#but still... i remember what it was like when it was good. i loved it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aliyahwritings · 2 days ago

Text

LOSING YOU — Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing: CEO!Rafe x Ex-Girlfriend!Female Reader

Summary: Years after Rafe Cameron broke your heart, he reappears as a CEO, confessing he never stopped loving you.

Content: angsty asl, hurt/no comfort, he's so hot but so miserable

Word Count: 2.5k

The city skyline blurred into streaks of gold and gray as you stared out of the towering glass windows of the Cameron Entreprises building. The hum of activity in the conference room behind you felt distant, as if you were watching a scene from a movie you had no part in. It wasn’t nerves—this was supposed to be just another meeting, another pitch. You had done this before, countless times.

And yet, the moment you stepped into this room, something felt… off.

You turned when the door opened, instinctively straightening your blazer. The energy shifted as footsteps echoed on the marble floor, authoritative and deliberate. You glanced toward the source, expecting some older executive type, but what you saw instead knocked the air from your lungs.

Rafe Cameron.

Your Rafe.

Rafe Cameron, your ex-boyfriend of five years.

The years had been good to him, infuriatingly so. His sharp jawline was now dusted with the faintest trace of stubble, and his suit—navy, immaculately tailored—clung to a broader frame than you remembered. His blonde hair was shorter, styled in a way that screamed corporate precision, but those piercing blue eyes were the same. They locked onto yours the moment he entered the room, widening slightly in surprise before softening into something more dangerous.

Nostalgia. Regret.

“YN,” he said your name like he’s never stopped saying it. “It’s been… a while.”

His words hit you like a punch to the stomach. You straightened, forcing your lips into a tight line. “Mr. Cameron,” the name felt foreign on your tongue. Cold. Detached. You prayed it would stay that way. “I wasn’t aware you’d be present today.”

He tilted his head slightly, a flicker of amusement playing across his features. “I oversee all major acquisitions. It’s my family’s company, after all.”

Of course, it was. You’d seen the name splashed across news articles and financial reports, but you’d never imagined it would lead you back to him.

“Shall we begin?” you said, desperate to leave as soon as possible.

He nodded, as he sat down. “By all means.”

His team filed in behind him, a mix of stern-faced executives and assistants armed with tablets. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, ignoring the way his presence loomed over the room like a storm cloud.

You clicked through your presentation, the rhythm of your words steady and precise. This pitch was your lifeline—the culmination of years of blood, sweat, and sacrifice. And yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the weight of his gaze. Every time you glanced his way, you found him staring, his expression inscrutable but intense, like he was trying to unravel you with his eyes.

When you finished, the room erupted into polite applause. You stepped back, clutching the edges of the table for support. The executives murmured their approval, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself a sliver of pride.

“Impressive,” Rafe said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. The room fell silent as he stood, buttoning his jacket with a practiced ease. “You’ve built something remarkable.”

“Thank you,” you replied, keeping your tone professional.

He took a step closer, his hands sliding into his pockets. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you like this—confident, commanding. I always knew you had it in you.”

The compliment felt like a slap and a caress all at once. You stiffened. “Let’s keep this focused on the business, Mr. Cameron.”

“Business, right,” he echoed, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Still so serious… Some things never change.”

Your chest tightened, but you refused to let him see the effect he had on you. “I’ve changed plenty, Mr. Cameron.”

“Have you?” His gaze darkened, and his voice dropped an octave, laden with something that felt like a challenge. “You still get that crease between your brows when you’re concentrating. And you still avoid eye contact when you’re nervous.”

You bristled. “I’m not nervous.”

“Of course not,” he said smoothly, leaning forward just enough to invade your space. “You’ve got this whole room eating out of your hand. You always did know how to command attention.”

Heat crept up your neck, a mix of anger and something more dangerous. “If you’re done reminiscing, we should finalize this deal.”

His smirk faltered, replaced by something raw. “You really won’t give me an inch, will you?”

“There’s nothing to give,” you said coldly. “This is business.”

The meeting concluded, and the other executives filed out, leaving just you and Rafe in the cavernous conference room. You busied yourself gathering your materials, your hands trembling as you shoved papers into your briefcase.

��You’re not even going to acknowledge it, are you?” His voice was soft but edged with frustration.

You froze but didn’t look at him. “Acknowledge what?”

“That this isn’t just any meeting,” he said, stepping closer. “That we’re not just strangers passing by.”

You turned to face him, your expression icy. “We are strangers, Rafe. That’s exactly what we are.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the mask of the polished CEO slipped, revealing something raw and vulnerable beneath. “I don’t believe that. You don’t believe that.”

“Don’t tell me what I believe,” you snapped, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

The air between you crackled with tension. He took another step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I miss you.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Spare me, Rafe. You gave up that right the moment you let me walk away.”

His eyes darkened, pain flickering across his features. “I didn’t let you walk away. I let him win.”

“Semantics,” you said coldly. “The result was the same.”

He reached out as if to touch you but stopped himself, his hand hovering inches from your arm. “I didn’t know how to fight him back then—”

“That’s the thing, Rafe,” you said, your voice trembling. “I didn’t need you to fight. I needed you to choose me. But you couldn’t even do that.”

His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked utterly defeated. “I thought I was doing the right thing. For you. For both of us.”

“Don’t you dare try to twist this into some selfless act,” you said, anger bubbling to the surface. “You didn’t do it for me. You did it for him. For the approval you were so desperate to have.”

Him being his father, Ward Cameron.

Rafe flinched at your words, the guilt etched deeply into his features. His mouth opened as if to protest, but no sound came. His silence only stoked your anger, years of buried pain clawing their way to the surface.

“Say something, Rafe,” you spat, your voice rising. “Anything. Defend yourself. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his composure slipping further. “What do you want me to say? That I was a coward? That I let him manipulate me? Fine. I was. I did. But I thought I was protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” The laugh that escaped you was sharp, bitter. “From what? From loving you? From building a life together? Because all you protected me from, Rafe, was the future we could’ve had.”

He took a shaky breath, his blue eyes glistening. “You don’t think I remind myself that every day? That I don’t wake up and think about what I lost? About what I threw away?”

“Do you?” you challenged, stepping closer. “Do you think about how I begged you to stay? How I told you I didn’t care what your father thought, that we could make it work? Or do you only think about yourself?”

His face crumpled, and for a moment, he looked utterly broken. “I think about it all. Every single second.”

The rawness in his voice cut through your defenses, but you refused to let him see it. You couldn’t. You folded your arms tightly across your chest, trying to create a barrier between you. “Thinking about it doesn’t change anything. Regret doesn’t erase what you did.”

“I know that,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But if I could go back—if I could do it over—I’d choose you. Every time.”

“Too bad life doesn’t work that way,” you said coldly, though your voice cracked. “You made your choice, Rafe. And you didn’t choose me.”

He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to block out the weight of your words. When he opened them again, the vulnerability in his gaze nearly undid you. “I was scared,” he admitted. “I was scared that if I went against him, I’d lose everything.”

“So you sacrificed me instead,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you even realize what you did to me? How hard it was to pick up the pieces after you walked away?”

He took a step toward you, his hand hovering near yours but not quite touching. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know I can’t fix what I broke. But I need you to know that I never stopped loving you.”

You blinked, stunned by the rawness of his confession. “Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that.”

“Why not?” he demanded, his voice rising. “It’s the truth. I love you. I never stopped, and I never will.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “It doesn’t matter, Rafe. Love isn’t enough. Not anymore.”

“It could be,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “If you gave me another chance—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head vehemently. “I can’t do this again. I can’t go back to being the girl who waits for you to put me first. I’ve moved on, Rafe. I had to.”

The words tasted like ash, dry and bitter, as if they had been burned into your soul. You couldn’t tell if they were entirely true, or if they were just a lie you had forced yourself to believe. But in that moment, they were all you had.

He looked at you, his expression shattered. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe’s hand shot out, catching the edge of your sleeve as you turned to leave. His touch was light, hesitant, as if he were afraid you might shatter.

“Please,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Don’t walk away. Not again.”

You froze, your back to him, heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, the pain in his voice was almost enough to undo you. Almost. But you knew better than to let yourself hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope had nearly destroyed you once.

“Why, Rafe?” you asked without turning around. “Why shouldn’t I? What could you possibly say to me now that would make any of this okay?”

His grip on your sleeve tightened, trembling slightly. “Because I can’t lose you again. I can’t—” His voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. “I’ve lived every day since that moment hating myself for not fighting harder. For letting my fear control me. I see it now, all of it, and I hate who I was. But I swear, I’m not that man anymore.”

You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his. They were glassy, filled with desperation and regret so deep it made your chest ache. “You’re saying all the right things now, Rafe. But where was this version of you when I needed him? When I was begging you to choose me over your father’s approval?”

“I was weak,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I was afraid of standing up to him. I thought I’d lose everything—my family, my place in the company. But none of it mattered. None of it means anything without you.”

“You’re only saying that now because you already lost me,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “If I hadn’t walked away, you’d still be letting him control you. Don’t pretend this epiphany isn’t just convenient timing.”

“It’s not,” he insisted, stepping closer, his eyes pleading with yours. “Losing you was the wake-up call I needed. It forced me to see what really matters.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his confession hitting you like a freight train. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it might’ve been like if he had made that choice years ago—if he had chosen you when it mattered most.

But the thought was more painful than comforting.

“You should’ve done that back then, Rafe,” you said, your voice trembling. “Not now, when it’s too late. You can’t rewrite the past, and you can’t erase the damage it caused.”

“I’m not trying to rewrite it,” he said, his tone growing more desperate. “I’m trying to fix it. I know I can’t undo what I did, but I want to try. I want to spend every day proving to you that I can be the man you deserved all along.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over despite your best efforts to hold them back. “It’s not that simple. You don’t get to snap your fingers and make everything okay. I spent years trying to move on, to build a life without you. And now you want me to just forget all of that? To risk my heart again?”

“I would never hurt you again,” he said, his voice shaking with sincerity. “I swear, I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“You already hurt me, Rafe,” you said, the bitterness in your voice cutting through the air like a blade. “And some wounds don’t heal. Some scars don’t fade.”

He looked at you, his face crumpling under the weight of your words. “So that’s it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You wanted to scream, to cry, to tell him that no, you weren’t done. That you still loved him despite everything. But you couldn’t let yourself go down that road again. Not when you knew where it led.

“Yes,” you said finally, your voice breaking. “For my own sake.”

Rafe staggered back as if the words had physically struck him. He pressed a hand to his chest, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “I don’t know how to live without you,” he admitted, his vulnerability cutting through you like a knife. “I don’t know how to let you go.”

“You’ll have to figure it out,” you said, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “Because I’m not coming back.”

He stared at you, his blue eyes swimming with tears, and for a moment, you thought he might collapse under the weight of it all. “I’ll never stop loving you,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

You nodded, a single tear sliding down your cheek. “And I’ll never stop wishing things were different.”

As you walked out, Rafe remained in the empty room, his world crumbling. He watched you go, knowing he’d lost the only person who had ever truly mattered. And as the door closed behind you, the realization settled in his chest like a stone: he would spend the rest of his life loving you, regretting you, and mourning the life you could have had.

INFO ABOUT UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @aliyahwritings-notifs and turn on notifications!!!

463 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 3 days ago

Note

Hiiiiii can u write a blurb about reader having her first baby and she’s struggling letting the baby cry it out to fall asleep.

But Aaron having already gone through this with jack is comforting her and promising the baby knows she loves them but they have to sleep.

i felt this!! i'm not a mother myself (yet) but i don't think i'd be able to stop myself. it was even hard for me to let the baby i was nannying for cry himself out, and he wasn't even mine. i'd be the weak one getting up six times a night cause my baby's crying </33

The heartbreaking sounds of your daughter's wailing cries sends tears of your own pricking at your eyes no matter how hard you try squeezing them shut and sleeping through it. You're restless- like her, almost completely controlled by your urge to go into her nursery and comfort her. She's been crying for an hour, and the only reason you've been able to let her 'cry it out' is because Jack is sleeping over at a friend's house.

Just when you think of rolling over to soothe her, Aaron's large hand grasps at your smaller one, and you feel yourself pulled into his chest.

"Don't go now. You need sleep. And she'll be safe. She'll learn."

"Aaron, she's sobbing. She doesn't like learning-" You swallow a sob, "What if- what if she thinks we don't love her? She must be so scared, I- I have to go help her."

"She needs to learn to sleep on her own," Aaron hums, remembering how much it had hurt to sleep train Jack, "Trust me, sweetheart. She knows you love her. And even if its hard to let her cry, we need to let her learn this. We can't be getting up three times a night for the next eighteen years. Once she learns how to sleep on her own, we'll be able to get a good night ourselves. And we need sleep to be good parents."

He's speaking logically, of course. You and Aaron have both been increasingly irritable since the birth of your daughter, as happy as you've both been to welcome her into the world. You've been up and down at least three times a night with your daughter and her irregular sleeping habits, and you're both showing signs of extreme sleep deprivation. Aaron had snapped at Jack only two days prior, which is what had finally pushed him over the edge into sleep training, and you'd felt on the verge of snapping at Aaron yourself. He's right. You need your sleep, and your daughter needs to learn these things.

"Come here." Aaron hums, pulling you tighter into his embrace and flattening his palm over your ear. He disguises it by stroking his thumb over your cheekbone, but you know he's muffling the sounds of your daughter's cries.

"It's okay." He promises, "She'll be okay," And you nestle into the warmth of his palm, trusting him even though you know you're still going to have a sleepless night.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut

443 notes · View notes

alllgator-blood · 2 days ago

Text

FINISHED THAT ONE COMIC I POSTED ABOUT ALMOST 30 FULL DAYS AGO?? I FINALLY REMEMBERED IT EXISTED AND FINISHED IT. I HAVE SO MUCH I WANT TO SAY ABOUT MY LAMB NOW THAT THEY'RE FINALLY THE MAIN CHARACTER IN A LONG COMIC, BUT it went on forever so I put it below the cut.

While we're above the cut, I have a bunch of REALLy good asks I'll be trying to draw for soon. But keep an eye out for a poll coming up soon...cause now that this is out of the way, I want another big project to have in the background and I have Big Ideas for Big Angst Comics........

OH YOU CLICKED THE THING, NICE. OKAY. SO:

Have I ever talked about how my lamb works?? I need to do more with them but I'm a bishop enjoyer to an obsessive degree. The lamb operates on the same kind of level as kallamar did during the breakdown comic, but on a more permanent, more stable level. After being told to hide for their whole life, to never show their face and not even being given a name......being beheaded by four gods and recruited by a fifth forgotten one who claims they're the Chosen One just made the lamb think "OH! None of this is real. My brain wanted me to feel important before I died, and this is my dying vision. Okay, I'll play along >:)" and now they're the equivalent of when you beat a game and replay it while picking the funniest/worst options to see what'd happen.

USUALLY their decisions are clouded by the assumption that nothing they do actually matters, but they're still......a person who held things dear and had standards while they were alive. So they love hijinx, but aren't like leshy who launches people out of catapults for fun, or kallamar who sees mortals more as lab rats than people living their own lives. They'll do some things for the lolz but their humanity definitely shows through when dealing with someone like shamura.

I think they went into the bishop slaying quest wanting to hate shamura, assuming they were an irredeemable antagonist that deserved to be vanquished. They were told by narinder that shamura was the big bad, so they figured there was nothing to it beyond that. But then they actually MET shamura, who wasn't at all what they were expected to be. Every other bishop is just like "RAHH I'LL KILL YOU" when you meet them, and then shamura is the only person who actually tells you about what happened, speaks to you like a person and not an obstacle, and doesn't seem bothered about the fact they're going to die. So that got them thinking....hmm...perhaps these people are slightly more realistic than I anticipated. Still gonna kill them tho

I'm not sure the lamb hates the bishops, especially after the realization that they're a fucked up family acting out in desperation rather than logic. When you're born into circumstances you know will eventually doom you (like being a sacrificial lamb destined for slaughter) you kinda...lose the ability to care after a while. They don't really *forgive* the bishops for the slaughter of their people, and definitely enjoy bullying them and kicking them around now that they're powerless mortals- but the initial horror of being born to die has subsided. Now that they're presumably in some kind of afterlife, and have better, more fun things to move onto now that they're the ruler of everything- it's not worth it to hate those five forever.

I think *because* the lamb has only been a god very briefly and still remembers mortality well, that's why they're the one god who does things "because they're funny" but also is respectful of people like shamura. It's like when you're playing GTA V and you accidentally drive over a dog while trying to pull over and look at it closer. Is it a real dog?? No but you're still gonna feel bad!! So like I said, in the lamb's mind they have NO reason to care about any of these people or show them mercy, but the fact that they're not as detached from mortality as the bishops were makes them a benevolent god. I'll be doing a comic about this very subject in the future and it WILL be depressing >:)

Also. Unrelated. But if you read this far, I feel the need to justify why heket and leshy suddenly have boobs in this comic. I'm sure it's obvious that I headcanon the gods don't have sex characteristics cause like...why would they need those. I don't want to draw that. But as MORTALS they would probably need to have all their organs intact to function properly, so pour one out for shamura + leshy who probably completely forgot they were transgender until they woke up in mortal bodies. NOT SURE HOW KALLAMAR WOULD REACT, I think they're more just horrified they lost all their tentacles

I debated doing another silly comic about the concept but I don't want this blog to get too raunchy, so instead have this epic ms paint art (I CAN MAKE THESE JOKES, I'M AFAB TRANS I DESERVE THIS ONE THING)

#cult of the lamb #cotl bishops #lambert #leshy #heket #narinder #shamura #kallamar #comic

513 notes · View notes

randombush3 · 2 days ago

Text

te hacemos falta

alexia putellas x reader

prologue, que te quiero, busco lo de antes

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 4715

content warnings: bit of smut

notes: the end was written way before the beginning. i couldn't decide what to do with this for a while but it came to me in the shower earlier today so here we are, finally completed

there will have to be more parts to this because i'm not done yet 🙄

The duvet falls to the floor.

Swathes of tanned skin spread over your smooth legs, encapsulating, suffocating. It’s good though, so good. And it’s exploration of somewhere familiar, crevasses that she knows, divots that you wish you did. Dimples where muscle tenses and relaxes and veins that throb at the sight of… this. Oh, how she has missed this.

There’s a hunger in her eyes – desperate, ready. Her tongue is warm and wet as it slides down the valley of your breasts and your stomach and the apex of your thighs. She’s moaning, you’re moaning. It’s a cacophony of sound and pleasure and this might kill you, might just end it all, because is this what it used to be like? Blazing, fiery, passionate sex?

She sucks and bites and kisses and you’ve never been at anyone’s mercy quite like how you are at hers, back arching, legs clamping tightly until blonde hair and stars are all you can see. Her breath sears and your skin must be branded: ‘Alexia, Alexia, Alexia’ it must say. The sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, louder than her name falling from your lips, louder than her appreciation that you are here and doing this.

It’s better than it ever has been. And it’s building. Climbing, growing more intense. Her tongue swirls your clit and it’s almost enough, your hands gripping the sheets as though that will anchor you on your ascent to Heaven. You might be screaming. She’s making you scream.

Your stomach drops as you go soaring through the sky. And then it’s gone.

“It’s a sex dream.” You look up, ignoring the heat of your cheeks, trying to remind yourself that you’re allowed to feel like this in therapy. “The same one, right?”

“I wake up sweating.”

Your therapist nods, her expression neutral and free of judgement, pen poised on her knee as she waits for your confession to settle, really making you sit in it. Then, she speaks, measured tone like always, “And when you wake up, what’s the first thing you feel?”

Her question is gentle but purposeful. She is a deliberate woman.

“Embarrassment, mostly.” She doesn’t quite buy it. “Sometimes I… get off? After?”

“Are you asking me?”

“It’s uncomfortable,” you fire back, defensively. “She’s in the next room to me. My daughter is in the same flat. I’m acting like a horny teenager.”

“Sex is biological. Your body was accustomed to the regular hormone release, a stable sex life. You’re young and you were both in high-stress professions. Is it so absurd for you to crave it?” You shake your head, although her rhetoric is clear. “And as you’ve already said, you’re attracted to Alexia, memories or not.”

“I’m not blind,” you protest. (Is it really a protest?)

Your therapist nods again, considering your words with slight amusement. “Not blind,” she repeats. She inhales. “What about the feelings that come with that attraction? Are you angry with yourself for still wanting her, even if the memories aren’t there?”

The leather sofa creaks as you shift in your seat. You briefly wonder how many people she has made want to die of discomfort in this office, but she’s pretty good, you’ll give her that. “It’s not anger,” you murmur, the tightness in your chest still constricting in its nameless fashion. “It’s… guilt, maybe? Frustration? She looks at me like I’m supposed to remember, like I’m supposed to love her the way she clearly still loves me. And I want to. God, I want to. But I feel like I’m trying to love a stranger.”

She leans forwards slightly, eyes deep and gentle, subtly glancing at the clock above the door before refocusing on your face. “You said you still feel attracted to her. That’s not nothing. Desire can be a bridge – it is for many relationships.”

You sigh, rubbing at your temples. Months have dulled the ache of your head, the physical pain of the accident now almost gone, but nothing seems to have stopped your insides from howling in anguish. It echoes in your emptiness. You’re not sure if that makes it worse. “It feels hollow. We wouldn’t have fucked for a while, not if I had Amaia – she would’ve been so young.” The clock ticks over another minute. “And she deserves more than just me physically. It would be failing. Her. Amaia.” The crack of your voice betrays the steadiness of your tone.

“She’s not asking for perfection,” your therapist says carefully. “She’s asking for effort, for honest. And if she didn’t believe in you, she’d have left, wouldn’t she?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“She wouldn’t do that to you,” she corrects.

That merits a pause. It’s true, probably. When you have concocted some kind of response, you shuffle your legs so that they are crossed, one over the other – a pose Alexia had claimed to be the signpost of being ‘lawyered’, shivering as she’d said it. “Every moment we try to connect, I mess it up. She’ll talk about something we did, some moment that was important to us, and I just sit there. Blank. It is only a matter of time until she gets fed up and leaves. She’s surely just patient.”

“From what you have told me about Alexia, she is not a patient person,” she rebukes. The harshness of her voice is not explicit, more like the piercing shot of a pistol equipped with a silencer. It makes good contact. “Have you told her how this feels for you?”

You don’t reply.

“Alexia might be holding onto the version of you from before the accident, the person she remembers,” your therapist continues. “But she’s also here, now, with this version of you. That tells me she’s willing to rebuild, even if it’s from the ground up.”

Fuck. “You have a point.”

She smirks. “Of course I do.”

…

Alexia sits at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee clasped tightly in her hands. The hum of the fridge does nothing to mask the rustling of your sheets, nor the music Amaia thinks is too quiet to be heard. No one is asleep, yet no one is together. She wants to scream.

Her coffee has long since cooled, her last sip maybe even hours ago. Time is no longer real. Time has fucked her over and she’s really renounced it.

The decorations are starting to peel their way off, the tree going brown, the batteries in the lights dying. Maybe the horror of Christmas will also be lost, and maybe that’s for the best; awkward gifts, dinners where inside jokes left you on the outside, alcohol doing nothing to jog your memories or ease you into making new ones. Amaia’s birthday also carried that same awkwardness, worse at night, when she had asked to be cuddled and you’d frozen the moment she had fallen asleep on you.

Nights suck.

Nights leave space for Alexia to remember everything you don’t, cold in a bed that isn’t hers, with no one there to hold her as tears spill out and make her feel fucking pathetic. She pretends not to notice, but Mapi’s texts get later and later each day, as though she has caught on to the worsening bags under her captain’s eyes and the dark swirl of her mind.

And at night, under the covers, all Alexia can do is picture you.

She’d felt the shift when you had come back from Bilbao. She’d seen your body tense – no stranger to its signals. It’s been a waiting game ever since.

She suspects it has something to do with Amaia. Your responsibility is unfaltering, even if you seem to not recognise it, and it is reminiscent of the first time round, when Alexia had been refused sleepovers and late nights, working with quick makeouts in daylight and steamy kisses in the five minutes you’d allow her to pull over for on your way back home. “My daughter needs me more than you do,” you’d joke, batting her hands away, grinning at the whines she’d let out. “And someone needs to teach you how to wait.”

“So many women would jump at the chance to sleep with me,” would be her instantaneous response. She’d say it to your back, because you’d already be on your way out.

Sex shouldn’t be on Alexia’s mind like this. She felt guilty about it then, and she feels even guiltier about it now.

You’re attractive. Beautiful. Intelligent. You’re more than the sound you make when she’s pressed inside you just right. Or the swears you hiss when you’re returning the favour.

You’re the words you say when you’re trying not to let Amaia down: careful, caring. And the look of support when Alexia is watching nothing ring a bell and wanting to die because of it.

And you’re still you, if not set on different tracks with different thoughts and feelings and perspectives.

You are still the woman she loves – which she knows and clings onto. And you’re braver than she is, because she would not have survived this situation.

Alexia pictures you again, when she finally gets herself into bed, hand wandering down her sculpted body, jerking away at the slightest sound like she is not allowed to be doing this. She does it anyway.

It’s a relief, a fleeting escape, and the only thing that doesn’t make her feel so fucking hollow. Briefly, the world hasn’t ended. Her fingers find familiar paths, mapped out by yours as she’d melt beneath your touch, and, for a moment, it isn’t her hand. It passes, and the pleasure is only a ghost of what it once was.

She tries again.

Her breath hitches as her mind fills with memories – your face, your voice, the sparks beneath her fingertips, the heat between the two of you. A lump grows in her throat. She has to stop.

A part of her wants to give in completely, to let the tension in her body break, to seize the satisfaction that’s right in front of her. But another part of her recoils. Guilt settles, a weight on her chest, as she thinks of your blank stare.

She pulls her hand away, her body trembling. She feels pathetic. This isn’t what it used to be. Love is too distant, too faded.

And there’s the other thing. What she doesn’t want to admit.

She can’t do it alone anymore.

She rolls over and buries her face in the pillow. This might be her breaking point. Where the fuck does she go from here?

…

To establish a sense of normalcy when your physical injuries finally get written off by your doctor, your therapist suggests you take Amaia to a football match. Obviously Alexia’s match. WIth her tickets. And her mother.

Although Amaia looks like you, there is so much of Alexia in her. Her enthusiasm, her dedication, and… her love for football. You imagine they must have killed you with their obsession with kicking a ball into a net. They tend to not talk about it now, most family dinners casting a glance backwards to catch you up about the last decade.

She is radiating excitement beside you as you take your seats.

The stadium roars as fans pour in, a sea of blaugrana that your daughter slips into, donning her jersey with pride. You wince a bit at the sight, but Amaia is quick to whisper that she doesn’t wear it when Barça plays Bilbao. She speaks with such familiarity. She hardly lets on that her mother doesn’t know who she is.

Alexia’s own mother, Eli, is a very nice woman. You once employed her, which is how you and Alexia met. You get why she was a good fit – wise, reliable, kind. You also get why she managed to set you up with her daughter. Eli can apparently see right through you.

Thankfully, she says nothing during the match, the buffer of Amaia actually working.

You had glanced at the news before, stuff with Alexia’s name in it always catching your attention, and, of course, you’d admired a few photos. But it doesn’t compare to the real thing.

Since September, Alexia has fumbled her way around you, cautious and unsure. On the pitch, she is the opposite. Determined, commanding, majestic and she swerves and dribbles and takes out players left, right, and centre. She seems to read the future, apprehending attacks, anticipating defensive lines and destroying them before they can even be formed. This passion, this intensity… this is the woman you must have fallen in love with. You’ve been getting to know a shell of her.

You get a lot of things now. (You should’ve let your therapist convince you to attend a match way sooner.)

The final whistle blows and you feel transformed. Not reformed, but, rather, made anew. A butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

Okay. No. Maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself.

But right now, as a sweaty Alexia jumps the barrier and sweeps Amaia into her arms effortlessly, you are certainly less resistant to experiencing your recurring dream again. Something guilty ebbs and flows at the back of your mind, but if it were the ocean, it would very much be low tide.

Her eyes are fixed on you as Amaia recounts the match with her own analysis like a mini-manager ready to sit down and review the footage. Her mother clears her throat once silence settles between the four of you.

“Mama, we’re getting dinner,” comes the next spoken sentence. Not from Eli.

You blink.

“Alexia,” Amaia repeats, tugging her arm. “Dinner.”

“Zer esan duzu?” you mutter under your breath, accessing the private form of communication you have with your daughter like it is the Washington-to-Moscow hotline. It’s often too constrictive, too close, to Amaia for comfort – you’re not quite there yet, no matter how much effort you put into trying to bond with her.

You’re not dignified by a response, instead met with an uninterested eye-roll (the cheek!) and commotion as everyone starts to move. Well, half the party. Eli kindly lets Amaia drag her away.

“Did you enjoy the match?” Alexia asks awkwardly, waiting for you to pick your bag up from the concrete floor. She stops herself from getting it for you when you grimace, still getting used to the tightness that will always remain in your ribs. She knows you’d hate that.

“I don’t like football,” you say, because her hair is wet and falling over her face, and her neck is flushed, and her kit is sticking to her in a very flattering way. And you walk past her because you’re probably not going to get this relationship back.

Your therapist does most of the talking in the next session. Internally, she is screaming.

…

Sticky glue on clean fingers. Amaia grimaces. She prefers the mess of mud to glitter and paint, but the black pages of the scrapbook are almost full and her end goal makes it worth it.

Alexia asks what she does in her room that keeps her so quiet, her voice laced with curiosity and that same exhaustion she hasn’t been able to shed since the accident. Alexia, with no answer given, probably assumes it’s reading, or homework, or some other thing that elevates her to saintly status – Oh, Amaia, aren’t you just so special.

Special girls wouldn’t have been forgotten by their mothers… No. Amaia believes she should not digress.

The scrapbook is her cure. Or at least, what she has convinced herself will help you, because she is a little girl and what would she know about ground-breaking neurological treatments and the effectiveness of a good psychiatrist? She sees the appointments listed in the calendar Alexia keeps on the dining table – an illicit activity only undertaken when no one seems to be ready to take her to training and she worries she has gotten the time incorrect – but they are just abbreviations and addresses to her. Pictures are real. Pictures cannot be cancelled or argued about or scheduled on top of school concerts and meetings with her concerned teachers.

It was difficult at first, finding the pictures. There were only so many on the iPad you let her borrow – then subsequently forgot about and allowed her to claim. She’d asked Eli for help (Eli would never reveal her secret mission), who told her about something called a disposable camera and then proceeded to go off on a tangent, showing photos of Alexia when she was a baby. But, eventually, when photo-Alexia had reached adulthood, Eli agreed to participate and the next time they convened, she had an envelope of at least three more pages’ worth of material.

And so they got to work.

Pages upon pages were slowly decorated with lost memories. Birthdays, holidays, first-times, last-times. If there was a photo of it, in it went. Afternoons in Eli’s kitchen were spent with gel pens and scissors, mornings before school dwindling in length as nights got later and alarms began to be snoozed.

You don’t know what to say when one day, red-cheeked from the exhaustion of the extra goalie sessions, Amaia barrels into the car with exciting news. You’ve been privy to this news, you think, because the coaches have already messaged you about trial dates for better teams (teams that wear blaugrana, to Alexia’s satisfaction), even if the Infantil-Cadet begins at the age of twelve. “I’m so proud of you, txiki,” you begin, before Amaia can speak, your joy bursting at the seams, barely contained in your voice. Affection for her has certainly been something you’ve mustered, even if it has grown from a seed all over again. She is not hard to love. “Alexia has been speaking to Cata and she is going to find time to give you some tips! The girls will be older and you’ll have to work with more powerful shots, more precision.” You’d had a conversation with your footballer (things are still awkward but Amaia is in no-man’s-land and requires civility), who had been monitoring this inevitable progression in Amaia’s life and already had an argument prepared for why she should be allowed to trial. Maybe in another universe, you would have said no. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t be too much of a challenge for you.”

You turn to watch for Amaia’s reaction, expecting elation or nervousness or something like that. Instead, you are met with confusion. “What’s wrong?” There’s nothing else to ask.

“That wasn’t my news,” she states. The glimmer in her eyes – your father’s eyes – illuminates the cracks in her serious expression. “You’re going to like my news more, Amatxu. It’s not to do with football. You don’t even like football.”

“I like football,” you instantly argue, indignantly mentioning Athletic Bilbao’s recent victory.

“You didn’t before.” She’s somewhat insistent. She reminds you of Alexia, the way her smile is barely contained, her amusement too obvious, too profound. “When we used to go to Alexia’s matches, you’d just stare at her. And I would say ‘Amatxu, the ball is on the right wing’, and you’d still be watching her.”

“I don’t like football.”

“You like it when Alexia’s playing.”

You huff in annoyance. You’ve been… lawyered? By a child. “Tell me your news, Ami.”

“You stopped calling me that,” she points out.

“Alexia told me you like being called that.” Or, rather, implied it.

“By my mum.”

“I’m your mum.” Amaia looks almost prepared to disagree, which stings but in a familiar way that your therapist tells you is a part of healing. Therapy might still be a scam. “Tell me your news, Amaia.”

“I like Ami.” The car may swerve a little, but then you see darkness and hear screaming and your hands are tightly gripping the wheel again. “My news! Yes, my news. I have a present for you. I’ve been waiting to give it to you for a long time.”

That’s all you get until you arrive home.

Alexia is making dinner, the smell of tomatoes and garlic wafting down the hallway as the lift doors swoosh open. She’s listening to music – happy music – and there are rhythmic thuds against the floor. You’re surprised Alexia knows how to dance.

Her hips sway at the stove, grey joggers outlining toned legs and… Your daughter is right beside you. You blink and hope those thoughts disappear.

“Ami!” Alexia exclaims at the telltale sound of pitter-pattering. The spoon drops from her hand, stirring be damned, as she swipes the girl into a hug, kissing the top of her head. “How was training?”

“Seré la nova portera del Barça.” The excitement is infectious as Alexia lifts her slightly off the ground with the force of her hug. It’s immediately warmer, the room filled now that they are together. You try to feel included. The sight momentarily plucks a string somewhere deep inside of you, but before it vibrates, Amaia throws a glance back at you, her cheeky smirk a reminder that she is still hogging her news.

Alexia sets Amaia down gently, wiping her hands on the teatowel slung over her broad shoulders. “What’s that face for?” she asks, raising a curious brow as the girl slips out her grasp and scurries towards the dining table, schoolbag in tow.

You linger by the worktop, trying to work past the need to hide from Alexia and failing miserably. Amaia unpacks her bag – ludicrously capacious and stuffed to the brim with art supplies that make you question why you are paying school fees. “I’ve been working on something,” she announces, her voice just shy of a triumphant proclamation. Out comes a spiral-bound book, decorated like a unicorn ate a rainbow and then had diarrhoea. She’s eleven, you suppose.

Then she opens the book and you regret judging it by its cover.

She flips past pages filled with images that hitch your breath. Holidays you don’t remember. Birthdays lost to the void that exists between then and now.

“What is this?” you ask softly, stepping closer despite yourself.

Amaia looks up at you, her expression both shy and proud. “It’s for you.”

The slosh of sauce being stirred stops abruptly. You try not to look, but Alexia is leaning towards the table for a better view, bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes deepen and her chest grows heavier.

Undeterred by the silence, Amaia continues fervently, “I’ve been making it for months.” She pulls the scrapbook close to her chest for a moment, before offering it to you with both hands, glitter floating to the floor. “It’s so you won’t forget anything anymore.”

You freeze. The walls are touching your sides, too small. Alexia is watching you for your reaction. “Forget?” you echo faintly, hands trembling as they reach for the book.

Amaia tilts her head, innocence piercing and painful. “Like how you forgot my birthday. Or, like, didn’t know it was.”

The air is knocked clean out of your lungs. For a moment, you can’t move. You can’t breathe. Alexia’s eyes dart between the two of you, her jaw tightening as she grips the worktop. You know she wants to jump in, wants to soften the blow, but she doesn’t. Not yet.

Amaia keeps going, her voice steadily reporting shortcomings like bombs she doesn’t know can kill. “I know you didn’t mean to. And I know that you don’t remember things because you hit your head really badly. So you don’t remember my first football practice, or when we used to go to the beach. So… I made this!”

She flips the pages for you, her tiny fingers smudged with gel pen ink. “Here’s the picture from when we went to New Zealand and Alexia won the world cup.” You’ve seen that one before. She turns the page, “And this,” a small, faded photograph with fridge-worn edges, “is from when I won my first school race. This is in London, see?” She’s grinning widely, front tooth missing, a green field behind her with a grey sky that is certainly not Barcelona.

Your throat tightens. You can’t look away from the book, each page a kaleidoscope of colours and slipped-away moments. Drowned memories that have sunken into a trench of blackness – still there, just unrecoverable. “Amaia…” Your voice cracks. You might break.

Alexia moves quietly, reaching a hand out to your back before steadying it centimetres away. Her warmth is felt only for a second before she remembers herself and moves away. “This is what you’ve been doing,” she deduces, her surprise comforting. For once, you were not the only one in the dark.

Amaia beams but she is not looking at Alexia. “I told you you’d like it,” she says. You’ve not given your opinion yet. “Now you’ll never forget again, not even if you want to.”

Silence presses down on the room, save for the gentle bubbling of the tomato sauce on the stove. You clutch the scrapbook tightly, afraid that dropping it will send the wrong message. It’s not perfectly made – far from it. The edges are uneven, the colour clashing in some places, the glue smeared in translucent stains past photos. But it’s beautiful. It's yours, from Amaia. It is her love for you.

Tears pinch in your eyes. “I don’t deserve this,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Amaia frowns, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Of course you do. Zu zara nire ama.”

Your skin bristles as Alexia moves past you, hand resting on the worktop. “You do,” she agrees. She seems to want to say more, but Amaia, satisfied with her convincing, turns back to the scrapbook, taking it from your hands and opening it to the very last page.

“This one’s my favourite.”

The final page is a drawing, not a photograph. It’s sketched carefully, although a little garishly done in neon green, but it’s unmistakable. Three figures stand together, arms linked. Surrounding them are words (Catalan words, you think) and images. Alexia’s hand presses harder into the worktop.

“Alexia says Barça is the best team in the world,” Amaia starts smugly, “but she’s not right.” A grunt of disagreement comes from the woman beside you, but she allows the girl to continue. “We are.”

The words fall from her lips like a statistic, indisputable yet hard to believe.

“We’re like a football team, to help Alexia understand,” she then says with a smirk. “Badakit ez duzula gehiago behar, Ama. Oso adimentsua zara.”

“I’m not stupid,” grumbles Alexia.

She’s ignored. “You are the attack, Ama. You’re, like, the glamourous one, the one everyone wants to be like, with glory and success and shiny trophies.” You’ve seen Alexia’s trophies, but you don’t argue, assuming it will be pointless when your daughter can be so stubborn. “And then Alexia is in the middle. Attack and defence are a pair, but it’s not right to have them on a pitch without the midfield. It’s never as seamless. The team would be incomplete.” You pause to consider if Alexia is ever afraid of being loved by Amaia. She’d have had no reason to be. “Of course, I am in goal. Nothing slips through me, even if it’s really scary and the ball is coming fast. I make sure we don’t lose.”

Your breath catches. Something inside you shifts, not the fragments left by Alexia’s football match a few weeks ago, but a new part of this new life. A root in fertile soil. “Thank you,” you murmur, pulling Amaia into a tight hug. She tenses at first, almost shocked by it, but then she is relaxing and hugging you back, face buried in your clothes as though it is what coming home feels like. “I love it. I love you.”

Alexia watches, her expression softening as she steps back towards the stove. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she announces, giving you both a moment to breathe.

Amaia pulls back, her grin wide and triumphant. “I told you you’d like my news.” She pauses, glancing slyly at Alexia. “Much better than football, right?”

The woman’s laugh is warm and free. You want to bottle it. “Careful, nena. You’re about to lose your biggest cheerleader.”

“Never!” shouts Amaia, before leaning back into you. And for the first time since the accident, part of you is at home.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso smut #randombush3 #rm universe

423 notes · View notes

licking-rocks · 2 days ago

Text

Gonna answer these for fun because why not

Good with my mom; amicable but not close with my dad; not too close but alright with my step-dad

My cat lol. Aside from that - my mom, probably

Not off the top of my head, no

Not particularly. I used to be awfully insecure when I was about 17-18, but not anymore. It took a while to internalize the fact that no one else notices the things you're insecure about and if they do, they probably don't think of it as much as you do

Single and very aroace

Quick and painless. Not quick enough for me to not understand what's happening though - I want to know what dying feels like before I go

A bowl of cereal

Somehow this question made me realize that no, I've never played sports. Huh. I thought I used to do at least something when I was younger but nothing comes to mind.

I try not to, but yea. It's a bad habit I'm trying to get rid of. I even tried that nail polish that tastes nasty to make you stop, but still - I can't help it sometimes

When I was a little kid with my sister. I'm not the kind of person to get into fights

Nope :))!

Nope, I don't think I ever even got to 24h awake T~T

No, I don't think so. For some reason hating someone feels childish (the bad kind of childish. Generally I don't mind being childish, so long as it's not petty schoolyard fights)

All of my middle school friends. I didn't miss them as much as I do until I went out with two of them earlier in the year after seeing one on the bus. Now I've realized we've all changed so much we couldn't have the kind of friendships we did even if we really, really wanted to. Also my dad - haven't seen him face-to-face in a few years now. I wish I could give the man a hug

A cat named Spirga :))). Gonna reblog with an image for her when I get home :))

A little anxious - I have to present something in at most a few hours and even though it's only gonna take 5 min I'm nervous about it

I've never made out with anyone at all T~T Also in a bathroom? Seems like an odd spot for it

Only if they're close enough to climb on me. If that little guy is by the ceiling - they're chill and can hang out there all they want. If they're on my desk - please leave and don't hurt me :((

Yea, just to see if everything looked as colorful and nice as I remember it. I want to experience the summer of 2016 again

Ok I had to look up the meaning of "to snog", but nevertheless - primary school's yard, circa 2011

The local thrift chain is dropping their prices to 0.5 euro a piece on Saturday, so I'm going to every. single. one. in my city. And my niece's birthday is on Sunday, so I'm gonna do that too

Biologically - not a single one. Adopted - maybe 2-3, if I'm economically stable enough for it

Just the usual lobe piercings. I'd love at least a few more lobe piercings (I'm thinking 2 in one ear, 3 in the other) and perhaps an industrial or bridge? Idk, haven't thought about it much

In high school, my best was easily English (I don't live in an English-speaking country, so the class wasn't a literature analysis class, but just a regular language class). Currently (3rd semester of uni) it's, oddly enough, gender studies (one of the few free electives that has nothing to do with my actual field of study - geography)

See answer to question 14

So, Lidl has these crispy salted caramel chocolate and it's to die for, I love it

Not that I know of, no

Can't get cheated on if you never date ;)

Can't make a bf/gf cry if you never date ;)

Someone is loudly whispering across the classroom and I can't focus on what the professor is saying

My family and my friends :333

I have a very unhealthy obsession yellow

Quite the opposite - I trust very, very easily. If you aren't holding a knife at me, you could probably easily take me into the woods with you and I wouldn't realize "hey this ain't safe" until way too late

I dreamt I was walking into the woods near my house, got chased by a beaver, fell into the little stream running through the woods (which is, like, 20 cm deep) and somehow got carried right to the Arctic (the little stream does not go directly to the sea. It goes into another river, which I did not end up in. That river also goes into another river, which then goes into the Baltic sea - far from Arctic)

My mom when I decided to drop my driving lessons (I'm SORRY driving a manual is HARD and I'm STUPID and when she reassures me that it's fine I CRY)

I'll give 2565623th chances like it's nothing

Forgive, I think. To forget something truly, really hurtful would take much, much more effort, especially if you plan to keep the person in your life

So far - it's in the middle sorta. Had better, am planning better (first ever solo trip in January 2025 WOOOOO) but I also had a lot of fun this year and would love for every year to be something like this :))

Like 7? I think? I had my last one so far (excluding family members) not too long after lol

.... No?

Grilled cheese. Also your numbers are fuckde up D':

Nah, I think some stuff happens just because

Scrolled Twitter

I try not to be. I hope I'm not

None

Yea :33

Sunny, a little warm (14-16°C), no wind. I often see this type of weather in mid/late spring and ooooh I love it

Yea, it's fun!!

If it works out, sure. I don't feel romantic attraction, but if a friend asked me to marry them, I'd probably say yes

Depends on the circumstance, I guess. I gotta know them enough/like them enough. Also if they're over 5 years older than me it's not cute, it creeps me out

Dude so, so much - seeing a small animal, nice weather, a good walk, good music, good food, giving gifts or being given gifts, spending time with people I love, talking to new people, even if it's just a quick convo on the bus, making something I can be proud of, etc

Yea, I'd like to one day. I saw the last name "Šalna" ("Frost") in a book and got absolutely enamored with it. Not too sure about a first name though. I want something pretentious on purpose (like the name of a goddess or otherwise a long, uncommon name, like Severija or something (I hate the book I associate this name with, but I gotta say, really rolls off the tongue)

I haven't talked to him in, what, 10-11 years? Also he was kind of a prick, but, then again, he was a kid. Regardless, yea

Think stuff over in terms of compatibility - would we make good roommates? Financial partners? Potentially co-parents? You can't keep a relationship afloat on love and lust, you need to get along in many different spheres of life. Otherwise? I guess I'd go for it

I have like one friend of the opposite sex and we don't talk outside of class

My stepdad, probably

My little sister

Yea. There isn't a doubt in my mind that some people are just meant to be together. Not always romantically, but they're meant to have each other around

Anyone I care about. I'd like to think I'd also die for someone weaker than myself if push came to shove, but I probably wouldn't.

WOW that took longer than expected

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

#yapping #[not fandom]

350K notes · View notes

isuggestforcefem · 3 days ago

Note

started dating a cute twink, who ive known for about three years prior to this. he currently uses he him so thats what im going for for now... i'm a trans woman, having had socially transitioned since 2020 and being on estrogen since april. anyway i didnt have feelings for him until this summer, when i started, like, sensing something. i wasn't sure what it was, but now i'm completely certain that it's the feelings he has for me, his totally being an egg that hasn't cracked yet, some latent undiscovered potential of spirit, or a mixture of the three. we've been getting closer and closer to each other over time, moving into a massive grey area that I decided to turn into a completely certain, yes-we-are-a-thing. I'm bisexual leaning heavily toward women, you see, but i thought i'd make an allowance this time. today we went on a fantastic date, and i gave him what i suspect was his first kiss. the energy is still electric now that he's gone.

not what this is about, though. you see, as i've got closer to this person i've gradually understood that there's something extremely transgender going on with him- at least, as far as i can intuit. Over a year ago, I brought up the days when i was just questioning to another transgender friend, and he just sorta piped up, said "i've thought about it," and completely refused to elaborate. i still remembered that and i thought that our first date would be a nice time to discuss it- that flustered him real good, but he did mention that he perchance probably maybe might be transfem, but he's got school, so...

of course, the thing about girls like her is it's *never* the right time.

but whatever. i laid off, but intermittently i did what i do best and joked about him being transgender, and you know what? he never denied it, or confirmed it. he just stayed in that space between acceptance and denial, blushed and laughing. we're a relationship of comfort, you know? it's *comfortable* being around each other. it's *comfortable* not choosing trans or cis, just letting time pass. but god, i don't know, i want more for her! he's a sweet, adorable person now, but i know there's something inside him that's just so much more than this. i want it to get out. i want her to get out.

but the more i think about it the murkier it gets. he's so into me- do i hold the power here? is it better to wait for him to walk into womanhood, or should i be more active in encouraging him? i know i'm right, but what if i'm not, am i going to cause him dysphoria down the line? am i afraid of being a predator here because of internalized transmisogyny? am i overthinking this, should i just let it happen? for the record, he *does* seem to totally enjoy being a femboy- granted, that could go either way.

i've penned you an entire novel here, i recognize that and if you don't want to read this through or advise me that's just fine. if you'd like, you can leave this message out for your follower base or just save it in your inbox forever. but- i would LOVE your advice, ms forcefem. i do believe you're the one person to ask who would understand my position the best. thank you!

You should gently push her, help her down that path, make sure she feels safe to explore it! Girls like that will invent all sort of excuses to stay in denial, and you have to show her what she could have, the joy!

284 notes · View notes

rinarin-karimel · 3 days ago

Text

Chapter 431 analysis. why everyone drew the wrong conclusions.

When the first spoiler frames from the volume came out, hell on earth began, some shippers rejoiced at the canonization, others cursed Horikoshi. I was initially going to say that all these wishes of dirty things towards the author are very ugly: at first, when 430 came out, the Katsudeku shippers rejoiced, and the Izuochi shippers wrote Horikoshi curses, and now it's the opposite, and I would like to ask him to behave decently. I was also upset by the leaks, not only because I liked the other ships, but also because I never saw Deku's romantic chemistry with Ochako, and I hate the trope "a good girl is in love with the main character, he doesn't think about her, but in the end they get married" BUT then the whole chapter came out. And no. In the finale, there is no Izuocha as a canonization at all. At all. And it’s not about the ships, but about the fact that many people didn’t understand what the author wanted to say. It's just that some have already gotten wound up and drunk from the "canonization", while others have started to wind themselves up with their disappointment and savor it, pulling things onto it that don't actually confirm their disappointment", that is, we have a crowd effect.

At first, without context, only by spoilers (it has already been confirmed that some of them are false), it seemed romantic in itself. That is, out of context, you can see how the hero notices a girl at a party after the timeskip, and can't take his eyes off her

But in the whole chapter, this page followed this.

And Deku doesn't look in love here, he looks... scared.

What moments before this does this page refer to and parallelize? And these? Deku, Tsuyu notice that Ochako is very ill and she hides her pain, and forces herself to smile.

And this is what parallels this image, which is confirmed by the context of the whole chapter from the very beginning: Ochako is in pain.

8 years of pain and abscess and this is referenced in her conversation with Tsuyu before the party Next: Deku runs to Ochako as he ran after the war: to save her, he saw that his friend needed saving and urgently.

Ochako herself. You might think that this frame is a confirmation that she still loves Deku.

But the whole chapter had a completely different context.

She remembers this moment as if out of a desire to remember it and feel it again, as if wanting to deceive herself that it is still like that. Just pay attention to the frames: Ochako is shown alone in the crowd, her gait is unsteady, she remembers things that happened 8 years ago out of nostalgia and most likely her wishes will be deceived, that she still has this feeling, because she feels empty. That's why she remembers her conversation with Izuku in chapter 428: Ochako longs for salvation again.

In some form, she gets this salvation when in her head she pushes herself on behalf of Toga to live on. In some way, there is a romantic subtext here, Uraraka on behalf of Toga tells herself that she should let her go and try to experience something else, she herself feels a romantic subtext here, remembering her feelings, but are they in love with each other at the moment?

VERY, very unlikely And, so as not to accuse me, I'm not even a Togarako shipper, because I don't like Toga.

Then the fandom carried on and everyone was charged by each other: Izuku left Bakugo and did not go with him to the agency. But A) it goes without saying that he always wanted to be on equal terms with Kacchan, and compete on equal terms, so he wants to quickly become an independent hero. B) and this is the most important thing. The car and their conversation in the car, which was not in the Friday spoilers, and most importantly the context of this conversation.

During the discussion between Kirishima, Katsuki and Izuku that Deku did not agree to work with Katsuki in the same agency, Deku looks at the signed card with All Might and smiles softly and thoughtfully. It would seem: Deku is happy for his friend

But the Context. This is the same card that was next to Katsuki when he died, and Izuku saw him dead. And Izuku considered himself guilty of his death, that he was not there to protect him, he did not manage to arrive in time to save him, he allowed Toga to drag him into the portal, he was distracted, he did not save.

Deku considers himself - guilty. And this is exactly what goes in the context of the conversation about Izuku not agreeing to be with him in the same agency, although he himself once wanted it. Izuku still thinks that he is too Guilty to be near Katsuki. Hence his running away from him, which Katsuki reads as if he is no longer needed.

But who is Deku? The one who was told to keep his heart under lock and key in order to be the heir of One for All. The one who suppressed his emotions since childhood, and made others always believe that he was okay.

And no, this doesn't mean that Deku doesn't care about Kacchan and doesn't love him (in what sense it doesn't matter), Deku thinks that Katsuki would be better off without him and doesn't understand at all how much he hurts Katsuki. Deku - hides his pain after all the traumas of the war still behind a smile on his face, and this is exactly what Uraraka does in the same chapter. That is why Izuku immediately notices that something is wrong with her at the party, because he feels the same way. The very context of how he looks at Uraraka, the guys discuss couples and a happy life, but what Deku remembers before turningon Ochaka? Shigaraki and his injury.

About Deku's blushing: when they clash, he probably blushes because of the sexual context, but during the promise to spend more time with Ochako, this is most likely not the case: it's a promise to save her and shame for himself for not noticing that she needed help earlier, as well as some kind of "self-conviction", when a person tries to convince himself of something that he can handle or deceive himself, his face often heats up: after all, Deku can't "save" himself.

That's why he is the one who reads Uraraka's feelings, their traumas are similar. And as a hero who can't stand aside when someone is in trouble, he runs to give her what she needs: help and salvation. This is not a chapter about the canonization of ships, these are the traumas that haunt them already in adulthood and the story about them.

234 notes · View notes

sportswriters · 2 days ago

Text

how they'd react to you not saying "i love you" back

lots of fluff with the players: rúben dias, jude bellingham, joão félix, pablo gavi, trent alexander-arnold, pedri gonzález, heungmin son, mason mount

a/n: hope everybody have fun reading these! we surely did after a few drinks in <33333

rúben dias

"amor? i'm heading out. i love you."

you quickly appear in the hallway, wearing a sweater that belonged to him.

“ok, have a nice day, darling,” you reply, waving goodbye.

the smile that had begun to appear on rúben's lips immediately fades, his hand resting against the doorknob he had opened earlier. when he hears your reply, he frowns, suspicious.

you get confused by his attitude and lick your lips, coming closer.

“what are you doing? i thought you had training.”

he doesn't answer right away, he just walks over to the sofa and sits down, unpretentiously. your lack of an answer made him a little suspicious, so he wasn't going to leave without something.

“yes, i do. but not until you answer me.”

you try to hold in your laughter, understanding the whole thing, but you still don't want to give in. his reaction wasn't what you'd expected. like, you didn't really expect him to just give up on going out just because you didn't answer his “i love you” like you always did.

you understood that it was really important to him.

“i don't get it, honey. did i answer you in a way that you didn't like?” you hold up your own joke, walking over to the sofa and sitting down right next to him.

as if he couldn't bear to never touch you when you were always close, his hand automatically moves to your thigh, where he squeezes it affectionately, almost unconsciously, because it's something he always does.

his expression closes with pure suspicion. he simply doesn't understand what had happened for you not to answer that you loved him back. until that point, for him, everything was fine. wasn't it?

“you tell me, y/n.”

his expression is so serious that you can't help yourself and start laughing. you quickly jump into his lap, turning him from suspicious to confused by your reaction. you hold his face with both hands.

“do you want me to tell you that I love you?” you ask, this time with a touched smile on your face.

he's so beautiful. so dangerously beautiful for his own good and sometimes you don't really believe he's yours.

he squeezes your thigh a little harder this time, as a warning.

“every day,” he adds, seriously.

you kiss his lips, laughing.

“i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you,” you start repeating several times against his lips. “i was only joking before. i wouldn't let you go without that.”

his smile returns to his lips. it was so easy to make him happy like that, you think, caressing his cheek.

“well,” he complains. “you almost did. now i'm going to be late for training because you're going to try and convince me that it was all a joke.”

you laugh and cling to him.

“wow, i fucking love you.”

jude bellingham

with things finally sorted, jude opens the door and you get out of bed just to follow him and take the opportunity to get a glass of water, since it's your day off and you're going back to your room.

“i'm leaving, baby. i love you, see you later?”

“yes, of course. good practice,” you say and walk into the kitchen.

jude blinks, confused. his eyebrows arch up, frowning as he tries to search for something in his memory that he can't recall. your answer was different from usual.

with that in mind, he opens the door and leaves, but still doesn't move to the elevator. instead, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, unlocks the screen and opens the group immediately.

“guys, did anything weird happen last night?” he sends the text and waits.

last night there was a small party at valverde's house, which you two joined and drank a bit. maybe jude did something he doesn't remember that upset you.

the answer comes almost immediately and he reads it.

“strange, like...?” camavinga asks.

“i don't know,” he types. “something that pissed y/n off?”

“what the fuck are you talking about, bellingham?” he reads the text from vinícius.

“i just said goodbye to y/n and she didn't say she loved me back”

on the other side of the door, you pick up your phone in your room, looking at the notifications. as you read everything, you laugh heartily.

“jude, you know I'm in the group too, right?” you send.

jude opens the door again after reading your message and goes straight to your room. he finds you sitting on the bed, still laughing, and you look up when you notice his presence, staring at him amused.

“so...?” he asks you, expecting an answer to the same question as before.

you laugh again and put your phone away. you get up and walk over to him, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“nothing weird happened last night,” you reply, with a playful smile. “i was only joking, darling. of course i love you”

you nearly laugh again at the relieved sigh he lets out and the way he holds you so tightly, kissing your lips.

joão félix

hanging his bag over his shoulder, joão kisses you on the temple in farewell, while you're still finishing your coffee to start getting ready for work, since you don't have to arrive until later today.

“i'm on my way. i love you,” he says, moving from the kitchen worktop to cross the hall to the living room.

“alright, i'll see you later!” you reply, pouring a little more milk into your coffee, without looking at him, appearing a little distracted by your task.

you don't notice that he didn't cross the hall. he just stands there, as if waiting for something, which doesn't come. that's not how you normally say goodbye, so he's instantly alert.

turning around, joão appears at your side again, hugging you from behind, his hands around your waist in a very tight way, giving you the chance to smell his perfume even more closely. you chuckle, not expecting this attitude from him and turn your face to him, frowning.

“is everything all right?” he asks, a little hesitant, and kisses your shoulder affectionately.

the whole time his eyes are on you, as if he's studying your reaction, looking for something he didn't notice before or missed.

“yes... why wouldn't it be?”

you know why he's asking, but you don't say anything. you just carry on. just a little longer. even though you're sorry to see him with that expression of someone who thinks he's done something wrong, but hasn't yet found out what.

“like, there hasn't been any more shit gossip that you've been tagged in, right? anything like that?”

you lick your lips, staring into his eyes. ever since you started your public relationship, some people have been cruel enough to say things about you cheating on him, like his ex, that you wouldn't know how to take care of his heart and other shit. at first, this affected you and also worried joão, but then you dropped all those negative comments, focusing only on the good things with him.

“no, darling, there hasn’t” you reassure him, kissing his lips quickly, turning to face him, his hands never leaving you. “why now?”

he squeezes your waist.

“ah, you didn't say you love me back” he replies. “and you always do, right?”

you finally let out a laugh. he's confused, so you wrap your hands around his neck.

“i was joking, love,” you say, smiling. “i got you used to it, didn't i?”

relief washes over him instantly and he smiles.

“wouldn't that be a bad thing?” he tries to correct.

you widen your smile and shake your head.

“no, i've got you used to it very well,” you reinforce. “because that's the least you deserve: to hear every day that i love you. i love you.”

so he just kisses you, his heart warmer than ever, even though it's cold in chelsea.

pablo gavi

“did you get everything? aren't you forgetting anything?”

gavi checks his bag once more, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything after your question. when he seems sure, he quickly denies it with his head.

“no, all set. shall we?”

you nod and pick up your own bag. you walk out together and enter the elevator hand in hand. you didn't live together, but sometimes you spent the night and went to work in the morning from his place, since some of your things were there and it made your life easier. it had been his idea and, even though you hesitated a little, you ended up accepting.

the elevator leaves you both in the parking lot, where your car is.

“see you later?” he asks and you nod, remembering that you were getting used to sleeping there more than once. “i love you.”

he kisses your lips and you return it, pulling away soon after.

“see you later, sweetheart.”

you say goodbye once more and walk to your car, ready to be on your way.

gavi stands still for a moment, trying to take in what has just happened. he watches as you get into your own car and drive past him, blowing a kiss into the air, but he can't even smile.

he stands there for a moment, feeling confused and odd, the situation was odd. you said goodbye to him in a strange way.

now he was going to barcelona training with his head a little distracted. he couldn't keep up with the banter with the boys or do his best in practice. he seriously thought something was wrong with you, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't figure out what.

his teammates asked him if he was all right or what was going on that had him so distracted, unable to concentrate one hundred percent on training. he would give a vague answer and carry on, even though his mind was wandering towards an answer that wasn't coming.

he thought a lot. about everything. about anything. he thought about texting you, but gave up. you always received a message from him every time he arrived at the training center, but this time he didn't. gavi simply didn't even think about it, his mind wandering back to the moment you said goodbye, trying to find out what had gone so wrong.

he tried to remember if he had missed anything, but he couldn't find it.

hours passed and it was time to go home again. you arrived first, a little tired, but you tried to prepare some homemade dinner to welcome him. gavi always arrived at the same time every day, on time, but on this one, he was ten minutes late.

you waited, sitting on the couch, watching some reality show that you didn't follow much, but that was what was passing your time. ten minutes later, you heard the door click.

when you turn to look at him, gavi goes off first, without even expecting anything beforehand.

“i just can't do it,” he begins, dropping his bag with his training stuff. “i've been thinking about it all day and i still can't reach a conclusion.”

you suppress a smile, but you're still a little confused.

“gavi?”

he looks at you, his shoulders slumped, his puss in boots expression.

“did i do something? are you upset about something? did something happen?” he fired off without taking a breath.

you pause the show and turn completely towards him, still sitting on the couch. you knew exactly what that meant, but you thought it would be fun to take it further.

“what do you mean ‘something?’ what are you talking about?” you play the fool.

gavi takes a deep breath. that had been torturing him all day. not even the smell of home-cooked food calms his nerves.

he approaches the couch.

“you didn't say you loved me back this morning,” he explains.

you try, but you can't suppress your laughter. you put your hand to your mouth, trying to control yourself, and gavi's expression changes.

“what's so funny?”

“baby, i was joking,” you confess.” i love you, gavi.”

you get up, trying to approach him while standing on the couch.

his mood changes. his eyes narrow towards you, trying to take in what you've just said.

“wait a minute, what?”

you laugh again.

“i was only joking. i didn't say i loved you this morning on purpose.”

you try to kiss him, but he pulls away, his expression tight.

“you…” he shakes his head, disbelieving that you had done it on purpose. he can't believe that he was stuck on it all day, while you knew it was a joke.

of course you let him think about it all day.

“that was ridiculous,” he says, still shaking his head and walking away, without giving you a chance to get closer and kiss him. “ridiculous, y/n.”

he walks down the corridor towards his room, totally shocked that it was all a joke, although part of him was relieved that everything was still fine and that he hadn't done anything wrong.

“come back here, it was a joke, baby!”

trent alexander-arnold

after checking his watch and realizing that he'd have to hurry if he wanted to be on time for practice, trent slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his keys from the bedside table. you were in the kitchen cleaning and rearranging some glasses to make room for the new wine ones you got as gifts. you'd almost forgotten about the prank you'd planned, but you only had to feel trent's kiss on your neck for a mischievous smile to appear on your face.

“i have to go, i love you. don't forget to check our reservation later.”

“ok, i'll let you know when i've confirmed it,” you replied, giving him a kiss.

trent smiled and made his way to the living room, then stopped. his head tilted slightly as if he were experiencing a sudden lightening.

“aren't you going to tell me you love me?!” he asked, still standing in the same spot.

“what? sorry, i'm distracted.”

“last chance!”

the sink tap was turned on, followed by other utensil noises. trent squinted his eyes and came back into the room to look at you – you really looked busy, too busy.

“hi, love. do you need anything else?”

trent arched an eyebrow.

“no, i'm on my way. love you.”

“ok, text me when you get there.”

silence.

“yeah, i'm going to spend a few days at dom's, good luck without me.”

he then dashed to the door, slamming it hard.

“what? trent!”

when you got there, you couldn't move the handle. it clearly wasn't locked, so you laughed in frustration when you realized what was going on.

“trent, i love you! it was a joke!”

you knew your boyfriend was considerably stronger, but you still tried to force the door once more. to no avail.

“oh yeah? now you do? didn't convince me.”

“you're going to be late!”

“this is more important, it's a life lesson.”

“fine! now let me see you and apologize properly,” you asked, resting your forehead on the door.

you stepped back when you felt the doorknob move slowly. there he was with the most unbearable expression of all and with his arms crossed, you soon knew that you would have a lot of work to do to make up for this great and terrible mistake.

you moved closer, uncrossed his arms and put them around your body.

“i love you very much, i just wanted to tease you with a little prank,” you said as you spread kisses along the length of his neck. “but you already knew that, right? you know i wouldn't let it slide.”

trent pouted, pretending to think about it, which shocked you. when you tried to pull away, he brought you back, smiling again – a genuinely cheeky smile.

“i know something would be very wrong if you'd forgotten, it's just that you're a pretty bad liar, so it was easy to figure out your little game.”

trent pressed a lingering kiss to your lips.

“just don't do it again, or i'll have to come up with my own pranks too.”

pedri gonzález

“damn, i'm really late,” you say, picking up the car keys and throwing them to pedri, who always seems to forget them when he goes out.

he picks up his bag and phone, quickly answering a message and looks up to see you putting on your heels, ready to leave together.

“i can drop you off at work,” he offers.

you wave your hand in denial.

“that means you'd be late, since it's the opposite direction. and we both know how coach flick feels about being late.”

he can't disagree and he knows you're right, but even so, his expression drops and you notice.

“it's okay, love. i've already called an uber,” you reassure him and pick up your own bag. “shall we?”

the two of you leave together and he locks the door to the apartment. since you always arrive first, he gives you back the key, because he always forgets to make his own copy, and you take the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

“did gavi confirm dinner?” you ask.

“yes, we're coming together,” pedri replies.

you nod and when you finally reach the parking lot for pedri to take his car, you check on your phone that your uber will arrive in front of the building in two minutes. you tell him so.

“i'll see you later, then.” he leans in to give you a kiss and you reciprocate. “i love you.”

“good training, love,” you say and say goodbye, turning to leave.

you hide a smile, proud that you managed to remember to play a little prank on him before you left. pedri is confused, the gears of his brain turning slowly as he processes the fact that you didn't say you loved him back.

then you feel a hand grab your arm and turn you around – it's him.

“pedri?”

“should i apologize to you for something?” he asks, his voice a little uncertain.

“do you think you need to?”

the panic takes over his face and you can see that he's trying to remember what he did wrong. it was more likely that he wouldn't find out and would send a text to the boys, asking how he could best apologize, even if he didn't know what the mistake was.

“did i leave the wet towel on the bed again?” he asks, first try. “jesus, fer gave out my number again and some girl called and you got it all wrong?”

“fer hasn't done that since the last time i scolded him.”

you try not to laugh when you see how desperate he is.

“pedri, i have to go. the uber's coming.”

“no!” he holds your arm tighter. “you can't leave without telling me what i need to apologize for. you didn't say you loved me back.”

you laugh, giving up. the plan was really to leave without telling him, but his genuine distress made you realize that you couldn't let him torture himself the whole way wondering what he'd done wrong and what he needed to apologize for. you'd rather he concentrated one hundred percent and entirely on training.

“i was only joking, okay? there's nothing for you to apologize for, love.” you approach him, caressing his cheek affectionately. “not even for the towel, which, by the way, yes, you forgot it wet this morning.”

pedri rolls his eyes and pinches your waist lightly.

“no funny business, y/n.” he snorts.

but his unhappy frown doesn't last long when you kiss his lips gently, this time being the one to apologize.

“i couldn't resist,” you say. “i really have to go now. i'll see you later.”

“and...?” he encourages, still not letting go.

you chuckle and hear the uber notification.

“and i love you.”

it's only when he finally seems satisfied that he lets you go, but still makes you delay a minute longer with a kiss on the lips.

heungmin son

you brought the jacket that heungmin had forgotten on the couch, so he could finally close his suitcase. he was preparing for the season with the Korean national team, so you took the opportunity to spend your days off together. this time you couldn't join heungmin on the trip because your work schedule didn't allow it.

the drive to the airport was smooth, while you hummed along to the songs on the radio, heungmin took the chance to doze off in the passenger seat - his hand resting on your thigh the whole ride.

you parked at the entrance to the airline gate, as you had to say goodbye to him there.

“send me a picture of the snacks in first class on this plane,” you asked excitedly, even though it wasn't the first time.

heungmin laughed.

“i love you, take care on the way back and let me know when you arrive.”

you pressed his cheeks with your hands and kissed him several times.

“have a good trip.”

heungmin pulled away and stared at you with a broad smile. then he got out of the car and you opened the trunk so he could get his things. in the rearview mirror, you noticed when he closed the door and stared into the distance with a question mark on his face. it took you a great deal of effort to hold back your laughter when he tapped twice on the window right next to you.

“i'm going now, i love you.”

“all right, take care,” you said, and gave him another tender kiss.

however, heungmin didn't move, leaning his elbows on the door.

“honey, i'm going to get fined if i stay here another minute.”

“i'm not worried about that. is everything alright?”

“everything's fine, did we forget something? do you want me to go back and get it?”

“i think i might have missed something, because you haven't said you love me.”

you pressed your lips together, unable to contain yourself in front of his worried expression. although you knew that heungmin would be fully capable of paying any fine, you didn't want to spend money on this kind of nonsense.

“it was a prank, my love. i love you, ok? now get going, because i don't want you to be late, and i don't want to spend money on an airport ticket.”

he stayed there, watching you, analyzing any sign of a lie. analyzing you like someone who has made a mistake and doesn't want to repeat it.

“heungmin!”

“fine, but you're not geting off that easy,” he warned, then walked away.

“come here, give me one more kiss.”

“no, rethink your actions. i'll see you when Ii get back.”

“heungmin, no! i love you!”

you could see his satisfied smile as he walked towards the airport entrance. a honk made you take notice of your surroundings again, but that wasn't what worried you. you honked back.

“i'm leaving, damn it!”

a few hours later, you saw the notification with a text from heungmin.

baby: [photo] i've already written down the names of the things that were served to us on the plane. i'll buy them for us when i think you deserve them again.

y/n: cruel

baby: only fair

mason mount

"have a nice day, sweetheart. i'm heading out. love you."

you were still curled up in bed. the day off came at a good time, because you felt completely exhausted and all you wanted to do was rot in that bed. it was unfair that mason had to leave, but you accepted it, not having much to do, but you thought you'd play with him a bit, before he left.

"have a good game this weekend. text me when you get home, yeah?" you mumbled.

mason nodded and was about to close the bedroom door and let you go back to sleep, when he realized what had just happened. you didn't say it back. you always did, it was something that came out automatically and genuinely from both of you, but not this time.

he put his hand on the doorknob and went back to looking at you in bed, your eyes alight with a mischievous gleam that he didn't notice.

"is everything alright?" he asked, worried.

mason wasn't usually insecure with you, he simply had no reason to be. so when something like this happened, he got worried that something was wrong and he didn't notice.

"yes," you answered, falsely confused by his question, when you knew where it's coming from.

mason shook his head slowly, processing. he dropped his bag on the floor and stepped closer to the bed, stopping right next to you.

"are you sure?" he continued, looking for something in your expression.

"what is it, mase?"

he let out a frustrated sigh. you could tell he was struggling to understand what was going on.

"you know you can tell me anything, right?" he reinforces.

"mase. love."

you got up, pushing the sheets away from your body, sitting up in bed.

"you didn't say you loved me back. is something wrong?"

"love, i don't..."

your heart squeezed when you saw his expression.

"because i say i love you every day in the most sincere way i can. come on, tell me, what happened? i can cancel my flight right now and we'll sort it out."

"mase, what? no!"

he couldn't be serious about canceling his flight and not being at the game this weekend, for goodness sake! it was an important game and he was still earning his place in the team, you would never let him do that, even if there was something wrong.

"baby, i was joking. of course i love you back." you giggled, leaning your forehead against his.

"what?" he let go and you laughed even harder.

"that's not funny, y/n! you scared me."

"sorry, sorry!" you rushed to say, kissing his lips."it was just a prank. no canceling flights, okay?"

he shook his head, his lips almost forming a pout.

"i'm not convinced it was a prank. are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

him doubting you made you realize that the prank didn't go as planned. however, you also learned that it was important to him, in a way you hadn't imagined.

"there's nothing wrong, i promise."

he arched his eyebrow.

"really?"

this time you rolled your eyes.

"mason. you don't believe me?" you fire back.

"i just...” he tried to say, but you interrupted him.

"i love you. yesterday, today, tomorrow. the rest of my life. i love you."

he finally seemed convinced and held your face with both hands, foreheads still pressed together.

"even if things go wrong?"

"especially if things go wrong."

he smiled. so openly that you found yourself melting for his beauty again - secretly.

"i'll never get tired of hearing that."

190 notes · View notes

ladysarai · 9 hours ago

Text

Not to make this About Me, but…. You have to know some of the T hings I experienced growing up.

I was 8 years old. We learned “The Blob” in music class. One of my classmates chased me around the playground every day calling me The Blob.

I was 9 years old. We learned about earthquakes. One boy told me “at least when I run it doesn’t register on the Richter scale!”

I was 11 years old. A boy in my class asked me out. I stared at him, confused, because we were not even friends and what? And he and a GROUP of other kids started laughing hysterically at the idea that someone would ask me out.

As far back as I can remember, family would buy clothes for me that did not fit. And instead of exchanging them, I was told to use them as “inspiration.”

I had to buy men’s shoes because they did not have size 11 or 12 in women’s shoes in the 90s.

I got my prom dresses and school dresses from catalogs because they didn’t sell my size in stores.

My grandmother would babysit and feed us lunch, then tell my mother “they already ate so you don’t have to feed them dinner.” (Thankfully, my mother never listened to her.)

My grandfather used to Watch when we ate. He Watched and Noticed if we took “too much” food. (At the same time, if we didn’t take seconds, the reaction was “don’t you like it?”)

I still hate eating in front of people, even in restaurants. Cafeterias are the WORST. Parties are terrible too. I learned to eat food BEFORE I went to parties so that I didn’t eat much at them.

There was a restaurant that would charge kids their weight for meals once a week. So there was a literal SCALE in the lobby. Sure do remember being embarrassed by how “expensive” my meals were on those nights.

Even as a 40+ year old woman, I find it almost impossible to believe that I am pretty, or that someone could find me attractive. Friends and family say I am… and I don’t believe them, except that they love me so of course they see me in a good way.

All of this to say… Yeah. It’s a Different Experience. I have literal no concept of what it feels like to have ever been a “normal” size. I’ve known “how” to dress to “minimize” and “hide” my size since I was maybe fucking 10 years old.

Fat children who are now fat adults are not failures. Thinness is not a sign of maturity. Fat adults are not people who "puberty didn't help." It is completely normal for fat children to always be fat because fat bodies are normal and exist for a variety of reasons, none of which being "moral failure." Fat people inherently deserve respect and human decency because fat people are people, and we don't owe anyone an apology for existing.

#fatphobia #fat positivity #fat positive #fat liberation #worthy thoughts #important things #childhood #trauma comes in different shapes and forms

3K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 11 hours ago

Text

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader

Phoenix looks just like you.

Well, mostly like you. There’s a little bit of Simon there too. A balancing of the scales since Orion has so much of him.

Cami thinks it’s fitting, and as she holds the baby at your bedside, she looks between the two faces, holding it as a small piece of joy.

She’ll take anything she can get, she guesses.

“She was big, of course, though I know it’s not a surprise,” Nix is asleep, cradled to Cami’s chest. She and Gaz have been trying to lighten Simon’s load anyway they can, and today they finally convinced him to take a break. It’s too hard to balance the hospital with home and a brand new baby, too heavy of a weight to carry alone. “At least you had a c-section this time?”

Phoenix is two weeks old, delivered at thirty nine weeks since there was no need to wait for you to go into labor on your own and it was terrible. Because of your coma, Simon wasn’t allowed in the operating room and had to wait for Nix to be brought to him. He was a wreck, still is.

Two parents, unable to be there for the birth of their child.

Cami knows it wrecks him. She sees how his arms shake when he holds Nix, how he’s already grieving these losses, grappling with the possibility you won’t wake up. She’s heard the conversations, the pendulum swinging, like they’re all waiting for a doomsday clock to count down.

Simon is a ghost. He tries, really tries for Orion but it’s so obvious hes dying inside, he’s slowly losing the light, his hope. If you don’t wake up, she doesn’t know what will happen.

She pushes it from her mind. “They’re all being so dramatic, you know? I don’t know why everyone is freaking out. You’re going to be fine. You’ll wake up when you’re ready.” There’s no other option. None. You have two kids, a husband, waiting for you, and you have her. You’re her best friend, her closest, the one she relies on, loves, and vice versa. You’ve always said you don’t know how you’d survive without her, but you never realized how mutual it was. You taught Cami how to survive, how to stay positive during the long weeks, months, when the guys are away. She needs you.

So no, there’s no other option. You’ll wake up.

“Hey love,” Gaz is warm at her side, leaning down to stroke Nix’s wispy hair. “Can’t get over how cute she is.”

“I know,” she’s still asleep, but Cami rock her anyway, at least until she loses it. “She looks just like her.”

“Hey, hey.” He crouches, rubbing her knees. “It’s alright. It’s gonna be alright.”

“I’m scared she won’t wake up,” Cami usually holds it together, but occasionally, with Kyle, she lets herself fall apart. Only because she knows he’ll be there every time to catch her. “What if-“

“We’re not doing what ifs, remember? We’re not going to do that. We’re going to stay positive and take it one day at a time, right?” She rubs her face with her free hand.

“Right.” He presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He squeezes her thigh, and the strokes it, soothing the distress away. “We have Orion tonight. Si is going to take the baby.”

“Alright.” She loves little man, he lights her heart up, and it kills her how traumatized, how scared he is now, constantly looking for his dad, Gaz or herself in a room, lip wobbling when he can’t immediately find anyone. “What’s he want for dinner?”

“His mom’s pasta bake, but he says yours is second place.” Cami smiles, a little weepy.

“Okay, that sounds good. He can have whatever he wants.” She glances at you, so quiet, so still. Chest rising and falling, breathing on your own, but never awake.

She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know how to make this better or fix it, she doesn’t know anything. All she knows is she’s clinging to Gaz like a life raft.

#peaches writes #through me #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

351 notes · View notes

landograndprix · 2 days ago

Text

ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ♛ ʟɴ⁴ - three

➣ and just like that you're growing closer each day and falling in love has never felt this good.

➣ lando's? Not so subtle. You? As blind and oblivious as can be.

➣ you've got to love a little idiot in love and a complete idiot who's oblivious to it all, and remember kids, spelling mistakes and not proofreading adds character 😘

➣ reblogs and comments are welcome, alright love u 😘

➣ previous chapter - next chapter

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

y/nusername posted to their story

landonorris replied to your story

landonorris

Who you having dinner with huh?

y/nusername

your mum and mine ☺

landonorris

My mum loves you a little too much

y/nusername

aw, bit jealous?

landonorris

Safe me some of that food

y/nusername

Don't think I will still be edible when I send it to Monaco

landonorris

No you muppet i'm coming to England tomorrow

y/nusername

boy, why do you still have a house in Monaco? 😂

landonorris

Shut up mate 🤣

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

y/nusername

liked by landonorris, jamiejamezz and others

y/nusername mint innit? – noah (5) after giving his mum a heart attack 🏎

tagged: landonorris

view all comments

norrizz a very intense game of jenga I see

↳ y/nusername very intense, won them all though ☺

landonorris why are you lying?

norrizz she's allowed to lie lando 😇

jamiejamezz he finally did it huh

norry4 🥰

iamzarah yo did my girl win?

↳ y/nusername went a bit too fast for her, stood by my side most of the time 😅

landonorris just like her mum

quinking tell that to the speeding tickets she keeps getting mate

y/nusername I mean was it necessary to call me out like that?

quinking absolutely, you're a menace to society with the way you drive

landitonorris OH! 😍

landonorris milo loves me 🐶

↳ quinking rub it in my face will you?

landonorris milo loves me 🐶

julieeeexo Fay with kart number 4 😭

carlandooo now that's what I call a family 👀

maxfewtrell so he managed to get that date

↳ iamivy leave him alone max, he can't handle his big boy emotions very well

norrizz why y'all keep violating my boy and girl like this? 😭

iamivy easy targets babe 😘

landonorris my boy went flying, next wdc I'm telling ya

↳ norry4 MY boy 😭

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

y/nusername posted to their story

landonorris reacted to your story

landonorris

ask quin if he wants to lay in your lap next time 🤣

wrong car

y/nusername

what in the jealousy is going on? We're miles apart 😂

not really though, you were just very shit today 😔

landonorris

I'm not jealous

yeah cause you weren't here this time

maybe you're my lucky charm fr fr

y/nusername

guess you'll only win Silverstone and Monaco next year then

landonorris

You're going to be in Vegas though so might win that 😉

y/nusername

lando, no

landonorris

y/n, yes.

quin and max are going too

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

comments and reblogs are welcome, taglist is open ♡

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

taglist:

@mcmuppet @myheartgoesvroom @sltwins @sarx164 @harrysdimple05 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @saturnbloom77 @chezmardybum @alessioayla @sillyfreakfanparty @jule239 @gnarlycore @raynestargaryan2 @unlikelystay @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ln4-cl16-world @lunamelona @xo100 @honnethaty12 @ririyulife @alex341655

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris #lando norris smau #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando x reader

379 notes · View notes

getaguts · 1 day ago

Text

𝘪𝘮 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳!𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥!𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘣? 18+, 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 (𝘪 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘭.) 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 (𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵)

🩶

Cheap cologne. Weed. Snuggles fabric softener. All things you smell from your boyfriend’s mattress. Laid on the sheets in nothing but your bra and jeans. Eddie took your shirt off about twenty minutes ago while having a pretty intense makeout session and now..

“Hang on sweetheart. I know they’re somewhere in here..” His tongue pokes out of his lips, something he always does. Something you’ve grown fond of.

“We can just-“ He cuts you off triumphantly and raises the small blue squared package. “Told you they were somewhere in here.” He flops onto his bed, a squeak following after from the used springs.

Condoms. You take the package and grin. “Large?”

“Probably the only good gene that asshole gave me.” He leans up on his elbow and gently grabs your arm, kissing your wrist and up your arm to your neck. He raises a brow and pulls back when he hears you laugh. “What?”

You lift the package and raise a brow. “There’s one missing.”

“Baby, i’m a curious man.” He grins but it falters when you laugh again.

“Eddie! These expire next week.” You laugh and eventually so does he.

“They do? Give me that.” He takes the condoms and reads the date on them.

“There’s literally dust on the packaging.”

Eddie's grin widens as you point out the dusty packaging. "Guilty, had them for a while now, but...I've just never really had a chance to use them. I mean before you.”

It’s true. When you’re known as the town freak you tend to chase girls away rather than attract them. Eddie got lucky with you, he seriously doesn’t know how. A girl who’s into metal just like him. Loves his tattoos, his nerdy ramblings on D&D, horror flicks and listens to his band. He’d do anything to make you happy and he’s relieved that you do the same.

“Sorry sweetheart. I wanted to make this more special.”

“It’s okay.” You sit up and press a gentle kiss under his bangs the way he likes it. “We can still have fun.”

He quips up a brow and smiles. “I’m actually starting to think you’re a succubus.”

“But I’m so sweet to you.” You tease him a bit and he crawls down your body, laying his head on your tummy.

He speaks muffled by your soft skin. “So cruel. Almost a year in and this is how you treat me.” He presses gentle kisses to your belly, calloused fingers gently rubbing at the underside of your bra.

“Well I guess I could make it up to you.”

He smiles the cutest crooked smile and squeezes your hips. “Never gonna happen,” he kisses lower on your body.

Eddie always likes to make you feel good first. He remembers the first time he went down on you. You had watched him perform at the hideout and he couldn’t stay calm at the sight of you in the black miniskirt. He took you in the back of his van and showed you his mouth was great for more than just singing. He swore from that night that he loved no place more than being between your legs.

“Wouldn’t hurt you to let me go down on you first sometimes.” You sit up on your elbows and look down at him as he starts to remove your jeans. You lift your hips to help him.

“I know.” He says, laying your jeans on the floor as he lays on his stomach between your legs. He starts kissing your thighs, gently nudging them open with kisses and a gentle grasp. “But you have no idea how worked up this gets me.”

You smile and reach a hand into his hair, moving his curls back so you could see his dark yet soft eyes. “How romantic.”

He gently squeezes your thighs. “Anything for my princess. Now let’s have some fun.”

~~~~

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson blurb

181 notes · View notes

tpwk-formula1 · 1 day ago

Text

Biggest Fan - CS55

A/N - I decided to turn the Biggest Fan SMAU I did for Charles last week into a mini series where I use the same idea but with a different driver and different occupations. Please vote at the end of the chapter!

Carlos Sainz x Author! reader

Face Claim: Alex Aster

Carlos Sainz Insta Story

Youruser: How did you come into the office without me noticing?!

carlossainz55: you were quite focused

landonorris: I better get my copy! I've been itching to read

carlossainz55: Didn't even realize you knew how to read landonorris: you fucking muppet

user1: She's literally the cutest! I can't wait to read her new book!

user2: I just know this book is gonna be amazing!

charlesleclerc: Alex says she absolutely loves the book and thank you so much for an early copy

carlossainz55: I just told her and she squealed. She said Alex is her new favorite person

Twitter

Youruser Insta Story

user10: I loved meeting you! You are one of the sweetest humans ever!

youruser: thank you for coming out and supporting!

user11: I wanted to go so bad... fuck living in the US

carlossainz55: I loved being there! Who knew so many people loved you almost as much as me

youruser: I guess I'm irresistible

user12: I just finished and let me just say... Absolutely amazing book! Your best one yet

landonorris: I didn't realize how good your book would be! Made the flight back home after the race go by so fast!

Carlos Insta Story

youruser: Thank you for being there with me every step of the way

carlossainz55: I wouldn't miss your first book signing for the world!

user13: She's so beautiful in person! I took wouldn't be quiet about dating her!

charlesleclerc: Can't believe you wouldn't let us come!

carlossainz55: I wasn't gonna take away from her moment! Bad enough people knew who I was. I didn't need you and Lando there too charlesleclerc: No I fully understand! Just wish we could support her without it being a distraction

user14: One of her best books yet!

Twitter

Carlos Insta

Liked by youruser, charlesleclerc, yourbff, and 2,319,942 others

carlossainz55 My favorite game everytime we travel is seeing how many countries sell my girl's books!

tagged youruser

youruser I still can't believe how many places we visit actually have my books on shelves!

user20 Wait that's actually so precious because you guys travel so much and to take time to look through shops and find her books is the sweetest

user21 "my girl"

charlesleclerc You'd be surprised with how excited they both get when they find one of her books!

landonorris Honestly the most fun part of traveling with you two is going into random book shops and looking for Y/N L/N books

user22 I remember when I first got into reading I didn't think I'd find your books in my book shop but was so pleasantly surprised how many shops sell your amazing writing!

user23 literally learned how to read English so I could enjoy her books!

load more comments

Youruser Insta Story

carlossainz55 you deserve all the good things in the world

user24 I can't believe I was able to get my hands on a signed copy! Stayed up so late to make sure it was in my cart the second it dropped

landnorris so I may have slept through my alarm... if I apply pay you $1,000 will you bring a signed copy to me... PLEASE

youruser why do I feel like this is for your secret girlfriend landnorris YOUR HER FAVORITE AUTHOR OKAY! youruser No money but I'll sign her copy next time we're at a race together

user25 I tried so hard! Didn't realize how dedicated your fans would be

youruser send me an address and I'll send you a surprise! user25 OMG WHAT? Thank you so much!

user26 Didn't get a signed copy online because I get to get my copy signed when I see you in 2 weeks! Can't believe the paddock is letting you hold a mini signing... literally so cute

your insta

Liked by carlossainz55, sabrinacarpenter, and 1,890,092 others

youruser Mexico City you have been so beautiful! A Carlos win and a book signing in the Paddock? How can my weekend get any better

tagged carlossainz55

user27 Stop I know this weekend has been the best time for Y/N

user28 What an amazing time to be alive as a Y/NCarlos fan

landonorris I knew your books were a big deal but I'm stunned with how long the line was

charlesleclerc was so happy to finally be able to come to a book signing!

user29 the way Charles said it was his first book signing with Y/N because Carlos doesn't let any of the drivers come because he wants to make sure all attention is on her

user30 wait is this true? That's so cute

carlossainz55 It was so fun to see you in your element at my work

youruser I loved every moment of this weekend

The End

199 notes · View notes

ellecdc · 1 day ago

Note

hi!!! this is my first time requesting and i'm not sure if i'm doing it right, but could i request a poly marauders (or jegulus or moonwater! whichever you like) where the reader uses a cane? i recently became disabled in my right hip and i have to use one, but i'm still insecure about it because of my age. thank you so much and i hope you have a lovely day!!! 🩶🩶🩶

thanks so much for your request, darling! I hope I did it justice <3

poly!jegulus x fem!reader who is getting used to her new cane [872 words]

CW: reader uses a mobility aid, reader is still coming to terms with said mobility aid, the boys are disgustingly supportive, mobility aids are sexy

“Amour?” Regulus asks as he walks into the living room to see you sitting on the arm of the sofa. “Is everything okay?”

You try not to physically flush at the way his eyes trail to the cane resting against the back of the couch - a new extension of you that you’re still getting used to - to confirm you weren’t hurt or stuck in some way.

“I’m alright, Reg.” You murmur quietly as you start picking at the skin around your nails. “Just waiting for Jamie.”

“Oh god.” Regulus sighs as he puts the glass of water he had in his hand down in favour of coming to stand between your legs. “What’s he doing now?”

“I don’t know.” You smile up at him as his thumbs rub gentle circles by your temples. “Told me not to move ‘cause he has a surprise for me.”

“How long ago did he leave?” Regulus asks urgently. “Think we have time to slip out before he finds us?”

“Regulus.” You chide around a laugh.

“Amour.” He counters staunchly. “A surprise from James Potter is never good. It could be a prank! It could be-”

“I found it!” James shouts as he appears from the hallway that leads to your bedroom, a small envelope in his hands that he waves at you before he moves to rip it open. “Can’t believe I almost forgot.”

“Potter, I swear to all that is holy if that is another glitter bomb I will burn the whole house down and move Amour and I to some posh skyrise that overlooks the Thames.” Regulus threatens - slipping into the use of his last name as he often does when scolding James - though you couldn’t help but notice the pause his threat caused him when he realised how nice that plan actually sounded.

“You wouldn’t take me to the flat by the Thames?” James queried rather sadly, pausing in his envelope opening as though this Thames flat actually existed.

“Not if that’s another glitter bomb.” Regulus hissed in response.

Remembering himself, James is back to smiling as he pulls out a handful of pieces of paper. “They’re stickers, Reg.”

“This is what had you stopping me from getting my shoes and jacket on?” You question in faux exasperation as you accept a few of the decorative stickers from him. There was a wide array of celestial themed stickers he had no doubt picked for Regulus’ sake; stars, moons, a few planets, the sun. But there were also quite a few from your favourite fandom.

“These are sweet, Jamie, thank you.” You offer earnestly, smiling up at him to realise he’s peeling the backing off of one and moving towards your cane.

“This one was my favourite, but I figured you’d need more than just one.” He explains, mostly speaking to himself as he adheres a sticker you have yet to see on your new cane. So new, in fact, you hadn’t even had time to scuff it or scratch it yet. “And then I couldn’t decide, so I bought some astrology ones-”

“Astronomy.” Regulus corrects tiredly, though his eyes and smirk are soft as he rolls his eyes.

“Right, astronomy ones, and then you like this series, yeah?” He asks in reference to the stickers from your fandom.

“I do.” You agree somewhat hoarsely; Regulus picking up on the change in tone while James admires his work before turning the cane to expose the new, colourful addition to it.

“Mobility aids are sexy” the bold, bubble-shaped script read. You felt your throat constrict.

“What do you think, angel?”

You fold your lips over your teeth as you try not to burst out into tears, only able to nod emphatically at him.

“Oh, wonderful, Jamie. Look what you’ve done now.” Regulus scolds playfully. “You’ve brought her to tears.”

“Awe, baby.” James coos, but between Regulus’ obvious teasing and the watery smile on your face, he could tell the tears weren’t of sadness; not entirely. “Is that true? Have I reduced you to tears? What can I do, hm? How do I make it right?”

You sniffle around a laugh as you rub the tears away from your eyes. “Can you help me put the rest of them on?”

James was no sooner shucking his shoes and jacket off right there in the middle of the living room and moving to sit on the carpeted floor - run to the shops forgotten in favour of decorating your newest accessory - as Regulus helped you stand so that you could join him.

You and Regulus spent the evening in charge of project management (you deciding which stickers to add and him deciding where they ought to go) while James was in charge of execution. All the while hoping that one day you’d come to appreciate your cane for the freedom that it was, not the disability that it represented.

You wondered, as you looked at Regulus swatting James’ arm for deigning to place such an exemplary sticker so close to the bottom of the cane where no one would see it and James pretending to sway from the force of Regulus’ fingers, if - just maybe - it wouldn’t be impossible for that day to come sooner rather than later.

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #poly!jegulus #poly!jegulus x reader #poly!jegulus x you #poly!jegulus fluff #poly!jegulus imagine #poly!jegulus drabble #poly!jegulus blurb #poly!jegulus fic #poly!jegulus ficlet #fem!reader #ellecdc fics

164 notes · View notes