes her head slightly, a soft smile on her face. 

“I’m fine Obi, I don’t need anything else. I honestly just kind of want to go to bed,” Jule admitted, and Lena nodded, before looking down with a furrowed brow at the blonde’s boot. 

“What?” Jule asks with a tiny chuckle, loving the fact that she could see Lena’s brain work in real time, as if she was working out a very complex math problem and not staring at her teammates foot. 

“That thing has to hurt to walk on, doesn’t it?” Obi asked, and Jule shrugged before admitting that while it was a bit painful, it was manageable. 

But that seemed to do nothing but displease the midfielder further, and before Jule could hardly say a thing in response, Lena was reaching forward, and just as she had on the football pitch, picking the blonde up. 

Only, in this instance it was a tad more appropriate than it had been earlier in the day. 

“Oh! Lena, what are you doing?” Jule asked with a laugh, still amazed that the brunette could pick her up with such ease, with so little effort. 

The midfielder rolled her eyes, carefully navigating them around the couch and toward the stairs. 

“Clearly I’m using the fact that I have two working legs to flex on you! Now, what do we say?” Lena teased, throwing on an overly saccharine and fake tone that is clearly meant to get Jule to laugh. Not that she cares, because it works easily. She tips her head back slightly, content when her teammates catches the change of weight easily. 

When she leans back in she’s still giggling, but when she opens her eyes she finds that her face is a lot closer to Lena’s than she had anticipated. The younger girl swallows roughly, blinking several times to try to rid her expression of surprise. 

Lena’s brown eyes are staring at her pensively, softly. The sense of gentleness that her gaze held was one that had always just been reserved for Jule, and here it was, just for her. 

As brash and argumentative as Obi could be, there was no one in the world who could cause her to soften quite like Jule Brand. 

The older girl clears her throat after a second, focusing on continuing up the stairs and into the bedroom. 

The next few minutes are filled with getting themselves situated and ready for bed, teeth brushes and sink showers attempted because the thought of having to stand on one leg to shower sounded like hell on earth. 

But there was Lena, always there to hold her up and make her smile, even when she was just doing mundane tasks like brushing her teeth. 

They switch her boot out for an ankle brace, to give her some support without being too restrictive. Lena shoves a pillow down at the end of the bed gracelessly, before gently propping up Jule’s foot with great care. The two acts are entirely juxtaposing of one another, and they make the blonde giggle as she settles into her bed, the flush that coats Obi’s cheeks as a result not lost on her. 

“Will you stay with me?” Jule looked up at Lena, her face filled with uncharacteristic worry. It was hardly a question she needed to ask, and the answer from her teammate is both immediate and automatic. 

“Of course,” she replied, moving to turn the light off and climb into bed next to her best friend. 

But it’s only after the lights are turned off, and the comfort of darkness has descended on them both, that they are able to finally admit what’s been on the tip of their tongues for weeks now. 

The fact that’s probably both surprising to the two of them is that it’s Jule, and not Lena, who says something first, her boldness coming out of nowhere even if it didn’t last for more than a single word. 

Lena was laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling from her spot on the left side of the bed. Jule laid on the right side, turned on her left side so that she was facing her teammate, which was how she usually slept when there wasn’t anyone in her bed anyways. 

The winger can just barely make out the brunette’s profile, the bridge of her nose and the sharp edges of her jaw, her chest rising and falling shallowly, heartbeat quickened by whom she was in proximity of. 

“Lena?” Jule asked, her voice quiet. It was rare for her to say the midfielders actual name, and Lena’s heart skips a beat at the question. 

“Yes Jule?” She responds, her voice equally soft. 

“I–” Jule opens her mouth to say more, and finds that she isn’t sure what to say. 

It’s an uncomfortable reality, to realize that you care so greatly for another person in life that you find yourself unable to fully elucidate your feelings. 

But before she can even try again, Obi is cutting her thought process off softly. 

“Can I be honest with you about something?” The brunette asks, struggling to keep her throat open enough to explain how she’s feeling. 

“Yes,” the blonde replies instantly, her words filled with relief and hope, and it’s her tone and that alone that spurs Lena on, that allows her to say what she’s been feeling for months. 

“When we were downstairs and we were talking before and I paused I…I wasn’t brave enough to say it but I can now,” she began, taking a very slow breath before continuing. “I think I love you, Jule.” 

“You think?” The winger asked, her voice small but neutral in its tone. Lena swallows roughly at the sound, wondering if she’s made a big mistake.

But it’s too late now to think about that, so instead she forges ahead. 

“No, not I think. I know I love you, and I have for months now. Maybe ever since I met you,” Lena admits, finally turning her head to look at Jule. The blonde is sitting in bed on her side, facing the older girl. 

When the brunette turned toward her, the winger reached out with her hand, running her fingers gently over the midfielders cheek until she was cradling her jaw. 

“I love you too,” Jule whispered into the space next to them, and she can feel rather than see the tear that slips down Lena’s cheek, the wetness seeping into her palm. The midfielder turns her head, pressing an impossibly soft kiss to the inside of Jule’s wrist. 

The brunette moves with such gentleness and care, it physically feels as though the blonde’s heart will burst from how in love with Lena Oberdorf she is. 

Obi moves lightly, but with purpose nonetheless, as she gathers Jules into her arms and finally, their two bodies are pressed together softly. 

The winger tucks her body into Lena’s, not caring that her foot protests at the movement as she’s engulfed in Lena’s scent and the warmth of her body. Jule tucks her head into the midfielders neck, clutching to the brunette as Lena’s hands bring her close, keeping her safe. 

The sigh of relief that they both let out happens at the same time, as the comfort of finally being pressed together is realized. Jule cuddles into Lena, feeling sleep pull at her, the worry of her feelings not being returned now swept away like a leaf in a strong current. 

“I love you,” Jule murmured into Lena’s neck, the soft puff of air tickling the brunette’s skin in the best possible way. She smiled softly, tightening her grip imperceptibly. 

“I love you more,” Lena promises, pressing a kiss to Jule’s temple as they melt into one another, sleep coming to claim them both in the darkness of the blonde’s bedroom. 

There is still so much to talk about and discuss properly, sure, but for the night nothing else matters, except the fact that neither of them can really tell where the one ends, and the other one begins.

[suplicyy]

ABOUT THE ANON AND TAEKWONDO READERRR, what if, tsukkishima and an ice hockey player? since the sport is kind of rough and tumble

Tsukishima X Ice hockey player!Reader

— Summary: You're an ice hockey player, and Tsukishima has his eye on you.

— Fluff

— Gn!Reader

The day you met, Karasuno went to Nekoma to have a practice match. And when it was time to leave the place, they passed by the skating rink — which coincidentally is next to the volleyball court — place where figure skating and ice hockey was practiced.

Tanaka and Nishinoya ended up being curious about the skating rink, as there wasn't one at Karasuno, so after so much begging, the two teams entered the place to observe it for a while. And when they walked in, the ice hockey team was at the skating rink, and it looked like they were also having a practice match with another high school.

Tsukishima had a frown on his face, as he wanted to go home quickly instead of watching something that wasn't of interest to him. Kuroo saw his expression and couldn't help but tease the boy, so he went over to him and patted his shoulder, and then pointed towards the ice hockey match that was taking place.

"See that person from the red team with the number 11 on their back? That's currently the star of our school's hockey team even though they's only a first year... you should learn more from them." says the captain with a smug smile on his face.

"...What kind of comparison is that? They're totally different games." "Regardless Tsukki, you need to learn to be rougher! No one from other teams will take you seriously with those stick arms!" "....."

With your team's victory, the match finally ends and you prepare to leave, until Kuroo calls you with a wave. As you carry on a friendly conversation, Tsukishima watches you.

You were known by several schools for your rougher style of play, and because of that, many people thought you were someone problematic. Your case is very similar to the various rumors that people make up about Asahi. But in reality you are very extroverted and get along with everyone!

Anyone who looked at you could tell you were an athlete. If he wasn't seeing you talk so friendly to Kuroo, he would find you quite intimidating, but he would never admit it.

Kuroo would definitely insist that the blonde give you his phone number with the excuse of "you giving him professional tips to improve his physique". One thing I definitely see is that Kuroo loves to play cupid and bring people together, so that in the future he can boast that he was the one who helped the couple get together.

Fasting forward a little in time...

When the team found out that Tsukishima was dating, they would be very surprised, but they would be even more so when they saw you in person. And because of the curiosity of the unusual sport you practice, some of his friends would pepper you with questions about it, which would make Kei a little jealous, but he's definitely proud that you play such an intense sport that is ice hockey.

You are certainly that type of person that when someone is having difficulty opening a jar or bottle cap, you would take it from their hand and open it with the greatest ease in the world. And if you did that to him, the blonde would take that shame to his grave and never talk about it to anyone.

He would NOT let you try to lift him, you do that sometimes to tease him and tell him "how light he is", and he wouldn't talk to you until the end of the day, but he would give in after a few apologetic kisses.

Tsukishima would come to all your official matches. He loves watching how your mask of happiness falls when you enter the skating rink, revealing someone super serious and intimidating as the game progresses.

If you were injured and needed to be replaced in the middle of a game, he would run over to see if you were okay.

"Be more careful next time..." says the blonde next to you while the nurse tends to your wounds.

If you didn't know him well enough, you'd think he was being sarcastic, but by the look he gives you you can tell he's worried about your well-being.

You let out a small laugh and caress Tsukishima's hand that's holding yours. "I sure will, don't worry."

He gives an almost imperceptible smile, hoping you don't see his expression.

A/N — Yesterday I found out that I got a low grade at my school's lab test, and I'll need to make it again next week💔💔💔 But my vacation is coming up, so I'm not too worried about that!!

That aside, I hope you like what I wrote!!

[12woso12]

Dorothy lands in North London- Prologue

Arsenal buy America's top defender: You.

TW: mentions of mental health, suicide, please don't read if you don't feel up to it

You were built to survive pressure. You were moulded perfectly by the drunk slurs of your father and the untimely death of your mother. There wasn't a single moment that you couldn't handle, you took everything the world threw at you as though you'd been and done it all before.

World cup penalty? No problem.

Injury setback? Bring it on.

Arsenal transfer? Hell yes.

You took everything in your stride, laughing at your own misfortune, finding humour in the darkness. That's how you'd handled your mum's suicide: with insensitive jokes and a cheeky grin that never quite managed to meet your eyes. Most of your frustrations were taken out on the pitch, rough tackles or risky arguments with the opposition had resulted in you being the most carded playing in the NWSL at just 16 years old.

But your aggressive nature on the pitch never seeped into your personality away from football, you made sure of that. You'd do anything to ensure you never inherited your dad's temper and hurt people the way he'd hurt people. The way he'd hurt your mum...the way he hurt you. It was essential that your frustrations were kept firmly on football.

The year you were first called up to the USWNT was the year you finally made enough money to move out. You were sixteen and desperate to escape the clutches of your dad and his disastrous ways. The call up was a long time coming, the NWSL hadn't seen a player with as much potential as you since a teenage Alex Morgan first appeared on the scene.

The call up gained you more attention than you were used to. Granted, you were pretty well known in the States already having played with Gotham city for a year but the media attention you gained for a national call up? That changed the course of your life forever.

Your first tournament with the national team had been nothing short of incredible. It was the 2019 World Cup and you'd spent the entire group stage sat on the bench until Becky Sauerbrunn had gone down injured in the round of 16 and suddenly, you'd been given the chance of a lifetime.

Courageously, at your big age of sixteen, you played in every game until the trophy was in your hands and you were being hailed as the next Bobby Moore. A comparison you were incredibly embarrassed about but one that your teammates, Alex especially, were more than happy to keep reminding you of.

Five years later and you were coming to the end of your contract with Orlando Pride after playing two seasons for them. You were weighing up options for the future, you'd received enough interest from teams across the world to make the decision challenging enough and it was Marta who'd first noticed your troubled expression at training which was an unusual sight compared to your normal sunny nature.

'What's the matter, kid? Your face stuck like that or something?' Marta approached you after drills, concerned as you struggled to shoot her a smile. If there was someone who had all the answers, it was Marta.

'I don't know what to do' You began dropping onto the pitch as the rest of your teammates scurried inside, eager to get to lunch. Marta sat herself down besides you frowning.

'What?' she questioned

You sign and shrug, deflated. 'I've got a lot of interest for my next contract. Obviously Orlando want me to stay but...Gotham want me back, San Diego have been in touch. Even some stuff from Europe'

Much to your surprise, Marta chuckles. 'Kid if i had your problems i'd never want a problem-free life again. You're a superstar! All this attention is deserved'

A small smile stretched across your face. You supposed that Martha did have a point, you were in an incredibly lucky position.

'The offer from San Diego did sound promising...' your mind began to wonder to the conversation you'd had earlier with your agent. He'd be ecstatic about the deal they were willing to offer, there would be a lot of money involved.

'San Diego?' Marta scoffed 'Anjinho, you should set your sights further. If Europe come looking, you make sure you are found.'

You sighed. Europe was just so far away. 'Arsenal have been interested for a while'

Marta slapped you gently on the shoulder 'Arsenal!' she exclaimed 'You love Arsenal...why would you pass on their offer?'

'They're a top team, i mean Leah Williamson plays there. Alessia Russo, Kim Little. I can't hold a candle to them' It was true, you thought. You were only 21, why would they need a kid when they have all the experience and expertise of England's captain?

'Don't be estupida. They would be lucky to have you. You can't spend your entire career in the states. You're too good for that. Way.Too.Good.'

You feel pride seep into your bones. If the great Marta thought you were good, then that was definitely a compliment worth keeping close to your heart.

'Go to Arsenal.' Marta continued. 'Get as far away from here as possible'

'Yeah?' You asked nervously.

'Make yourself found, kid'

Part 1