#everything will be about them for a good while still I fear

[l1tw1ck]

Compromised

Bottom!FTM Peter Parker x Top!Villain CEO!Masc Reader

🕸️ Word Count: 1,226 🕸️

AFAB Language Used | this *might* become a multi-chapter fic but this part won't be canon, i changed my mind after i started the second chapter and this wouldn't fit 😭 so just treat it as a oneshot

CW: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Drugging, Blood, Virginity Loss, Cunnilingus, Creampie

Peter looks up at you with blurry vision, his body bruised and bloody. He can barely move.

You rip off his mask. “Aren't you the one who works for Jameson? I always knew your pictures were too good.” You chuckle. “You are cute though.”

He's fading in and out of consciousness, he can barely comprehend your words.

“I’ll be taking you home with me.”

Peter slowly opens his eyes, still feeling dizzy and weak. He looks down and fear instantly hits him. He's completely naked and tied up. He looks around the room for anything to help him while trying to break his restraints with brute force.

The noise draws you inside.

“Yo- you-” He recognizes you. The CEO of a company that rivals Stark Industries and Oscorp.

“I have a plan for you, Parker.” You walk over to him. “I’ll let you live and I won't tell a soul about your identity. In return, you'll help me take down Stark Industries.”

“Kidnapping someone isn't really a great way to propose a partnership, you know.” He manages to keep up his persona, trying to calculate how he can get out of this.

“Well, appealing to you isn't a part of my plan. How you feel about this doesn't matter to me. You won't have a choice once my subordinate gets his hands on you.”

“Wh- what are you gonna do to me?”

You slowly untie him. “Just a little memory altering. I’d love to train you but there's not enough time…it’s too bad.” You brush his hair to the side. He tries to hit you but it's too difficult, he only grazes your cheek. You laugh at his attempt and grab his wrists. “Don't worry, I won't hurt you after today. You’ll be spoiled rotten. My special little spider.”

“No– no! Don't touch me!” He squirms around in your hold.

“I should've known a single dose wouldn't be effective enough.” You let go of him and turn to the supply cart next to him. He tries to shoot a web to stop you from whatever you’re trying to do, but only a weak spurt leaves his wrist. He then attempts to get on the ground and crawl. You ignore him and prepare his next injection. He feels humiliated as he continues to crawl towards the door. The fact that you're not even looking at him tells him that he doesn't have a chance. But he tries anyway.

He only ends up a couple inches away from where he started when you ‘catch’ him and turn him around. You use one hand to pin his arms above his head and use the other to inject a serum meant to sedate and arouse him. “Don't worry, Peter, you won't remember any of this. If that makes you feel better. I just wanna have some fun with you first.” You toss the empty syringe.

“Get- get away from me–” He tries everything he can to hurt you but his remaining strength is starting to dwindle as the serum runs through his body. You pry his legs apart and stick your head in between. You drag your tongue up his folds then lovingly suck on his dick. You bring your hands to his chest and circle his sensitive nipples. He subconsciously raises his hips and whimpers.

“No- no- no-” He shakes his head, crying. He doesn't want to lose his virginity like this, not here, not to you. “Uhn~” His toes curl. His spidey senses are going off, making it even harder to think. The drug is making the spider parts of him go haywire, it's not working properly. It's aggressively ringing all the alarm bells inside him. His webs weakly shoot out of his wrists like a deflating balloon. His head is pounding. His brain is yelling at him.

Defend yourself. Hurt them. Kill them. Call for help. Run. Give in. Give in.

Give in.

It feels so good. It feels so good.

I wanna come. I wanna come.

His hands stick to the ground, his legs spread further apart, his mouth hangs open to sing noisy, wordless praises to compliment your skill.

“Stop!” He cries out.

Don't stop. Don't stop!

Yes!

Peter gasps, his hips jerking upwards as he squirts on your face. His head presses against the floor. His body trembles. Then he calms down.

He raises his head and looks at you as you pull away from him. His eyes follow your hands as they unzip your pants. As they free your hard dick. As they direct it onto his wet pussy. Then he focuses on your cock. Your length. Your girth.

I want it.

“No-” His voice trembles. “Don't- don't put that- inside me!”

Shove it inside me. I need it. Fill me. Mold my body to fit you. Ruin me.

The head of your cock slowly breaches him. Peter’s webs shoot out like a can of silly string on its last legs. Weak little spurts continue to leave him. Both from his wrist and from his cunt. He feels weaker every time.

It hurts. It’s too big. It hurts.

“It's interesting to see how your body reacts to the drug.” You wipe the tears from his eyes. “It's too bad I won't be using it again…Although I am interested in what’ll happen once my subordinate alters your memories…maybe I’ll tell them to make you an obedient slut for me.”

Own me.

“Ple- please-” He gasps. He's not entirely sure what he's begging for. His brain is sending conflicting messages.

You lean into his ear. “Admit it, Spidey, you love how big I am and how well I fill your tight fucking pussy.”

I love it.

“I hate– ugh-” He hisses.

I'm so full.

“I’ll kill you..” He clenches his fists.

“Oh, but I thought Spider-Man didn't kill?”

“..ma- make an exception-” He loses his ability to grip, his fists come undone as you bottom out.

“Really? I’m honored, sweetheart.” You slowly pull out, stopping before you fully leave him. “You're bleeding. Guess I was too rough.” You lick your lips at the red coating on your cock.

“You're disg—uh~!” You suddenly thrust inside him and knock the wind out of him, a longer string of web leaving his body. His whimpering and gasping quickly turns into whines and moans as you fuck him. His eyes roll to the back of his head. The bandage and wound on his cheek loosens and opens up, causing blood to run down his face. His brain starts to feel like scrambled eggs.

“Doesn't it feel good, baby?”

He responds with a jumbled mess of words that are impossible to decipher. You already took a bunch of pictures of him earlier but you find yourself wishing you still had that camera with you. In this state, he's more beautiful than any of the artwork in the Metropolitan. You grab his sides, triggering the pain in his sore, bruised body. He makes a loud and erotic noise in response.

He writhes around, sobbing and trying to squirm out of your hold. He manages to say “Please–!”.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Your thrusts stop as you come inside him. You let go of him and brush the hair out of his face, then wipe his blood.

His body twitches, like a spider that's been stepped on.

[differenteagletragedy]

Part two of the one where Simon lets you move into a room in his house You tell Simon that you have at least a few weeks before you need to move out of your apartment and into his spare room, but he doesn't see the point in wasting time. The day after he offers to let you move in, he goes shopping, and the next few days are spent putting everything together. The bed, the dresser, two matching nightstands, some shelves — he makes sure everything is solid and sturdy for you, and he hopes you wouldn't notice how new it all is.

He cleans, too, every inch of the place. He's not a particularly messy man, but he'd bought the small two-bedroom house years ago, and he's not one for company. So he goes over everything, and he does what he can to make sure that his home is a good place for you, from the small stepstool he buys and sticks in the corner of the kitchen to the way he organizes his shaving supplies in the bathroom so you can have half the limited counterspace.

When you tell him you're ready, he brings his truck to the bar to pick up you and your things, and his heart aches, just a little, when he sees that all you have is a couple of bags slung over your shoulder. Without a word, he takes them from you and carries them out, and he tries to shrug off the slight disappointment he feels when you open the passenger door before he can do it for you.

"It's not much," he tells you on the short drive back. "Two bedrooms, just the one bathroom. I'm gone a lot. Stay as long as you like."

"What do you think for rent?" you ask. "I've got a little bit saved, and I can —"

"I meant what I said, love. There's no rush."

He hops out quickly after he pulls into the driveway, opening your door for you this time. He takes your bags and carries them in and into the room that's now yours, setting them carefully on the floor before turning to you, sticking his hand in his pocket and pulling out a key.

"Same one for both doors," he says. "Not much in the kitchen, but help yourself to anything you like. And let me know if you need anything at all."

The first few days, you don't see each other much. He stays in his room more than usual, not wanting to crowd you or make you feel uncomfortable. You pick up an extra shift at the bar, trying to make that rent he keeps telling you not to worry about.

One night during that first week, he comes home late from the gym, and he's pleasantly surprised to see you sitting in the living room, watching tv and having a snack.

"Oh, sorry," you say immediately when you hear the door open, like you'd done something wrong.

He smiles, just a bit, and nods for the couch, wanting you to be comfortable — maybe liking the idea of you warm and cozy in his space a little too much.

"Nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart," he says, stepping closer.

You nod, and slowly sit back down, but on the edge of the cushion now, tense.

He doesn't care for it.

"What's on?" he asks.

"Oh, just this show I watch sometimes. It's a dumb reality thing ... I can check it out on my phone later."

You minimize yourself constantly, he's noticed that for a while now, but it's never been so clear as it is now, with you perched on his couch like you're waiting to run for cover. He still doesn't know your story, but in the moment, he'd love nothing more than to find whatever or whoever it was that put this innate fear in you and destroy it.

It's a war in him, a fight between keeping to himself and wanting you not to do the same. This particular battle is decided when he takes a seat on the other end of the couch and forces himself to tear his eyes away from you to look at the tv.

"Tell me about it."

You do. Nervously at first, but you slowly relax. He gives a small, satisfied smile when you scoot back to sit on the couch more comfortably and start to speak more freely, and he fights back a wider one when he really takes you in, bare feet and a loose t-shirt, lounging around at home. His home.

Yours too, now.

After that night, things get a little easier. You don’t sequester yourself in your room, and he warms up to you a bit more. It starts feeling natural, having you in his space. You fall into a rhythm.

Nearly a month in, he comes home one day to find you in the living room, pulling on your shoes, and he asks you where you're headed.

"We're headed to get some groceries," you tell him.

The directness is new, but certainly not unwelcome, and he follows behind you gladly as you lead the way to the store.

Grocery shopping with you makes him feel like a kid again, but one who had someone to dote on him. You walk by the produce, asking him carefully what he likes. What's his favorite kind of apple? What kind of berry does he prefer?

At one point, you actually tell him, "Simon, you have to get some vegetables," and he can't help but laugh at how you stare up at him pointedly, like he's supposed to know he's worth being cared for.

"What's your favorite dinner?" you ask him as you walk through the aisles, carefully scanning for prices before you put things in the cart.

"Don't know," he mutters. "Never really thought about it."

It's true, sort of. He eats, of course, and he has preferences, but it's never really been something to take pleasure in. There's never been some meal he craves, or some kind of food tied to a good memory. He mostly just wants to see if you'll say his name again.

But then he thinks for another beat and starts walking.

He puts a can of beans into the cart, then goes to another aisle and gets a loaf of bread. He doesn't say anything, but you nod and smile at him.

After you buy the groceries -- more specifically, after he buys the groceries, using his body to block the card reader while you laugh and try to wrestle your way around him to pay yourself -- you walk back home. He sets the bags on the counter, and together you put up all your purchases, but he notices you leave out the things he'd picked out.

"Hungry?"

"Generally."

Simon watches, arms crossed, as you heat the beans in a saucepan you'd pulled from under the stove. He doesn't move when you stand close to get to the toaster, and he watches your throat as you swallow when your arm brushes against his to put the bread in.

"You know, I would have made you anything," you tell him as you wait for the toast. "And this is what you picked?"

"Just had it a lot when I was a kid," he mutters, not offering more.

With the look you give him, a glance that's quick but still penetrates, he knows you understand the reluctance to get into the details. It's not the easiest thing to explain, how one can find comfort in the soft lulls of a tragedy. How oddly soothing it can feel to remember any bit of kindness from hands that ripped you apart.

You give him a plate first. Beans on toast, straight from his childhood. He takes a bite and nods, appreciative, and you grin.

A few bites later, you reach your hand up and swipe off a bit of food from the corner of his mouth, and seemingly without thinking, you lick it from your finger. He keeps his eyes on you for a moment longer, then sets his plate down.

Simon moves slowly, agonizingly so, giving you every chance to stop him. He puts his hands on your waist first, high and respectable, and when you just look at him, waiting, he drops them to your hips.

"This ok?" he asks, and when you nod, he dips his hands lower, over your thighs and to the back of them, lifting you up and dropping you on the counter.

"You didn't have to make me dinner, love," he says softly, working his body just slightly between your knees.

"You don't want me to pay any rent either," you tell him. "I can't just stay here for nothing."

The idea of you bringing nothing to this arrangement is laughable, but he keeps a straight face. He studies you, every fleck of color in your eyes and every line in your skin, maybe too intensely, but you just sit there, and you let him.

"You can tell me to stop," he finally says. "Won't be offended."

"I don't want you to stop."

With that, he brings his lips to your cheek, placing a gentle kiss there, then plants one on your jaw. When you still don't object, and even lift your hands to grasp onto his shoulders, he kisses your mouth.

He doesn't want to rush this, and he doesn't want to ask for something more than you want to give. He doesn't want you to feel like you owe him, but the idea of kissing you like this has been loud and persistent in his mind for longer than he cares to admit. He tries to bridge the two thoughts with his carefulness, but when he feels you start to kiss him back, he snaps.

Not visibly -- he doesn't shove his tongue down your throat or grope you with rough hands. That's not how Simon loses control. For him, snapping is internal. It's in realizing how good you feel in his arms and letting himself feel the weight of that.

He's not sure if it's the dinner you made him or something more innate, but when he kisses you, you taste like home.

In the moment, he can admit that to himself. But he's not ready for you to know. Not yet, anyway.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Pregnant reader saves Joel from Abby.]

That’s when you looked back at Joel and for just a moment, a glimpse of the vulnerable fear he had just felt flickered in his eyes.

You knew how Joel would feel about you coming after him, you knew if he had even the slightest idea that you were heading out there he would’ve found a way to stop you if he could. The two of you only just finding out you were pregnant weeks before, Joel was extra protective of you. He made Tommy give him his word that he would care for you while he did patrol. But the moment you knew Joel wasn’t responding and heard about the lodge, you had to go even if it meant sneaking behind Tommy’s back. You were supposed to be locked in a basement with other women, children and the elderly, but you refused to do so. Your love for Joel being too strong to just sit by and wait it out, you left without looking back.

The blizzard was brutal, you could no longer feel your face, the snow making it hard for you to even see, until you finally saw a horse from afar.

It had to be Joel’s horse.

Joel looked back out the window at the scene going on in Jackson, thinking of you…thinking of his unborn child. A panic brewing inside him and it had nothing to do with his life being threatened but because he couldn’t help you, he couldn’t keep you safe and that to him was the most important thing.

As sneaky as you were, it didn’t take long for Tommy to find out you were missing. Knowing how crazy his brother was about you, he got things under control with the other men and quickly got on his horse heading out to find you.

Walking into the lodge you could hear a woman’s voice, anger to her tone but you couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Then you heard Joel’s voice as you got closer and your heart skipped a beat.

“Military” you listened closely. With your gun in hand, you slowly opened the door to see Joel with his hands up. He was being questioned by people you’ve never seen before. Your lips parting you took a step back not knowing what to do when suddenly you were grabbed from behind. A hand over your mouth you were dragged to a corner before you heard a very familiar voice.

“I’m gonna get in there first, you stay behind me. Alright?”

It was Tommy.

Boy had you never been so relieved to hear his voice. Quickly you nodded as he let go and headed to the door in front of you.

Looking over at you, he counted with his fingers and on 3 he busted into the room with his gun immediately going off.

Tommy moved quickly taking down 4 when you noticed the woman who was speaking to Joel looking back directly at you. Without saying a word you aimed your gun at her and shot her straight in the head. Just like that she was on the floor. Joel stood in shock, speechless, his hands still halfway in the air. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t believe what you had just walked into. Tommy took a quick look around the room making sure there wasn’t more of them around before he turned to his brother.

“Joel, we good?” Tommy called out to him.

“Yeah” Joel finally responded blankly. His eyes not leaving you until you dropped everything and ran to him. His arms instantly catching you, closing around you as he held you tightly. Neither of you saying a word but you could feel him trembling.

“Joel, I was so-“ he suddenly grabbed your face and made you look up at him.

“Don’t cha ever pull somethin’ like this again, ya leave this to Tommy ya hear me?” His lip trembled. The thought of anything happening to you or his baby because he was in trouble was something he was not going to allow. But Joel’s eyes instantly softened the moment he looked at you and noticed the fear you just felt. Your damn stubbornness saving him.

“I’m sorry” he quickly whispered.

“I couldn’t leave you out here knowing something bad could be happening..” you whispered through tears.

“Tommy didn’t know I left” Joel looked up at his brother who confirmed what you said with a nod. Joel still held your face in his hands before you turned around to see the body of the woman you had just killed on the ground.

“Nice shot” Tommy uttered low with a chuckle before stepping over her and out of the room. That’s when you looked back at Joel and for just a moment, a glimpse of the vulnerable fear he had just felt flickered in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You caressed his face with your hand, your thumb brushing over his facial hair as he looked down at you.

“I’ll be fine, let’s get cha back home” as usual, you always being his main concern.

Once you were back home, Joel was surprised to see everything that had happened. Jesse and the other men keeping as much of the town together as they could but in that moment nothing mattered to you.

Nothing but Joel.

Aside from repeatedly asking you if you felt ok, he hadn’t said much of anything else since returning.

“Please come to bed, Joel” you walked to the doorway holding your robe tightly around you. Joel sitting on the porch like he usually did when he had a lot on his mind, guitar in hand.

“Get inside, doll. Too damn cold for you to be standin’ there”

“I don’t wanna go to bed without you” you sighed.

“Please” you whispered. Joel pressed his lips together and gave you a nod.

He didn’t say much when he first came in, he almost seemed to be avoiding eye contact but you knew him very well. Taking his hand you led him to the bedroom. Slowly helping him take off his coat and gloves, he didn’t say a word.

“Baby, talk to me” you took his face gently in your hands and made him look up at you. Eyes filled with sadness, worry, thoughts that you wish you could take away.

“We’re okay” you whispered as if you needed to remind him, you felt his hand on your stomach and looked down. The thought of him not being around to keep you both safe was one he couldn’t bear.

“Joel?” You spoke softly looking back up at him, a knot in his throat when he suddenly pulled you against his body. A breath of relief feeling your arms close around him. He closed his eyes feeling your body against him, he didn’t want to let you go.

“I love you so damn much, baby” he choked out making you tear up.

“I love you too” still, he held you and you let him. Your hand making swirls in his thick waves when you remembered Ellie.

“Joel,” he slowly pulled back hearing the tone in your voice.

“Before anything happened today…after you left…Ellie-“

“Tommy told me she’s fine” his brows furrowed.

“Yes, she is. Joel she was looking for you earlier,” you smiled knowing how much this would mean to him.

“She wanted to talk to you and needed your help with making somethin-“

“Her lights already out, maybe I can-“

“First thing in the morning”

You assured him with a smile.

“We all had a long day and need our rest. She said she’ll be waiting for you” you kissed him on the lips and turned to bed.

That night Joel slept in a way he hadn’t slept in a long time. He slept feeling at ease, thinking of Ellie, thinking of you and your baby..

(I can’t add more people to the tag it says no more than 50 I’m sorry)

@itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @heartpatch @baronessvonglitter @guelyury @mynameistokyo @harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l @manuymesut @katiemarieeee @unknownomgg @secretcheesecakenacho @missladym1981 @xmaykeca @dendulinka6 @wintersquirrel @malfoycassimalfoy @scorpio-echo @orcasoul @mysteryhexgirl @locaparapedrito @alloftheimagines @mystickittytaco

@ashleyfilm @justajoelsreader @lonely-ey3s

@elliesr1fle @ro-nahime-things @southernbe @dendulinka6 @laliceee @just-mj-or-not @iamtoriasworld @katwriteshardy @gwend0lyne @lily-mylove @antobooh @sukivenue @keileighr

@readingiskeepingmegoing

[chickadeethoughts]

reread this post and maybe this is an unpopular mclennon opinion? but i think they both didn't actually understand each other as well as they thought they did. i think both of them believed the other could read their mind and then filtered their subsequent actions as a conscious slight. like. john should know that paul is someone who keeps his feelings very closely guarded, who will always choose to keep the peace and to put on a good face when he's upset. but throughout the breakup, when paul seemingly stays as productive as ever, staying distantly polite to yoko while urging john to keep writing, keep beatling, everything's fine, time to put on a show, john takes it that paul doesn't care one way or another about their partnership dissolving, he's a perfectly capable one-man band hit machine anyway. this is seemingly confirmed by paul announcing the breakup to "sell a record," effectively ending all hope of quietly reconciling and supporting john's theory that paul was done with the beatles (john) anyway and had been on his way out once he learned he could write a #1 song without anyone's (john's) help. all he cares about is hits and money and his new perfect family and farm.

meanwhile. paul should know that john wasn't handling the pressures of the beatles well. he should know that he needed more support. but paul seems to be someone who gets stuck in his ways of thinking about people (see also: george), and doesn't seem to have ever shaken the image of john as the older, cooler teddy boy on the bus who he'd do anything to impress. he thinks the world of john and spends the 60s thinking they're in a friendly competition, not realizing john has started falling into the paranoia that he's losing. you can see it in get back. paul is waiting for john to write his next great song, to set a new bar for paul to push himself to reach. paul got john by impressing him with his music and when he's losing john he doubles down on it because he thinks that's the only valuable thing he has to offer. he might have offered the support john needed instead if he knew what that was, but he didn't. but mid-60s john, who still thinks paul understands him, thinks paul knows he needs him but chooses to spend his time flitting around swinging london instead, which deeply hurts him. john clings to yoko because she's a breath of fresh air from the constant race he's been running for a decade. a creative partner he doesn't have to chase down. someone who needs him as much as he needs her. a woman he can marry, can have a real commitment to. he can be everything to the person who is everything to him. but paul sees this as john finally outgrowing him and finding someone better.

paul also should know that john often speaks first and decides whether he believes what he said later. but it seems he only ever takes john at his word. when john leaves the beatles that's it, no negotiation, because if paul has lost john to someone more interesting, more artistic, then that's that. when john starts to talk publicly about paul's muzak and granny shit that must be true too, it's why john left after all. and granted john just wont stop shit talking him and it's not like he just fell on a keyboard and how do you sleep came out. but this is how you get a paul who starts to see himself as a villain and questions whether john did love him. he doesn't think too many people was that nasty compared to what john was saying about him in interviews because he doesn't realize that one of john's biggest fears is that he's incapable of being a great songwriter without paul. so to john, the lucky break line is paul admitting he agrees with that assessment and twisting the knife. but paul wouldn't see it that way because he's only ever had john on a pedestal.

so by the 70s, on their worst days, john thinks paul is cold marble statue who knows he's better than him and delights in it and paul thinks john is entirely out of love or use for him, if he ever had it in the first place. and of course, they could never talk about any of this openly because neither of them were willing to face the pain of confirming that their love really was one-sided.

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 13

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate, Kyra, is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: (+18) SMUT. face sitting, scissoring, fingering (r giving everything)– the holy trinity. Plus Y/n's first step and run, ugly matching socks, and Leah being annoying as usual.

Word count: 8k

a/n: this is a scheduled post, I'm working.

Masterlis

..

It took Y/n a few days to open up about her fear.

It was a sunny afternoon, and Kyra had come back from training. Y/n didn’t go that day, no reason to go to physio if your exercise involved walking and you were too scared to walk.

Kyra opened the door, took off her shoes and threw her keys onto the counter and went to the sofa, where Y/n was lying. Kyra joined her, sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed.

For a long while, neither spoke. Y/n stared straight ahead at the TV, just like the past few days,  her gaze unfocused, lost in a world of her own thoughts.

Finally, almost too quietly to be heard, Y/n muttered, “I’m scared it’ll break again.”

Kyra turned her head slowly, at first surprised to hear Y/n’s voice, but then her heart ached at the vulnerability in Y/n’s voice. 

She didn’t say anything right away; she didn’t need to. Instead, she reached out, resting her hand gently on Y/n’s leg, offering silent comfort.

Y/n’s jaw clenched, and she blinked rapidly, her breath catching in her throat. She didn’t cry–at least not in the way most people would expect–but there was something raw in her voice when she added.

“I know it’s dumb. I just... I keep thinking if I try to walk and something goes wrong…that’s it.”

Kyra’s voice was gentle when she spoke, her hand still resting on Y/n’s leg. 

“It’s not dumb.” She nudged a little closer, her knee brushing against Y/n’s, her voice was soothing. 

“You’ve been through a lot, but you’ve done everything right, you had surgery, physio, medication–there’s no reason for it to break again.

Y/n nodded, the weight on her shoulders lightening just a fraction. 

She stayed still, letting Kyra’s touch and words sink in. The tension wasn’t gone, but it felt easier to breathe, to lean into the warmth Kyra offered.

Kyra exhaled through her nose and gave her a gentle squeeze, her voice firm but filled with warmth. 

“But when you’re ready, really ready, you’ll take that step. No rush, okay?”

Y/n nodded once, feeling more at ease, but not completely. 

It would take time. And that was okay. They didn’t have to rush at this moment.

Kyra could tell that something had shifted, just the smallest bit.

 Y/n wasn’t the scared cat she used to be when it came to these moments. She wasn’t pushing away or retreating. 

She was leaning in, allowing Kyra to be a place of comfort.

The silence between them stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like a quiet space for healing. 

They just leaned into the sofa, the proximity between them a silent reminder that they were in this together.

Kyra rested her head on Y/n’s shoulder, rubbing small, soothing circles on her arm. The weight of Y/n’s confession hung in the air, fragile and real. 

After a moment, Kyra pressed a soft kiss to Y/n’s temple, her lips lingering there for just a second longer than necessary.

Y/n shifted a little, pressing her cheek into Kyra’s shoulder. “You know what would make me feel better?”

Kyra perked up, a playful glint entering her eyes. “Oh my god. Pizza?”

Y/n blinked, looking at her with an almost shocked expression. “No?”

“Okay, okay...tacos?” Kyra tried again.

“No,” Y/n answered slowly, fighting the small smile creeping onto her lips. “Stop guessing. I’m trying to be sexy right now.”

Kyra blinked, then let out a breathless laugh. “Oh,” she said, her voice soft and amused.

Y/n grinned and shifted, crawling into Kyra’s lap. Her hands found their way to Kyra’s waist, fingers brushing across the fabric of her shirt. 

“Yeah,” she murmured, her lips brushing just barely against Kyra’s as she leaned in closer. “Unless you would prefer pizza…”

Kyra smirked, already pulling her closer, their mouths meeting in a slow, heated kiss. 

It was soft at first, exploring, but something flickered in the air, a shift that made the kiss deepen, more urgent, as Y/n’s hands slid beneath Kyra’s shirt.

Y/n took her time, no rush, savouring the sensation of Kyra’s body beneath her hands, enjoying the way Kyra responded to her touch.

Her hands quickly were on Kyra’s tits, cupping them as her thumb caressed the skin just below her breasts.

Her mouth moved from Kyra’s lips to her jaw, then lower, tracing a path down her throat.

 Every little touch was intentional, drawing out the moment, making Kyra gasp, her hands tangling in Y/n’s hair, nails scraping gently against her scalp.

“Love,” Kyra breathed, voice trembling, “you’re teasing”

Y/n smiled against her skin, the teasing tone in her voice never faltering. “Just…let me enjoy you.”

And Kyra didn’t need to answer. 

She didn’t have to, because the way her body responded told Y/n everything she needed to know. 

When Y/n finally pulled back, her breath shallow and her cheeks flushed, she gave Kyra a wicked grin, her eyes dark with desire. 

She moved back onto the sofa, sitting up, and then lying down on top of a cushion. 

“Sit on my face,” Y/n says casually, as if she were asking for a glass of water.

Kyra blinked. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said, sit–” Y/n licked her lips, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “--on my face.”

Kyra’s mouth opened and then closed, her breath catching in her throat. “You’re still technically recovering–”

“My mouth works fine”. Y/n raised an eyebrow, her voice low, dripping with confidence. “I thought you would know that by now.” 

The weight of the request made Kyra’s legs feel like jelly, but her body was already reacting to the heat between them.

She wasn’t exactly shy with Y/n, no, they were past that point, but this felt different. 

This was vulnerable in a way she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just physical. It was intimate in a way that made her feel exposed. Especially because she didn’t have much experience with it.

Kyra hesitated, her face flushing slightly as she glanced down at Y/n. 

“I’ve, um… never done this before,” she admitted, voice quiet. “You know… sat on someone’s face.”

Y/n smiled softly. “I know, baby,” she said, voice low and tender, her hands smoothing over Kyra’s thighs. 

“You’ve told me. But I’m here, okay? We’ll take it slow.” She gave her a reassuring squeeze.

Kyra was silent, looking down.

She wanted to. Bloody hell, she needed it, but it was like the fear of messing it up, of not doing it right, was stronger.

“Kyra,” she murmured, her voice soft, “it’s okay. I’ve got you. You can trust me. Just… come here.”

Y/n held onto Kyra’s hips, making the girl hover over them. Y/n kissed her, very lazily, trying to show her she could relax, let go. 

Y/n stopped the kiss, her hands were on Kyra's jaw, holding her in place so she could look at her. 

“It’s just me and you–we can experience things together, yeah?”

That simple reassurance, warm and grounding, made Kyra’s heart flutter. 

She nodded slowly.

“Good, baby,” Y/n said gently. Her voice didn’t have an ounce of teasing, just patience, tenderness. “Why don’t you take your clothes off for me?”

Kyra blushed, but nodded again. “My underwear too?”

“Yes, love.”

Kyra tried to ignore Y/n’s lingering gaze as she undressed completely.

She stood in front of Y/n, hands playing with her own fingers.

“Now, you sit,” Y/n said, putting her head straight.

“O-okay.”

Kyra took one step closer to Y/n, and then she placed both her legs on either side of Y/n’s body. Y/n held her hips and helped Kyra lower herself, so she was straddling Y/n’s head.

Kyra hovered for a moment, uncertainty still lingering in her mind, but something in the way Y/n looked up at her, so sure, made it all feel right.

Y/n grinned. “You can sit.”

“What if I crush you?” 

“I promise you won’t crush me.”

Kyra’s breath hitched, a nervous laugh slipping from her lips. “You sure?”

Y/n’s gaze was intense, but her voice was steady and soft. “I’m so sure.”

And with that, Kyra finally gave in, lowering herself fully onto Y/n. 

The shift in weight was subtle, her breath hitching as Y/n’s warm hands immediately found her thighs, fingers gripping firmly, grounding her. 

Y/n’s mouth hovered over Kyra’s cunt, kissing it gently, her breath hot against her sensitive skin.

The moment felt like a delicate dance, a mix of vulnerability and desire. Slow, steady, and maddening, as Y/n pressed her lips to the soft skin of Kyra’s inner thigh, the touch was light but still deliberate.

Kyra’s breath faltered, her body trembling just slightly, her legs instinctively tightening around Y/n as the girl finally found her clit, sucking it slowly, teasing.

“T-this is so good–” Kyra whispered, voice thick with surprise and need as she moved her hips against Y/n’s mouth, rubbing her cunt against her face. “Baby–”

Y/n smiled against her skin, a slow, teasing grin, her mouth tracing a tender path up Kyra’s leg. But she didn’t say anything. 

She could’t, she had a whole meal right in front of her face.

Her hands moved in lazy, intricate patterns, tracing the curve of Kyra’s thigh, fingertips brushing the soft, warm skin as she licked at Kyra’s hole.

“Yeah? Feels nice?” Y/n murmured, voice low, her breath mingling with the heat of the moment. 

The question hung in the air, full of both challenge and tenderness, as she waited for Kyra’s response. She didn’t do anything until she got a reaction from Kyra.

The girl finally nodded, her breath catching in her throat as Y/n’s mouth continued its slow, deliberate journey. 

Every movement was careful, teasing, and Kyra felt herself melting under the pressure of it. The heat of Y/n’s lips, the gentle pressure of her hands guiding her.

As Y/n’s mouth moved higher, then lower again, she could feel her body reacting, every sensitive spot igniting under Y/n’s touch. Her clit, her hole–everywhere.

Y/n knew how to touch her, how to please her in any position possible.

 Kyra found herself gasping, her legs trembling beneath the steady rhythm.

“Baby,” Kyra breathed, her voice thick with desire, as Y/n’s lips brushed against her again. “You’re really–fuck–good at this.”

Y/n’s answer was only in the continued pressure of her mouth, slowly, in a way that made Kyra’s head spin. 

There was no rush, just the steady building tension as Y/n expertly navigated every inch of her, knowing just how to push her, how to pull her in deeper with each touch. 

Her hands, firm but gentle. 

Kyra felt herself surrendering completely, her body trembling with anticipation, with need, and Y/n was right there, never once faltering, her tongue was warm and wet, working in and out of Kyra’s cunt.

And then, when Kyra couldn’t take it any longer, her body shook with the release, a broken sound escaping her lips before she could stop it. 

The waves of sensation hit her all at once, a rush of heat and pressure, and she let herself go, her hands gripping the back of the sofa, her whole body trembling beneath Y/n’s touch.

Y/n didn’t stop. She didn’t pull away. She held her, guiding her through it with soft, steady kisses. 

Her mouth was gentle, slow, her hands never leaving Kyra’s skin as the tension slowly melted away. 

Kyra’s chest heaved with every breath, her body still shuddering, but Y/n was there, right there with her, making sure she felt every moment, every breath, as she settled back into the softness of the moment.

Y/n helped Kyra’s body off of when the girl went limp, bringing her head to her chest as Kyra lay on top of Y/n’s body.

Y/n’s kisses were like a balm, soothing, comforting, as she let Kyra’s body relax into the post-orgasmic haze. 

She kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips, slow and easy, just letting her breathe. 

The silence that followed was filled with only the sound of their breathing.

Kyra’s body finally stilled, and Y/n gave her a little more time, never rushing, just holding her close, letting her come back to herself.

As Kyra slumped forward, breathless and spent, Y/n ran her fingers gently up and down her thighs, her touch soothing and slow.

Her lips pressed soft kisses to Kyra’s shoulder, a lingering, affectionate gesture that spoke volumes more than words could. 

Kyra melted further into her, her breath coming in short, staggered gasps, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile, savouring the feeling of having her so completely.

“So,” Y/n said after a long stretch of comfortable silence, her voice thick with satisfaction, low and warm, “first-time thoughts?”

Kyra let out a stunned, breathless laugh, her whole body still trying to come down from the rush. 

“Why the fuck did I wait so long to do that?” she asked, her voice shaking with both disbelief and a lingering haze of pleasure.

Y/n grinned, her lips curling into a smug smile. 

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” she teased, her tone playful but undeniably proud. 

She didn’t move from where she had her hands resting on Kyra, keeping her close, not wanting to break the moment just yet.

Kyra, still wrapped in the haze of the experience, shifted slightly to press her face against Y/n’s chest, her arms winding around Y/n’s waist as if holding on to the aftereffects. 

The warmth between them was suffocatingly perfect, the quiet comfort of the room surrounding them like a soft cocoon. 

Footy, blissfully unaware of the intensity of the moment, walked into the room and curled up on the couch in his usual spot, his soft purring filling the space like the calm rhythm of a lullaby.

Y/n looked down at Kyra, her smile softening as she ran a hand gently through Kyra’s tangled hair. 

They stayed like that for a while, just existing in the shared silence, both of them feeling the slow return of normality after the rush.

After a while, Y/n broke the silence, letting out a dramatic, exaggerated sigh.

“Okay,” she said with a pout. “I’ve earned pizza now.”

Kyra snorted against her, not lifting her head from Y/n’s chest, still too comfortable to make any effort to move. 

“You earned a trophy,” she teased, her voice muffled but light-hearted.

Y/n let out a fake gasp of indignation, pulling Kyra a little closer into her embrace, her voice sweet but playful. 

“I’d like both,” she said, her tone feigning sweetness as she ran her hands gently up Kyra’s back, her fingertips grazing the skin there.

“Pizza and a trophy. Please. I’ve been working hard, you know.”

Kyra shifted slightly, looking up at Y/n with a playful smile of her own.

“I’m sure the pizza will do just fine,” she replied, but there was a glint in her eyes, a teasing spark that matched Y/n’s.

Kyra groaned but reached for her phone. “Do you want the same order, or are you going to ruin everything with pineapple?”

“I want the same,” Y/n said with a mischievous smile. “And maybe another round later. You know, for recovery.”

Kyra’s eyes narrowed with feigned suspicion, but the playful glint in them betrayed her. 

“For recovery, huh? Are you sure you’re not just a little greedy?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/n’s grin turned wicked, and she leaned down to brush her lips across Kyra’s again, just a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through her. 

“Maybe,” she murmured, “but I’m definitely worth it.”

Kyra let out a soft laugh, her head falling back against the couch as she closed her eyes, savouring the peace of the moment. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, her voice muffled but affectionate. 

..

The quiet hum of the physio room was almost suffocating as Y/n stared down at her braced leg, the weight of it all pressing against her chest. 

She had promised herself she would take just one step. It didn’t have to be a full stride, didn’t have to be graceful. 

Just one. 

But her heart pounded, anxiety gnawing at the edges of her resolve. If she could take that one step, maybe–just maybe–she could silence the fear that had been plaguing her since the injury.

Her body was screaming for her not to try, and her mind kept telling her it was too soon. 

It wasn’t even about walking. It was about the fear–the fear of breaking something, of falling, of losing control again. To have to restart her recovery all over again.

She had told herself she wouldn’t cry, but the rawness of it all felt too much. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

“Come on, Y/n!” Leah’s voice broke through the silence, chipper as ever. “Go on! I’ve pressed record like five times already!”

Y/n’s head snapped up to glare at her, eyebrows knitted in frustration. 

“Leah, I didn’t ask you to record it,” she said, her voice low, tinged with irritation.

Leah didn’t seem fazed by her tone. 

Instead, she was standing there, phone in hand, ready to capture the moment. 

She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “Yeah, but I'm gonna do it anyway. This is important.”

Kyra, who was sitting beside Leah, shot her a look before turning her attention to Y/n. 

“I asked her to,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “And I told her to record it because it was important.”

Y/n couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh, her hands tightening around the edge of the physio table. 

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, but before she could say anything else, a familiar, calming presence appeared in the room.

Alessia casually draped her arms around Leah’s shoulders, her lips curling into a soft, reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” she said gently, her voice a steady comfort, “You can take one step. Just one. Go on.”

Y/n hesitated, her heart thudding in her chest. The room felt like it was closing in around her, the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. 

But Alessia’s words, her warmth, made something shift inside Y/n. Slowly, she lifted her foot, taking a small, tentative step forward. 

It was shaky, but it was a step.

She looked up at the others, eyes wide, a small, almost invisible smile forming on her lips. 

“Okay”, Y/n breathed. “One step.”

Leah, still holding her phone, looked genuinely impressed. “See? Told you. You’re gonna crush it, Y/n.”

Alessia, standing just behind her, leaned in and whispered with a mischievous grin, “Baby, maybe don’t say the word crush next to her right now.”

Y/n shot Alessia a quick, deadpan look. “I swear, if any of you bring up that word one more time…”

Kyra couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s okay, love, your bones are still safe.”

Y/n let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, feeling a mix of exhaustion and pride wash over her. 

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I guess they are.”

Alessia gave her a gentle nudge, still keeping her arm around Leah. 

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Alessia said with a wink. “One step at a time. Just like that.”

Y/n didn’t answer right away. Instead, she glanced down at her leg, a quiet determination settling in her chest. 

But then, sat back down immediately after taking three more steps–her face dead serious now.

“Okay, someone needs to check my leg. I think the bone might be shattered.”

One of the physios blinked at her. “Are you in any pain?”

“No,” Y/n replied, completely monotone.

Another physio crouched beside her, eyeing her leg. “Swelling? Bruising?”

Y/n shook her head. “Looks fine.”

The two physios exchanged a look.

“Then I don’t think we need to examine your leg,” one of them said gently, with that polite but slightly exasperated tone they reserved for dramatic athletes.

Y/n opened her mouth to argue, but didn’t even get the chance.

“Please just look at it,” Kyra cut in, her voice firm but tired, raising a hand like she was in court. “For my peace of mind. She thinks her tibia’s going to shatter every time she blinks too hard.”

The physio gave a slow nod like they finally understood the assignment. “Ah. Emotional support bone check. Got it.”

Leah, behind the camera, snorted.

Y/n glared at all of them. “You’re all the worst support group I have ever seen.”

“Correct,” Alessia chirped, stretching her arms. “But we love you, so it’s okay.”

With a theatrical sigh, the physio knelt down to examine Y/n’s leg, poking around with exaggerated care. “Mmhmm. Yes, very… leg-like.”

Y/n remained dead silent, staring ahead like this was the most crucial medical evaluation of her life.

The physio finally tapped the brace and smiled. “Y/n, I’m happy to inform you that your bone is completely fine. Fully intact. Not even slightly broken.”

Y/n stared at her, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“How sure?”

“A hundred per cent sure.”

Y/n leaned forward slightly, the dramatic tension rising. “Would you trust this tibia over your mom’s life?”

Kyra quickly stepped in, wrapping her arms around Y/n from behind, pressing a soft kiss to her ear to quiet her. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“I just want to be–”

Kyra kissed her again, quick and soft.  “You have very strong bones, okay? The best bones.”

Leah gagged dramatically. “Ew. Alright, this recording just turned into porn. Please, delete it. It’s disgusting.”

Alessia chimed in, still filming. “I’m editing this with soft music and sending it to your mum. She’ll love it.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but the smallest smile tugged at her lips.

Kyra pulled her in a little tighter, grinning. “But you do have the best bones.”

..

As the days passed, Y/n and Kyra slowly settled into a rhythm, finding balance between their training, personal time, and quiet moments together. 

The mornings felt routine–early wake-ups, breakfast, and getting ready for the day. 

Training was intense for Kyra, while Y/n spent most of her time on the sidelines, cheering on her teammates. Kyra always made sure to glance over at her between drills, flashing her a grin whenever she could.

Y/n had become more invested in physiotherapy, eager to push herself further with each session and be back on the pitch in no time since she was allowed to walk fully now.

She had already gotten rid of the crutches, though she knew it wasn’t quite as simple as throwing them aside and going back to full strength. 

The physiotherapists kept reminding her that rest was as important as effort in the healing process, but Y/n didn’t exactly see it that way.

“Resting is overrated,” Y/n had said to Kyra one evening, flopping back on the sofa with a dramatic sigh. 

“But I’m not the one with the fancy degree, so I guess I have to listen to them.”

Kyra had laughed. “Maybe they know a thing or two about bone recovery.”

But today, as Y/n stood in front of the mirror in the physio room, her leg finally free of the brace, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. 

The muscles were still tight, her foot dragging a little as she placed weight on it, but there was something about the solid ground beneath her that felt like freedom.

The physio had already cleared her to run again–nothing intense, just a short distance to gauge how she felt. 

As she did a few quick stretches, Kyra was right there beside her, a quiet encouragement in her eyes.

“It’s okay, you're gonna do great,” Kyra said, rubbing her back lightly. 

Y/n shot her a half-smile, still feeling the weight of the moment. 

She took a deep breath and pushed herself off, slowly at first, then picking up speed as she ran a small lap around the gym. 

The first few steps were very careful, tentative, but by the time she finished, she was almost jogging, her heart pounding in her chest with exhilaration.

She slowed to a stop, breathing a little heavier, but the grin on her face was unmistakable. She’d done it. 

She was running again.

The physio clapped their hands together.

“Looks good, Y/n! But remember, don’t push it too hard too soon.”

Y/n nodded, wiping her forehead, her heart still racing. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take it slow,” she said, though she was already planning her next run. 

As she turned to Kyra, who was standing at the sidelines with a proud smile, Y/n felt a spark of realisation ignite in her chest.

She didn’t have to be as careful anymore. 

Sure, the muscle needed work, but the freedom to move, to run, to feel normal again–it was all coming back. And suddenly, it wasn’t just her legs that were feeling liberated.

Her thoughts briefly wandered, and for a moment, she couldn't help but smile to herself. 

The next time she and Kyra were alone–in the privacy of their room, maybe she wouldn’t hold back so much. Sex was about to get much, much better.

And what’s the best way to commemorate the first light–run after an injury? Sex.

Later that night, as the moonlight split across their bed, Kyra was stretched out, looking utterly at peace. 

Sweat glistened on her neck, her hair tousled from their earlier moments together. Y/n hovered over her, still caught up in the slow burn of the day’s victory–her first run, the first step towards being back on the pitch. 

Their skin touched, and Y/n found herself deep in the rhythm of their shared breaths.

She lowered herself, grinding her hips into Kyra’s, the movements slow at first, almost tentative as she felt for the right rhythm. 

Their cunt grinding against each other, their clit each throbbing with need.

Kyra’s lips parted in a soft gasp, her hands coming up to hold Y/n’s hips, pulling her down with a strong, desperate motion, moving her rawling against herself.

Y/n froze for a split second, surprised by the sudden shift. Y/n was the one who set the pace, not Kyra.

Kyra’s grip was unrelenting, and for the first time, it was Kyra in control, guiding the pace, setting the rhythm. 

It felt different this time, a change, a balance shifting between them that hadn’t been there before. Kyra’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling sharply with every gasp. 

“There... fuck, right there,” she breathed out, her grip on Y/n’s hips tightening with urgency. 

Kyra pulled Y/n closer, their bodies coming together. 

In that instant, Y/n’s grip on control slipped. She let go, surrendering herself to Kyra’s commanding presence, letting Kyra guide her body freely. 

“God,” Kyra murmured, her fingers digging into Y/n's hips as she dictated the movement of Y/n’s hips against her own, pulling Y/n down against her with a strength Y/n had never expected. 

“You feel so good.” Her voice was low, almost desperate, but there was something comforting in her tone, a warmth.

There was something about the way Kyra’s body moved under hers, the way she held onto her so tightly.

Kyra’s breath caught again, and her voice dropped to a near whisper. 

“I fucking love you so much,” Kyra said, her hands slid down, tracing the curve of Y/n’s back, before gripping her hips again, guiding their movements with perfect syncrony, hitting just the right spot on their clit to have both girls moaning at the same time.

Y/n’s mind spun with the intensity of their connection. 

Her body moved with Kyra effortlessly, like they had always been meant to move together this way. 

The tension between them was palpable, thick in the air, but there was also a softness to it.

“Kyra...” Y/n breathed, her voice trembling, a mix of awe and desire filling her chest. She was so caught up in the moment, her body reacting without thought, just letting go. “Please, more–”

Kyra’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, her eyes dark with desire but soft with affection. 

Y/n didn’t say please during sex that much, so it was good to hear it.

“Fuck–” Kyra shifted her hips slightly, forcing a new angle, a new depth that had Y/n gasping in response. 

“You feel so good,” Y/n murmured, her voice low, laced with both affection and raw passion.

Y/n’s entire body seemed to hum with energy, the tension in the air thickening with every breath. 

It wasn’t just about the physical connection–they were communicating in ways words couldn’t express. It was overwhelming, and Y/n couldn’t help but let out a soft, breathy laugh.

“You’ve got me... so wrapped around you,” Y/n whispered, her voice thick with both amusement and a hint of awe. “I wouldn’t let anyone else hold my hips down like that.”

She could feel the moment shifting between them, an undeniable bond growing with each touch.

Kyra smiled at the admission, her lips brushing against Y/n’s jawline as she leaned up, pressing soft, lingering kisses along the side of her neck.

“I like the sound of that,” she murmured, her voice husky. “I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.”

The pace between them picked up, the movements synchronised with a fluidity that felt natural.

And in that moment, as their bodies moved together, there was nothing but the overwhelming sense of being completely present with one another. 

It took only one more movement of Y/n’s hips for Kyra and Y/n to cum together, their hearts beating fast as they caught their breath.

“Fuck,” Y/n said, laying down on top of Kyra, feeling her breathing on her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Kyra said, almost in a whisper. “That was good.”

“You can never leave this bed–my bed– again,” Y/n said teasingly, smiling.

Kyra’s lips met hers in a kiss. “I would never.”.

“I guess that’s one way to celebrate a first run,” Y/n murmured, her voice soft with contentment.

Kyra chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s forehead. “You’ve earned it.”

Y/n smiled against her chest, the weight of the day’s victory and the intimacy of the moment settling in. 

She didn’t have to hold back anymore. 

Not in her recovery, not in love. Not with Kyra.

Y/n didn’t move right away.

She stayed right there, stretched over Kyra’s body, their skin still slick with heat and closeness, her forehead resting gently against Kyra’s.

Their breaths mingled in the quiet, back to a slower rhythm.

Kyra’s eyes fluttered open, lashes damp, her gaze soft as it met Y/n’s. She reached up, caressing Y/n’s cheek tenderly.

Y/n leaned down, slow and deliberate, brushing her lips against Kyra’s in the gentlest kiss imaginable. 

No urgency. No heat. Just feelings. Just her, Kyra, and the safe space they had carved.

She kissed her again, longer this time. Pressing her body close like she couldn’t get close enough–like she could sink into her and never come back up.

Kyra’s hands slid from Y/n’s hips to her back, fingertips tracing soft circles along her spine.

“You okay?” she whispered into Y/n’s mouth.

Y/n nodded, eyes still closed, lips brushing against Kyra’s as she murmured, “More than okay.”

“How’s your leg?”

Y/n huffed a laugh, eyes opening just enough to look at her. “Kyra, you can’t ask about my leg every time we have an orgasm. It ruins the mood.”

Kyra smiled and kissed her again, soft and sure. “No, it doesn’t. I just care about you.”

“I know,” Y/n said, kissing her back before moving down to Kyra’s neck, right behind her ear–her favourite spot. 

“Can I give you a hickey? Please?”

The politeness in her voice surprised them both.

Kyra laughed under her breath, cheeks flushing. “No. The girls will see and make fun of me.”

“Please?” Y/n whispered again, her hand sliding lower until she found Kyra’s cunt, still wet.  Her fingers moved gently at first, teasing, circling her clit with maddening patience.

Kyra’s breath caught, her fingers tightening on Y/n’s hip.

“Please?” Y/n said again, voice lower now, more coaxing, her movements growing more deliberate.

Kyra whimpered, eyes fluttering shut. “Ju-just one–I mean it.”

A slow, satisfied grin spread across Y/n’s face. “Good girl,” she whispered, lowering her head.

“I knew you would cave.”

Her lips found the spot just below Kyra’s jaw, and she sucked gently at first, then deeper, watching the skin bloom purple beneath her mouth. 

Y/n didn’t move from Kyra’s neck right away. 

She kept kissing softly around the fresh mark, tongue flicking lazily over it as her fingers continued to move in slow circles that had Kyra’s breath hitching with every stroke.

“You’re so sensitive,” Y/n murmured against her skin, her voice a low tease. “I barely touch you and you’re already shaking.”

“I’m not–” Kyra gasped as Y/n pressed just a little harder, dragging two fingers exactly where she needed them. “–shut up.”

Y/n grinned, lips brushing along her jaw. “You love it when I talk to you like this.”

Kyra tried to glare, but her eyes were fluttering closed again, her back arching ever so slightly off the bed as her hips rolled into Y/n’s hand. 

“Don’t–” Kyra breathed, voice cracking. “Don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” 

Y/n shifted slightly, her body still straddling Kyra’s, keeping her steady as her fingers slid lower, finding just the right rhythm, the one she knew would push Kyra over the edge. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Kyra whimpered, her hands gripping at Y/n’s thighs now, grounding herself, chasing the high that was building with every stroke, every brush of Y/n’s lips against her skin.

“You’re close,” Y/n whispered, and Kyra nodded helplessly, too far gone to speak.

Y/n leaned in again, kissing her–deep, slow, possessive.

Her fingers didn’t let up, circling faster now, slick and steady, the tension in Kyra’s body winding tight beneath her.

“Let go of me,” Y/n whispered into her mouth. “Come on, baby. I’ve got you.”

And Kyra did.

Her body tensed, then trembled as her orgasm hit hard, waves crashing through her as she gasped into Y/n’s mouth. 

Her nails dug into Y/n’s thighs, her breath coming in short, broken bursts as she clung to her, head tipped back against the pillow.

Y/n slowed her movements, coaxing her down from the high with gentle, loving touches. She kissed the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then the mark she’d left on her neck.

Kyra blinked up at her, cheeks flushed, still catching her breath. “I hate how smug you look right now.”

Y/n just smirked, brushing a strand of hair from Kyra’s face. “You love it.”

Kyra didn’t even argue–just pulled her down into another kiss, lazy and full of warmth.

“Okay,” she whispered after a beat. “Maybe just a little.”

“I’m tired,” Kyra murmured, voice a little hoarse, a little dazed.

Y/n smiled and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“I know, baby,” she whispered, brushing her fingers gently down Kyra’s side. “Come here.”

Kyra didn’t move. “No,” she said quietly, her hand trailing up Y/n’s bare back. “I want you to feel good, too. Let me take care of you.”

Y/n kissed her again, softer this time, just lips against lips. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Seeing you like that was enough.”

Kyra gave her a look–half sceptical, half touched.

Y/n cupped her cheek and smiled. “Now come here. Don’t fight it, baby. Just let me hold you.”

She lay back slowly, pulling Kyra with her until they were chest to chest, skin to skin. 

Kyra hesitated for a beat, propping herself up on her elbows, looking down at Y/n.

“Go on,” Y/n said, voice low and breathy. Her hand traced a lazy path up Kyra’s spine. “I’m all yours, you can lie down.”

Kyra dipped her head slowly, lips brushing along Y/n’s collarbone. She paused, then lowered her mouth to Y/n’s breast, her tongue circling the soft peak before pulling it gently into her mouth.

Y/n inhaled sharply, her hand threading through Kyra’s hair.

Kyra took her time–slow, wet kisses, gentle sucks, the kind of attention that made Y/n’s relax.

“Just like that,” Y/n whispered. “You’re so good to me.”

Kyra looked up, her lips parted, her breath warm against Y/n’s skin. “You deserve it,” she said, and then kissed her again, like it was the only truth that mattered.

Kyra’s mouth lingered at Y/n’s breast, kisses growing slower, softer, until she was just nuzzling there, breathing warm against skin. 

Y/n’s fingers combed through her hair gently, scratching her scalp the way she knew Kyra loved.

The room was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of their breathing and the soft rustle of sheets when they shifted closer.

Y/n pressed a kiss to the top of Kyra’s head. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me like this, huh?” she whispered, teasing but fond.

Kyra mumbled something unintelligible into her skin–something that might’ve been ‘don’t care,’ or maybe just a contented sigh. 

Her arms were wrapped around Y/n’s waist now, holding her close like a blanket she didn’t want to let go of.

Y/n smiled, her free hand pulling the duvet over them. “You’re such a baby when you’re tired,” she murmured, voice already heavier with sleep, too.

Kyra shifted just enough to bury her face into Y/n’s chest. “Warm,” she mumbled, lips brushing over her skin. “Smells good.”

Y/n chuckled, low and sleepy, her hand slowing in Kyra’s hair until it just rested there, fingers curled gently. “I love you,” she breathed, almost like a secret.

Kyra didn’t answer right away–but then she shifted, just enough to tilt her head up and press the softest kiss to Y/n’s jaw.

“Love you too,” she whispered, already halfway asleep.

And that was enough.

They stayed like that, tangled and warm, hearts calm. Until sleep took them both.

Y/n woke slowly, blinking against the early light slipping through the curtains. The room was quiet, the air still, warm under the covers. 

She could feel the weight of Kyra draped across her chest, soft breaths ghosting over her skin.

It took her a second to register the exact position.

Kyra was still curled into her, cheek pressed to Y/n’s breast, very clingy, one arm wrapped around her waist. 

Her lips were parted slightly, still resting exactly where they’d fallen asleep.

Y/n blinked, then smiled, tilting her head slightly to look down at her.

“You’re literally still on my boob,” she whispered, voice raspy with sleep.

Kyra didn’t move. Not even a twitch.

Y/n snorted quietly. “You can’t use it as a pillow forever, babe.”

A soft groan came from Kyra, muffled into skin. “Don’t care. Comfortable.”

Y/n rolled her eyes affectionately, running her fingers through Kyra’s messy hair. “You’re such a menace.”

“Your fault for being perfect,” Kyra mumbled, tightening her grip slightly. “I’m tired. Let me stay.”

Y/n let her head fall back onto the pillow with a quiet laugh. “God, you’re spoiled.”

Kyra shifted just enough to nuzzle her a little closer. “Only with you.”

Y/n’s heart melted a little at that–okay, a lot. She exhaled slowly, her arm curling around Kyra’s back, holding her close.

“Fine,” she whispered, kissing the crown of Kyra’s head. “Five more minutes.”

Kyra’s only response was a contented sigh, and Y/n smiled to herself, eyes closing again.

..

It started with a video.

Y/n was lying flat on her back in bed, one leg bent awkwardly, her fingers pressing into her tibia in odd, circular patterns that made absolutely no medical sense. 

Kyra walked in with a cup of juice and froze in the doorway, staring.

“...What are you doing?”

Y/n didn’t even glance up. 

“I saw this physio guy on YouTube doing a deep tissue activation massage for tibial recovery. Said it boosts blood flow by 13.2%.”

Kyra slowly approached the bed, suspicious. “Okay. And why are you poking your leg like that”

“I’m following the video!” Y/n gestured to her phone, which was propped up against her water bottle on the nightstand. The audio played softly–an unfamiliar language Kyra didn’t recognise.

She frowned, tilting her head. “Wait…is that Mandarin?”

“No,” Y/n said, totally serious. “It’s Cantonese, Kyra.”

Kyra squinted at her like she was insane, which, in this moment, might not have been far off. 

“Y/n. Babe. You're not fluent in Cantonese.”

“No, he is,” Y/n said, like that solved the entire logic gap. “I turned on the subtitles.”

“You can’t even read it–your neck is turned to your back!” Kyra set down the glass and sat on the edge of the bed, watching her partner try to knead her own leg like bread dough. 

“But I can sense what he means,” Y/n said, defending herself.

“Okay. You're clearly spiralling. And I love that you want to heal fast. But we are not about to follow mysterious tibia tutorials in a language you don’t speak just because some guy online promised…magic blood flow.”

Y/n pouted. “I just want to feel useful.”

“I know,” Kyra said gently, brushing her hand over Y/n’s calf. “But healing isn’t a competition. You’re allowed to rest. You need to rest.”

Y/n deflated a little, muscles relaxing. “So what, I just... do nothing?”

Kyra smiled and shook her head. “No. You’re coming with me.”

“To where?”

“A walk. Just around the block. Nothing fancy. No magic tibia guy. Just me, you, and maybe Footy if he decides not to chase every pigeon in the city.”

Y/n raised a brow. “You’re giving me exercise as a distraction from my obsessive exercising.”

Kyra kissed the inside of her knee. “Exactly. But mine comes with trees and sunshine. And snacks after.”

And from then on, it became a thing.

Every afternoon, once Kyra got home from training and Y/n had finished her physio session, she would help her tie her shoes, leash up Footy, and they would head out for a walk. 

At first, it was just the block. Then it was the park. Eventually, they were walking for a long time.

It was the one time of day Y/n didn’t think about reps or protocols or ankle stability. 

She just walked, and Kyra stayed beside her, quiet, steady, hand brushing hers like a reminder that this, too, was part of healing.

It wasn’t just about the tibia anymore. It was about breathing. Moving. Laughing. Watching Footy eat a random leaf and then sprint in regret. It was about slowing down, not falling behind.

..

It was a Wednesday, and one of the physios had called in sick.

Y/n had immediately offered to go to the training centre on her own and do her session solo. 

She was a professional, after all. But the staff had just smiled politely on the phone and told her to “take the day off” and “enjoy the unexpected break.”

Which was code for: no, you overachieving injured girl, go sit down.

So now she was lying on the living room floor, grumpy and betrayed, with a foam roller under her back and YouTube queued up again, this time with an English-speaking physio who somehow still managed to sound condescending.

The doorbell rang.

Y/n dragged herself upright, shuffled to the front door, and opened it to find a package on the mat. 

It had her name on it, which was confusing because she hadn’t ordered anything–she would know if she’d ordered anything. 

Carefully, she brought it inside, sliced it open with her thumbnail, and immediately recoiled.

Inside was a six-pack of the ugliest socks she’d ever seen.

Frogs. Bananas. Some kind of space-themed unicorn. She blinked at them. “What the fuck…”

She left the box half-open on the table by the door, too disturbed to process, and went back to her foam roller.

Ten minutes later, the door opened–Kyra.

Y/n rolled halfway onto her side to look at her. “Great. You’re home. What is this?”

Kyra’s face lit up the second she saw the box. “Yayyy it’s here!”

“Don’t yay me. What the hell is this box of… abominations?”

Kyra clapped her hands like it was Christmas morning. “Matching socks!! For us!!”

Y/n stared at her, expression flat. “Why do they have… prints?”

Kyra pulled out a pair and held them up proudly. “This one has a turtle with sunglasses!”

Y/n squinted. “It’s horrifying. You have ruined socks. Socks are meant to be white. Or black. Maybe grey on special occasions.”

Kyra gasped, clutching her chest. “You are no fun. The whole point is that they're ridiculous.”

“They look like something a kindergartener would wear.”

“Exactly!”

Y/n groaned. “I’m not even supposed to be walking today. They won’t let me come in. I offered to go do my session by myself, and they told me no, like I’m untrustworthy.”

“You are untrustworthy,” Kyra replied sweetly, already digging through drawers for scissors.

“What are you doing?”

“Modifying.”

“Kyra, please. You don’t have to destroy them, I don’t hate them that much!”

Kyra was already snipping little holes into the top of the socks. “Not destroying. Adapting. Innovation. I’m making them pet-friendly.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “No. No. Don’t you dare—”

Too late. Footy, who had been sleeping peacefully on the back of the sofa, was now being gently scooped into Kyra’s arms, looking half-asleep and 100% not onboard.

“You’re going to look so beautiful,” Kyra cooed as she slipped a sock over one of his front legs like it was a designer sleeve.

“Kyra, he looks like he’s wearing a tiny sweater! Cats aren’t meant to wear clothes!”

“He looks happy,” Kyra said.

Footy, now fully awake, stared directly at Y/n like he was mentally preparing to assassinate one of them in their sleep. 

His paw lifted and flopped against the floor in slow, dramatic protest.

“He looks like he wants to die,” Y/n said monotone.

Kyra grinned. “That’s just his face.”

Y/n shook her head. “Okay. I  do hate them. But if it makes you happy, I’ll wear the stupid frog ones.”

Kyra beamed, victorious. “I knew you loved me.”

Y/n sighed. “I don’t, but I do love you so…”

Footy meowed in quiet, tortured resignation, still wearing his one sad sock.

Later, after Footy had escaped his sock prison and retreated under the bed to plot his vengeance, Kyra flopped onto the sofa beside Y/n with her legs in her lap.

Y/n stared at the socks now on her own feet, defeated. The frogs stared back.

“I look like a children’s TV presenter,” she muttered.

Kyra grinned, smug as hell. “You look adorable.”

“I want you to know I’m suffering.”

Kyra leaned in, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “Suffer prettier.”

Y/n groaned again, but didn’t kick her off.

And sure enough, two days later, when Kyra tugged her out for one of their now-daily walks, she made good on her promise: matching socks. 

Y/n tried to hide hers under her sweatpants, but Kyra made them roll them up halfway through, just to ‘let the frogs breathe.’

Y/n wanted to die.

But Kyra was happy, smiling so wide the whole walk, swinging their hands like they were in a teen rom-com.

And yeah, Kyra wasn’t the only one in the relationship who did things they didn’t want to do.

Y/n wore the frog socks. She wore them in public.

Because Kyra was happy.

And sometimes, that made it worth it.

..

Feedback is very important!!! <3

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you do a part 2 of your Devil May cry white rabbit with the reasonable demon hunter? (The first one got me really shipping them!) Or maybe another idea of a good demon hunter who’s secretly really rich. Like a political or royal family. They actually have property in the country side and some of the demons they save live there away from everyone. The white rabbit finds out about a rumor of a “sanctuary”.

i'm going to combined the two becuase why not, and its easier.

it had been a while since you and rabbit had been aware of one another, exchanging pleasentries with one another whenever you so happened to be within the same area, which had gone from short sentences to somewhat flirty compliments.

however there was something that you had kept hidden from even him, the fact that you had come from a well off family, a family that had unfortunetly passed on and had left everything to you in their will.

this included a massive house within the countryside, far away from the conflict and far off the gride for DARKCOM to bother looking into. it had enough rooms big enough to accomidate several familes that it felt too lonely for you to have all to yourself.

so while you trained to be a demon hunter, you vowed to make good use of the house and made it into a safe haven for demons who only wanted peace, a place to raise their own without fear, and you made good on that promise by using your contacts to others who were more then willing to help demons pass through to the countryside house safetly.

the idea was still very much new, but it had seemed to work a treat for you as whenever you went to the house, you were greeted by familes of demons who were happy to be away from conflict and appreciating the large open backyard, one that had blossom trees and weeping willows amongst blooming bushes of wildflowers that gave the air a sweet, welcoming smell.

you waved off their thanks and said. 'i only want to help, and i'm thankful for having the resources to do that and exacute it, so please the last thing i want is to be thanked. besides this hosue deserves life within it's walls then one lonely one.' before leaving them to continue your work in helping demons journey to what was now called the safe haven.

but soon enough word began to spread within the realm of demons of the safe haven, and soon it had caught rabbit's ears as they eaglerly talked about a place where demons could live without DARKCOM breathing down their necks.

so naturally rabbit went to the only person whom he knew could offer some light in this situation: you.

'hello handsome,' you said as you caught sight of the well dressed gentleman, 'what brings you here?'

rabbit smiles, taking a sip from the tea he had made for you both as you now sat across the table from one another. 'i've heard rumours of a saccred house within the countryside, a safe haven for demons away from DARKCOM and any other hostile demons, heard anything about it?'

you sighed as you put down your teacup, smiling softly, 'and what if i have?'

'i merely wish to know if such a thing exists, i don't want to give my people hope in a fairytale should it not be true.' rabbit says as he reaches out to hold your hand, strocking the back of it as you squeezed it reasuringly.

'well you're in luck my handsome man because the safe haven, the house that has been the talk of all demons? it's real and i've seen it.' you leaned forward, smiling wider as you looked into his eyes as they widened ever so slightly, his breath hitching in his throat.

'you have?' you hummed. 'where? when? how?' he asks, finding himself needing even more confirmation from you, never having felt this much hope in his enitre life as he realised that he would blindingly trust your words: a recent discovery that had him a little taken aback before growing comfortable with letting you into his heart.

'well, it's a house that had been passed down to me from my family a while back,' you began as you kept your eyes on rabbit to read his expressions,'at first i didn't know what to do with it so it was left abandoned. Then everything happed and suddenly i knew what i must do and made it into a shelter, a safe haven for demons who want life away from violence.' you finshed off and as soon as you were, you were swept into a tight embrace as rabbit burrows his head into your neck.

'you never fail to surpise me my dear.' he whispered as he felt himself admireing you more, he didn't care that he wasn't privy to the fact that you had come from a well off family, he knew you had your reasons. yet it was the fact that you didn't let that gift go to waste and actively use it for good, unlike most powerful people.

it had only made it more undeniable that rabbit knew there was more to what he felt towards you, he just was skeptical until he gotten to the point where he knew you had no reason to lie or withold anything, unless it was absolutely necessary.

'just trying to help.' you replied, holding him just as tightly back.

'you're incredible my dear, absolutely incredible.' rabbit whispered, content and happy in knowing there was a future for his kind, and it was in thanks to you. 'thank you.' he felt you shrug in his embrace.

'i didn't do it to be thanked, i did it becuase it was the right thing to do.' yo told him as he kissed your forhead, something new that had completely taken you offgaurd for a second, before melting back into his embrace like you were meant to be there.

'i can't let my favourite hunter go without their efforts being acknowledged, be selfish my dear for this moment id yours.' rabbit said.

'then does that mean i can be selfish with you and call you mine all the time then?' you asked in a moment of vulnerability, holding in a breath as you awaited his response, only to feel him rest his forhead against yours as he smiles.

'my dear you can be as selfish with me as you like, for the future is ours to take back, not theirs.' he reassures you.

'it was never theirs to begin with.' you rebuttled. 'never theres to take from demons who didn't participate in the violence and chaos, they deserve a home.'

'and a home is what we will make them.' rabbit replied, looking deep into your eyes, only to see the same determination to make that dream a reality. 'together.' he adds.

'together.' you echoed as you both held your gazes for a prolonged time.

[fallenrocket]

Andor 201-203 spoilers

Okay, so I'm soooooooo curious to see what Diego Luna has in store for us with this performance for the rest of the season, but I loved BBY4 Cassian and I'm kind of sad he'll be in such a different place the next time we see him.

I just love seeing Cassian as a Rebel. He's so warm and encouraging to Niya--I especially like him telling her it’s all right to be sad about everything she’s sacrificing. That whole speech is so good, especially, “You’re coming home to yourself. You’ve become more than your fear. Let that protect you.”

At the same time, he’s not “Cassian Andor: Super-Rebel.” I love that you can see how nervous and overwhelmed he is as he climbs into the TIE fighter, repeatedly muttering to himself, “You’ve got this.” I love that he demonstrates quick thinking and incredible skill throughout the escape--yes, his flying is atrocious, but he keeps himself alive crashing through a canyon with Imperial ships shooting at him in a ship he doesn't know how to fly! Also, he's basically shitting himself the whole time.

And while Cassian is devoted to the Rebellion at this point, he’s not a loyal stooge. I like that he's so pissed when he gets through to Kleya on comms, that he knows the mission could've failed and he could've been killed because of these screw-ups. And of course, his people are still his first priority.

I just cannot say enough about how excellent Diego Luna is in this role. He makes you feel everything from Cassian. You see his wheels constantly turning. You see his conviction, his fear, his annoyance, his craftiness, his devastation. He scrambles to get his bearings when he's captured by the bargain-bin Rebels, feeling out which buttons to press and how far to test the limits without getting himself in worse trouble. He knows when to talk and when to stay quiet, when to badger and when to placate, when to wait and when to act. (Side note: I love that he keeps advising them after they take him prisoner--"You should collect rainwater, you need a perimeter." Character of all time.)

And Diego Luna's non-verbal action continues to be off-the-charts. That final shot of his face in episode 3? Oh my god!

[ginandvodka-riley]

Earthquake

Tw: A small eartqueake.

As someone who lives in a country (and city) that's located in a very seismic zone, I was wondering, what about a TF141! Reader who's from a country with high seismic activity? Like China, Japan, Indonesia, Iran, Chile, Guatemala, Mexico, etc...

Just imagine.

You are their medic, so you must go with them on every mission. You don't complain, they're true gentlemen with you, treat you as family (and if you want you can be dating one of them) and on top of that, the pay is more than good.

Well, a new mission comes, you all must go to a seismic country. Everything goes fine, no injuries more than a few scratches, muscle pain and the typical fatigue. Until 2 weeks before your arrival while you all are checking a large, apparently abandoned building, completely alert, controlled and composed, an earthquake occurs. It's a medium one, not light but not dangerous either.

You are used to it, you’ve experienced worse earthquakes more than twice after all.

But they?

Poor English (and Scottish) men. They've never experienced it, it's new for them. So, when the first movement comes you stay calm and since the nearest exit is far away you sit with you back against a load-bearing wall, covering your head with your arms. However, they panic, they don't know what's happening so their first thought is "we're under attack", so immediately they grab you by the wrist, and begin to run away.

You're confused and try to get free and stop them because "what the hell are you doing?! You shouldn’t run!".

When the third movement comes it's stronger, one of them gets nauseous while the rest almost stumbled on their feet.

That's when you realize what's happening.

You shout out a firm "stop", they fix their gaze at you, horror invading their pretty eyes, and then you speak firmly but carefully.

"Sit down, cover your heads and calm down. We're safe."

It's a miracle but they manage to react from their panicked trance and obey you like the good soldiers they are.

All of you are sitting in a circle, shoulder to shoulder, away from windows and furniture, you try to soothe them explaining that it's just a mid-level earthquake, nothing dangerous, at most just 0.2 percent of the population will get some minor wounds.

Again, "we're safe".

Dogs are barking at the distance, everything around you move with some violence, the lights, furniture, you can even see through the trembling windows what’s happening outside, trees moving as if they were alive, cables too, and the damn ground seems like it could breathe.

After a whole minute everything returns to normal, they're still scared, a bit less, but fear hasn't abandoned their minds at all.

"Bloody hell, luv, how could you remain so calm?"

You explain to them how normal this in your natal home is, some places around the world are more seismic than others after all. It's just mother earth living.

Some 'funny' stories about your experiences and those of your relatives manage to calm down little by little.

It could sound incredible or even ‘stupid’ for some people to see a bunch of elite soldiers, huge and beefy as a truck so afraid of a mid-level earthquake, more so when they've seen the death itself right in its eyes.

But a natural disaster is so different from the damage that a human can cause. You can try to take control of the battlefield, can predict what could happen and plan every movement. It's an equal battle, man vs man.

Meanwhile, nature is not kind, it's strong, powerful, glorious. You can't control her, don't know how or when she'll decide to explode and sweep everything away at every step.

We are just humans, simple beings that have taken a place on earth to live because she wanted to. She allowed us to live in and thanks to her. And even when it could sound cruel, mother nature follows her own course independently of us.

You have faced her power more than once, all her glory. You know you’re just a simple human being, and you're okay with that, because you know that from earth we come and to her we'll return.

Not them though. That felt like facing death for the first time, like everything they've lived before were nothing compared to this. They saw mother earth right in her eyes, suddenly they felt raw, more alive than ever, and for the first time in years they're consciously grateful to be alive one more day.

[benjineedssleep]

What's your favourite Sam headcanon?

i love when you guys send me sam related asks but i fear i take days/weeks to answer because... i love him too much. everything i say has to be just right. but imma be good about this one and instead of trying to lock in on one, i'll list a few X3

this one is really high up there and might just be my #1 but i'm a firm believer he has a tooth gap. it's very specific too. he smashed his face into the concrete while skating when he was younger and still losing teeth. they never grew in to fill the space, so now there's a gap. it's on the left side of his face (right to viewer if looking head on) and between his canine and molar. not super obvious normally but absolutely obvious when he's smiling. and he's always smiling so you'll notice if you pay attention enough :3

this one is like #2 and that's his crooked nose, also from being a careless skater or just careless in general tbh. he broke his nose really bad and after breaking it once or twice before and paired with the fact he didn't care to be very careful while recovering, it healed fucked up. he was too busy thinking about how sick the bruises looked and if it would scar. and i mean... it did scar in a way, bud. your nose is crooked XD bonus hcs these rest aren't in any particular order but i like them sooooo

he was grounded well into his 20s but it was really just being put on house arrest. jodi is tired of being embarrassed by him and sometimes he just needs to stay inside and think about what's he's done. her house her rules kinda thing. his friends 100% think it's insane but he's just like "sucks but she's not wrong" LOL HE TRULY DOES REFLECT!!!

he does his own piercings! this hc is one of the only consistent ones i have that doesn't vary much from fic to fic. only the origins of how he started really varies. like in seasons it's because he had a crush on his friend's sister growing up and she owns a piercing shop with her friends. but then he kinda got invested in the plot and ended up learning himself. other times it's just because his ass was bored as hell and knew jodi would never let him unless he just spontaneously did it. and being in pelican town, well... where is he finding a proper shop?

he's not a natural blond and bleaches his hair. a very common hc i know but it's special to me especially because i think it's one of the things he does with jodi. in a really old hc post i mention after having vincent, jodi was a bit sad she'd never have a girl. but then she realized she didn't have to have a girl to do certain things with her kids. so yes the two of them go to the nail salon together sometimes and she does his hair up for special events and semi-regularly touches it up whenever she can get sam to settle for five seconds

i can go on for 8 trillion bajillion years about sam and hcs i have for him but these are the five that come to me at the top of my head. i just love him he's such a guy

oh. also. goblin destroyer is origami angel. okay, just had to get that out there. i fear it's not a hc post without THE hc muehehe

[limegreenbunny]

Vi and the final nail in the coffin of her sisterhood with Jinx

Much has been discussed about the controversial decision of Vi giving up on Jinx and becoming an enforcer in season 2.

I realized, upon deciding I would like to do my own season 2 "rewrite", that it was going to be important for me to strip back the layers of what Vi's real motivations are (as set up in season 1), why she would consider her sister "dead" and what should have been her driving goal going into season 2.

Vi's main motivation should ALWAYS be her sister, whether out of love or out of hate, and whether she would admit this to herself or not. That's the only way to stay true to the story and themes set up in season 1. I don't believe the writers of season 2 had a good handle on this.

So here's the big question: Why was the final scene of s1 (Jinx's mad tea party/rocket launch party) also the final nail in the coffin for Vi and her relationship with her sister?

[Note: These are thoughts I developed before s2 aired but I did know that Vi was most likely going to become an enforcer, and I will be addressing this question in regards to what season 1 set up, (not the motivations that we must haphazardly guess at based on what the writers of season 2 gave us). I want to get these thoughts down on paper in preparation for my own rewrite of s2.]

Let's explore some possible answers:

The reason can't be that she is upset over the actual act of launching a rocket on the council. She doesn't like the council or Piltover, to put it mildly.

Is it just the wanton destruction that bothers her? Vi has already seen this behavior from Jinx, and while each time it pushes her farther down the path of "my sister is gone," since this attack is, again, against Piltover, it falls a little flat that THIS one would be the last straw, even though it's the biggest in scale.

Could it all be for Caitlyn because of the the death of her mother? I think this could be part of her motivation, however while Caitlyn has made an impact on her for the short time they've known each other it's still been only a VERY short time. Not enough for her to go back on her lifelong dedication to her sister. (Yet this appears to be the only consistent explanation for Vi's actions in season 2 which just doesn't work based on what season 1 set up).

I believe there is a deep personal reason for this scene to break Vi's dedication to Powder. Vi's last interaction with Powder was to hurt her physically and even worse to confirm all Powder's worst fears about herself (when before she was always the one to keep these fears at bay). Vi became a monster to her little sister. This is indirectly explained in the scene where she tells Caitlyn about their childhood monster game (the "real monster" could apply to four different people in the scene).

Next, Vi is taken to prison. She states that the only thing that kept her going was the idea that she could get out and find Powder again, presumably to make everything right again, to live up to Vander's dying request, to reverse the moment where she became her little sister's worst nightmare.

However, prison ends up being the place where she descends into the monster again and again. The show addresses the fact that she is regularly beaten by the guards but barely touches on what is found in Vi's prison log in the Council Archives minigame, that she regularly fights with and beats her fellow prisoners in some cases beating them nearly to death. It's definitely possible that some of these people deserved it but at the same time it points to a troubling pattern of Vi allowing herself to sink to these extremes, drowning her pain in violence.

"If only I can get back to Powder I can make things right. This monster that takes over sometimes, it isn't really ME. I have a good heart, I'll prove it once I'm out of here, once I find her."

Violet's quest to save her sister is as much about her own sense of self-worth as it is about Powder.

That's the key to the final sequence. That's why the tea party, followed by the rocket attack, was what broke their sisterhood. After everything Vi tried to do for her, JINX rejects VI. Jinx can see the truth, that they can never go back, and snatches away Vi's shot at redemption and the foundation of her self-worth. Just as the old Vi whom Powder used to rely on is forever changed, the innocent little girl that Vi relied on to still need her is gone. Vi needed Powder to save her from her own inner monster. And Jinx walked away. In many ways these final moments are a parallel to Vi's "Because you're a jinx" to Powder years before. 

And this should have served as a foundation for the next chapter in their story, one where they are enemies.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Top Form catch up time! My mental health can be...tricky, so sometimes when I know an angsty episode is on deck, I wait until the next week so I can head right into the following, hopefully less angsty episode. So I'm starting with 6 today.

This also means that with more to watch, I don't remotely have the kind of time where I can jot down a ton of thoughts, so I will probably just stick to the most highlight-worthy moments with my babies.

Ok, episode 6.

I love when Akin just can't contain himself anymore.

Also love that Jin is 100% aware he's in love with a black cat, and knows Akin's pseudo-grumpiness is a love language.

Excellent to see a little of Jin's dangerous side.

So far his obsession has been so polite, but I like a little edge in there. It's bad to underestimate how dangerous a dog can be just because it's cute and fluffy.

Hmm, y'know - I expected that final scene to be a lot harder to watch based on people's reactions last week.

It also makes me a little sad I saw so many people criticizing both Akin and Jin in this episode, because I feel like the writing did an incredible job of making both of them so relatable in this moment.

Akin is clearly still having trouble accepting he was assaulted. Which is not surprising, because we live in a world where there is so little support and so much judgement and shame thrown at men who are victims. He's still trying to process what happened to him, blaming himself, while also dealing being in love for the first time (which he's also still a bit in denial about), with someone who has him on a pedestal, with a big part of himself expecting it will inevitably end anyway, because everything good in his life always does.

And then Jin, who is still very young, and has been deeply in love and obsessed with Akin for years, and had this moment of feeling like all his work would finally get him on the same level and worthy of Akin, is operating on pure emotion, and the sudden horrible fear that he will never be enough for Akin.

I thought it was beautifully written and incredibly acted.

Ok, let's move on, episode 7!

Again with the visuals!

I'm really enjoying the "thou" language too, which I assume means they're using an older style of Thai in the play?

Ok, so what Johnny did is assault and utterly inexcusable. But I do find it interesting how clear they are making it that he is someone who sees his own body as a commodity, for transactional purposes. It does give some insight into his character. You don't grow up with healthy examples of intimate relationships and then treat yourself, or other people like that. Again - not an excuse for what he did! But he's not some mustache-twirling villain, he's a fucked up human being.

My babies, *sob*

Also how much Smart has to stoop here, lol.

THEIR ACTING IS SO GOOD

My heart might literally explode

I know that technically the shower sex is to show the cleansing off of what happened to Akin with Johnny

but I like to think it's also a result of them having to spend so long cleaning the honey off last time.

Goddamn, you two.

Also there is no way Akin will ever be able to sleep with anyone else, he gets utterly body-worshipped every time by Jin. This man is once again having a religious experience.

Domestic era!

Also Akin in glasses.

I know episode 8 can be fast tracked, but I'm not a fan of that business model, so I'm gonna wait. But glad we got so much JinAkin cuteness/hotness this episode!

[dandelionsresilience]

I’m rlly hope im not bothering u but i just…need an ear to listen/a shoulder to cry on.

I’m so exhausted. Idk if I’ll even be able to play Minecraft anymore due to everything going on which sucks cuz this game was a huge part of my childhood and brought me a bit of peace after the election last year when I started playing to distract myself i haven’t played it for awhile ago even before the BDS announced the boycott. I keep seeing ppl that it’s still fine to play the game offline and just not spend any money on it(which is something I am doing and do plan on 🏴‍☠️ the movie) and seeing ppl saying they opposite which is making me super confused and being scared to death to even touch the game and for all we know Palestine probably won’t be free in my lifetime(or never) along with Microsoft not pulling out of supporting isreal, sellers for jfashion and anime merch I like have stopped shipping to the US and idk how long it’ll be temporary for or if it’ll be forever, Trump says he wants to run for a third term, everything keeps getting more expensive, I now have to fear ghe possibility getting round up and thrown into a camp/asylum and or be experimented on or killed thanks to RFK jr making a few disease tracking thingy for autism, and I know I need to hold onto hope and keep fighting but everything overall just keeps getting so much more worse and not better and everyday I resent anti voters and third party voters who willingly chose not to vote blue and refusing to prevent all of this from happening(even if Trump did cheat theyre still asswipes)…

I can’t believe I have to share the same planet with these wastes of oxygen. I’m so exhausted..I’m so tired..part of me wishes I should’ve died on election night cuz at least then I wouldn’t be going through this endless loop of pain and despair and watching as everything slowly crumbles around me. I just want it all to end. I’m so tired. I’m tired seeing everything fall apart with nothing improving whatsoever majorly. Why did my parents bring me into this world? I wish i hadn’t been born at all

thank you for reaching out! it’s completely normal to feel afraid and hopeless under these circumstances, you’re definitely not alone in that. I’m so sorry it’s affecting you like this. the thing I’m good at online is providing resources, so for a more sympathetic shoulder to cry on, please consider contacting a “warmline” - like a hotline, but for less urgent situations.

“the primary ask from organizers [of the Microsoft boycott] is to help deprive Microsoft of revenue.” simply playing a game that you already own does not generate revenue, as long as you avoid microtransactions. don’t give them money, and if it doesn’t have ads, you’re good. they literally don’t even know if you’re playing offline, so there’s no possible way they could benefit. plus, I would argue that if participating in a boycott would harm you (eg. making you “scared to death” to play a game you love), the difference one individual will make to the cause does not outweigh your personal wellbeing - but again, just playing the game is compliant with the boycott’s goal of impeding revenue

for merch that’s no longer sold in the US, you can try Etsy, thrift shops, or making your own.

as an Autistic person myself, I’m also worried about what RFK’s statements could lead to. I would recommend that anyone not yet diagnosed should postpone seeking diagnosis until after this administration and its policies end, just to be on the safe side. while diagnosis can of course be beneficial, the only “treatment” that many insurance companies will cover is ABA, which is known to be abusive and traumatizing (TW the latter link is upsetting, just sharing for those who don’t know), and most accommodations that diagnosis would legally entitle you to can be requested more informally, especially in a school/university setting (despite my diagnosis, my college refused to officially give me any of the accommodations my psychiatrist recommended, but I got most of what I needed by speaking to individual professors). As for what to do about it, you can get involved with Autistic advocacy groups like ASAN (they have a tumblr too), AASPIRE, or the Autism Society

in response to your last paragraph, I seriously urge you to PLEASE call a hotline - there are people who are trained to listen and help - and get therapy if you can. despair is a natural response to everything that’s happening, but you’re more important than all of that. I’ve been there; the worst of it for me was around a decade ago now, and in the last few years I’ve genuinely felt hope. it really, truly, does get so much better, as long as you’re here to see it.

focus small, on yourself and your family. 1. what’s good about this exact moment? for me, it’s beautiful weather out and I get to see the new leaves coming in on all the trees. 2. what can you do to make right now just a little bit better? if I weren’t at work, I might get a cup of tea to enjoy in the sun. 3. if you feel up to it, what can you do right now to make tomorrow a little better? maybe when I get home I’ll wash a couple dishes so I can drink from a clean cup in the morning; on a somewhat longer timescale, I garden - check out my dirt (I promise there’s seeds in there lmao) - and this gives me hope.

[lesbicosmos]

happy one year of dead boy detectives!! ❤️🔎💙

incoming very long very sappy ramble about it:

it's always the shows you find while you're ill at home and just looking for something to make time go faster, huh?

see: me last june, suffering in bed because of a really bad chest infection and stumbling on a few tumblr posts about this silly ghost show, then deciding to watch it because i had nothing better to do, and needed something to distract me from feeling like shit.

i knew ten minutes into watching episode one that this show would become a fixation - and a big one. but even that is such an understatement of how much i love this show and how much it means to me.

i've been in many fandoms over the years, gone through many phases of a movie or a tv show taking over my life and personality for weeks or months at a time but i don't think any of them have stuck with me as much as dead boy detectives. sure if you mention any of my past interests i'll get really excited and mentally dust them off, but this one hasn't had the time to gather the dust in the first place. i'm also always desperate for everyone i know to watch whatever it is my brain is fixated on at any time, but i fear i annoyed my friends and family more than ever with this one, i'll still bring it up in conversation whenever i can

i've always been more of a character-oriented person than a plot person - even if a piece of media has a plot that barely makes sense, i will obsess over it if it has good characters. and this show has SUCH good characters. they're all so unique and every one is relatable in some strange way. and, of course, the queer representation is everything to me. it's SO queer without feeling performative about it. so many of the characters are queer and that aspect of their character is an intrinsic part of who they are as a person without it being their only trait. i only hope future shows take notes. no show has ever really had characters that resonated with me as much as these ones, especially the core four. and bonus! it has brilliant plot writing, too!!

and of course the cast and crew are all just as brilliant. i love when you can just tell the people involved in a show had a genuine passion and genuinely loved working on it. that's evident in every part of dead boy detectives, and the cast interactions that still happen even a year later.

this fandom is hands down one of the kindest most welcoming ones i've ever been in: the fandom events (i ran one myself and co-ran another!! i've never been that involved with a fandom before and it was so much fun), the meta commentary, the fics, the fanart - and the people. i only joined the dbda haunt discord a couple months ago but it's already one of my favourite online places to be and the people i've met on there are all absolutely wonderful, i love you all sm <3

the inspiration this show has given me to write fanfic has been INSANE. i've written before, but i've never had this many ideas i'm so desperate to write down. i still have so many that haven't been written yet!!

okay this post is long and i'm rambling but i just love this show so much and even though we've now had twice as much time since the cancellation as there was before it, i'm in awe of how much the fandom has arguably grown since then. i'll never stop fighting to get this show back, but even if we don't, i'm forever grateful for what we've got and the people i've met and become mutuals with because of it, and i truly believe no one will ever be able to stop us keeping this show alive - no pun intended

happy one year dead boy detectives, can't wait to see what the fandom brings over the next one <33

[soullessjack]

having favorite characters from media with vastly different ideas on morality or like anything ever is so much fun. here’s blorbo bingus who actively kills everyone he doesn’t like and here’s grongo buppy who believes in the magic of friendship and forgiveness and they’re best friends to me

[xxplastic-cubexx]

In your professional educated psychology opinion. why is cherik Like That

i cannot give a Professional educated psychological opinion until at least may but as far as i can tell queer people cant be normal bout anything so thats why theyre like that

[good-beans]

You talked a little while ago about why you don't think Shidou would make a good father to Amane (agreed) and proposed the idea of Mahiru adopting Amane. That's cute but I want to tell you about my post-MILGRAM headcanon:

Amane joins the Kajiyamas

Not Fuuta specifically adopting her, but like him taking her back to his family's house. I'm sure they'd have a spare room

I think people don't think about Fuuta's homelife much, or if they do they take Fuuta's one interrogation question where he calls his dad an old fogey and assume its like, abusive

And don't get me wrong, I don't think the Kajiyama household are perfect. Fuuta' beautician sister surely hasn't helped when it comes to Fuuta's body image issues and I'm betting they're all a bunch of tsunderes too embarrassed to say they love each other

But in a series where most of the abused characters are still convinced their abuser loved them/acted out of love. Seeing a guy not be afraid to call his dad a loser is almost a green flag

I think it'd be good for Amane to not necessarily be adopted as the lone child to a single parent but get to be introduced to a very different style of family unit from her own One where its normal to express different opinions or disagreements or even have arguments and not have it be the end of the world

Amane already has a snarky side to her, I bet it'd flourish in a brash household like the Kajiyama's (or at least how I imagine them to be)

OOHHH wait I love that so much! >:O

I agree -- I never interpreted Fuuta's family as abusive or harmful, just not super close and struggling a bit after his mother left. (And yeah, all as openly emotional as him😭) They seem stable and very capable to taking in a extra, very well-behaved child. Assuming Fuuta is the way he is because of them, that atmosphere of being very honest and forward would work well for her. They say things as they are, little by little pointing out the harmful parts of her worldview. Like you said, none of them make excuses about harmful behavior stemming from love, so she'd get a really healthy dose of truth in that area. She never feels coddled or treated like a baby. They care for her while treating her very maturely.

I absolutely love how well she and Fuuta get along, with that snarky side to her that you mentioned. It would allow her to fit in well in the new household, getting the sense of belonging she'll lose after leaving the cult. Also, seeing how Fuuta and his sister let things slip and aren't perfect sons/daughters, she'll be able to relax about earning a parent's love through perfect behavior. She'll probably stay exactly the same, but her stress about it will fade <3

I doubt Fuuta's father can ever replace the hole she'll have from her own father, but the addition of an older sister will be huge. Amane will never get the feeling her mother is being replaced, but the woman will still fill the gap of the older, same-gender role model she needs. Her beautician job may throw Amane at first (being an indulgence in vanity), but it isn't as in-your-face as other careers. I think she could definitely ease Amane into accepting it, and over time, accepting her own personal "indulgence."

Plus, her moving in would also be really good for Fuuta! I think he'd recognize there's a ton of fun things she missed out on, and that heroic side of him outweighs the part that cringes: he gripes and groans about going to "kid places," but he's always the one to announce "I can't believe you've never been to __, we're going right now!!" This allows him to touch grass leave the house and experience his own life to the fullest. He's able to channel his desire to help society into a healthier outlet. Also, seeing her studying habits and plans for the future might even inspire him to do the same. (might.) He becomes the stereotypical good big brother, though of course he denies it viciously...

I have recently been going insane over their friendship so I'm completely taken with this idea OUGH thank you for telling me ;-----;