#but i was exponentially realizing that this was gonna take longer and longer

[upsidedowngrass]

@newbiealliance​ here is some scentpack for U!!! thank u for requesting awesome request :D

[jigeuminunbich]

more than a little bit | kim donghyun (leehan)

synopsis — you’re not exactly sure what love is supposed to feel like, seeing as you’ve never experienced it and leehan is your first ever relationship. but after scolding him for contemplating a haircut, you realize that you might just be familiar with the sensation.

genre — nonidol!au, fem!reader, established relationship, and straight fluff

content — leehan wants to cut his hair (reader is strongly against that) and cheesy i love you’s

word count — 1k

author’s note — the fact this is my second (2nd) time writing abt being against an idol cutting their hair ijbol

“Woah,” Leehan pauses in the mirror right beside his bed, ruffling a hand through his unruly brown locs. “I need a haircut.” he comments, it’s quiet— intended to be taken as something lighthearted as he punctuates with a short laugh.

But you pull your head from your device at it nonetheless, eyes piercing into the back of your boyfriend’s head, “No, you don’t.”

“___, are you joking? Look at me,” he shakes his head, his long tresses following suit. Okay, yeah, his hair had gotten exponentially longer in the time you’ve been together. There was always the occasional comment from him or his friends that he was seriously overgrowing it but you happened to like his long hair— Leehan knew this well.

“I am looking at you… and you look fine.” You state slowly, almost as if you’re confused.

Leehan snorts, looking over his shoulder to glare at you through slitted eyelids, “You just don’t want me to cut it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I still think it looks good.”

Not even a moment later does your boyfriend eject from his spot next to you to stand, “Well if that’s the case, then I’m cutting it—“

“No!” Panicked, you reach out to grab ahold of his arm. Leehan looks between where you grip him and the alarmed look in your eyes.

“You were saying?” He laughs as you recede with a sheepish attitude.

You sit on the back of your calves, reaching that same hand up to twist a finger in one of his curly strands, “It’s not even that bad, ‘Hannie. You’re being dramatic…”

Leehan soaks in the adorable pout that finds the plush of your lips before finding your gaze, “I’m the dramatic one here?”

That same pout deepens, almost teetering on a frown as you fully pull away from the boy. He watches you as you crawl back to your designated place on his bed. “Okay, fine, do whatever you want.”

Leehan’s eyebrows disappear into his mane, though an amused smile still plays on his mouth, “You don’t care?”

“Nope.” You answer, returning to the depths of your phone.

“Hmm. So if I leave out right now, you won’t stop me?” Your boyfriend continues to probe you, earning an eye roll from you.

Slow, he takes a few steps away from the side of his bed, walking in the direction of his closet, “Fine… I’m gonna get ready now…”

You nod, “Okay.”

The door to his wardrobe creaks open when Leehan leisurely twists the knob, “And I’m going to leave out to cut my hair…”

“Have fun.” You deliver him an uninterested wave which seems to be his last straw. The door closes as Leehan draws back to join you on his bed. You try to continue your stoic act but it’s hard when his body familiarly slots between your legs. His presence forces your eyes up from the meaningless content in your hands and to his gaze. It makes you giggle that he struggles to retain it without running the chance of a strand poking him in the eye.

“You suck at acting like you don’t care about me, y’know that?” Your hands reach up to push his tresses back into place as well as you could, completely abandoning your phone to the side.

“Fine. I don’t want you to cut your hair, is that so wrong?” You bat your lashes innocently.

Leehan bites back a smile, fighting just how effective the soft touch of your hands on his face and the flutter of your lashes is, “Is it wrong that you’re okay with your boyfriend walking around looking god awful? Well yes.”

This seems to personally offend you, an actual frown finding your features, “You don’t look awful! And who cares…” your hands travel to the sides of your boyfriend’s neck, pulling his body fully atop of yours.

“—you don’t even have to go outside, you can stay with me.” It’s muffled into the fabric into his t-shirt but Leehan still reacts with a deep laugh, you can feel his chest vibrate with amusement.

“Oh you’re crazy,” he determines, though it’s still lighthearted in nature. “Okay, I can endure one more week. Just for you.”

You shutter when he punctuates his declaration with a brisk kiss to the side of your face, and you try to ignore how fuzzy the gesture makes you feel.

“Awe, you love me that much?” You exaggeratedly ask, your tone is playful as you hope to tease your boyfriend since you’ve successfully persuaded him from touching his hair (for now).

Leehan laughs, shuffling from your tight grasp to hover over you just a bit, “Heh. I love you more than that.” His tone is light as well but his words leave a deep feeling to tugging in your stomach.

“… you love me for real?” The question tumbles out from your lips before you can even catch it, you hope Leehan doesn’t pick up on your split second of panic but of course, being the person he is, he does.

His merriment depletes for a moment as he adjusts to your evident shock, “I— yeah, I do. Of course I do.”

That pit in your stomach begins to swell with the flutter of butterflies, the giddiness that Leehan’s confession brings you shows up on your face as you beam a wide smile up towards him. “I think I love you too.”

Leehan quirks an eyebrow before he tilts his head, “You think?”

You swallow, slight panic running through you, “I’m not sure what it's meant to feel like but… it feels right—“

Your quick explanation is cut short at the melodic sound of Leehan giggling and half-hearted annoyance takes over your feeling of distress.

“I’m just teasing you, love. If you aren’t sure—“ Leehan begins to clarify.

It’s your turn to interrupt him, shaking your head with a content grin permanently painted on your face, “No, no. I am. I love you too, Leehan.”

Your reiteration of your love for Leehan leaves him silent for a moment, he leans down quick enough so you can’t catch the spreading flush taking over the expanse of his cheeks. You gladly return his intention to kiss you, giggling softly against his lips.

Leehan pulls away, opting to completely lay his body on top of yours. Your hands immediately find his scalp to play in his hair.

“Mm. To think this all happened ‘cause I threatened a haircut. I should do that more often.” He murmurs, a wicked snicker leaving him when you stall all movements on top of his head.

“You’re evil.”

“You love me.”

And that you definitely did.

© jigueminunbich 2024

[dnpbeats]

Ok I remember that in a Dan liveshow (not sure when tbh I wanna say 2016/17ish) there were a lot of big youtuber breakups and there was one with some dailyvloggers people were devastated about and when he was asked he said he didn't want people invested in his hypothetical relationship because he didn't want them to be sad if it ended. He would rather we think they are good friends who parted amicably than tell the truth that he was in love and devastated, and he doesn't want people to think he's using emotions for views either. Not a fan of being treated like a gullible emotionally fragile child but that was his views pre therapy. Now therapy is not linear or complete and he's still actively working on a lot of things at once so yea some things will take longer than others.

yeah I mean. lbr as much as some ppl love saying “who knows what they are ✨” if they did all of a sudden stop working together, one of them moved out, etc. I don’t think there would be anyone buying that they were “good friends who parted amicably” lmao 💀 I imagine what he actually meant (whether he realized it at the time or not) is more what he said in BIG about how everyone wants access to his private life but he wants to be able to fuck up in private. not that I think at this point he thinks he’s gonna fuck things with phil up. but I get the sense it’s more about feeling pressure to be a certain way/do certain things which would go up exponentially if they were out as a couple. there would be an aspect of “what would people think if we did X” that, while it exists now, would be more “real” if they were explicitly out as a couple

that’s all to say, I think both the way they are acting recently and what they have said abt their relationship with their audience has showed a lot of growth. as dan said recently (I don’t remember when im sorry im tried), there are a dangerously low amount of fucks left. I think they have gotten to a place (probably out of a combination of age/maturity/going to therapy/having a smaller audience/being out as gay men/phil almost dying) where they just. don’t care that people are gonna want access to their relationship, bc they don’t have to give it. they know ppl are gonna have more expectations from them if they are out as a couple, but they’ve reached a point where that doesn’t bother them yk? im so sorry if this makes no sense im about to sleep lmao 😭

[thecheckeredchaser]

A Summer Job

Ch 10

(Chapter 11 of 11)

Next Chapter

Jason had enjoyed his summer more than he could have imagined. He certainly had not expected to get linked up with a girl like Rosalita. He loved going to work, and getting to be adored daily. Over the past month he had gained another 20lbs, between his newly regular saturday dinner date at Mrs. Garcia’s and his own mother completely conceding to her son’s apparent demolished metabolism. She baked more than she used to and was no longer dissuading her son from taking seconds. He would even push for thirds if he thought he could shower her in enough compliments. He had been taking an interest in cooking, learning as much as he could from both women. 

Rita was competing with most invested in his gains with all their followers. It seemed to exponentially blow up. At first they had some 40 odd followers, but at over a thousand, Jason questioned if there were that many people who cared about his belly. The patreon account said they did. Rita was able to fix her car up, and thankfully got the AC taken care of, with the donations and subs. 

Jason leaned against the outdoor counter, waiting for a customer to roll up. Moe came over and smiled at him. “Look who it is. King of the Summer.” Moe had been calling him that recently, after Moe noticed multiple Burger King bags, stuffed in his backseat. Jason was usually better about keeping his car clean, but Rita made the transition from the car far more pressing. He had added something about being chosen by “Queen Rita”, so Jason thought it was in good fun. 

“I’m gonna miss hanging out here,” Jason admitted with a sigh. 

“It’ll be boring without you. Maybe next summer, I’ll get the new girl.”

“Didn’t you date 5 girls this summer?” Moe appeared to be thinking, and then nodded in realization.

“You’re right. I didn’t do too bad. So what’s the plan with you two?” Jason was caught off guard by the question. Did they need a plan? Cole had walked over, which was surprising because he had been evading a 10 foot radius of Jason since he’d had the dick to try to say something to him.

“I guess we haven’t talked about it.” Jason looked over at Cole, and greeted him with a flick of his brows. 

“What’s up? Rita breaking up with hurricane Jason yet?” Jason and Moe shared a look, which made Jason feel like he was officially in the ‘cool guys’ circle. The two had talked multiple times about Cole’s little man energy and clear jealousy. 

“Why has she been sneaking you into the mop closet confessing her love for you yet,” Moe said snidely. Cole let it roll off, as he pined for Moe’s approval over his desire to ridicule Jason or cry over Rita. 

Cole laughed, “I’m just saying, Jason. The Tarot cards are down. You are definitely getting fatter, the summer is ending, and you’re going back to school. She just got her own wheels too. Does she really need her big boy toy anymore?” Jason turned his brows up at him. 

“I don’t know about all that,” Jason retorted.

“Which part?” Cole attempted to belittle him. Jason figured all was true except her not needing him. Moe gave a look that showed he was considering those very facts when he started the conversation. 

“Rita and I are doing great. Not that it’s really any of your business,” he sneered at Cole.

“She might want to cut you loose. Maybe you’re starting to be a bad influence on her,” he said. Jason spun his head in the smaller boy's direction. He felt flames swelling behind his eyes. Moe looked crossed up about it too. 

“What’s that?” he said. Cole could attempt to roast him everyday, for all the fucks Jason gave, but he wasn’t going to let him openly discuss Rita in any way.

“You’ve done it now,” Moe said, taking a step back to watch from a less messy place. Cole swallowed hard, looking nervous that this was not earning him any points with anyone. Jason pushed his chest firmly.

“I’m just saying, she looks like she’s been-,” he looked into the pits of Jason’s pupil’s and quickly looked over his shoulder at the approaching young woman. “Having a great summer,” he finished. Jason glowered at him and Cole ran off before Rita got there. Jason put an arm around her, pushing her into his body, which brought him some comfort to his disgruntled mood. 

“What’s wrong with you,” she said, sensing his tightness. “Are you hungry or something?” she asked. Moe chuckled and Rita smiled, not intending to expose Jason like that. 

“Nothing. I’m good.” His thumb ran over her thickening side. Chichos, she called it. She hadn’t gotten fat by any means, but maybe he finally achieved the chubby girlfriend as prophesized. Jason really enjoyed how he could pinch her little roll with his whole hand. She wasn't stuffing as much as he was, but eating irresponsibly for sure. He had no complaints. It made his blood boil to think that Cole felt justified in saying anything about his girlfriend’s body, especially with the attitude he had. Moe walked over to the objective MILF who pulled up. Jason sighed and turned to Rita.

“Nothing is never nothing Jasey.”

“Should we be talking about what’s going to happen when I go back to school?” Jason asked, rubbing his belly, realizing he was a little hungry and clocking Rita’s gaze on his hand.

“What do you mean?” she said shiftily. He looked at her a little funny, not sure what that look was about. 

“I’m gonna be away. I don’t know if you're into a long distance relationship. It can be a killer, I hear.”

“Let’s figure this out later. I don’t want to stress that right now,” she said quickly. He respected her wish to table the topic, but did not stop stressing it. He was in fact more stressed than before. Rita later shared that she was going to have to skip their hang out after work, she had some non specific stuff to do. He was a little disappointed, as he was looking forward to stuffing himself as the “King of Summer” and enjoying a belly rub from her. He decided to go by himself anyway, as his hunger was not something he could freely ignore anymore. He had felt a little embarrassed when he noticed Moe was following him into the drive thru. Jason hoped it wasn’t obvious how much he was ordering at the window, and blushed when they handed him more than one bag. He pulled into the side of the parking lot. If Moe was on his way out from the window he might not even notice Jason parked. Unfortunately, Moe circled the building and pulled right up to Jason’s car and began rolling the window down. 

“Great minds, huh?” Moe said, cheersing his whopper towards Jason, who returned the gesture. 

“I didn’t even think you ate fast food,” Jason admitted, feeling a little uncomfortable with the quantity that sat next to him. He wasn’t going to be able to go in on the items like he’d normally do, not with Moe around. 

“I’m just a regular guy,” Moe stated, like a famous person might. “I’m happy to have run into you. I was wondering how that conversation with you and Rita ended up.”

“Why, you planning your snipe?” Jason half joked. 

“King? This is Maurice,” he called to him. “No. I just heard her on the phone with her mom. Sounded kind of intense.” Jason had been there, but Rita conveniently had the conversation in Spanish. The only information she gave him was that Maribel was annoying. 

“What were they saying?” Jason asked, eagerly. Moe sucked on his lip a second. 

“She didn’t tell you?” he hesitated. Jason shook his head. A smile snuck onto Moe’s face, which confused Jason even more. 

“Listen dude. I’m sure everything will turn out fine.”

“Glad for you. I had been thinking the same until you brought something up this morning.” Moe shrugged guiltily. He finished his burger and tossed the crumpled wrapper at Jason’s head. 

“You gotta stress less. Just enjoy your BK buffet. Chill out and call her later.” Jason offered his least worried smile, only slightly red from his friend’s acknowledgement of his intended overindulgence. “I gotta take a girl out,” he said with a wink, and coolly pulled off, signaling peace with a careless hand. 

Jason proceeded to binge eat the food sitting next to him. All throughout, he was running himself through a cycle of Rita was planning to break it off with him, followed by insistence that it couldn’t happen. Maybe they were just a summer fling. He would be so disappointed if that were the case. He was excited to tell his dormmate that he’d gotten a girlfriend over the summer. But he obviously couldn’t have more of Rita’s time than she was willing to give him. He couldn’t imagine she would let down all their fans like that. He didn’t doubt that there would be some other fat guy that could slide into his spot, probably filling it out more. Jason sighed. He wasn’t even sure what he’d do with himself without her. Would he keep gaining? He thought without Rita, fawning over him, it could get a little depressing. He continued to cram food into his mouth, even though he was getting uncomfortably full. He felt up until he was tossed out, any gains he made were for Rita. Was that too simpy? Probably. He chugged the large drink and let a massive belch grog out of him. He felt himself vibrating, and thought he had just been turned on, but he realized his phone had been ringing. It was Rita. He swallowed and picked up.

“Hey,” he said, nervous and practically too full to speak. 

“You wanna come over?” she asked. He could hear her positive mood and was half put at ease. The other half of him wondered if she could truly be so cunning to be so cheery before decapitating him. He agreed and headed over. 

He pulled up in front of her house and uneasily turned the engine off. “Good luck Chub,” he muttered to himself. He adjusted his shorts and t-shirt. Maybe she’d let him go just before he had to go up to a 2x. That was nice of her at least. He tried not to assume the worst, but was feeling his inner doomer resurface. Clearly she was an anomaly. He hadn’t even known girls into fat guys rolled so deep. He really thought this girl just fell into his lap and was about his body, hardcore? Not only that, her literal fetish was what he just so happened to be exploring on his own. In his life story, getting an education would be the exact demise he’d face. 

He tried to shake it off. He could be wrong. Right? Maybe Rita didn’t care about distance. He could come home on the weekends. They could keep making content. He could at least reach his goal. But then he started worrying that she had tired of him. Maybe he wasn’t carrying the weight the way she’d expected, or he wasn’t reaching some unspoken mile markers and goals. He didn’t know what went on in her head sometimes. He expected she held back some of her deepest and darkest desires. He didn’t dare to start imagining those. Diving off that island made easier by Mrs. Garcia opening her door, inviting him inside. He’d assumed Rita had been inside but found she wasn’t. He had become reminded of how full his stomach already was when he saw an array of fried foods on racks, fresh out the oil. 

“It is my precious Jason,” she sang, returning to her stove. 

“Hey, Mrs. Garcia. How have you been?”

“Not this good all day,” she said with a wink. “I saw you pull up and knew you’d love to try some of what I’m cooking up.” Jason sighed and prepared his denial of her offer. “And I know you would never go out of your way to offend me by saying no,” she said sweetly but firmly. 

“I can do super small samples. I did just eat plenty,” he shared. She fanned his protest to the side, as if someone his size couldn’t reach a state of fullness. He was willing to let the sentiment go, but made a quick face at the back of her head. “Empanadia, beef and pizza, and papas rellenas. Jason found chewing was a great way to put his stress aside. She was continuing to fry more, playing her loud music. He subtly burped under the sounds in the room, feeling super packed by the time the empanadas were gone, which the ‘dia’ implied a smaller size of which was not present. He managed to relocate the needed the room to try the newest of the items to him. He was surprised to find a mashed potato like inside, stuffed with beef and cheese. The closest thing he could compare it to was a pierogi, but that was so far off. He groaned at the greasy ball, complimenting her enthusiastically. 

“You want another one,” she said boastfully planting the thought in his head. He felt like he’d be pushing the limit, and even if she didn’t know he was beyond stuffed, he was. Yet, he did want to try that again.

“Would it offend you if I took it to go. I just need some time.” He put an attending hand to his belly, trying to make it clear he was not in a state to eat it presently. He wondered if she was noticing how he was filling his shirt out more. Her sharp eyes seemed to notice. 

“I will make you a container,” she said, smiling warmly. 

Jason thanked her deeply and walked out with his container pushing into his gut. He prepared to open the door to Rita's apartment, but felt an earth shaking burp coming. He put his fist to his lips, and the door swung open. Rita appeared impressed by his hoggishness. Jason couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the display. She stepped out the way and he straggled inside. 

“What? They send pigs pre stuffed now?” she said, laughing and hugging him, pulling away with her hands still on his big belly. He oozed into her touch, despite his anxieties. “Let’s get you horizontal.” She ushered him upstairs, whisking the container to the kitchen and pinching at his thick butt as he slowly lumbered up. He laid down and looked over at Rita, who observed him, beyond astounded. “What happened to you, Jasey,” her words fluttered against all the worrying he’d done.

“I went to Burger King. A little crazily,” he said, meeting her eyes. She licked her lips. “Then I didn’t make it here without stopping next door first.” She grimaced on his behalf. 

“Poor belly’s probably killing you,” she purred. “Kind of perfect that you’re here now though.” She started rubbing his bloated gut and pushing the gas out of him. 

“I’m so stuffed,” he groaned. “Wasn’t exactly, grwaaap, the plan,” he said, with a whimper. Rita twitched. The sounds Jason made drove her wild. “I’ve been a little worried about us?” The glee on Rita’s face drained instantly. 

“What do you mean ‘us’?” Rita’s hand stopped grazing his belly, and he wished it hadn’t. 

“We never finished talking at work. I just have been freaking out about it.”

“Oh no. You were stress eating over that. I didn’t want to send you into a frenzy. I mean, I’d be lying if I wasn’t into the results,” she said, resuming her caress. He sighed. He was feeling so loved and cared for that he couldn’t imagine that his concerns had been rational. “I wanted to be sure everything was squared away, before I told you.”Jason stared at her curiously. What was she talking about? She lovingly kissed his belly, and momentarily shook with excitement. “I’m going!”

“Where?”

“Southern State, with you. I got accepted into their nursing program. My credits are transferring and everything.” Jason couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“You’re going to school with me? Like, this semester?”

“Yes Jason,” she said, swatting his chest. “What did you think was going to happen?” He shook his head not wanting to relive it. 

“A bunch of dumb shit,” he said.

Rose did not miss the opportunity to give her Chub a gentle and soothing belly rub, and to share the moments with her fans in an impromptu live. Jason did not need to act, as the sounds he was making were all his natural response to Rose’s prodding fingers. 

“Chub is really starting to look, act, and sound like a real pig these days.” She patted his belly, shifting out a low burp. “His belly is getting so big and extra jiggly. I could never compete,” she said, pinching her tummy. “Look how much more it hangs over.” She lifted his gut, eliciting a moan from Jason. “Did that hurt,” she checked in, concerned.

“No. It feels great. I’m absolutely packed.” A smile flashed on her face and he grinned back. “What?”

“Let’s get you up on the scale.” Jason protested, feeling like he’d just started to feel comfortably uncomfortable. But when he saw her pouting lips and the hope in her eyes, he found the energy contagious. 

“Fine.” Rose ran and returned with the instrument. She was so excited she couldn’t even MC the event. She zeroed the scale and stepped back, giving his belly a little squeeze for good luck. Jason almost held his breath, not sure what to expect. It had been maybe a week or two since he had last checked. He uselessly glanced over his belly, as he was not really in the state to be maneuvering around himself like that. Instead he looked at Rose’s face, and felt himself get very excited. “What does it say?” She was kissing his lips, hard. After a brief dispensing of steam, she pulled away. 

“Chub you are 277,” she announced, beaming. Jason was struck by the number. He had done it? Like it was absolutely nothing. He was surprised by how proud he felt. 

“Do I look it?” he teased. Rita purred.

“You are beyond sexy chub.”

“You wouldn’t be turned on by a huge fat pig like me,” he jested. 

“I think I gotta go prove a hog wrong, everyone. Catch you in the next one!” she snorted, and cut the feed, throwing the phone across the room. 

She pushed him onto his back, desperate, but gentle. She lay beside him and nipped at his neck, then chest, and finally his belly. He felt himself surge with arousal. Rita began stroking his fully erect cock, nuzzling her nose into his belly and her other hand tracing the stretch marks on his side. Jason writhed under all her touches. Her fingers danced over him and he felt entirely worshiped. He couldn’t help but notice her face pushing into the top of his belly. Something about it felt amazing to him. It made him feel a little extra powerful. He shifted his weight and his lower belly was pressing firmly onto her face. He heard her moan into his soft body and felt her grip on him tighten. Where had her hand gone? She shifted her hips and he was sure she was touching herself. He was enjoying how amazing everything to stop just laying back like a fat blob. He was surely a fat lazy pig, even in the sack. That thought should not have made him hotter, but it did. Jason’s head was swarming. He was absolutely stuffed, and on the brink of finishing, with his fat obsessed girlfriend's face digging into his belly. He felt her nuzzle deeper into him and couldn’t stop his hand from grabbing the back of her head. Through gritted teeth and urgent breaths he said, “You like this fat belly so much. You’re such a dirty girl for this big pig huh?” He couldn’t stop himself from finishing onto his thigh. Rita was right behind him screaming into his flabby belly, air bubbles flubbering out from the pocket she had been in. She pulled her face out of him when her multiple orgasms had finished, gasping. Jason cleaned himself up and staggered back to her bed. 

“Holy fuck,” she exclaimed.

“Right back at you,” he said, still trying to get his faculties back. She curled up to him and sighed, fully satisfied. 

“Well you know what this means don’t you?” She looked at him with those large innocent but devious eyes. The same eyes that had flirted with him so persistently just months ago. The brown eyes that flashed in his mind after he dropped her off, pulling him to the drive through, just by making one comment on their first day of meeting. “Don’t eat too much.” He’d eaten beyond too much, many evenings this summer, and the damage was apparent. He’d need to go back to school shopping and was sure Rita would want to be part of that. He savored the feelings of her delicate fingers on his protruding belly, wondering if he’d ever be so light again in his life. “Hmm?” she pressed. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, dreamily. “What does this mean?”  

“I’m going to need a new screen name,” she said, giving him a pinch. “Chub.” As usual she was right. 

“What do you think of RoselikesRolls375?” he suggested.

“We’ve got work to do,” she said with a wink.

**Author's Note**

Thank you for reading and making it this far! If you have any feedback please comment or dm me. I have some other stories I want to post, but it is work putting up these longer works. Guilty of overwriting. If there's interest , I'll post more.

[quicksandblock]

When someone who presents as one gender is not allowed to joke (in a harmless way) about the idea of them being not that gender - I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.

Joking about identity is pretty often the first step to actually exploring your identity and the idea that you might not be what you thought you were. Jokes about being a different gender or sexuality can be the gateway to realizing that the jokes aren’t actually jokes. They aren’t always, of course - sometimes people joke about that in a harmful way, and sometimes people joke about it but still end up being what they originally thought they were. But joking about the idea normalizes the idea.

To be clear, I’m not truthing here. I believe Tommy when he says he’s a cis straight dude. It’s more the fact that - well, honestly, Twitter’s response to his jokes stinks of TERFiness.

There are gonna be closeted (or unknowing) trans girls who see that and learn that they’re not allowed to explore their identity because identity is Serious Business, and you’re only allowed to have fun with your identity if you already know what it is. And they’re going to take the part of them that wants to make those jokes because it just makes them happy, and they’re going to squash it down and step on it, and it’s going to take them a lot longer to realize who they really are.

Gender is fun. Sexuality is fun. Both of them are fluid and individual things! You’re allowed to have as much fun with them as you want!! Everyone is allowed to have fun with their own gender, and that includes people at every stage of the questioning process, including people who currently identify as cis. Twitter is on some TERF shit and I will not abide it. Their response to Tommy’s jokes is exponentially more harmful to queer people than the jokes themselves.

[buttermynutter]

Making Beaches | 1 - In With the Tide

The ground crumbled beneath Viktor's heel, and although he didn't dare to look back, the sound of the sediment splashing below let him know he was only an inch away from peril. That is, assuming he wasn't already in the midst of it.

"What's your brain gonna do for you now, huh?"

The boy facing him sneered, his grubby hands clenching and opening by his sides as if they were already grabbing hold of him.

Viktor tried his best not to sigh out loud, attempting to conceal how much he was shaking; the trembling of his cane only drove it deeper into the soil of the cliff.

"Real quiet for someone who was just blabbering," his perpetrator continued in a droll tone, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

"I just didn't want you to hurt the firelight," Viktor responded, making an effort to push the stray bangs from his forehead without breaking the staredown.

He only got a snort as a reply, taking a step forward which caused Viktor to mirror the motion backwards, the fear within him growing exponentially.

The bully seemed to sense it, a toothy grin spreading across his malicious face. He stretched his hands outward, his fingers contorted like claws; despite the fact that Viktor was of the same stature as him, he had never felt smaller.

A million outcomes flew through his head, hundreds of consequences, dozens of potential solutions. He considered running, yelling, or simply flailing around. However, unlike a toy to be tinkered with or an appliance to be mended, he simply did not have enough time.

Viktor was suddenly aware that he was falling, the grip on his cane loosening as his feet came to stand on nothing.

He could only reach out in front of him, fingers stretching towards a help that would never arrive. His tormentor's face was already out of view, no doubt scurrying away from the cliff, forgetting what had just transpired like someone forgets what they had for breakfast.

Viktor suddenly realized he was crying.

Just as he thought that the fall was taking longer than expected, the notion was knocked out of him - out of the blue, he fell into the blue. The cold leeched all senses from him, leaving him wondering only whether it was tears or seawater that he was choking on.

Struggling to no avail, his vision became clouded by foam, both from the bubbles of his silent screams and the whirlwind of movement from his futile mimicry of swimming.

As he lost consciousness, a feeling blossomed in his chest, though he didn't know what. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was desperation.

Maybe it was just the cold.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Next ↣

Table of Contents

[the-nysh]

While it was heartearming that Saitama cares for Genos, but taking a step back, everything about Saitama's situation is 800 levels of fucked up and disturbing.

While there are other factors, Saitama is the most prominent on whether or not the earth survives the next seconds, provided he doesn't lose his shit or whatever. Like he's a genuinely heroic guy, but this fight only proves just how heavily flawed he is and just how terrifying the consequences be if he fucked up one way or another.

Like, there are times Saitama is straight up myopic with the lives that are affected with his actions. While there are times he can be empathetic, I do think his level of strength had reached a point he doesn't (if not, can no longer) empathize with others (his takedown of Garou could be done much, much better if handled it delicately rather than someone so aboce that he treats it as someone throwing a tantrum). Plus, with his rather co-dependent attachment to Genos, if he lost that tether, he is far more culpable of slipping up bc he's not infallible to his emotions (that Serious Punch was def out to kill Garou and he didn't care if the earth imploded bc of it, he just calmed down a bit later). And finally, being so strong made him too damn complacent.

I can't blame him but at the same time I do. If there was any other person in his shoes, they'd last a whole lot less longer than he did and would be far more maniacal in wielding that power. While it's a heavy hurden, he has one hell of a control over it. And it's not like Saitama asked for these godly powers to begin with. But the consequences of his attitude resulting of being on such an entirely different level are still, well real. And since he's actively choosing to be human despite losing all physiological needs, he can't be devoid of accountability bc of it.

The worst part is the mechanics of how Saitama's powers work. The greater his strength, the more apathetic and less sane he becomes, and the less control he has. Heightened emotions speed up that process. In other words, the same things that makes him human makes him lose what little humanity he has left even faster. There's eventually gonna be a point where him merele existing would just destroy the universe as we know it.

Nothing good is in store for Saitama.

Many hot truths laid out here. "Saitama is the most prominent on whether or not the earth survives the next seconds, provided he doesn't lose his shit or whatever." Cause even Garou realized that after he saw Saitama literally destroy Jupiter with a sneeze, that even he was like 'WTF a being that dangerous can't be allowed around on earth; I am leaving this insane monster out here!'

That, even for the earth's continued survival sake, it was probably...necessary to rewind time, otherwise that same overpowered Saitama roaming freely around earth would likely casually destroy it upon any of his next careless gestures or accidental bodily functions. D: Even beyond his usual restraints of control; the possibility becomes that absurd and terrifying.

That the more powerful he exponentially evolves, the more detached he gets from accounting for his surroundings and gauging the relative safety/vulnerability of other people's lives through his 'invincible' perspective. That yes, without anything grounding his sanity or keeping his control/perspective in check, it would be horrifying and permanently disastrous to think of what would become of him otherwise.

"There's eventually gonna be a point where him merely existing would just destroy the universe as we know it." Whew. Well, it seems the other point of the ch was that thankfully he'd been around no one else (beyond Garou at this point) even remotely comparable to either observe or kickstart his strength's evolution like that to such absurd heights before, that for Saitama to forcefully evolve even more to the point where even him breathing could destroy the universe...that would take either a confrontation with actual god himself or worse. D: I dread to think of that, OR what could potentially happen to Genos or the rest of humanity again in that case to be able to surge his emotions. We'd probably need another perfect storm of factors for that to even escalate to worse extremes. That I'm not even sure the story intends to actually go there, since Saitama found no exciting thrill or positive outcome (beyond his grief/rage) upon facing a 'worthy' opponent. Facing anyone worse still won't make Saitama happy or give him what he actually seeks. :')

But even @theomnicode figured Blast & friends might catch wind of his dangerous potential and feel it necessary to gauge how much Saitama's a future threat to the earth. D: Which could definitely happen, especially when they're fighting to contain god-level threats as it is. Who knows what misunderstandings or binds Saitama could find himself into if others take his strength the wrong way if he's not 'cut out to be a hero' careful! 

[kj-1130]

Nothing For Me

Part 7

Main Masterlist

Part 6|Part 8

     You and MJ’s relationship continued to grow as time went on. 

     As she started her first year of high school, you worked on yourself, wanting to be good for her.

     Overtime, you learned how to process and deal with things better. You focused on yourself and your developing relationship with MJ and needless to say, things started to look up. 

     The ‘present but not really present father’ thing didn’t affect you as much as it did, but it was still there. It was one of the only things you hadn’t fully processed and to be honest, you didn’t think you ever could. 

     Your father is there, and has been aware of presence for almost a decade. And not once has he given you any type of consolation or love like a father should. You would think after Pepper was getting more involved in his life and forcing him to clean up (most of) his act, he would open his eyes and realize that a whole human being was living with him, waiting for him to realize that they were supposed to be relying on him; not an AI built in the comfort of their room. 

     But nope. Absolutely nothing changed. If anything, things got worse. 

     He was away more often, focusing on the Avengers. Or he was with Pepper, the new love of his life. 

     You tried not to linger on the situation often, knowing it would only lead to pain in your chest. So you just stuffed it in the back of your mind, hoping one day that the pain would just lessen all together. 

     About two months ago, you and MJ had decided to make things official after going on your first date. At first you talked about how fast the two of you were going, but Michelle simply said ‘we’ll be u-haul lesbians then.’ That was the end of the conversation. 

     Currently, you and your girlfriend were facetiming. You would’ve made the trek to her house but she was about to study and you both knew that you’d distract her. Plus the two of you were due for some time away from each other considering the fact that you’re at her place almost everyday. 

     “Okay, so I found this recipe the other day and I’m just now remembering it.”

     MJ looks at you confused, “Okay?” 

     You roll your eyes playfully.

     “I wanted to try it with you. After my ban from your place has been lifted.” 

     “It’s not a ban,” she chuckled.

     “Well, it sure as hell feels like one ba-”     “Mr. Stark has arrived with a guest,” M.I.A cut you off. 

     “Who is this guest?” 

     “Secretary of State, Thaddues Ross,” the AI replied, pulling up pictures of the man. 

     “Hey M, I’m gonna call you back.”

     “Yeah, yeah,” she nods, looking a little concerned. “Take all the time you need. Let me know if everything’s okay.”

     The two of you give your goodbyes and you ask M.I.A to pull up the live footage from the conference room.

     “Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great a=many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word “vigilantes”, is what you first hear when you start watching. 

     Immediately your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

     “And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

     “How about ‘dangerous’?” he replies. “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

     The secretary activates a screen behind him which begins to play the previous battles the Avengers and SHIELD have fought in. 

     “New York.” 

     He clicks a button, footage of chitauri, shooting guns, and Hulk smashing plays. 

     “Washington D.C”

     A new video appears, showing the insight helicarriers firing at each other with chaos following. 

     “Sokovia.” 

     The frame changes, showcasing the terrified citizens that were on the flying piece of land. 

     “Lagos.” 

     “That’s enough,” Steve interrupts. 

     Ross nods in response and begins his speech again. 

     “For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.”

     He places a thick document on the table and slides it across to Wanda. As the team slides the book to each other Ross starts talking. 

     “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.” 

     “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place,” the Captain begins. “I feel we’ve done that.”

     “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” There was a momentary pause as the two men’s eyes met. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is middle ground.”

     At this point, you’re walking out of your room after transfering the feed to your tablet and making your way to the elevator.

     “So, these are contingencies,” Rhodey states. 

     “Three days from now,” Secretary Ross begins. “The UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.” 

     Natasha speaks up, “And if we don’t come to a decision you don’t like?”

     “Then you retire.” 

     The elevator stops and you look up seeing the Secretary walk in with someone behind him. You give him a subtle disgusted look before turning your attention back to the security footage.

     As the deathtrap descends, you can feel his eyes lingering on you. 

     “Can I help you?” 

     “You’re a little young to be an intern.” 

     “You’re a little old to be looking at me like that,” you shrug, swiping away from the video on your tablet as you feel him looking over your shoulder. 

     Ross gives an awkward chuckle and furrows his eyebrows. When you reach the bottom floor, he gets ready to step out and places a hand on your shoulder. 

     You look at him like he’s lost his mind. 

     “You seem like a good kid. Be sure to make good choices.” 

     Raising an eyebrow, you refrain from saying what you want to say. You lift your hand and gently take his off of you. 

     “Don’t touch me,” 

     Once he exits, you hear the chatting start back up.

     “Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor,” Rhodes told Sam. “Which is one more than you have. 

     “So let’s say we agree to this thing,” Wilson starts. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

     “117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No that’s cool. We got it.” 

     “I have an equation,” Vision announces as you get back on the elevator. 

     “Oh this will clear it up,” Sam mutters. 

     “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.“

     “Toaster oven’s got a point there,” you mumble, stepping back on the metal deathtrap. 

     Steve asks,“Are you saying it’s our fault?”

     “I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.” 

     “Boom,” Rhodey says.                             

     You see Tony lying on the couch, quite relaxed, contradicting the tense atmosphere. 

     “Tony,” Nat starts. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

     “It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve explained. 

     “Boy, you know me so well,” Stark starts, getting up and rubbing the back of his head. “Actually I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache,” he pauses to grab a mug of coffee. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

     Tony puts his phone in a basket and taps the screen. An image is projected of a smiling young man. 

     “Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.”

     He pauses for a second as the team soaks in the information.

     “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.

     “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

     “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve rebuttals.

     “Who said we’re giving up?” 

     “We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

     “I’m sorry. Steve,” Rhodey blurted. “That-that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

      “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”   

      “That’s good,” Tony starts. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.  

     “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

     “If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s a fact. That won’t be pretty.”

     Wanda finally speaks up, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

     “We would protect you,” Vision promised. 

     “Maybe Tony’s right,” the redhead speaks. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off--”

     “Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam interrupts. 

     “I’m just… I’m reading the terrain. We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back. 

     “Focus up,” Tony says. “I’m sorry, did I just mishear or did you agree with me?”

     “Oh, I want to take it back now.”

     “No, no, no. You can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case-closed--I win.” 

     From what you see, Steve stands to leave abruptly. 

     You then walk out of the elevator, tablet still in hand with the footage up. The captain walks past you just as you turn the corner and spot the team. 

     “Someone’s upset,” you hum. 

     You walk past everyone towards the fridge and grab a water bottle. 

     “Anyway, that was very childish. And kinda stupid.” 

     Inquisitive looks are thrown your way and you hold up the tablet awkwardly as you plop down on a chair. 

     “I was watching you. I kinda do that a lot. It’s not as creepy as it sounds.” 

     You open the bottle and take a sip. 

     “What are you doing down here kid--”

     “Ahhh,” you interrupt. “Don’t call me a kid. I haven’t been a child for years.”

     “Just answer the question,” Tony snaps. 

     “I like to stay informed. No one tells me anything and while you think that these private meetings only affect you, it doesn’t. It affects me too. You may not remember I’m your child but several people do. And that puts me in danger. So yes, I listen to your conversations to make sure it’s nothing I need to worry about.” 

     An awkward silence washes over as you gulp down more water. 

     “Anyway, I was just riding up and down the elevator waiting for you guys to finish. That Ross dude is kinda creepy by the way. But you’re really considering signing that thing?” 

     “Not you too,” your father mutters. 

      You let out a laugh and everyone looks at you strangely. 

      “Is this funny to you?” Rhodey asks. 

      “Yes,” you stop laughing abruptly. “I find it hilarious that this is the same government that was ready to drop a nuke on the city during the Battle of New York not giving a damn about a single civilian that was still in the area. I find it hilarious that this is the same government that lets thousands of children and women of color go missing and not do a thing about it. It’s funny that this is the same government that let HYDRA, Red Room, AIM; all that shit grow right under their nose. It’s funny because this government is the same one that uses taxpayer money for dumb ass projects and unnecessary military funding instead of using it to fund shit that helps the civilians they claim they care so much about. I mean how can you not find this situation amusing?”

     “Look,” Tony attempts. 

     “I’m not finished,” you challenge, looking him dead in the eyes. “This government don’t give a damn about y’all, especially not the three of us,” you say, gesturing to yourself, Sam, and Rhodey. “We’d be booted out of this country before you could even blink if they ever got the chance and you know that.

     “I don’t know why y’all are so adamant on gaining the government’s trust when they don’t give a flying fuck about you or these goddamn civilians. All they care about is power. They don’t care how many civilians come up missing or die in some tragic accident. It doesn’t matter what happens. When they see someone becoming richer or smarter or more powerful than they are, they will do anything to shut that shit down. 

     “I don’t understand how you can’t see that. And maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just me and my experience,” you pause, catching the gaze of every person in the room with hard eyes. You take a deep breath and try to calm down. “Sign it if you want to. Think about how many lives you’ll lose then.”

     You stand from your spot and walk into the open elevator, ready to get to the comfort of your bed. 

-

     It had been two days since the initial meeting and you were currently sitting on Michelle’s bed watching her read. 

     “You’re really pretty,” you muttered out of the blue.

     You saw your girlfriend’s cheeks develop a subtle red tint as she mumbled back a ‘thank you, and continued reading. You groan and gently pull the book out of her hands. 

     “Hey,” she quietly protests. 

     “Please,” you pout, holding your arms out as an invitation.

     MJ fondly rolls her eyes before lowering herself onto you. You hummed contently and squeezed her before planting a kiss on her cheek. 

     She surprised you by turning her head and giving you a lingering kiss. That one kiss soon turned into something more. 

     Michelle gently pushed you onto your back and straddled your hips. Bending down she kissed you once again, her lips gliding with yours. 

     This continued for a few minutes, taking small breaks in between to breathe. You don’t think you could ever get enough of her and hoped that she was feeling similarly.

     You kissed until your jaws hurt. The euphoric feeling still lingered as MJ rested her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath. 

     “We should do that again sometime,” you mumbled. 

     Your girlfriend nodded in response, giving one more chaste kiss to your lips before dropping to your side. 

     “Tomorrow,” she said after glancing at the clock that read 10:47. 

     “Guess I’m spending the night then.” 

     “I have no problem with that.”

-

     The next day, you were awoken by beeping from your phone. Once you were fully aware of your surroundings you picked up the device and read the notifications that M.I.A sent through. Scanning through them, you sat up with urgency and played the video. 

     “A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Bares, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

     Carefully removing Michelle’s arm from around your waist, you stand up and move to the corner of the room. You press the contact and hold the phone up to your ear. 

      “Nat what the fuck is going on?”

     You hear the woman sigh on the other side of the phone.     “Look, just… stay wherever you are.”

     “Yeah, okay, whatever. I want answers, Nat.”

     “(Y/n),” she says firmly. “Calm down and go back to whatever you were doing. Right now, this does not concern you and I would like it to stay that way. Do you understand me?”

     There was some silence, before you let out a forced chuckle. 

     “Okay, whatever. Bye.”

     “(Y/n) c’mo--”

     You disconnected the call and gently tossed the phone onto MJ’s desk.     “You sound stressed.” 

     Turning around to face the bed, you see Michelle sat up and leaning against the headboard. You nod slowly and crawl your way up towards her. 

     “I am.”

     You feel her hand take hold of your clenched ones and she rubs them, causing you to relax slightly. 

     “There was a um, bombing at the--the um… signing thing. And no one wants to tell me what’s going on, so,” you end the sentence, shrugging. 

     MJ’s head drops onto your shoulder and you let her cuddle close. 

     “They told me to stay where I was. So hopefully we can get something good out of that.” 

     There was no response and you thought she had fallen back asleep, but you were proven wrong when your girlfriend started getting up. 

     “C’mon,” she instructed, holding her hand out when she saw the look of confusion on your face. 

     Taking her hand, the two of you made your way to the kitchen. 

     She turned around and grabbed your shoulders. 

     “We are going to make some breakfast… or lunch whatever. And then we are going to binge watch until we can binge watch no longer. Alright?”

     You nod your head, chuckling and then got to work. 

-

     It had been days since you last heard from anyone. No updates from Natasha. M.I.A even told you there hasn’t even been a great deal of movement in the compound. Today you decided you would head back. 

     When you arrived it was quiet. As you walked down the halls you heard distant chatter and followed it. 

     Turning the corner, you were surprised at what you saw. 

     “What the hell happened?”

     The two men turned to look your way, but you were given no answers. 

     Tony had bruises on his face and he looked more tense than usual. Rhodey had some sort of tech on his legs. 

     “You fought them. You fought them all, didn’t you?” 

     Both men looked away and avoided your gaze. 

     “You didn’t even listen to what I said. This is what the government does. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t even fucking listen,” you ranted, your voice slightly raising.

     “Us breaking apart wasn’t the government. Most of this is on some guy th--”

     “Well the government allowed it to happen so I’d say it is their fault!” 

     You turned to your father with pleading eyes. 

     “Where are they, Tony?”

     “Kid, they’re criminals now, I don’t--”

     “Stop calling me that! I’m--I’m not some kid. I’m not your kid,” you let out a frustrated breath. “You--you couldn’t talk it out? Like mature adults? You just had to go assert your dominance somewhere--in what? An--an airport? Some vacant lot? You just had to fight. Do you not know how to communicate?” 

     You looked at the two men, shook your head, and brushed past them. 

     Just when things were alright.

-

     “(Y/n)?” 

     “What M.I.A?”

     You were currently laying in your bed trying to control the tears that were begging to fall from your eyes due to the amount of overwhelming shit you had been hit with. You talked with MJ for a little while and while it helped a bit, you honestly were still feeling like… well shit.

     “There’s a package for you.” 

     Furrowing your eyebrows, you head down to where the mail is usually placed, get the package with your name on it, and head back to your room. 

     Grabbing a pair of scissors, you cut the tape and open the box. Inside was a letter and a phone. 

     Hey sweetheart.

     It was Natasha’s handwriting.

     I’m sorry. I really am. We all are. I wish things wouldn’t have ended this way, but they did and we can’t really do anything about it now. 

     I listened to what you said. I listened and I tried my best to understand. I don’t think I ever wanted to sign the accords in the first place. The only reason I did so was so that we could stay together. So that I could stay with you. This team is the only family I’ve had in a long time. The fact that that stack of papers could end that scared me. 

     I just kept trying to convince myself that signing the Accords was the right thing to do; anything to keep this team together. Anything to keep everything from falling apart. 

     But the more I thought about it, I realized. You were right. Everything you said. This government doesn’t care. And if the government doesn’t care like they’re supposed to then we need to. People need the government, but they don’t have it. They do have us though. And they always will. 

     I love you. I didn’t say it enough and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get to tell you that again. You are so precious to me and I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. If you ever need anything, you can always give me a call. 

     You wiped your eyes and gently picked up the phone. You held it in your hands for a moment before setting it down. You folded the letter back up neatly and placed both items in the top drawer of your nightstand. 

     You laid back down on your bed with less tears on your face. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

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[venomous-soliloquy]

39, 45, 49. ❤️

39. Is any aspect of your writing process inspired by other writers or people? If so, who?

There's a few aspects, although if you asked me to outright pinpoint who inspired them, I'm not certain I'd be able to answer. There's a few fanfic authors that use lots and lots of — em dashes and from them I learned to love the fuck out of them.

In addition to that, single word breaks between things like.

He couldn't believe his eyes—what he was seeing in front of him. Terrified. Unequivocally, absolutely, he was terrified.

And I know I learned somewhere the whole thing with playing around with italic, bold, and bold italic to add more emphasis to something. But that was at least ten years ago, and I'm not certain any longer.

I read a lot. I used to read even more. It's hard to remember where every little bit comes from, unfortunately.

⋆

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic?

Dialogue. While dialogue definitely is something that seems to have come naturally to me in general (it's probably all those years sitting at the table with adults and listening to them talk as a wee tot) it's gotten exponentially better over the years.

⋆

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Technically I haven't been working on ANYTHING writing wise in the last few weeks. But I have restarted a gift intended for my girlfriend (as you know because I've already shared this with you lmao) over two years ago. So that's what everyone is gonna get a chunk of.

When they finally arrive at the cabin, Steve sees a flash of lighting, followed by an almost deafening crack and roll of thunder moments later. They’re inside, before it happens again. There’s still laughter on their lips as they all but tumble through the door, but soon the mirth is replaced with the sound of teeth chattering and the drip, drip, drop of rain soaked clothes. Quickly they are creating large puddles on the welcome mat just inside the door. Steve shakes his head, amused as droplets of water fling this way and that and, he licks at his lips, catching a few on his tongue. He turns to Tony and, he means to say something… But, whatever that something is, it’s lost immediately as he looks at the man standing next to him. He’s struck with the fact that no one has any right to look so good in waterlogged clothing, with their hair plastered to their head and their lower lip quivering from the cold. And, yet, Tony does. His shirt and jeans are stuck to him like cellophane, and this close Steve can see the rise of goose flesh along his clavicles. Painted across his cheeks is a rosy red flush, and Steve… Steve barely remembers to breathe. Longer than he means to, he stares, until Tony’s dark brown eyes meet his. Despite the cold clinging beneath his skin, Steve feels the telltale heat of an embarrassed flush making its way over the rise of his cheeks. He shivers and a moment later, Tony offers him a smile. It almost seems knowing. Perhaps he’s just seeing things. “What?” Tony asks, after another moment, inclining a brow. “Huh? Oh—uh. Nothing, really, I was just considering taking a shower to warm up. Looks like you might need it more than me.” Steve replies, and the shower is absolutely something he made up on the spot. Tony’s grin becomes broader, seeming to be even more knowing than before and Steve wants to fidget under the scrutiny. There’s no way Tony knows what he was actually thinking. That Tony knows how Steve actually feels about him. If there was, he would have said something by now—Tony is many things, but none of those has ever been bashful.  After another handful of seconds, Tony shakes his head. “Naw. Have at it, Cap. I’ll get changed and start a fire while you’re in there.” It’s as those words leave Tony’s lips that Steve realizes that now he has to commit to his lie. The alternative is to admit it was a lie and then be forced to explain why, exactly, he’d been staring at Tony. He doesn’t see that going over well—how does one explain being hopelessly in love with their best friend without alienating them in the same breath? It’s easier to go with the lie. “Okay. Thanks, Tony,” Steve says, and he turns and makes his way into the singular bedroom the cabin contains.

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

Don’t Call Me That Anymore

Toshinori Yagi  x Reader 

Warnings:

Angst, body insecurity, big sad 

Alcohol

SPOILER UNDER THE CUT!

(Post Retirement All might)

You walked alongside your boyfriend, your hand being loosley connected to his via your pinky. You dragged him to your favorite thrift shop, where you often liked to try on fancy abandoned ball gowns and take photos. Or, on days where you felt a little more casual, you’d search for some interesting clothes to wear.

Everything was fine, the little outing going along as usual. He’d generally stay by your side, his eyes wandering from the dull clothes you often would pick through. 

It was when you heard a small gasp that you knew something was wrong. You glanced at the direction of his gaze, seeing an abandoned All Might figure laying on the floor, the price tag displaying proudly that it was 75% off. 

“Even to be on sale at a thrift store, eh?” he mumbled to himself. His hand clutched his chest, trying to physically push the pain down and out of his frail body. You tried to pretend like you didn’t notice, and guided him to another aisle. Silently, you planned to leave as soon as possible.

---------------------------------------days later---------------------------------

You scrolled through your phone mindlessly, not really caring about the outside world this very moment. All that mattered right now was your loving boyfriend, who was sitting on the other side of the couch. He was mindlessly scrolling through the tv channels.

Suddenly, he paused. You didn’t notice it, that subtle shift in his attitude, the slight tension that grew within him, and the tiny hitched breath.

He clicked on it, and on screen was...him. 

“So, All Might, what’s an average day like for you?” some well dressed reporter asked him. He flashed that crowd pleasing grin as he thought.

He had just finished fighting a villian, and had a small droplet of blood dripping down his forehead, threatening to drop into his intense yet amiable eyes.

“Well, I guess it’s like anyone else’s,” he said thoughtfully, “I just get up, drink some coffee, and-” the man on screen dissapeared, being replaced by a woman showing us the weekly weather. Again, Toshi said nothing, but his eyes were dark and his jaw was clenched. You grasped for his hand as he stood up. His knees popped and his back cracked, only reminding further that he was getting older and weaker. He clenched his fist and dissapeared into the bathroom.

You didnt know what to say or do, knowing that the wrong thing will only make things worse. Your heart ached deeply for him, but how could you help? Could you help?

That night, Toshi came home with something he usually never played with: alcohol. By this time, you had already forgotten about the incidents earlier.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” you teased. He smiled back weakly. Internally, his heart dropped. He’d been caught.

“You want some?” he offered nonchalantly. You nodded, taking a small shot. You never drank either, unlike other people your age, so when the alcohol passed your lips and slid down your throat, you couldn’t help yourself from sputtering and coughing. He patted your back gently.

“You alright there?” 

You nod, smiling a little. If you’re honest, things like that were always so embarrasing. You hated him see you act your age. 

He took a shot, too, smooth and quick. He noticed you stare, and grinned.

“I used to...a little, when I was younger.” 

After the last two words, his eyes grew dark again.

when I was younger.

He poured himself another shot, swigging it down like nothing. You still felt the burning warmth of the shot you’d taken. You couldn’t stop yourself from worrying about how he’d probably be feeling right about now.

“Hey, uh, Toshi... don’t drink too much too fast or you’re gonna get sick,” you gently suggested.

“I will be fine...don’t you worry about me,” he reassured. You nodded, but didn’t really believe him. Is he fine anyway?

You relaxed on the couch, playing a video game on the switch as Toshi occupied himself with the tv and a deck of cards. He loved to play solitaire, even after being mocked by the students at UA when he’d bust out his worn deck during breaks. 

Time passed, swiftly yet gently, but the silence got the better of you.

“Hey, Toshi, lemme get another shot of that stuff”

He didn’t respond. You looked up from the game to see that his cards were all mixed up, reds being on reds and the kings on top of the queens. He had his head gently resting on the cold, wooden table, eyes only staring at the tv blankly.

It’d been quite a few hours since he’d had his first shot, and it definately has worn in. Not too far from his card playing set up was a glass, 1/4 full of what you just assumed was orange juice. You now were suspicious, quietly taking it and giving it a sniff. 

It certainly was orange juice, but there was something mixed with it. The alcohol smell burned your nose. 

Your heart dropped, knowing that that orange juice was to the brim when he brought it in. 

“Toshi...”

He flinched at his name, but still didn’t say anything. His eyes, though glazed over and pitiful, were focused on something. You glanced up at the screen, where an All Might documentary played. 

You bent down to Toshi’s level, where he was sitting on the floor in front of the table, combing your fingers through his hair. 

“Toshi, look at me.”

His eyes lazily found your face. He brought up his hand to your cheek.

“I-I’m ffine, dea-darlin..g..” he stumbled out, his speech slurred and laborious. 

“Let’s get to bed, honey. I can help walk you there,” you offered. He protested futilely, as you pulled his arm over your shoulder and supported his weight with yours. He was mostly deadwight, making his 160 pounds feel more like thousands. You guided him down the hall, slowly but steadily, each step taking exponentially longer than a sober one would. He kept one hand on the wall.

His fingers grazed the frame of a photo. He looked at it.

It was All Might, proudly standing with a group of kids. 

Toshi couldn’t hold it in anymore. He stood up, shakily but on his own, and pulled his fist back, swinging at it. Glass landed everywhere, and a small hole in the wall stared back at him. 

He spit at the now broken photo at his feet.

“yo-you’re not e-ven real...n-no-not any...not anymore...I hate you...” he mumbled drunkenly. His hand fell limp to his side, scarlet blood shining against his pale, white skin. And dripping onto the floor.

You tried your best to hide your shock and you directed him into the bathroom, where the first aid kit was. He laid on the floor, pressing his face into the comforting coolness of the linoleom. You wanted to scream at him to knock it out, and to just get up, but you knew that even if he desperately wanted to, he wouldn’t be sober until the next morning. 

You looked down at his small, skinny form, that lay breathing on the bathroom tile. You'd never seen Toshi, in any form, look as weak as he did now. Your heart ached. This wasn’t him.

Suddenly, he shot up and lurched towards the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach. You rushed over to his side, moving his forelocks away from his face. He was pale, white as a sheet. The bags under his eyes were deeper and darker, and his usually bright blue eyes were dulled down to a muted navy. Tears pooled down his sunken cheekbones.

"n-no...go- get awa...y"

You said nothing, but ran cold water through a washrag, soaking it throughly. He remained hovering over the toilet, violently retching.

The alcohol was attacking his skinnied, sick body more than he thought it would. As you approached him with the rag in hand, he returned to the chilled floor.

You placed the rag on his sweaty forehead gently, rubbing his arm. He pushed you away as best as he could, still crying silently.

"p..ple-please, y/n...d-don't look at me...n-not like...not like this..." He choked out in-between sobs.

"I'm not going anywhere, babyboy. I'm sorry." You apologize, getting out some first aid supplies for his knuckles.

"...please...jus-just..."

You hushed him, gently taking his bloodied hand. He tried pulling away weakly, but to no avail.

"...let me...let me jus...take care of it...I can..." He mumbled. You paid him no mind as you quickly but effectively wrapped him up.

As soon as you were finished, he was back in front of the toilet again. Not much more was coming up, but the sickening retches and sobs still shook within his frail chest.

You bent down next to him, rubbing his back, whispering small words of praise and encouragement. He began to calm down a little as he sat against the wall of the bathroom. He started off into the distance.

"I...why can't I be like...like him anymore?" He muttered,

For a split second, you were confused.

“Like who, baby?”

His eyes stared into you, harsh enough to scald you. Realization hit.

“All Might?” You quietly asked, your hand moving towards his. He slapped it away half heartedly.

“n-no... that’s-he’s not- I-I’m not-“

He began to rip at his hair, his sobs getting louder and more violent. Fear grew inside of you, not knowing how to contain this small man that was so engulfed in despair and grief that he couldn’t see how wonderful he is as a person, not just as a hero.

Toshi got his worth from what he could do for others. He doesn’t feel like he deserves love, especially if he’s not giving it to someone else in just the right way. If he’s not helping anyone, what good is he? And in his smaller form, how could he help anyone?

You grabbed his wrists, making sure he couldn’t hurt himself anymore than he already has.

“Toshinori, please listen to me!” You begged. He went limp. He couldn’t catch his breath, and he was definitely hyperventilating.

“Take some nice, deep breaths for me, okay, sweetie?” You firmly yet sweetly ordered. You set the pace and he followed, his breaths shaky and labored. He calmed down quite a bit, and you loosened your grip on his wrists.

“Do you really love me?” He whimpered quietly.

“Oh, honey... of course I love you. I’ve always loved you, even before I knew who you were. Who you are.”

“You...you were right the first time. Were.”

“No, baby. When you go out in public, people still know you’re All Might, and-“

“Don’t... don’t call me... that name... please, not anymore.”

You didn’t even know how to respond to that. Your heart ached at his pitiful tone.

“Y/n... you don’t know what people... what they say about me now. They laugh and say that I’m just a toothpick. They... they whisper about how I don’t look so good, and about...” he began to cry again. This time, quietly, privately. He curled up into himself, tucking himself away from you and the rest of the world.

“Well, of course people will say things like that,” you began, “did you ever consider that there were some people who criticized All Might, too?”

“...what?”

“Listen, honeybee, people are always going to be saying bullshit like that. No matter who you are. But guess what? There’s always, always going to be more people who are excited to see you, who will always accept you, and who will always see every beautiful gift you have to offer to this world. I know how hard it’s been for you, but you need to know that you’re still so loved, so wanted, so needed in so many people’s lives.”

“Like who? Who could possibly...who could need someone like me?”

“Me. Toshi, I need you here. I love you. We met when you were in this form, in this very body. Don’t you remember?”

He nodded. You wiped away a tear gently.

“I loved you for who you are, not who you were or what you’ve done. For you.”

Shakily, he whispered, “I... I love you, too.”

For the first time that night, he clutched you closer to him. You pulled his head into your chest, as he nestled into you. You couldn’t help but spare a few tears, but he never knew that.

“Are you ready to go to bed?”

He nodded, his grip tightening around your shirt. You helped stand him up on his shakey, baby deer like legs. You led him down the hall, and he paused at the broken photo.

He gestured towards it, mumbling something.

“No, baby, don’t worry about that. I’m going to clean it all up.”

Finally, you arrived at the bed. You pulled back the duvet, readying it for him.

He laid into the soft mattress, sighing in relief.

You tucked him in, standing up. He reached his hand out, begging, “please...don’t leave...me...”

“I’m coming right back, honeydew. I just need to clean up the picture and turn everything off. Okay? Do you need a glass of water or anything?”

He shook his head. “Let... let me clean it up tomorrow, please.”

You ignored all of his pleas for you to leave him be earlier, but something told you that despite his drunken stupor, he really meant this one. You washed your face and tidied up the bathroom, quickly turning off the tv and getting his cards put up, and finally dumping the orange juice cocktail down the sink, along with the rest of the alcohol. Your heart panged, noting the tiny amount remaining in the crystal clear bottle.

Despite him denying his need for water, you brought him a tall glass of ice water along with a smaller glass of ginger ale, as well as a new chilled washcloth.

He was nearly asleep when you got back, but perked up at the sound of your footsteps.

You urged him to drink just a tiny bit of the water, and he obliged. You praised him heavily, placing a kiss on his cheek, before climbing into bed. He turned to face you, pulling you close to him. He kissed you on your forehead before drifting off into a deep, restful sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. You scrambled to get up and rushed into the kitchen, where you found Toshi sipping a modest cup of coffee, the photo of All Might placed in a brand new frame, proudly displayed on the kitchen table.

“Oh, Toshi! You scared me when you weren’t in the bed.”

He looked out the window, sighing deeply. He smiled at you, saying,

“Don’t worry... I am here.”

[savagesbonergarage]

ok, i need SMUTTY thrawn. like anything you wanna write

Don't we all 😏

I’m weirdly a little upset with Thrawn right now for ridiculous headspace reasons, so this is gonna be interesting. I think I have a good idea, though...We’ll see how this turns out lol

Update: Wow this has a lot of feelings??? Apparently I needed to get that out of my system *shrug*

A/N - Tried to write this for a gender-neutral reader so let me know how that works 🤐, longer than I expected but what else is new, yeah feelings like I said, but it turns into you domming Thrawn so I think it’s worth it, face-riding, cumming in pants, role-play? kinda?, the smut’s at the end

Thrawn

“Neglect”

“What is this?” you asked with a knowing curiosity and no small amount of irritation in your voice.  

You held the painted helmet in your hands, Thrawn’s gaze never leaving it until he eventually answered you through a defeated sigh. “It belonged to one of the rebel captives I’ve been tracking. The boy Jedi.”

“I see...” you retorted unflinchingly, inspecting the crude loth-cat design on the front of it through hardened, yet undeniably sad eyes. “So this is what you’ve been up to this entire time? Spending your vacation working instead of...” 

Instead of being with me, like you’d promised.

The chiss finally rose from his seat, although he still couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. He was fully aware of the situation he’d created, of the promises he’d made and failed to keep, and most importantly the lies he’d told in order to continue tracking this particular band of rebels. “I...I apologize for disappointing you.”

You uttered a scoff, nearly rolling your eyes at his words. After finally catching him in the act when he’d sworn he was too tired to stay up with you and was heading straight to bed all these nights, it was difficult not to take this revelation a little personally. Not to mention his superiors had specifically instructed him to use this shore leave to actually relax and enjoy himself after his continuous dedication to the Empire and his duties without fail or complaint - and when he’d arrived with more luggage than usual, you interpreted that to mean that he was intending to stay the entire length of his trip this time with no intention of returning to work early as he typically did - however, that extra baggage was ultimately filled with rebel artifacts that he was fully preparing to study. 

“I’m not disappointed, nor am I surprised,” you admitted through a sigh, moving to stand straight across from him with only the width of the helmet between you as you continued, “I don’t know why I was expecting this time to be different from any of the others. I know you. When you’re dedicated to pursuing something, there’s no stopping you or trying to change your mind.”

His lips parted as though he had something to say, but ultimately decided against it. He must have seen through your facade of trying to keep your expression firm as he gently spoke your name, and you silently cursed yourself for never being able to keep a straight face. You caught his hand when he moved to bring it to your cheek, only holding it firmly in mid air as you kept your head down while you asked him the question that had been plaguing your mind for years.

“Are you still pursuing me?”

You clutched his hand even tighter, your frown already shifting into a grimace as you stared straight down into the visor of the helmet. This talk wasn’t one you’d been particularly looking forward to having, especially since you more or less already had a preconceived notion of what his answer would be. Perhaps your relationship really had changed, and rather than voice it outright, Thrawn expected you to determine the status of it through context to avoid having an uncomfortable conversation. It certainly didn’t feel like the two of you were lovers anymore, and with this revelation that he had the time for intimacy if he desired it and was choosing his usual activities over being in your arms, there was little reason to believe otherwise. 

The helmet was abruptly removed from your hands and placed elsewhere, with the hand that was holding yours moving to snake around your waist as you felt him pull you against his broad chest. It was a kind gesture, but what you really wanted was a definitive answer. 

“Thrawn-”

“I’ve always been adept at coursing after my targets,” he began with an ounce of regret in his somber tone, “yet I find that the ones affecting my career operations tend to take precedence over the ventures in my personal life.”

You’d already known that much, and yet the sinking fear that came with the prospect of the inevitable “it’s not you, it’s me” parting discussion still began to overtake you. It felt like you were going through all the stages of grief all at once - denial, anger, bargaining, depression...but you weren’t ready to accept this just yet. You weren’t sure you ever would be. Anger was definitely occupying the forefront of your mind; anger at Thrawn, anger at the Empire, anger at yourself...you wouldn’t be enduring all of this if you’d never fallen for him in the first place. You just had to go and fall in love with a man that was emotionally and physically unavailable, didn’t you? You’d known at least some extent of what you’d be getting into when you agreed to be his significant other - that your rendezvous together would be short-lived and few and far between, with his work always taking priority over you, but this...knowing that given the choice, given the mandate, he was still choosing the rebels over you...

It hurt.

You were tensing up in his arms, doing all that you could to keep the tears from forming. If only to encourage the transparency you wanted to see from him, you began solemnly pouring your thoughts out against his chest, the release of the words you'd been keeping to yourself for so long aiding in your preemptive recovery somewhat.

"I've often thought about joining the rebellion just to reclaim some of your attention," you admitted, the statement sounding more pathetic to your ears than you'd anticipated, "I've never been an artist, but I like to imagine what it would be like if I made rebel propaganda for you to find. I've wondered if you'd even be able to figure out it was mine, and that with every stroke it was really just me trying to tell you..." ...that I love you.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until you felt yourself involuntarily choking on a sob, and before you could hide your face from him his hands were caressing either side of your jaw and pulling you up into a deep, tender kiss. 

How long had it been? When was the last time you felt his touch like this, let alone a kiss? It almost didn't feel real, and you instinctively returned his vigor to make sure it wasn't all just a fantasy. Your tears were stinging against both of your faces now, and Thrawn drew back to wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs. His glowing red eyes were so melancholy, his brows threading into a line as you held his indigo hands to your face and leaned into them, as though the warmth of his skin was a rare sensation that you were savoring to remember back on when you'd be without it again.

"My love..." Thrawn began, his voice soothing as he brought his lips to the tender flesh of your ear, "if I've been so neglectful of your needs that you would become my enemy to be closer to me, then I've failed you so much more exponentially than I ever could have surmised. For that, I am so, so very sorry."

Part of you perked up at the implication that perhaps he wasn't intending to cut ties with you just yet, although it was clear he had much more to say. You brought his hands down to your chest and interlocked your fingers with his, holding onto them for dear life as he continued. "I...I have become consumed by my mission. My mind won't allow me any reprieve unless I've made substantial new discoveries and analyses concerning these rebels on a constant basis. I haven't faced any challenging opposition like them in quite some time, and to feel the invigoration of facing a worthy opponent with the potential to outmaneuver me...it's...addicting."

You listened to his confession intently, relieved to have him opening his heart to you once again. You brought his hands up to your mouth and smiled with amusement before you placed a kiss against them and bore into his concerned gaze with a look of alleviation gracing your own features. “I think I’m beginning to understand where your superiors were coming from when they demanded you take this leave.”

Thrawn’s countenance softened as he returned your smile, even managing something of a titter while he brought your own hands to his lips. “Am I that insufferable?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

He flashed his teeth in an impudent grin, moistening your skin with his lips as he resumed speaking against it. “Reassuring, as always.”

“Thrawn...” you spoke gingerly as the seriousness of the conversation recommenced and you withdrew your hands, rubbing the place where his warmth had just been while you gathered up the courage to proceed with your thoughts, “I need to know where we stand. It would have been stupid of me to expect our relationship to be like anyone else’s...I’ve been aware from the beginning that your duties come first, and I’m perfectly content with that. I want to see you succeed, and I love that you’re so persistent and driven. But...”

“I know,” he interjected, his guilty conscience evident simply by the tone of his voice, “my behavior as of late has been inexcusable. You mean so much more to me than I’ve led you to believe. It has been despicable of me to overlook your wishes in favor of my work when it is unnecessary. I...I love you, and...I’d like to make it up to you.”

Your heart breathed a sigh of relief, remedied by the fact that it still belonged to him. Before you knew it, you were back in his arms in an instant and planting another passionate kiss at the corner of his mouth while you grasped at his light civilian clothing. “Do you mean it?” you asked before he could properly perform the action in return.

“Of course. There are few things I wouldn’t do for you.”

For you, that was about as good as anyone else saying that they would do anything. Some things were off the table, such as leaving the Empire or betraying the Chiss or halting his investigation of the mysterious alien race that posed a threat to the entire galaxy - but other than that, he was yours, and that was more than enough.

“I might already have a few ideas...” you admitted pleasantly, capturing his lips in a more heated kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His smile granted you more access to the rest of his mouth and you obliged, nipping at his skin and warring with his tongue as both of your actions became more lascivious. It wasn’t long before you felt his warm, strong hands snaking up your bare abdomen while you fumbled with the clasps of his shirt, though it become more difficult to concentrate once he reached your chest and focused his activity there, drawing a moan from deep within your throat. Taking note of your struggle, he briefly took his hands away from you to discard his top and aid you in removing your own. 

“I’m intrigued by these ideas, if you wouldn’t mind enlightening me,” Thrawn said as he reached both arms around you to grasp your behind and knead it through the fabric of your pants while he continued to kiss you along your temples and hairline. Your mouth was too busy peppering his pecs with kisses and love-bites to really say much, but that was alright - you were more of a demonstrator, anyway. You brought his hands to your sides and he helped you slide your bottoms down, giving your ass an excited smack once it was bare for him. He attempted to sneak a hand around the supple flesh of your inner thigh and curl a few digits upwards, but you smacked it away.

“Ah-Ah,” you tsked, guiding his arms away from you entirely. He started working at the sealing strip of his own waistband, but again, you stopped him. “No.”

“No?” he asked, a brow raised in amusement but also plenty of genuine confusion. 

“No,” you reaffirmed as you stepped completely out of your pant legs and planted your palms onto his chest, pushing against him with enough force to influence him to step backward. The pressure was continuous, so he didn’t stop until his back hit the cool metal of the durasteel wall behind him. “You’ve kept me waiting for a long time, Admiral.”

“I...yes,” he uttered, slightly taken aback by the firmness and determination in your voice, and especially the mocking tone you used with his moniker, although he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy it. 

In an impressive display of flexibility, you raised your leg up until your heel rested in the curve of Thrawn’s neck and over his shoulder, holding him in place as you stared him down with an air of dominion. “I’ve lost most of my patience,” you explained as you applied a significant amount of strength down through your foot and into his muscle, indicating once again that he was to move. He did so silently this time, enraptured by your confidence as he slid down until he was sitting on the hard ground. Your foot didn’t let up, adding more pressure as your tone became a little more demanding. “Down. All the way.”

He obliged, shifting downwards so he could lean back onto his forearms and lower himself completely onto the floor. Your foot remained on his shoulder, a smile contorting your face as you could see he was taking in the view and enjoying it, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His eyes eventually met yours, giving you an innocent and questioning look as he spoke.

“Would you like to take this outside of the office? To the bedroom, perhaps?”

“Here’s fine,” you retorted smugly, and for a moment your attention was captured again by the painted rebel helmet that was perched atop the desk beside you. You took it, examining the artwork on the front one more time before you smirked at the curious Chiss beneath you and donned it upon your head. His breath hitched when you suddenly dropped to your knees over his chest and slid your hand around to the apex of his skull, lightly grabbing a fistful of previously perfectly slicked-back hair before gazing straight down into his crimson orbs.

“Are you still curious?” you asked with an inflection of authority.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion before he spoke lowly, just above a whisper. “I believe I understand.”

“Good,” you began, positioning yourself directly over his face as you pulled his head forward so that the tip of his nose was only centimeters away from the source of your pulsing heat, “...you kriffing Imp.”

With that, you saddled his face and sighed when you felt the hot wetness of his mouth envelop you, the room quickly filling with the sounds of the obscene slurps and smacks of his ministrations on your flesh. Your other hand grasped another lock of his hair as you bucked against him, his tongue finding all your most sensitive spots as it darted over them, and all the while you carefully supported his neck while he fucked you religiously with his face. You looked down at the master tactician through half-lidded eyes before throwing your head back in ecstasy, feeling the creep of your climax edging closer and closer. You were having a difficult time catching your breath, and eventually you decided that this sensation ought to be somewhat mutual.

You reached your hand back behind you and starting palming Thrawn’s erection through the fabric of his pants, earning an approving sigh between your legs as you stimulated the head through the still-expanding wet stain of his precum. You jerked him as well as you could in tandem with his movements, struggling to suppress the moans and expletives that erupted from your lips as he went at you even harder. His hands gripped your hips with a cautious desperation as both of your breaths became increasingly ragged, and it wasn’t long before your thighs were quivering against his ears as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of absolute pleasure. Your gasps of euphoria coupled with the intensified friction of your touch had Thrawn stilling and slightly jerking his hips not long after, finally leaning his head back away from your entrance as his face flushed while he came in his pants.

The both of you relaxed as you were overtaken by the surge of your highs, and after a while you managed to shift downward so that you were straddling his waist as you removed the helmet and set it aside. You returned your attention to the handsome, feverish warrior panting beneath you and moved a stray strand of his mussed hair back into place. You leaned forward and kissed him gently on his swollen lips, not minding the taste of yourself as you rested on top of him and listened to the accelerated beating of his heart together with yours.

And when his arms wrapped around you while he planted a loving kiss on your forehead, you looked up at the ceiling and pondered just how much work he’d get done the next time he studied that helmet.

[rodeoxqueen]

For new year, can I have oneshot Dante x reader? They went to hunt during winter, then in a cave they have to hide themselves from the demons. That cave - where it's cold and the only warmth around is from each other. Dante become big spoon, pressing kisses to her neck, breathing in her shampoo and hugging her closer. Omg too much warmth for me ><

Howdy, it got a lil gore-y and hurt/comfort trope-y. Hope that’s dandy with you. 

-Rodeo

Content/Warnings: Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Holding Each Other For Body Warmth, Reader’s Gender Not Mentioned

Dante was never one to surrender and return for a second battle. He wasn’t like that and he was never going to be. So it was up to you to drag him away when the demonic horde only seemed to grow exponentially in magnitude. 

Practically pushing all of your body weight on him, the two of you fell into the narrow entrance to the rocky cave, hitting the stone-cold floor with a thump. Dante grunted as you turned to see the flurry of wings, horns, and scaled skin continue to chase after the path you were previously taking. 

Thank god for peripheral vision. 

The crevice you had wedged yourself through was barely the width of Dante’s head, yet you managed to shove the devil into the cave with you. There wasn’t even any room to stand without hitting even your head, let alone Dante. 

Forgoing your worries of the vanished demons you were supposed to hunt down, you quickly went to check on Dante. Laying on the cave ground and resting on his elbows, the giant splotch of dark red blood from his stomach had already spread through his undershirt. 

You quickly crawled over and attempted to open his leather jacket, to examine the wound. 

“Whoa, whoa, take me out for pizza first.” Dante laughed as you managed to lift up his shirt, exposing a nasty slash across his navel. It was unnaturally deep, a normal man would simply hold onto his intestines and fall to his death. Not your Dante. Not your beautiful man. 

You gave a pointed glance at him as you saw his tissue begin to reconstruct itself. 

“I’m fine babe. You should’ve just let me finish the job.” He pouted, watching his skin mend itself. 

“In this condition? I doubt it.” He sighed. 

“I’ve been through worse.” Dante tried to joke. It failed, seeing how glum you became. Often had you realized what he had gone through before in the past, without anyone. Alone. 

Dante saw the sad gears in your head turning and attempted to fill the silence. 

“Well, once this papercut mends itself we have to go back to kickin’ demon ass. And then we’ll get a pizza.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.  

“Yeah, but you need to rest now Dante.” You reminded him. 

“The one time you let me sleep on the job.” He snarked. You snorted and stroked his hair, his purrs vibrating through the cave. 

The slash was a lot deeper than Dante thought as he noticed a sliver of his own intestine was slowly being covered with muscle. He shivered a little bit at the sight. 

You were obviously more perturbed and even more worried about how Dante must have felt. You shivered as well, but more from the chill of the night, coming to bite your bones and rattle your teeth. 

Although Dante had the worst of it, your own cloyhee had ripped at the sleeves and pants, leaving your arms and legs exposed. 

“Hey.” Dante opened his arms to you, offering an embrace. 

His flesh no longer bled, yet the mark stayed stubbornly open. 

“Dante, you’re still hurt.” 

“Yeah, but you’re cold.” 

“I’m gonna get your blood all over me.” 

“Yeah, but you’re cold.” 

Even with his guts nearly hanging out, he was thinking about you. If it wasn’t for his near disembowelment, you would’ve dove into his arms and kissed his cheek for being your valiant gentleman. 

“Come on, babe. I could really use some company over here. You know, me being a foot away from you.” You sighed and relented to those puppy-dog baby blues. 

You decided to scooch to the other side of him that wasn’t horribly maimed, your size difference obvious. He grunted as he moved to lay on his side. 

“You’re so clingy.” He blew a raspberry. Your skin was goose-bumped and you still shook slightly. This wasn’t going to do. 

“Do you have to be the big spoon this time?” 

“What do you take me for? Of course, I do.” You make a noise of approval as you can feel his warmth against your cold back. 

Dante lifted his coat slightly and wrapped you in his arms and red leather. The smell of iron offput his cologne, the one you bought for his birthday, wrapped in pizza themed wrapping paper. Despite the acerbic scent of blood, you were home here in this embrace. 

A ticklish sensation followed by a soft yet chapped press of lips on the nape of your neck, Dante grinned at your giggle. He leads his adoration from your neck to your ear and kissed the top of your head. 

He smelled your hair, chuckling when notes of strawberry and vanilla came to his senses. Good to know you were still using his shampoo and conditioner. 

He couldn’t wait to go home and hold you in better conditions, such as in the shower, as hot water soothed your tired forms. 

“Does it still hurt?” You ask. 

“Nah, babe. Not with you around.” He flirted, hearing your breaths slow as you rest with a smile on your face. 

“You’re still paying for the pizza.” 

“Damn.” He yawned.  He buried his face against your neck, finding comfort in your scented skin. The feeling of his skin grafting was lost as he drowsily dozed next to you.

The two lovers rested, a haven to each other even in times of trouble. 

[retrievablememories]

the second time around | jaehyun

title: the second time around pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: fluff, some angst request: “Hi! Here’s a suggestion for a story or add-on to another story you wrote. I really liked moonlight w/ jaehyun! Could you do a follow up with him not seeing her for awhile and him (and her secretly) being pissed about it but wants to reconnect with her but outside of being a customer. Ty and keep up the good work with your writing.” word count: 2.9k warnings: a couple mentions of sex a/n: hmm...the sequel to moonlight...sequels are scary to write but here we are lol. this could’ve been posted last sunday really but i’ve been stalling oof

Despite getting Jaehyun’s number after that night at the strip club, you’ve seen and heard a lot less of him than you’d like. On his end, Jaehyun isn’t so pleased about losing touch either, but you wouldn’t know that with the lack of communication.

Both of you are ultimately busy with your own lives, and it’s not like he can just drop in whenever he wants to visit you. Not just because he’s busy, but also because of where you work. The men keep their visits to the club on a once-a-month basis for a reason—to avoid tipping off any stalkers who’d find out and leak their whereabouts.

You’ve texted each other a few times since your first meeting, and you enjoyed the conversations you got to have within that timespan, but the time between responses kept getting longer—on both of your ends—until things eventually dropped off.

You were unhappy about this, though you tried not to be so obvious about it to the other girls. Getting attached to customers was not a good look. Even if they were handsome and nice and had good dick.

However, Anya was the first to notice your slightly sour mood despite your best efforts to project an unphased demeanor. And, being her usual nosy self, she managed to pry it out of you before you could even think about denying it.

“Don’t stress about it,” she’d told you on the night you finally spilled the beans. She’d wrapped her arms around your shoulders and tipped your chin up, making you hold your head up higher and look at yourself in the mirror reflection facing you. “There will be many more men where he came from. And if you don’t wanna deal with any more men right now, that’s fine too. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on, anyway.”

“I’m not stressing over it,” you’d argued, sighing. “We don’t stress over men who aren’t boyfriends, remember?”

Anya grinned then, though you could tell it was the kind of smile you give when a friend is doing something they shouldn’t be—or indulging in something they think is good for them when it’s not. “Duh. But you might wanna start following your own advice if you’re gonna be dishing it out!” And then she’d gone off to do her own thing, probably to finish getting ready for her set later that night or to go bother one of her favorite bartenders.

You’d looked at yourself in the mirror more closely, frowning at the truthfulness of her statement and wishing you had not been quite so easy to read. You’d had a show right after that, which allowed you to take your mind off the mess for at least a few hours. But in the small moments when you weren’t thinking about work or school or anything else you had to do, Jaehyun crept back into your mind like a specter, wanting you to acknowledge him even though you weren’t getting the same.

When you head out to the parking lot after a particularly long night, you slow your steps when you see a man leaning against his car, his cap pulled over his eyes and his head low. In any other scenario, you probably would’ve alerted one of the bouncers, thinking he was some creep waiting until after your stage to try to corner you in a shady area. However, you hold off on calling anybody because you can clearly recognize him even if he thinks he’s being inconspicuous—it’s Jaehyun.

He lifts his head when he hears your shoes on the ground, and his lips turn up into something of a smile.

“If you wanted another dance, you’re a bit late. We just closed,” you say jokingly, raising an eyebrow at him. Jaehyun shakes his head.

“Tempting idea, but that’s not what I came here for.” He turns to face you fully now, observing you in your casual, after-work clothes. In the back of your mind, you realize this is the first time he’s seen you outside the context of performing. Then he sighs. “It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I know.” Your familiar irritation rises again. Sure, maybe him coming to see you or you going to see him more often isn’t feasible. A text or a call, though...would be decidedly less effort, and not difficult to do. You’re not sure whether to be more irritated with him or yourself about not trying to reach out again, though you decide to aim your annoyance at him just because you can.

Jaehyun nods to your agreement. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” you say. “Work is...work. It has its ups and downs. How are you? Busy with the idol life?”

Jaehyun sighs. “Yeah...it just gets…stressful sometimes.” He bites his lip and shakes his head, seeming bothered about whatever’s going on with his job but not wanting to say much more about it.

“I’m sure,” you respond, and you don’t really know what to say afterwards. It’s been a while since either of you talked, and it’s strangely hard to try to pick up where you left off as if nothing happened. Jaehyun realizes this, too, and appears distressed at not knowing how to keep the conversation going with you—and possibly wasting your time.

You nod to yourself and shift on your feet. “Well, the Uber will probably be here soon, so—”

“I don’t know what things will look like between us, but I don’t want us to fall out of contact again,” Jaehyun blurts out, then winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just...don’t want either of us to leave before we...sort this out, I guess.”

You think to yourself, wondering if this is really worth trying to pursue. You’ve yet to deal with a man with the level of fame that Jaehyun has, yet with such a strict image to keep, which makes things exponentially more complicated. But despite your apprehension, you still want to know where this could lead. After a moment, you say, “Well, if you’re willing...I’d like the same.”

Jaehyun nods and stands up a little straighter, like that response just gave him the energy he needed. “Do you wanna….go somewhere? Just to like, hang out.” His proposition is abrupt, and you didn’t expect it. 

“Now?” You check your phone, and it’s 18 minutes past 2 a.m. There aren’t too many places that will still be open at this hour, other than establishments similar to your line of work, but you aren’t in the mood for any more of that tonight. Your driver, too, is only a few minutes away, but you already find yourself with your finger hovering over the Cancel button. “We could.”

Jaehyun goes around to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. You get into his car, noting its sleek interior. Once he gets in, he asks you what you want to hear, and you notice he’s looking through his Spotify. You shrug.

“I don’t know. Show me something you like,” you say. You cringe at sounding so disinterested, which makes you realize you might just be a little more upset about being ghosted than you thought you were. You almost want to curse at how this dude is taking you off your usual game. “I mean, I like hearing new music anyway, so…”

Jaehyun starts the car and grins slightly. “Alright, then let me show you the best of the best…” You both end up listening and vibing to a playlist he’s made, which is good. Not that you didn’t expect it to be, but you end up liking most of the songs he shows you, which usually doesn’t happen with other people’s playlists.

Jaehyun ends up taking you to an ice cream place that’s still open this late, to your surprise. The sitting area inside the store is closed, though they’ve kept the drive-thru open for late-night travelers like yourselves who want a quick treat. You don’t question it, though; you definitely won’t pass up a chance for some ice cream.

You end up eating the ice cream while sitting in his car and listening to the rest of his playlist. Neither of you say much other than commenting on the songs or talking about your favorite ice cream flavors or making other non-committal small talk. You kind of prefer it this way, at least for the moment—just listening to the music and watching the headlights and taillights of cars that pass by.

You and Jaehyun ride around the city for a while longer after finishing the ice cream, not intending to go anywhere in particular but just coasting on the highways. It might be an excuse to keep listening to this new playlist he’s put on, or maybe more reason to pretend that awkward period between you never happened. Acknowledging it in a way, but not speaking any life into it. 

Eventually, though, it has to arise back to the surface. Jaehyun taps his fingers against the steering wheel at a red light, like he’s impatient to get somewhere, and you wonder what he’s feeling until he comes out and says,

“I think it was...ultimately my fault for not contacting you more. Or not trying to stay in contact.”

The words hang in the air for a moment. “Well, I won’t argue with that,” you finally respond.

“It’s just hard to get close to anyone and be an idol at the same time. Sometimes I sabotage myself when I shouldn’t, and…” He trails off, though you don’t know whether he’s searching for the words or has decided to leave his sentence at that.

“You’d rather not be embarrassed by dating a stripper, or something along those lines?” Your tone is nonchalant, though you’re a little bothered by saying it. He wouldn’t be the first or the last person to feel some type of way about your job, though you’ve mostly gotten used to the judgment at this point.

Jaehyun seems a bit startled by the statement. “If you like doing it, then I don’t care what you do. You should live your life however you want to.”

“I see,” you say slowly. “Most men I meet outside of the club are not receptive to it, so you ain’t gotta lie if you feel some other way about it, seriously...”

“I’m serious,” he insists. “You told me that day that you liked it, and I believed you. I just think...we should all be able to do things we enjoy without worrying about what others think of it.”

Jaehyun turns to look at you for a moment, and his features are lit up by the street light as it turns green. His face, which is simultaneously painted with shadows and glowing with light, appears to be just as genuine as he sounds. Or maybe this late-night atmosphere just has you feeling more receptive and sentimental than usual. Then he broaches the next subject carefully, steering you back to where the conversation began. “You didn’t text me anymore, either.”

“I figured you’d moved on or something, maybe started talking to someone else…” you reply. “And, you know, if that was the case...so be it. There wouldn’t be a point to chasing someone who wasn’t interested anymore.”

“I am interested.” Jaehyun rushes the words out, like he’s eager to dispel the uncertainty before you get the wrong idea; not that that hasn’t already happened, but still. It isn’t too late to change your mind. “I want to like, know you as a person...not just while being a customer at the club, or something like that.”

You nod, looking at your hands and considering his words. “We can do that...yeah, we can.” Then you hold your hand out to him, a grin playing on your lips. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Y/N.”

He smiles too, and takes your hand in one of his. “I’m Jaehyun.”

The conversation after that seems to reach a turning point, like somehow you’ve broken the ice and can finally talk to each other on a deeper level without worrying about the issue that’s been lingering over your heads all night. You think you could talk to him like this for hours if you wanted to, if there was enough time in the world for it. 

Unfortunately, though, you don’t have as much time as you’d like, and once it starts edging on 4 AM, you both decide it’s probably best to call it a night. Jaehyun takes you back to your apartment after you tell him where it is.

He parks in front of the apartment complex, and you’re prepared to thank him for the night and get out, but he insists on walking you up to your apartment—something about it being too dangerous for women to walk alone at night.

“It’s not that far.” You laugh, but you aren’t going to argue about it if it means getting a few more moments with him.

Jaehyun follows you up the steps after you both get out of the car. You walk a little slower to prolong the moment, but eventually you have to get up to your apartment door. You also take your time with taking your keys out of your bag and putting them in the lock. And maybe you’re not as slick as you thought, because Jaehyun notices. He laughs quietly behind you, but the sound isn’t low enough to escape your hearing.

You turn around to look at him, your hand on the doorknob. “Well, I guess that’s it. Thanks for the ride...and for the ice cream, you know.”

He nods, and one of his dimples pokes out. “You didn’t have to entertain me tonight, but I’m glad you did...so, thanks.”

Both of you linger in your doorway for a few more moments. Jaehyun wants to come in, and you know it, but you also know he probably won’t say it because he technically shouldn’t. His members are expecting him back at the dorm. He doesn’t want to impose, and he didn’t even bring any extra clothes. But you know he wants to come in, and you want it, too.

You tilt your head to the side. “Would it be bad if I asked you to stay?” you say tentatively.

A slow smile spreads on his face. “No, it wouldn’t.”

You open the door wider so he can step inside and take his shoes off at the entrance. You lead him to your living room by the hand. “What do you wanna do?” you ask, looking at him imploringly. You want to be sure you’re both on the same page concerning your intentions.

“Whatever you wanna do,” he echoes, holding your hand a bit tighter. You expect to see lust or some similar desire in his expression and had already figured you might end up having sex again tonight, but his eyes expect nothing from you. He only smiles in the dim light of your apartment and waits for you to make the next move.

You laugh, and it comes out as an airy chuckle. “Well, then...I want to lay down. It’s been a long day.” From your tone, Jaehyun understands that you really just want to lie down and not think about much of anything else right now. He follows you when you lead him into your bedroom and sits patiently on your bed while you go to the bathroom to change into your night clothes. You’re thankful you already took a shower at the club, because you’re not sure you’d have the energy to do all that now.

He’s taken his jeans off when you come back into the room, though he still keeps his shirt on. You get onto the bed and lean over him, hooking your finger into the collar of his shirt, and he looks up at you. “You can take this off if you want, I don’t care.”

“Is this you saying you want to see me shirtless?” He grins, though he readily takes the invitation and pulls his shirt off, placing it to the side along with his pants.

You shake your head good-naturedly, a smile on your face. “I promise it’s innocent…but the view never hurts.”

You peel the sheets back and you both climb underneath them, lying across from each other and looking at each other like you want to say something more but aren’t sure what. There isn’t much light in the room except for the street lights coming from your bedroom window, muted slightly by the blinds.

Jaehyun laughs suddenly, breaking the silence, and you do the same. You’re not sure why either of you are laughing, but you do so anyway, simply enjoying the moment for what it is. After your laughter dies down, he takes your hand from where it’s resting on the pillow and slips his pinky around yours. “I’ll try not to lose you this time.”

You lean a little closer to his face so you can plant a kiss on his lips—just a short and soft touch. He tastes like ice cream, and somehow you know there will be many more kisses like this in the future. “You better not.”

[childrenofthenightt]

That’s The Way (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Warning(s): smut/nsfw, cheating, cursing, angst, Y/N being a badass :)

Author’s notes: We’ll be honest...this chapter is a lot to handle 😂 which is amazing since it’s only Chapter 3 of many! We suggest taking a break throughout, because you’re gonna need it 😂 So much happens that your mind may actually explode from the drama. By the way, Jimmy is introduced in the next chapter so yay! As usual, please enjoy, happy reading, and send us messages if you have theories, comments, music recommendations for the playlist, or if you want to be added to the tag list :)

Chapters: 1 | 2

————

Paul took Y/N out to dinner that week, and they had a wonderful time together. It seemed that every conversation they had together brought them closer and closer, and Y/N was in pure bliss. From that point forward, the two became inseparable.

Y/N’s parents, however, were not super pleased that Y/N was seeing Paul, especially because they had warned her about the romantically-unattached musician’s mannerisms and habits not that long ago. They just decided to act like they liked Paul, so he wouldn’t get suspicious or feel bad.

Two members of The Yardbirds in particular (and I’m sure, dear reader, that you know who they are by now) were hit with pangs of jealousy whenever they saw Y/N constantly attached to Paul’s arm. And, to make matters worse, it was under any circumstance imaginable: parties, interviews, photoshoots, meetings, airports, train stations, hotels...the list goes on. Yes, they did spend plenty of time apart, but attraction can make a man think irrationally. Even though they were specifically and strictly told to keep their mouths shut, it was very tempting to just say the truth and end their misery. A part of Chris and Jim felt happy to see her happy, but another, traitorous side of them felt exponentially bad for her. They knew that she was being used by Paul as arm-candy, and they knew that she, of all people, did not deserve that.

But that’s the name of the game, unfortunately.

~~~~~~~~

18 February 1966

The Yardbirds were scheduled to perform on an episode of Ready, Steady, Go! that night, and Y/N decided to go and be a part of the live audience. She felt an obligation to support Paul and the band, since they were all friends (and a boyfriend, of course) now.

Before the show, Jim, Jeff, and Keith were all sitting on the stage, discussing the logistics of the rehearsals that would start soon. Y/N stood in front of the already-prepared stage and chatted with them.

“So what are you guys going to do on our days off next week?” Jeff asked.

“Spend time with my family,” Keith replied, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Not sure yet, haven’t figured it out,” Jim added.

“How ‘bout you, Miss Y/N?” Jeff nodded towards her with a smile. She answered with a soft giggle.

“I’m probably going golfing with my brother and a couple mates.”

“You golf?” Jim asked. She seemed to be getting more and more perfect by the day.

“Mmhmm,” Y/N nodded enthusiastically, “I’m bloody awful at it, but it’s fun, and I can hang out with my brother, so it’s a win-win.”

“You never told us you had siblings,” Keith smirked, tilting to the side and crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah, I have three. There’s Tommy, my older brother; Charlie, my younger brother; and Lillian, my little sister,” Y/N said.

“Wow, full house,” Jeff remarked, “I have a sister, Annetta, who I think you’d get along with quite well. I’ll have to introduce you to her soon.”

“Oh, that’d be great! I’d love to meet another Beck,” Y/N replied playfully. Jeff just laughed and shook his head.

“It’s a shame that I can’t spend time with Paul this week. He said he was busy, but he didn’t explain why,” Y/N sighed, “whatever. It’s probably legitimate, so I don’t mind. We’ve been hanging out too much anyway.” She laughed at the last part.

“He’s probably just going home to his wife,” Jim replied, thoughtlessly.

At that instant, everyone’s eyes widened, eyebrows raised, and lips downturned into a shocked, panicked frown.

“He’s...what?” Y/N asked quietly, sounding like she was about to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.

Y/N noticed that Keith and Jeff were glaring at Jim, who was clearly embarrassed at what he had revealed. He hid his eyes with his hand.

When Jeff finally found it in him to turn away from Jim, he deeply exhaled. He then reached out his hands to touch Y/N’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort her.

“Look, Y/N, you weren’t supposed to find out this way, and I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you sooner,” Jeff began, “but he is indeed married. I honestly don’t know why he wanted to pursue you, and I warned him against it because of how much we care about you, but he did it anyway.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face and her bottom lip started to quiver. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered, “he made it seem like I was the only one…that he was really in love with me...”

Jeff hated seeing his friend cry because of something he could have prevented. But, Y/N was somehow still beautiful when she cried.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jeff consoled gently, getting off the stage to hug her, “here, let’s take you backstage to calm you down a little.”

Y/N refused Jeff’s kind offer with a shake of the head. Through her blurry, teary-eyed vision, she just plastered on a smile, and wiped the wetness from her eyes.

“Ew,” her voice cracked, “why am I crying? That’s so gross of me, I’m so sorry. I’m definitely making you guys uncomfortable.”

The three musicians’ eyes widened at Y/N’s sudden burst of emotional strength.

“Y/N, you just found out you were Sam’s side chick, and you don’t care?” Jeff inquired, genuinely confused as to what was going on with Y/N’s emotions.

“It’s okay to be sad, love. And utterly fuming with anger. I must admit, this situation wouldn’t be as dire if it were someone else, but it’s you,” Keith added. Jim just sat in silence. He didn’t know what to say. His message destroyed Y/N’s heart and her innocence.

“I am sad, but if this ‘thing’ went on any longer, I’d probably be even more devastated. You saved me from a lot more unnecessary heartbreak, so thank you, Jim,” Y/N said. Her tone sounded completely numb.

“How are you gonna tell Sam?” Keith asked Y/N.

She exhaled deeply. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t be fair of me to lash out on him before being on national television.”

“How can you care about fairness? Don’t you realize what this man has done to you?” Jeff asked, anger interlaced in his voice.

“Yes, Jeff. I do,” Y/N replied stoically, “And I’ll be fine, really. Let’s just forget about it, okay? I’m just lucky to be here, watching you perform. What song are you playing again?” Y/N tried to change the subject, but on the inside she was in deep agony and pain. She poured all of this time and emotion and her body into this cute musician boy, just to realize she didn’t matter.

“‘Shapes of Thi—’” Keith began quietly.

Jeff cut him off. “Y/N, I seriously refuse to believe you’re okay. Please, just let me help y—” he started.

“Jeff! I’m fine! Seriously,” Y/N raised her voice a little, annoyed at the nagging.

“But you seem—” Jim began, barely perceptible.

“Oh my God, Jim, I’m fine!” Y/N shouted. “I don’t care. It’s done, it’s over.”

The three men sat in silence after Y/N’s sudden outburst of anger, which was very out of character for her. She quickly realized what she had done.

“I’m so sorry for lashing out on you guys. That was uncalled for, it’s not your fault. I’m gonna go to the loo, excuse me,” she said quickly, walking out of the scene before anyone could call after her.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N stayed in the bathroom for all of rehearsals, and she finally reemerged right before the broadcast was about to start, looking as fresh as she did when she got there. It was as if the news was never even brought to her attention.

She refused to make eye contact with Paul through the entire performance, even though it was apparent that he tried to get her attention with his eyes. Chris was just confused that she wouldn’t even dare to glance at Paul. Just a little trouble in paradise that he didn’t know about maybe?

After the show and when the band went offstage, Jeff went back into the crowd to check on Y/N and brought her backstage.

“You have to confront him,” Jeff pleaded.

“I don’t want to,” Y/N whined.

“You have to, or else he’ll bloody win! You don’t want that, and I sure as hell don’t want that for you either! He is the one at fault. You have every right to fuck him up for it.”

Jeff’s little speech gave her an impulsive boost of confidence.

“Fine. I’ll do it. Get everyone out of the room, though,” Y/N stated firmly, beginning to march down the hallway behind Jeff.

Momentarily, Jeff went into the room and rounded up Keith, Jim, and Chris, and filed them down the hallway into another room orderly.

As Y/N was about to enter the room, Jeff whispered in her ear, “Good luck, kid. Knock ‘em dead.” Y/N smiled at Jeff before entering the room and closing the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~

Paul warmly smiled at Y/N as she entered the room.

“Hello, love,” he said gently, “how did you enjoy the show?”

Y/N painted on the most genuine smile she could force. “It was...almost perfect.”

Paul’s eyebrow quirked as he smiled in a confused way. “Why almost?”

“I don’t think rehearsals went as well as I had planned,” Y/N replied smoothly.

“Why? Did something bad happen to you? You’re speaking in riddles, dear.”

“Oh, I apologize,” Y/N snickered, “it’s actually so funny that you bring up riddles, because that seemed to be the exact problem at hand.”

“What does that mean? Did someone tell you something you couldn’t figure out?” Paul chuckled, “You’re confusing me.”

“I figured out that you would be going home to your wife next week.”

All the colour from Paul’s face was drained in a millisecond, and his originally jovial expression was gone. It was as if someone punched him in the gut.

“Who...who told you?” he asked, panicked.

Y/N was taken aback. “I find out I’m your side-chick and you have the audacity to ask who told me? Not an ‘I’m so sorry that I lied to you and broke your heart, Y/N’?”

Paul huffed. “And you expect me to just keep my composure when someone of your gravity walks into the room for the first time? I really am sorry, Y/N, I truly, truly am, but—”

Y/N’s calm and quiet demeanor had left the building at that point. She was mad. Really mad.

“But what? You tell me how in love you are with me, and how I’m your one and only forever, just to realize that I didn’t matter? I’m going to be eighteen years old in March. Eighteen. What do I know about love? Nothing, absolutely nothing. And you chose to take full advantage of my emotional vulnerability.”

“But you did matter. You’re so special to me, Y/N. Don’t you understand that?”

“Don’t you understand that you have a wife? You never loved me. I was never special to you. I was just another fling. But you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“The life of a travelling musician is extremely difficult, Y/N, and you don’t get that,” Paul said severely.

“And that shouldn’t be used as an excuse. You know what? We’re done. Whatever this ‘thing’ is, is over. I wish you the best,” Y/N concluded as she walked out the door and sternly shut it.

The nightmare was over and Y/N was a free agent.

Before she could debrief about her experience with any of the other Yardbirds, Y/N left the venue, caught the first taxi home, ran up into her room, and cried herself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

22 April 1966

Y/N found recovery time and solace in those two months without Paul. She didn’t go to any Yardbirds gigs, but she sporadically met up with Jeff, Keith, Jim, and Chris at a pub or restaurant to catch up over a meal and drinks. Chris had recently mentioned to her that they were playing in London on the 22nd, and if she felt comfortable, she could attend for free and get backstage to hang out.

Y/N said she’d have to think about it, but she’d definitely consider it.

She had realized over the course of two months that she was not truly in love with Paul. Yes, she fancied him, but she must’ve mistaken the feeling of being genuinely in love with the person for being in love with the situation. Y/N concluded that this relationship was the equivalent of living out one’s childhood dreams of a romance with their schoolgirl crush.

She decided that she was retired from dating for a long time, especially because of how this shitshow ended, but a miniscule piece of her wondered when and how she’d meet her other half.

In the afternoon on the day of the show, which was to be played at the Wimbledon Palais, Y/N made the reckless decision to take a trip down to the Yardbirds’ hotel, but not for the reason you might expect.

Y/N never got the chance to thank Jim McCarty for coming clean about Paul’s infidelity to his wife by “dating” her, and to formally apologize for ripping him at the Ready, Steady, Go! rehearsals. She felt bad for being so dismissive of him, because he was always so nice to her and apparently seemed to care more about her wellbeing than Paul ever did.

Y/N stood on the platform of the train station anxiously, meticulously scheming in her mind about what she would say to Jim to truly and genuinely express her gratitude. She thought about how the encounter would go all the way to London, and all the way on her walk to the hotel.

When she arrived at the hotel, she greeted the concierge, and took the elevator to what she believed to be the Yardbirds’ floor. She took an educated guess as to which room Jim’s would be, just by what she had seen in past times. Y/N took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

When the door opened, she realized that in her best interest, her guess was correct.

“Hi,” she greeted breathily, her fingers interlaced together in front of her timidly.

“Hi,” Jim smiled. After a short moment of awkward silence, he continued, “Um, what are you doing here? Not that it’s a bad thing, which it’s not, but…” he trailed off.

“I just wanted to tell you something that I think needed to be said in-person,” Y/N said quickly.

Jim raised his eyebrows in surprised delight. “Oh, okay.” He moved out of the way of the doorframe so Y/N could enter the room, then shut the door gently behind her. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he chuckled, “make yourself at home.”

Y/N smiled and thanked him graciously, but shyly, as she sat down at a small couch at the edge of the bed. Jim was quick to follow her actions.

Y/N took a deep breath before beginning, “I just wanted to thank you for informing me about Paul in February. I know, it’s been a really long time since then… but I’ve needed some time to myself to think and refocus and recuperate, y’know?”

Jim just laughed. “You came all the way here to thank me? That’s so nice of you. You didn’t need to do that.”

Y/N grinned. “I don’t know, I felt this obligation for some reason. And in addition, I wanted to apologize for lashing out at you as well. I was just shell-shocked, I guess, and I unfairly took it out on you and Jeff.”

“If I forgave you then, I’ll still forgive you now,” Jim smiled, “don’t sweat it. In all honesty, I was surprised at how well you took the news.”

“I just wanted to be as calm and composed as possible,” Y/N blushed, “but obviously I didn’t get very far, did I?” Jim laughed at Y/N’s little jab at herself.

“Well, you’re so quiet, at least you showed a piece of your inner self that night,” Jim teased. Y/N just beamed at him.

“You know, since I owe you, now… I guess I just need to live a little, y’know? I have this introverted shell I need to break out of someday, and I might as well start now,” Y/N offered with a chuckle. “So, with that being said, let me do something for you. Anything you want.”

“Oh no, that’s too much. You didn’t even cause me any grief,” Jim retaliated playfully, “thank you, Y/N, but I think you’re overthinking this whole situation.”

“Please,” she continued with a pleading voice, “I feel awful, and plus, if it makes you feel better, you’ll be helping me clear my conscience. Jim, I’ll do anything you want, no matter how crazy… I’ll take you jet-skiing, I’ll ride on a bike in a bikini when the temperature is below freezing, I’ll clean your kitchen… anything you want me to do, I will do.”

Jim grinned at the bizarre options Y/N gave him before contemplating her invocation for a moment. Anything, huh?

“Kiss me.”

“You said you'd do anything, no matter how crazy, yes?” Y/N didn't get a chance to finish, as Jim interrupted her with a hand at her wrist, and a flinty look in his eyes, that gazed right into hers.

“I did.”

“Well,” Jim continued, stepping ever-closer to the young woman in front of him. She looked just as beautiful as she always had, if not more. Jim was convinced she was perfect, and wanted to protect her. To treat her right, the way she deserved. “You could get on your knees, in front of me.”

Kneeling down on the carpeted floor, Y/N looked up at him through her eyelashes, and the glint in her eyes made his knees weak. She looked almost shy, and he couldn't help but send a comforting smile her way.

“Have you done this before, Y/N?”

She shook her head at this, and looked down, almost embarrassed. Jim, heart pounding in his chest in anticipation, reached out a hand to lift her head. Her eyes held trust, and a hint of nervousness, but her lips quirk up in a smile, her cheeks flushing.

“I’ll walk you through it, love.” The sound of a belt clinking to the floor reached Y/N’s ears, zipper following suit, and she couldn’t help the way she almost thrummed with anticipation. Her parents had warned her against exactly this type of thing. Musicians were, according to her parents, a fickle breed, who only wanted her for her looks and body. It hurt to think of it now, when Jim was being nothing but a gentleman to her. She wanted to break out of her shell, and maybe this was the way to do it.

Y/N looks to Jim and sees him exposed, fully hard now, and her cheeks erupt into shades of rosy pink. He was big, much bigger than she would have expected, and she smiled up at him.

“Okay, love. Open your mouth.” Y/N opened her mouth, sinking it over his tip, which elicits a strained moan, full of pleasure. His hand landed in Y/N’s hair, fingers clenching gently around the tresses. The light tug Y/N felt only spurred her on.

“That’s incredible, princess. Now, try and circle your tongue. You’re doing so well.”

Y/N did as she’s told, and it’s like a spell was put over the man. He craned his head back, neck bared, as soft whimpers fell past his lips. Growing more confident, knowing now what he liked, she let her teeth rake over him lightly, which worked more moans from him, almost breathless in his euphoria.

With a murmured “fuck,” he comes, Y/N’s name the only thing on his lips. She slowly released him from her mouth, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she stood. Jim, leaning up against the wall, was in bliss, heaving breaths and ruffling Y/N’s hair as she approached.

“That was… you're perfect, princess. Absolutely perfect.”

Y/N laughs, smile nearly splitting her cheeks, and she pressed even closer, pressing her lips to his in a soft, content embrace. She could taste the sweat on his lips, and she couldn't help but think that she could definitely get used to this feeling.

Jim revelled in the feel of her soft lips against his, and he was struck by the thought that this is exactly where he’s supposed to be. He’s where he wants to be, beside Y/N.

————

Taglist: @blood-on-blood @reincarnated70sbaby

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Crown For Two {2}

Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton AU

Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes

Words: 4.2k

Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.  

Her slogan; “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”  

Her next stop on her four destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.

This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. Rather than letting the hours tick by in her room, she explores and meets the friendly locals. While taking photographs, one local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. They strike up conversation during their time drinking at one of the local bars, Ickles. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.  

As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.

Note: All right, all right people, the ride begins. I really, really hope you enjoy this. As a note, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

***Picture Heavy***

Previous Chapters: {1} | 

Chapter Two

 You were running around in a whiteout snowstorm. There was no way to see in front or back of you. Your hands were your eyes, and even they were doing a pretty lousy job. A strong gust of find flew you to the right, then to the left before it hurled you forward. It sent you so hard to the ground your entire body shook from the fall. It was the most challenging feat to get back to your feet, and when you did, another gust of wind sent you into a pole.

 As you gripped it, you held on for dear life and prayed that somehow you’d made it through this. As you held on, you recognized that none of this felt real. It felt strange. The pain you were in was real, beginning with the throbbing in your head, the burning of your muscles throughout your body, and even the tightness all through your entire being.

 When your hands gave out, you began falling to the snow-covered ground. Before you made contact with the ground, a pair of strong arms caught you and pulled you into their body. As soon as they did, you felt like the storm around you disappeared. The howling wind slowed, the blinding snow stilled, and the bone-chilling cold turned to instant warmth. Once you’d adjusted, you looked up; your eyes trailed over a strong, defined jawline, smooth skin, and piercing blue eyes.

 You recognized this man. Although you were watching his lips move, you didn’t hear anything. No words, only the sound of white noise. Your fingers touched his lips, then slowly traced his cheek and down his jaw, but you felt as if you weren’t touching anything at all. That was when his voice came into focus.

 “I will protect you. I will keep you safe.”

 He looked as if he meant it, looked like no matter what, come what may, he would keep his word. Suddenly a strong blast of wind began pulling you from him, but he held on tightly to you. Even when the wind picked up, he wouldn’t let go. Thanks to the heavily falling snow that fell over your clasped hands, after a few moments, you felt your grip slipping. Panic filled you but looking at him; he looked as calm as ever.

 “I will always find you.”

 With that, the wind took you away, pulling you into a dark abyss. That was when you screamed, jumping up while flailing your arms and legs. It took almost a minute to realize your surroundings were no longer snowed out and dark. Slowly you calmed yourself, then dropped back onto the bed. Once you’d caught your breath, the sight above you had your eyes bugging. With your arms pressed to the bed on either side of you, your jaw dropped.

 Above you was a white ceiling with embossed and engraved drawings etched into it with an enormous golden chandelier dangling in the center. You nudged your head back slightly to take in the golden decorative border that ran around the canopy of the bed. That was when the headboard caught your eyes. Cream tuffets that were embellished with gold-framed the Brocard design of the cream and deep turquoise headboard. Slowly you sat up, and the intricacies of the posts of the bed came into view. It looked like someone had hand-carved and painted the golden designs onto it. You wondered how long it had taken and just how much this cost.

 The more your eyes took in as you scanned the room, the wider they got. Turquois, cream, and gold seemed to be the theme of the room, and it was all done so exquisitely well that you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty around you.

“Oh my god.”

 Looking to your right, you examined the comfortable looking settee and the large vase and the decorative plant and flower mixture it held.

 “Where the hell am I?”

 There was no way this was the inn. The last you remembered, there was nothing but wood there. You slid to the edge of the extra-large king-sized bed and placed your feet on what you expected to be cold marble, but it was warm. Heated floors, you thought to yourself.

 You stood, but sudden dizziness had you dropping right back to the bed, clutching your head.

 “Ouch!’

 Feeling pain, your alarms went off. You didn’t know what had happened, where you were, or why you were in pain. You could hear footsteps approaching the door, and your panic rose exponentially. You quickly scanned the room looking for anything you could use as a weapon, worried you were held in some creepy eastern European rich man who wanted you to participate in round four of the human centipede experiment.

 Seeing nothing in your nearby vicinity, you zeroed in on a large vase across the room on a cream and gold dresser. Gathering whatever strength you had, you staggered toward the dresser, damn near crashing into it. As you gripped the edge of the dresser, hoping to stabilize yourself, it was then you realized that what you wore was not yours. It was some dainty nightgown that looked like it could have belonged to Mari Antoinette.

 The footsteps got louder, and you grabbed the vase. It was a lot heavier than you’d anticipated, and you had to half sit on the dresser even to hold it. As soon as the door opened, there stood a middle-aged woman in a blue skirt suit with a white scarf around her neck that was tied in the posh way the rich usually did them. Not giving her an opportunity to make a move, you flung the vase at her with all your might. As it collided with a chair not too far from you, it shattered with such loudness it started you and the middle-aged woman.

 “Dear me!”

 With that, she slammed the French doors shut. You heard her heeled footsteps scurrying away. Though you didn’t feel any stronger, you decided not to wait around for someone else to come back. You staggered across the room to the doors that were just slammed, making sure to avoid the shattered pottery on the floor. You hadn’t missed all the pieces because you felt the sharp stab of a shard enter your foot bottom.

 “Fuck!”

 You hopped, then collided with the door. Your dizziness returning tenfold. Taking a few seconds for the room to stop spinning, you then bent to access your foot. Being on one only made your balance worse. You quickly pulled the shard from your foot and ignored the gush of blood that came from the wound. It would take hours for any bleeding from the foot to be life-threatening. You needed to get the hell out of there.

 Flinging open the French doors, you walked out into an opulent sitting area with several dark blue and white chairs decorated around the room and a roaring fire against a wall.

 “What the fuck!”

 Ignoring the equally beautiful room as the one you’d just left, you staggered toward the door of that room. Once you flung that open, you entered into a large hallway with a long corridor. The walls were impressively decorated with plenty of photographs and paintings, and the ceiling above you had more of that embossed and engraved design. It was then you continued walking at a much faster pace. You could have been going toward danger for all you knew.

 “Ma’am!”

 You looked behind you and saw the same woman from before, but now she had two men that were dressed in suits, and the three of them were dashing toward you. In true survival of the fittest instincts, you took off running as well. If someone was chasing you, you ran. You didn’t stand there or ask questions, especially as a black woman. Turning the corner, you continued to run on shaky legs and with blurry vision without knowing where you were going. Glancing back, the three were still chasing you and shouting for you to stop, but you didn’t.

 When you turned around, you ran smack dab into someone carrying a trey. As you collided with them, the trey went one direction and the individual another, still you didn’t stop. Thanks to the collision, your dizziness had returned, slowing your steps, making them sloppy, shakier, and zig-zagged. You knew you were seconds from blacking out, but you pushed yourself more.

 “Stop, miss, stop!”

 Everything sounded muffled. Suddenly you heard a louder sound break through the muffled and mumbles mess. You looked back, and the three pursuers had stopped. When you turned back, you ran into a hard body, but you didn’t fall. They held you firmly. You peered into familiar eyes, eyes that were filled with concern and alarm. His mouth was moving, but you heard no words. With his eyes seared into your memory, you passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

 -Henry-

Every five minutes or so, his phone rang or sent off a notification. Every five or so minutes, he pressed silent on every one of them. This has been going on for the last two hours. He’d sat in the sitting area first as the doctors accessed her and tended to her wound. For that hour, he was able to do some work. Though his mind was somewhat occupied, he had to put on the façade, he was his usual self.

 After the first hour, he’d moved to the bedroom suite to sit beside the bed. The doctor reported that you were suffering from delirium, a common diagnosis for someone who’d suffered a concussion. His orders were for as much rest as possible in a low-stress environment. When Dr. Alfonzi emphasized a low stressful environment, he’d wanted to roll his eyes. What was more stress-free than where you were right now?

 Now alone having answered over fifty emails and messages, he’d found himself with a sliver of downtime. Heaven knew how long that would last. His eyes drifted to your still form in the bed. You were securely tucked underneath the covers. You looked peaceful as if you hadn’t been through possibly the most harrowing experience of your life. The only outward evidence of that experience was a patch on your forehead that concealed the nasty gash he knew was there.

 Slowly he scanned your face, taking in your beautiful and exotic features. The shape of your eyes, the flare of your nose, how well defined your lips were, and how supple your skin appeared to be. His fingers itched to touch your cheek again as he had in the bar. At the thought of the bar, your first meeting, he drifted back to the memories and fondly smiled, remembering your friendly banter, the ease of the conversation, and all the relaxation he felt with you. It was rare for him to even begin to let his guard down to let anyone in, but with you, for those two or three hours, he was tempted to as he’d never been before. he even told you a few things he wouldn’t have told anyone else.

 Sighing, he pulled his eyes away, but his head quickly went to the debacle in the halls of the palace. He hadn’t expected to see you when he turned the corner, but he wasn’t disappointed. To be truthful, he’d thought about you on and off during all his morning meetings. The plan was if he had time in the evening, he’d check on you. When you passed out into his arms, the nightgown you wore captured his attention. He would have questioned who the hell put you in it, but the sight of peeks of your skin underneath the flimsy material held his attention instead.

 As he carried you back to your room, he had to work extra hard not to look down and skim your body or the darkened areolas he’d glimpsed. When he slipped you back into the bed before the help placed the covers over you, he saw a peek of your backside that sent his hips thrusting forward quickly. The memory of it had him changing his position in the settee before getting up altogether to pace your room. He’d chosen it without giving it much thought. It was the first one he found. Now he felt you probably could do with a different one.

 Your moans startled him, bringing him out of his thoughts. As he approached the bed, you turned your head from side to side as your moans became more and more audible. It didn’t take long for him to wonder if your carnal moans sounded like this or if they were different. He shook his head while mentally chastising himself for the thoughts, then focused back on you.

 When your eyes opened, he did his best not to appear intimidating. It was a common comment among the feedback that was sporadically collected from the citizens. Your eyes focused on him after quickly scanning your surroundings. When you realized he was there, you quickly shot up and hurried back to the headboard. He noticed the covers remained across your lap, leaving your upper half exposed to his eager eyes. Groaning, he closed his eyes.

 “Calm down,” he said as he motioned to the covers.

 He waited a few moments, hoping you’d understood what he meant. When he opened his eyes, you held the covers over your chest but also held the lamp that was on the bedside table in your left hand. Raising his hands into the air, he took a step back.

 “Let us not do something brash, Y/N.”

 Confusion flickered across your features, and for a split second, you lowered the lamp but rose it again.

 “How do you know my name?”

 Raising his eyebrows, he thought of how to breach the topic. “We met in the bar. Do you remember?”

 You scrunched your face, looking away to your right. He wondered if you were also suffering from memory loss.

 “You sat beside me and arrogantly tried the Mistletoe Bomb that you could not even finish and had me finish it instead.”

 “It was disgusting. Wait, I do remember.”

 He nodded but kept his hands in the air, hoping the action gave you peace of mind.

 “Good. What else do you remember?”

 You bit your bottom lip then stared at the sheets on the bed. You remained silent for about a minute, then you spoke.

 “We—talked. Then—we almost—did we--,” you stuttered then shook your head. “Then I left. It was cold, a lot colder, and the snow was heavy. I could barely see, it was next to impossible, and the wind it took me everywhere. Then—I don’t—I don’t know.”

 You looked at him again with even more confusion in your eyes then before.

 “Yes,” he began before he cleared his throat. “I am afraid the wind must have blown you into the street right before my car came along. It seems we accidentally hit you.”

 You looked as if you were trying to remember, but you sighed and lowered the lamp to the bed rather than back to the side table.

 “I am awfully sorry, Y/N. My driver did not see you until it was too late. He swerved, but we still collided with you due to the drift over the snow. When I got to you, you were unconscious, so I brought you here to receive medical care.”

 Your eyes shot up to him then.

 “Medical care? Am I in the hospital? This doesn’t look like any hospital I’ve ever been in.”

 He cleared his throat, lowered his hands, then rubbed the back of his neck. He knew that bringing you here would make it next to impossible to keep the truth of his full identity hidden.

 “That is because you are not in the hospital.”

 “Then—where am I? have you dragged me somewhere and locked me up for your sick perverse pleasure?” As you said the words, you rose the lamp again, ready to throw it at him.

 Again, he rose his hands. He knew you didn’t know that the lamp wouldn’t do anything if he really were a threat.

 “Perverse pleasure? Are you implying that I would find pleasure in you?” He leaned against one of the posts as he smirked.

 You rolled your eyes and kissed your teeth.

 “Of course you would. I know I’m a dime piece.”

 Understanding the terminology, he couldn’t help but laugh. “I agree.”

 You didn’t speak right away, you stared at him, and he wanted to know what you were thinking so badly. This was the third time he’d seen this look, and it ticked at his curiosity to know you more. He cleared his throat and straightened himself.

 “I assure you, I have not whisked you off to hold you captive for any pleasure than your health and safety.”

 You took him in for a few moments but kept the lamp raised.

 “Where am I?”

 “My home.”

 Your eyebrows rose as you looked around the room. No doubt, taking in all the luxury around the room. He knew the question was coming.

 “Home? What kind of—where the hell--,” you began before you were interrupted by a knock at the door.

 He sighed, then spoke. “A moment, please. Come.”

 “Your highness,” Audrina began as she gave a brief curtsy. “The physician brought the medication for the patient.”

 She approached, holding a tray that held a lone bottle. Once she was close, he took the bottle, thanking her.

 “Hold the fuck up.”

 Audrina paused with her eyes wide open, taking you in. Pinching his lips, he tried to stifle the laugh that was ready to escape.

 “Good word, such language.”

 Snorting, he released a chuckle.

 “Me? You just said, highness. What is that? Why did she call you that?”

 You gasped loudly with your eyes the size of saucers. “Oh my god. Are you—are you--.”

 “That is all, Audrina, thank you.”

 She nodded, gave another curtsy, and walked from the room. Once the doors were closed, he approached the bed slowly and cautiously. He didn’t want a lamp to the face.

 “I was not entirely forthcoming with you the night in the bar,” he began.

 “You lied about who you are?”

 “No, not completely. My name is Henry. I evaded telling you what I did for a living. Goodness, I guess I will just come out with it then. I am Henry, but I am also—Prince of Brexendor.”

 Your face was stuck in a mixture of shock and horror. Now more than ever, he wanted to know what you were thinking. A minute ticked by, then two, and each minute that passed, your expression became more and more pronounced.

 “A—you’re a—p-prince?”

 There was another knock at the door to increase his frustrations. He didn’t respond right away, he watched you, waiting for you to speak, but another knock came before your words did.

 “Your highness?”

 He sighed then told them to enter; in walked Dr. Alfonzi . He bowed, then approached the bed.

 “How is our patient?”

 Their eyes trained on you, but you didn’t speak. Dr. Alfonzi looked at him, unsure of what to say.

 “Your highness, unfortunately, I am going to have to ask you to step out so I can talk with the patient.”

 He nodded. “Of course. Will it be all right if I came by in an hour or two?”

 You didn’t respond for quite a while, but you slowly nodded as he began to turn. Dr. Alfonzi bowed again as he passed him and walked out of the room. Once he entered the sitting area, McArthur stood and bowed his head.

 “Your highness, is the lady well?”

 “We go. We have to make it across town to the magistrate,” he said instead of answering his question.

Once he was in the car, he went over the documents in prep for the meeting he knew would take everything out of him. Every time he encountered Prime Minister Lancaster, the exchange always left him agitated and in need of a drink and solitude. There was something about the man that went past his defiance and terseness that rubbed him the wrong way.

 “Your highness. I hope you extended my apologies to the lady for hitting her with the car,” McArthur inquired.

 “Does it matter? When you saw us in the bar, you made it clear you thought I should not have allowed her to stay. Had a change of heart?”

 “As your driver, protector, and friend, I was simply looking out for your best interest, sir. Outsiders have proven themselves as untrustworthy in the past.”

 He nodded as he remembered the incident he was referring to, then cleared his throat. “I did not get to apologize for you, but I made sure she understood it was an accident.”

 He stared out the window at the falling snow and his country. That still didn’t feel natural to say. Yes, it was his country of birth, but everyone wanted him to now look at it as belonging to him. he wasn’t ready yet. It still felt too soon. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize when McArthur pulled up to the Magistrate buildings. After taking a few deep breaths in an effort to steel himself, he walked out, ready for yet another contentious meeting.

As he passed his constituents, they bowed or curtsied, showing their respect for the crown and him. He nodded his head to each of them, an equal show of respect. A monarchy was nothing without the people it governs. It was the first lesson his father had taught him.

 “Your Highness,” Prime Minster Lancaster addressed once he was a few steps away.

 He watched the older man bow deeply. When Lancaster rose, he saluted him as the respected soldier he was, as well as Crown Prince. He took the man before him in not in any rush to give him the approval to lower his salute. Sometimes he liked to remind the man he was in charge and not the other way around.

 “At ease, Prime Minister.”

 Lancaster clenched his jaw and stood to his side, granting him access to the conference room. He listened to the quiet council of Alton, his royal advisor, as he gave notes about the meeting as everyone filed into the room. Once they stood before their seats, waiting for him to sit first, he did just that. Finally seated, he banged the gavel against its golden holder.

 “Let us begin,” he said, signaling the beginning of the meeting.

 This time of year, the many plans and discussions involved Christmas and the year’s many festivities. When it came to talking about those festivities, money was always brought up. He was all about keeping traditions alive because Brexendor was made of traditions, but he also believed that it had to seek to advance itself in order for the country to survive another turn of the times.

 Brexendor was considered a very wealthy place, and there had been many who had tried to usurp its wealth, thinking it was a weak country only to find out that Brexendor was not only wealthy but powerful and strong with one of the best defense systems. He’d spent years in the armed forces learning all the ins and outs of said defenses, all in prep for the day he would take the throne.

 Every time he brought up plans to modernize Brexendor, Prime Minister Lancaster always objected, citing that changing now would wash away the countries rich history. When he made this argument, he always appealed to the many elders who held other important magistrate seats. Once that happened, he knew his argument would fall on deaf ears, and with the instability that was already present in the monarchy, he couldn’t risk shaking their faith in him. Not right now.

 After discussing other matters that were essential to Brexendor’s flourishment, the meeting came to an end. When he got into the car, the glance at his watch told him as expected; it was a meeting that took up the majority of his evening. He had to figure out a way to bring the other magistrate members to his side in order to get things done. Lancaster was old. He had no idea what it would take to keep Brexendor a superpower as the world changed with even more modernization. He knew he was right.

By the time he got back to the palace, it was almost ten o’clock. He’d missed dinner, but that wasn’t what he cared about. He dismissed his immediate staff, assuring them he could tend to himself for the evening, and proceeded to his room. Before he took too many steps, he stopped knowing that his room was in the opposite direction from yours. Glancing at his watch again, he tried to decide if it was a good idea to visit you at this time. He knew the palace had eyes, and he knew he would be noticed going into your suites at this hour. Not wanting to set tongues wagging, he sighed and proceeded to his room.

 Tomorrow was another day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[am-imagines]

I see you. - Alex Morgan Imagine.

Request: “ Can I request this: Alex and r are together and the team knows and then they come out to the public in some really cute or funny way and maybe you can also incorporate some supportive reactions from the team? ”

I hope I did it justice, guys. Thank you for the patience to those that are still around. I love y’all. <3

No Beta, so you know the drill here, but I tried my best.

Sharing a room with Alex during the World Cup was somewhat rough when you were barely able to look at her without blushing. You were crushing on her since the day you met, but it was never that bad until you were on the bed next to hers.

The awkwardness that overcame you around her was odd, considering you texted practically nonstop. You became good friends like that, and there was an ease on your conversations that you’d never experienced with anyone else.

You shared so many interests, even had a similar lookout in life. You aimed for the same goals and put in equal amounts of effort to achieve them.

None of that changed the fact that Alex was stupidly handsome. Her beauty smacked you on the face whenever you looked at her and that was your downfall. It didn’t matter what you did, your cheeks would end up flushed with color and you’d stammer total nonsense that would make her chuckle. Alex would inevitably get closer to make sure you were okay, and just like that you were a gay mess.

A thing you learned quickly about Alex is that she never quit.

When you were too nervous to talk, she filled in the silence with a funny story or a new song to listen together. Free nights became movie marathons or just quiet moments where you’d work the nerves away before a match.

Halfway through the World Cup it wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to fall asleep in her bed and wake up cuddled on her side come morning.

Pointing the exact moment when your relationship became more than a friendship was near impossible. It was slow, steady and swift. One day you looked at her and realized that she was more than your friend, and when you leaned down to kiss her, she met you halfway.

This was a new side of yourself and Alex; one that you wanted to enjoy without rush or pressure. No one really knew you were into girls to start with although your crush on her wasn’t exactly subtle. Then again, everyone had to be a little starstruck by Alex Morgan when they joined the USWNT.

Once you were World Champions, you had time to explore that relationship and everything it meant to you. It was both exhilarating and terrifying with all the media swarming you, and yet no one noticed the slight changes in your demeanor.

No one really asked, and you never told.

Perhaps you just weren’t ready to come out to the rest of the world. Maybe wrapping your head around some of the details was harder than you thought. After all, you were dating Alex Morgan, for fuck’s sake!

Maybe the longing looks, the lingering touches and the secretive smiles were a few clues for the team, but if they knew or suspected something, you couldn’t tell. They were a part of your family, and in the end, they wanted you to be happy above everything else.

They would wait for you to be ready, and once things went back to normal after the victory tour, you finally were.

“How are we doing this?” Alex asked as she played with your hair. “Livestream?”

You look up at her, your head resting on her lap as you scroll through social media wondering what the fuck you’re about to do. But a second later all your attention is on her, and you find yourself breathless once again.

She’s stunning in a million different ways but you preferred this one; soft and relaxed. That was one of the perks of enjoying a quiet weekend at her place in L.A. before you went back to your respective clubs.

It seems like the National team is fond of Live Streams but it isn't how you want to come out. First because you’d become a nerve mess before actually sharing the news, and second because it isn’t original at all.

If you are about to come out to the fans and sponsors out there, you want to do so in a way they’d remember.

“I don’t think I could do it even if I tried,” you finally say.

Then it dawns on you: humor is the way you handle most of the things that would make you uncomfortable otherwise. That’s not to say you want the world to believe your relationship with Alex is a joke, but there has to be a way to come out in a funny, quirky and clever way.

“We’ll see each other in a couple of weeks, right?” You ask trying to remember the exact date when your clubs will face each other.

“Yeah,” she pauses for a second and you look up at her curiously. “Speaking of, any chance I can steal you for a night while you’re in Orlando?”

“Well, Ms. Morgan, I’m pretty sure that can be arranged,” you tell her with a coy smile. “For now, there’s some online shopping to do.”

With a kiss on her cheek and all the hesitation on the world to leave her side, you finally go to the other side of the room to retrieve your laptop. After all, you’re in a very important mission. And NWSL is the kind of merchandise you’re looking for.

For some miracle of the Gods above, you find both your jerseys in stock available for shipping within 24 hours with an extra fee. You don’t mind paying a bit more to stay on schedule, and even when you technically still have time, you like to be prepared.

It’d be nice to get your items before you and Alex go your separate ways.

You’d be lying if you say having her autograph wouldn’t be nice too.

“What’s the big idea here?” Alex asks while you finalize the purchase.

Her arms found their place around your waist and she rests her chin on your shoulder so she can see what you’re doing. Your plan is still a secret, and you want to keep it like that for a little longer.

“You’re gonna have to wait and trust me for a while.”

The smirk never leaves your face even when you can feel her little pout. It doesn’t last long, the laptop is forgotten on the coffee table and you turn on her arms to face her. A moment later you’re straddling her lap, your fingers undoing her ponytail and combing her hair until she closes her eyes.

“For now, what do you say we stop worrying about the rest of the world?”

“What should we do then?” She asks, already leaning in for a kiss.

“I think you got the right idea.”

*****

“All set?”

You scan the place one last time to make sure nothing’s missing from your bag. Nothing important since Alex has already claimed half your clothes.

Cellphone and wallet already in your pocket, and keys right on your hand, everything seems to be where it should. The rest of your things are packed and ready to go for the last flight home.

The Victory Tour ended on a good note, so now all you have to do is say goodbye to Alex.

Sharing a room with her was hard at the beginning, and you never expected that not sharing it anymore would be exponentially harder.

“Yeah,” you finally answer after patting your pockets once again. “I think-, I think I’m ready.”

“Okay.”

But just like you, Alex doesn’t really move and when she does, it’s towards you.

You’ve never seen her move as fast as she does while crossing the distance between you. But you don’t comment on it, really can’t when her arms are around you in a second and her lips are on yours.

It’s soft and yet firm. The kind of kiss that makes you weak at the knees and all you can do is hold onto her shoulders. You move with her, allow her to take control of it all as you try to burn her into your memory.

You try to memorize the softness of her lips, the silkiness of her hair between your fingers and even that scent that is purely Alex. You try to take all of it in, but you only have a moment that is over far too soon.

Technology is your saving grace, and you’re not sure what you’d do otherwise. And yet there are things you can’t convey through the Internet.

“I should go,” you whisper against her lips.

“Yeah.”

It’s hard -almost impossible-, to resist Alex. So despite the pressing matter of time, you indulge in another kiss.

Just like last time, you melt into her embrace and you consider staying there forever. It’s almost as if time stopped around you. Almost. Your alarm goes off startling you out of the daze, and you can help the little jump that makes Alex chuckle.

A step back creates just enough distance to clear your mind, the action making Alex raise an eyebrow in amusement but it’s really not your fault. She has that effect on you, has been that way for a long time, and yet she still finds it amusing.

With a tap on the screen you take care of the alarm. And there you are, right where you were ten minutes ago.

Time to go.

“Right. So...here I go then.”

“And-,” Alex adds with an excited smile, “-we have a game plan for next week.”

“That we do.”

Next week you’re playing against different teams on different days which gives you the opportunity to watch each other’s match. It’s the first step on your plan. Coming out seems like a big deal, and bit by bit the pieces get in motion.

“No regrets, right?” You ask.

This is not just about you. As big as coming out can be, this is also the reveal of your relationship with the biggest face of the USWNT. Whatever backlash you can get from this, it’ll be worse for her due to her massive following.

So you have to ask her again if she’s sure about this, if she’s as ready as you are.

“Y/n,” she calls softly as she cups your face. “No regrets at all.”

“Good,” you said with a small voice, barely believing this. “That’s...that’s good.”

You’re on this together, and yet, it’s incredible.

*****

Her match is about to start when you pull out your phone to take a selfie.

The pride colors look kinda odd on you. Maybe it’s because you spent the last few months only wearing the National Team kit, or maybe it’s because you don’t wear purple that often. But well, you’re not requesting a team trade, and it was your idea, so you can’t complain.

One of your friends already helped you take one picture of the back where Alex’s name and number are perfectly visible.

You’re practically shaking, but manage to smile as you snap the picture.

It’s something simple, really. Something that shouldn’t mean too much and yet, it does.

Pulling up your social media, you add both pictures.

  |Cheering for the Pride today. #13 show me what you’ve got. ;)

The wink is cheeky; it’s a reason for people to read into it and wonder if there’s something else going on. Which is…well, totally the point.

It’s funny to see the diverse reactions to your post. Some are confused about what you mean, some jump to call a trade that simply won’t happen; at least not that you know. But the press, oh they are ready to call it a rivalry.

It doesn’t matter how many times you two were caught on camera during the world cup being friendly. It didn’t matter if you two worked like a well oiled machine on the field during every match; Victory Tour included. They wanted to push the rivalry angle; fueled by the lack of a rebuttal from either of you.

You can’t help but laugh later when you call Alex to congratulate her. She truly showed you what she got with a couple of goals and the victory for the Orlando Pride. Those have been rare for her team lately, although you can’t blame them with so many key players also going to the World Cup.

However, the rivalry angle is fun to play with and in the end it’s the one you decide to push a little more the next day when it’s you on the field while Alex watches.

You’re already done with warm-ups and head out to the locker room to change into the kit when you hear your phone pinging with a new post. As expected, you find Alex’s post already blowing up despite it has been up for a grand total of two minutes.

   |I already showed you what I’m capable of. Now it’s your turn, Y/n.

Attached it’s a picture of Alex wearing your club jersey and although the number isn’t really showing, it’s more than obvious she’s wearing yours.

A chuckle escapes your lips while you shake your head. A question running through your head as you prepare for the starting whistle.

What the fuck am I doing?

***

A week later the press is going wild with theories about you and Alex. They aren’t sure what to make of it, but everyone has been talking about it for days. The upcoming match up between your clubs has served to add fuel to the fire, but you ignore all the fuzz of it as you prepare.

Last week you obtained the victory with a last minute goal to earn the three points. And unable to resist temptation, you had to make another post about it.

   |I’d say I’m pretty good at delivering. What do you say, Morgan?

   |TBD. See you next week.

The last part was a clue that no one seemed to catch on considering you were staying at her place instead of sticking with your club in a hotel. Of course, you didn’t share that bit of information and instead let the tension grow outside of your happy bubble.

This match is the moment of culmination if everything goes the right way. But playing against Alex doesn’t mean you’re going easy on her. If anything, being on the same field always pushes you to play the best soccer and be the best player you can be out there. It doesn’t matter if you’re wearing the same colors or not.

Being lenient with her as a rival is the kind of mistake that could and would cost you a game. You just don’t underestimate Alex Morgan. And she better not do so to you or you’ll make her pay.

Adjusting the captain armband once more, you follow your team into the field and take your place just a few feet away from your girlfriend.

“Good luck, Morgan.”

“May the best team win.”

You play your hardest on that field; push to your limits and beyond, but in the end it’s a draw. Two a piece. Of course it had to be a draw. But you left everything there.

The game became physical and you tackled Alex as much as she tackled you in order to get back a lost ball. That’s part of your motto, not giving up even if it seems like a lost cause. And considering Alex decided to date you even when you couldn’t look at her four months ago, you’d say Alex doesn’t give up either.

Well that and the couple of new bruises you have after the match.

You’re a bit disappointed with the final score; you always want to win and carry that inertia into the next game. But it’s a fair result considering how close the game actually was. You two put on a show and the fans of both teams can see that.

“Y/n! Y/n! Can you give us one moment of your time?”

Looking at the person calling for you, you have to fight the smirk as you see it’s a reporter. It’s not hard to imagine they’ve been waiting for this moment since the first post you made a week ago.

“Sure.”

“What a great game you gave us today. Are you disappointed with the result?”

You can see this is not really what they want to ask, but you don’t mind playing along giving your commentary to this question and a couple of others.

“One last question, the fans and everyone really, are wondering about this new rivalry between you and Alex Morgan. What can you tell us about that?”

Bingo.

“Oh, there’s absolutely no-”

You could feel Alex lingering around, listening into this interview while being interviewed herself by another reporter for a quote after the game. But it’s only when you’re in the middle of your answer that she takes the few steps to wrap her arms around you from behind.

“We’re dating,” she announces proudly and straight to the point.

“-rivalry.” You finish your sentence before shaking your head. “Babe, I was going to say it!”

“What’s stopping you?” Alex challenges with that smirk you absolutely adore.

“You’re impossible.“

“Yeah, and…?”

“And Alex Morgan is my girlfriend,” you answer with just a little grumble as you look back at the camera. “But we’re definitely winning the next game.”

“Not on my watch,” she counters before turning your face towards her to kiss you softly.

Whatever argument you had is gone just like that. But it’s hard to keep track of your thoughts when she kisses you. Hell, it’s impossible to think straight when she’s too close to you. That’s why it took you so long to actually talk to her.

Your relationship is still so new, and yet you can’t help but feel like you’ve known her for decades. The connection between the two of you is meant to last, and you’ve never felt your heart skip a beat as it does when you look at her.

You’ve never felt your heart hammer against your chest so madly; and that’s something considering you played -and conquered-, a World Cup. You’ve never felt so in peace as you do when you look into her eyes. You’ve never felt so happy, or so whole, or so seen...or so you.

Alex has the ability to understand everything you say, but words aren’t needed for her to understand you. In a short amount of time, Alex knows you better than anyone else in the world, and as scary as that might seem, it’s also the best thing in the world.

“If you’ll excuse us now...”

Surely there are a thousand other questions the press wants to ask. However, you have no need to stay on the field as you guide Alex back to the tunnel. The fans will be all over that interview in no time, and it’s bound to appear in every social media and every news channel.

Even with the anxiety starting to creep in, the doubts nagging at the back of your mind, you don’t let go of her hand until you have to. After all, you belong to two different clubs. But your goodbye will be short lived as you’re going to her place for the night.

Still, the time apart is a bit scary when you’re about to face the backlash of many, and perhaps the support of most. After all, you’re not the first couple -or the only one-, in the USWNT, NWSL or even women’s soccer around the world.

After another gentle kiss, you part ways to reunite with your team.

You’re hesitant for a moment; taking a deep breath to steel yourself before facing them.

As soon as they see you, the room erupts in cheers and whistles of approval. Then again, your crush on Alex Morgan wasn’t exactly a secret. And after the World Cup, they could see something had changed within you.

Of all the people out there to get you, your club got your back. And after you get a chance to check your phone, you notice they ain’t the only ones.

   |Rivalry, that’s what they call it now, uh?

Megan’s post goes along with a picture of you smiling at Alex at the end of a World Cup match. It’s obvious you were smitten with each other back then, and nothing has really changed.

  |We all know how Rivalries work. One of them has to end on top. If you ask me, my money is on Y/n.

Your blush is impossible to hide when you read Ash’s words, and that’s something that you won’t ever reply to. There are things that you simply won’t share with the world.

  |Wait, hold on. Did you guys seriously not know?

Sonnett asks in her post with several pictures taken during camp. Some of them are during team bonding or well...movie nights. It wasn’t unusual for either of you to feel particularly tired and ended up falling asleep in the same bed.

But you’re surprised to see that you cuddled before you were together.

Then, there’s the evidence of you sitting next to each other whenever you could. During breakfast, on the bus, on the bench, on the plane. At some there was hand-holding added, and you wonder, truly wonder, how you called that subtle.

  |Hottest couple out there. Sorry, Krashlyn.

Bit by bit, every single player of the USWNT has shown their support, and it acts as a wave to generate more support from the fans, and it’s so overwhelming that the few people brave enough to try and drag your name on the mud are immediately silenced.

The world is still far away from being perfect, but your friends, your teammates, your family, they sure make it better.

“Ready to go?” Alex asks when you meet her outside.

“Sure, as long as I end on top tonight,” you say with a playful wink that earns you an eye roll.

“You wish.”