#he gave hopes to everyone every now and then
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klausysworld · 3 days ago
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Left But Never Forgotten
Upon the Mikaelson's return to New Orleans, they each had their worries. Klaus was focused on his pregnant werewolf and the deep rooted need to be a king. Rebekah desperately wanted her past lover, Marcel back but also felt the need to protect her niece to be. Elijah was supposed to be concentrating on his brother and Hayley as they expected their child, or the mess that the divided factions of supernaturals in New Orleans was but instead, he was thinking of her.
Y/N.
He hadn't seen her since leaving New Orleans a hundred years ago. She and Marcel had been presumed dead, nothing had prepared him for seeing her face again.
Feeling her palm cup his cheek and her thumb stroking the prickle of stubble left on his skin. She was so similar and yet so different to the last time. Before she had been a princess, now she was a Queen.
Even when the Mikaelson's moved into the abattoir and his room was just beside hers, she still felt too far away.
Elijah felt as if he were just watching her life go by without him, it made him sick. He lacked the usual hunger of a vampire, the need to kill or hurt. He lost his passion to protect and guide.
He just wanted her.
Everyone knew that, except her.
Nobody understood the pain she and Marcel went through. They waited day in and day out for their family to come home, to tell them that it was okay and that Mikael wouldn't torture them again, that their nightmares weren't real and they were safe. They rebuilt the city brick by brick, cleaning away the ashes left behind but they still didn't come back. So they moved on. They worked together and they got stronger and they earned their power and their places and then they finally came back and just took it from them like it was nothing.
And Elijah had barely said five words to her.
He just stared, but whenever his lips parted no words would leave him. Elijah didn't realise she took that as something else. But for Y/N, she had been hoping to hear his voice for a century, crying for him in her sleep and now he was here and she felt like he didn't even care enough to talk to her.
She could have thought he didn't care at all if it weren't for the way he looked at her. The look of love in those deep eyes of his. That same look she used to see each morning and night.
Y/N wanted him to know that she still wanted him to look at her like that, she still wanted him like that.
So she tried to show him. A lingering touch hear or there, just on his arm or his shoulder. Or she'd bring him a cup of tea the way he used to like it, ask him about the literature he was reading most currently but he could barely get five words out.
So she tried not to focus on words, instead she gave him a kiss and hoped it was enough. It was.
Elijah hadn't exactly been expecting her to suddenly grab his face and push her lips against his but most definitely wasn't complaining.
Both hands lifted and cupped her face like all those times years ago, kissing her deeply like he'd craved to for so long. He needed her hands in his hair, to ruin the perfect facade he'd been wearing.
His tie was clutched into her palm and tugged gently, leading him with her to his room. He followed her mindlessly onto his bed, crawling over her and keeping his tongue with hers.
The desperation was so strong.
Elijah could feel the fabric of his tie slip from his neck. The buttons on his shirt slowly revealing more and more of his chest, he wanted to rip the clothes from her body but he couldn't stop holding her beautiful face.
It was when his belt was unclasped that he finally pulled away, looking down at her with lust blown pupils. His eyes swirled with that darkness that she enjoyed, her fingers traced the veins beneath his eyes before her thumb slid over his fang.
"I really missed you." She confessed to him and he softened, his hands finally dropping to her hips to pull her close.
"I missed you too, every day." He uttered, eyes flicking between both of hers.
"But you never came back..." She whispered and he looked down.
"I thought you were gone...I saw you, you looked...you didn't look alive. I couldn't bare coming back to the place that did that to you. I couldn't stand the memory of your body strung up like that." He told her shakily, his hands desperate to keep her with him this time.
"Marcel and I had to rip ourselves free of those nails, Elijah. I could hear you, you would have ran whether I was alive or not-"
"Don't you ever think that." He whispered, his hold tight now, both arms round her waist and her body in his lap. "I would never knowingly leave you for dead." He promised.
Her body rest against him, her face against his broad chest and warming his cold skin.
"I love you, Y/N. I loved you from the second I laid eyes on you." He murmured, lips kissing her shoulder gently after. "You mean more to me than anything. You're family."
"Don't lie to me, Elijah. I know I'll never be your family, I don't think anybody can truly become a Mikaelson. Hayley's the closest anyone can get and that's because she had Klaus's baby and we both know I can't give you a child." She practically whimpered.
Elijah just looked at her for a short while, guilt in his gaze. He could remember when she was human, when she didn't yet know he was vampire. She wanted them to have three children, when she found out he couldn't she thought maybe there could be a spell, there was still hope. However when she turned too, she knew that it was a useless thought and gave up altogether.
They had considered adoption but Y/N worried that if the child wasn't biologically a Mikaelson that they wouldn't truly love or protect the child. Not any of the Mikaelsons.
Of course she'd never verbally expressed that fear but Elijah could tell. Knowing that Klaus could procreate and he couldn't was difficult for him, just like he knew it was difficult for Rebekah knowing her brother could have a baby but she also couldn't.
But seeing Y/N hurt by it too was an extra hit to his heart.
After all these years, he still dreamt of their family. He'd be a much better father than Mikael, and she'd be a much better mother than Esther.
"It's not you who can't give me a child, Y/N." He murmured. "It's me, my fault. You can't blame yourself, I turned you and I took that possibility away but it will not ever change how I feel for you. You are my family, I'd carry you with me for eternity."
It was just difficult to believe with how that family behaved towards outsiders.
"Okay." Y/N whispered, it was clear she was only relenting to try not form an argument and Elijah wanted to be more reassuring but he knew it would only escalate things.
His hand reached to touch hers, hold hers.
"Allow me to court you again." He murmured, wanting to show her their potential again but she laughed softly and shook her head.
"I don't want us back at square one. I want it to be how it was before." She told him, smiling softly. It warmed him.
"I'd like that." He nodded, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "But I still want it to be special, I haven't been able to cherish you for so long now."
"I suppose I won't stop you from a gift or two." She teased and he hummed.
She looked back down at his bare chest and sighed, she'd missed this.
He pulled her back to his chest, coddling her to him and stroking her back lovingly.
The skin to skin wasn't something Elijah experienced often, he only allowed it when he truly loved someone. His mind and body craved it.
Y/N knew how deprived he was right from childhood. So, just like she used to, she pulled her shirt from her body and let the skin of her upper body lay against his.
"You know that I love you?" He whispered and she nodded.
"I just wish you'd talk to me more, I can't be with you if you can't even hold a normal conversation with me Elijah..."
"I know, my sweet. I was just so struck when I saw you and I feared that you could have moved on...with Marcel." He hesitated and she scoffed.
"Oh? And after he was making out with Rebekah? That didn't clue you in, no?" She teased and he looked down with an embarrassed smile.
"I was shy I suppose." He admitted and she smiled.
"You used to be shy all the time." She whispered, stroking his hand and leaning up to kiss the corner of his lips like she used to.
He leaned forward and leant his forehead against hers, a warm smile on his face.
"I'm so glad you're here."
"So am I."
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multific · 11 hours ago
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Saved Him
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Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: When news came to you about Chrissy's death, you wondered just why she was with your boyfriend at the time. You knew he had a crush on her a while back but Eddie swore he was over her because he liked you.
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A Satanist?
A cultist?
A murderer?
Your Eddie?
No.
These people were just blinded by rage and fear. 
Jason was also blind.
And fucking dumb.
He claims he saw things. Which you don't deny, but it wasn't Eddie's doing. And you knew that better than anyone.
You have been his friend since middle school, and his girlfriend for the last 2 years. You knew him better than anyone. 
You knew about his struggles, hobbies, friends, and favourite places. You knew everything.
And you also had a feeling about where to find him.
Skull Rock.
You followed the kids there and surely enough, there he was.
"Eddie?" 
"Y/N!" he rushed to you, hugging you. "I didn't do any of that."
"I know." you hugged him tighter. "I know you didn't." you smiled as you pulled back and he kissed you. 
The same kiss he always gave you when you felt bad, to calm you, to encourage you, to show you that he loves you.
But this kiss was also filled with fear.
You heard the others groan as Dustin spoke. 
"We don't have time for this."
You had a lot of catch-up to do. And you couldn't wait for an explanation. 
But now, for now, you were just happy to have your Eddie back.
Later, as everyone was getting ready, you watched Dustin and Eddie bond before he came over to you.
"Are you ready for this?" he asked and you looked into his eyes.
"I understand the nightmares come from Vecna, I understand how miserable it must be to have such nightmares. What I don't get is why was she at your place?"
"Is that really all you can think about when we are heading to death?"
You looked at him with no emotion on your face, but your eyes said every word your mouth refused. 
He let out a sigh and grabbed your hands into his.
"I do not, did not love Chrissy. She wanted to put her mind at ease because of the nightmares. I only wanted to help her."
"But you get it how it looks? Do you know how many times I have Jason tell me that his girlfriend was with my boyfriend when she died? Do you know the whispers and looks I got?"
"Why do you care so much about what people say?"
"Because they are telling me that you cheated on me. That you don't love me and it fucking hurts, Eddie." you tried your best not to raise your voice, the others don't need to hear your argument.
"But I do love you and I would never cheat on you, Darling."
"I know. This is why I feel like I'm being pulled into two pieces. One part of me understands and knows that you love me. The other is extremely jealous and furious."
"No need for you to be jealous, My Love." he lifted and kissed the back of your hand. "I promise, I only love you."
"I love you too Eddie." the sincere look in his eyes helped you calm down the rising storm.
---
Eddie was being attacked when you let out a yell. To save his life, you needed the attention of those flying things.
"HEY YOU DUMB THINGS FOLLOW ME!" you yelled and it got their attention. "Dustin! Help Eddie!" you yelled as you ran away. 
You managed to lock yourself into a car hoping those things would give up.
But as they banged on the windows and doors of the car, you weren't so sure you would survive.
One moment later, it all stopped.
All banging, all screaming, everything just stopped.
It took you a couple of minutes to get out of the car, you looked for Eddie and Dustin and you soon found them in the trailer. You rushed over to Eddie and hugged him.
"You saved me." he said. "Thank you." he tightened his grip as you let out a long sigh of relief.
He was alive.
He was fine.
He was holding you.
"I love you." 
He loved you.
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Taglist: 
@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 
@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 
@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
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sakuraharuno156 · 3 days ago
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I was about to not answer that, but... I'm too stubborn to leave you in the dark about how sh*tty Hinata is and why every woman with a right mind should hate her, and every person who doesn't hate women should hate her as well ❤️
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First of all, did I ever said she is the only sh*t/easy to hate character? No.
But
There are characters that are villains and they are presented as villains to the public, so I (personally, you do you boo ❤️) don't see a point in hating them. You know you shouldn't follow Danzo as a role model - he is a villain.
Hinata is supposed to be a background character but on "the right side".
It's important to show all the flaws and mistakes of "non-villains", because they tend to be rewarded for bad behavior and it shows a bad massage to young people watching/reading it (and Naruto is a Shonen, so it is essentially made for children/teenagers).
Hinata is a stalker who got with a guy she was stalking - she got rewarded FOR A CRIME.
Hinata is a weak woman who always needs saving and needs a man to survive - she got rewarded for never doing a thing. All she can do is what she was given on a silver platter the moment she was born.
Hinata is a girl with no personality, no talent, no ambition, all she has is obsession - she got rewarded for being a pick me girl, who never cared for anything or anyone (besides the guy she likes).
It's easy to see her mistakes as "the right thing to do" because - hey, if you can stalk someone into a relationship, then why not continue to do so? Awfull. 🤷‍♀️
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Now to the "points":
1.) The plot could have progressed without Hinata in Pain arc.
Let me remind you that team Guy was on their way and Guy was able to nearly k*ll jubidara. You think that he couldn't fight Nagato, but Hinata could? Funny.
But why didn't they help? Oh yes, BECAUSE THEY HAD TO SAVE HINATA.
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Also, it's not like I made it up that she was a liability, it was stated IN MANGA.
1. First to Hinata DIRECTLY.
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2. Then to Guy.
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Guy would get in a way, but Hinata could help? Hilarious.
Also, Nagato wanted Naruto alive so Naruto wouldn't die without Hinatas interference - he would be just less broken by the whole encounter.
The only "positive" you can find is the fact that Naruto met Minato, but that also means that Hinata pushed Naruto to such hatred and despair that he GAVE HIMSELF UP, HE BECAME A MONSTER HE TRIED TO NEVER BE. He destroyed the village and was terrified that he killed villagers. He was in such bad mental state that he was hurting on the outside.
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Also, "noone gives a f*ck" that she wanted to get her own guard punished (propably k*lled because Hyugas are not lenient in their punishments) for a selfish confession? You ok?
2.) Did I say I want her to heal Shikamaru? No.
I said that she's a bad person for not even CARING that he's dying. Her being jealous for a guy dying is LITERALLY CRAZY.
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Everyone is happy that Shikamaru is alive, but "I want to stand beside Naruto too". B*TCH HE WAS DYING. SHOW SOME CONSIDERATION FOR YOUR COMRADE WHO WAS DY*NG FIGHTING THE SAME BATTLE AS YOU WERE.
Geez, that's pathetic and WRONG AF.
3.) Hinata didn't care for her teammates one bit.
Written exams are about teamwork and caring for your teammates? Let Hinata make them all thrown out for Naruto-kun 👉👈.
Her teammate is fighting? Let Hinata care only about Naruto-kun 👉👈.
Her teammate is being carried out by MEDICS? Let Hinata go to Naruto-kun (Who was 100% fine) first and treat her teammate as an afterthought 👉👈.
The fact that in an exam where YOU NEED TO RELY ON YOUR TEAMMATES, Hinata can't be bothered is baffling.
4.) "The whole Hyuga sh*t is not Hinatas problem" because...?
She's not a Hyuga? Or she's not a daughter of the head of Hyuga clan?
If your family is slave owner and you benefit from it, but you don't care to change it - YOU ARE A SLAVE OWNER.
I hope I don't have to explain to you why it makes her A BAD PERSON.
Also, please read the manga, because:
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You saying Hiashi "loathes her" is just funny or straight up delusional. Hinata is weak, so Hiashi doesn't care to train her - that's it. That doesn't mean that he wouldn't protect her.
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People like to imagine Hiashi as abusive when he cares for Hinata more than Naruto ever did 🤷‍♀️
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So, in conclusion:
Hinata is irrelevant at best and absolutely UNBEARABLE at her worst. She is just a bad person who enjoys making it worse for everyone, because she is selfish af 🤷‍♀️.
Also, don't use the word "r*t*rd*d". It's a slur, and when you grow up - you'll (hopefully) regret it.
To learn more, you can see here:
https://www.specialolympics.org/stories/impact/why-the-r-word-is-the-r-slur
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Bye ✨️
"…So you claim Hinata had no consideration for life of anyone other than Naruto... and then use a screenshot from the manga of her literally showing consideration for the wellbeing of someone who isn't Naruto."
Considering how things went after Neji vs Naruto, chances are that things changed in the Hyuuga family for those other than just Neji. Even if not, Hinata risking her life =/= a lack of consideration for anyone's life other than Naruto's, despite consequences. Or are you saying you’ve never done anything without carefully considering every single possible consequence first?
But hey… "Tell me you didn’t read my ask properly without telling me you didn’t read my ask properly".
"Or are you saying you've never done anything without carefully considering every single possible consequence first?"
First of all, sure, everyone did, but not necessarily when the consequences are:
1) you will just get in a way of a battle and be a great inconvenience instead of helping
(of which she was aware of)
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2) getting your guard punished/possibly killed
3) you hurting the person you are supposed to "help" (I'm not gonna repeat myself, you can read it here)
4) you dying for no reason
5) if you somehow don't get killed, you becoming a burden to medics who could devote their time to people who did help or got hurt by ricochet of the attack.
Second of all, you are putting it in a way that implies that Hinata did that only once, and you are wrong.
At some point of someone consistently doing the same thing you have to admit they either do that maliciously or that they are plain stupid.
I'm just gonna bring a few examples (that I talked about before over and over, but I'll do that again, especially for you)
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Shimamaru: almost died
Hinata: "But I want to stay beside Naruto too"
Does she care? No. Naruto-kun. That's all she cares about.
But maybe that's because they weren't too close, because who cares about a person from your class that is your comrade in war, he's not Naruto-kun.
How about her own teammate BEING CARRIED OUT BY MEDICS?
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The oiment Hinata has is more important for Naruto-kun, who is completely fine.
Who cares about Kiba, he is just being taken by medical team, but he can be an afterthought, they are just teammates after all.
How about her family?
Neji, who will be punished for hurting her (because, as you recognize YOURSELF, it's before Naruto vs Neji fight, so the punishment WILL BE THERE), who asked her TIME AND TIME again to just give up. Why will he do that, huh? Maybe because he had known what happened TO HIS FATHER FOR JUST THINKING ABOUT HER IN A BAD WAY.
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Anyway, how about making Neji hurt her, then provoking him by RUBBING IT IN HIS FACE THAT HE IS BELLOW HER?
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Neji just said (again) that she should give up and stop the suffering, she just casually mentions that he is "lost and suffering" because he's not in the main family.
(And before you say it was nice of her, NEJI AND THEREFORE MANGA showed us he didn't appreciate it, and the guard also saw that Neji was provoked and WAS ABOUT TO CHARGE AT HER FOR THAT COMMENT)
But ok, maybe they weren't close enough of a family, so it was acceptable to provoke him and get him to be punished, because you know...
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Naruto-kun is watching, so...
How about closer family? How about her own sister?
(Now, I don't like to quote the movies because I prefer to base my opinion on canon manga only, but you, Hinata Fans, love it, so let's go)
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(Credit to whoever made it, I can't find the original)
Hanabi was just kidnapped, but Hinatas mind is occupied, because well... Naruto-kun 🥺
BUT OK, MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, THEY DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH OF A BOND BETWEEN THEM TO CARE.
Let's look at the person who took care of her for her whole life, her guard, her family, let's look at Ko:
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Oh wait, we have already seen it.
It doesn't matter who it is, if it's her comrade, friend, teammate, cousin, sister, guard. If that person is not Naruto-kun, their life or well being is irrelevant to Hinata.
She cares about Naruto, that's it. Nothing else and noone else matters.
Do you understand?
So back to the beginning:
At some point of someone consistently doing the same thing you have to either admit they do that maliciously or that they are plain stupid and when it comes to LIFE OF OTHER PEOPLE I'll say that it either way makes you a bad person 🤷‍♀️
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So, in conclusion:
I did read your ask, I just assumed (and that is my mistake, I apologize) that if you are protecting Hinata, you shoud know first thing about her, but not only you didn't read the manga, you didn't even read the parts that had Hinata in it.
So, please, first read at LEAST chapters that have Hinata in them, before you speak (It's not a lot, she is a background character after all) or I'm not gonna answer to you again, because I'm tired of repeating myself for a 1000th time.
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msilwrites · 3 days ago
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Papa Bear Material - (Captain Price Fic) - Matchmaking Chapter 1 (Shorter Version)  Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
A/N: I hope you guys can be patient with me as I set up the scene and context for the story! I know you might be eager for Papa Bear John, so if you can't wait, feel free to scroll all the way down or check out the short version. But if you’d like to enjoy the full background and get all the details leading up to the moment, stick around here for the original version. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy! Warning: Mention of child abuse in the story. Summary: Y/N is a reserved former constable and master sniper in the London police force, now working full-time as an artisan. She reconnects with old colleagues at a grill house for a catch-up, where her former junior, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, tries to play matchmaker. Gaz’s attempt to set her up with the retired SAS and Papa Bear material, Captain John Price, is met with resistance as Y/N is caught off guard by the unexpected attention.
Y/N stepped into the familiar warmth of the grill house, the smoky aroma of sizzling meat mingling with the distinct hum of rugby commentary from the TV above the bar. The place had that well-worn, comfortable charm—like an old friend. She spotted her old colleagues almost immediately, seated around a table, beers in hand, laughter spilling into the air.
“Oi! Look who’s gracing us with her posh, artsy presence!” came the teasing voice of one of the officers. “You still wearing them fancy shoes, Y/N?”
Y/N rolled her eyes, a half-smile playing on her lips as she made her way over. "Oh, please. I’d have to sell a few more prototypes just to afford these," she said, giving her Gucci Princeton Leather slip-ons a quick glance. "You know, designing and crafting, prototypes for others, specially demanding architects and students—it's harder than catching a criminal on a Sunday shift."
The group laughed, and one of them raised their glass. “Come on, that’s not true. Bet you’re all over the art scene now, living the dream!”
“Sure,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she slid into her seat, “if by ‘living the dream’ you mean sometimes starving in a studio, getting rejected by every gallery in town, and designing things no one’s ever heard of, yeah, it’s just like the movies.”
They all burst out laughing again. One of the lads signaled to the waiter, who was making his rounds. "Oi, get her a proper drink," he said with a grin, "she looks like she needs it."
A tap of beer was quickly placed in front of her, and she gave her colleagues a mock glare, but couldn't help but smile. "You lot are too kind. Just wait ‘til you see my next masterpiece—a painting of you lot after too many pints."
As the laughter faded, they began catching up, each group diving into stories and teasing. "Any funny incidents lately?" one of the officers asked, a grin spreading across his face.
Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh, plenty. You lot wouldn't believe half of them, but I'm still waiting for the call-up for my big art show... not holding my breath, though."
The conversation shifted, and soon enough, someone asked, “When’s your next reservist shift, then? You’re still doing that, right?”
Y/N leaned back in her chair, taking a moment before answering. "Ah, next month. Got my refresher course first, so I'll see you lot after that." She picked up her glass, the cool beer sliding down her throat as she sighed contentedly.
It had been a long day—too long. But, she was glad to be here, catching up with these old faces, the familiar rhythm of their banter and laughter settling into her. The worries of her day faded, replaced with the warmth of good company and the taste of a well-earned pint.
The table buzzed with laughter and the clink of silverware as everyone dug into their meal. Y/N, content with a bite of lamb chop, was about to take another when Kyle’s voice broke through.
“So, Y/N,” he said with a mischievous grin, leaning forward, “how long’s it been since you’ve been single?”
Y/N paused, looking at him like he’d just asked if she wanted to run a marathon. She narrowed her eyes, the chop still in her hand. “You’re not about to start playing matchmaker, are you, Gaz?”
Kyle shrugged nonchalantly, completely unbothered. “Well, you know... I might have a perfect guy in mind. Could introduce you next time.”
The table erupted into teasing shouts, and a few of the women at the table nudged her playfully. “Ooh, a ‘perfect guy,’ eh?” one of them said with a sly smile. “Sounds like someone’s trying to get you out there, Y/N!”
“Yeah, yeah,” another girl chimed in, grinning. “You can’t stay single forever, love. You need to live a little!”
Y/N laughed, raising her glass of beer to her lips. “I’ve been living plenty, thank you very much,” she said, taking a sip. “I’ve been single since I was 22. Too much going on in my life. Can barely keep up with myself, let alone anyone else.”
One of the guys leaned in, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Come on, Y/N. You can’t just keep dodging the love life thing forever. You’ve gotta try at least once. Who knows? Maybe this ‘perfect guy’ will be just what you need.”
“Or,” another woman piped up, waggling her eyebrows, “he’ll just be an excuse for a nice date night and some free food. Win-win.”
Y/N put a hand on her chest, feigning shock. “Oh, I see how it is. You lot just want me to get free dinner at someone else’s expense!”
Kyle laughed, raising his beer. “Well, if you don’t like him, I’ll pay for the meal myself. But I’m tellin’ ya, he’s worth a shot.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. “Tell you what—if I get to choose the place, I’ll consider it. But no more ‘perfect guy’ nonsense, alright?”
Her colleagues cheered, raising their own glasses. “To Y/N’s perfect guy!” someone shouted, and the table erupted into more laughter.
Y/N just rolled her eyes, taking another bite of her lamb chop. “Alright, alright. You lot are relentless.”
As the teasing continued, Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Alright then, who’s this ‘perfect guy’ Gaz has in mind? One of your mates?”
Kyle leaned back, clearly proud of his matchmaking skills. “Yeah, mate. His name’s Price. Former SAS, top bloke—don’t let the gruff exterior fool you. He’s solid. Got a good head on his shoulders.”
The table went silent for a moment. Some of the guys and girls exchanged glances, clearly impressed by the mention of SAS.
“Ooh, SAS, huh?” one of the women said, grinning. “That’s like, the real deal, right? Tough, mysterious, probably has a six-pack or maybe even eight! Hidden under all that tactical gear.”
“Oh yeah, totally,” another guy added, practically waggling his eyebrows. “Rugged, muscular, probably a bit brooding. Can already see the whole ‘I’ve been through the worst’ vibe.”
“Sounds like someone’s got a lot of mystery about him,” one of the other women teased, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Could be just the thing you need, Y/N. A real adventure.”
Kyle, clearly delighted by the reactions, went on, “Yeah, you’ll like him. He’s been through the ringer, mate. The kind of bloke you don’t wanna mess with. Tough as nails.”
The group went on, each person adding their own humorous speculation about Price’s rugged, mysterious persona—tough military training, intense eyes, dangerous aura. The teasing was infectious, and everyone was in on it now, laughing and playfully suggesting how wild or sexy Price must be.
But Y/N’s expression had already shifted. Her hand, still holding the lamb chop, froze mid-air, and she stared into the distance, her eyes darkening as she took in what Kyle had said. The laughter around her faded into the background, her own thoughts taking over.
One of the guys, noticing the shift, raised an eyebrow. “You okay, Y/N?” he asked, clearly sensing the change in her mood.
Y/N blinked, breaking out of her thoughts. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Yeah, fine,” she said quietly, but her tone was noticeably subdued.
Kyle, still excited, didn’t notice. “I’m telling you, mate, he’s a proper top guy. You’ll get along fine with him, I’m sure of it.”
But Y/N’s eyes had taken on a more somber look. “Yeah, maybe,” she muttered, her voice much softer than before. “Look, I’m not saying all military guys are the same, but…” She paused, her hand tightening around her beer glass. “My father was ex-military. Bit of a bastard, to be honest. Mentally and verbally abusive. So, I’ve... never really been into that kind of thing, if I’m honest.”
The teasing stopped abruptly. The table grew quieter as her words sank in. Kyle, finally sensing the shift, looked at her with a soft expression. “I didn’t mean to bring up anything heavy, Y/N. Just thought I was being helpful…”
Y/N gave a small, weary smile, waving it off. “It’s alright, Gaz. You didn’t know.”
One of the women, noticing her mood, reached out and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you don’t have to meet him, Y/N. No pressure.”
Y/N nodded, the smile returning just a little, though it was faint. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’s a great guy. Just not sure I’m ready for... anything like that right now.”
The table grew quieter as the conversation shifted away from matchmaking and towards other, lighter topics. Laughter bubbled up again, but Y/N’s mind wandered back, the memories creeping in despite the cheerful chatter around her.
Her father… It didn’t take much to bring his image to the forefront of her mind. The memories of him were sharp and unpleasant, lingering like an unshakable shadow. He’d been in the military for years before moving into MI5 when she was a child. After he retired, though, he never really left the mindset behind.
She could still hear his voice in her head, cutting through the air, as if he was right there. The constant little digs—his sharp tone when he'd see her, trying to maintain that military discipline, as if he could control every aspect of her life. Every time he looked at her, it felt like he was seeing an enemy, like she was still just a soldier under his command.
He’d belittle her. Criticize everything, from her clothes to how she held herself, as though she were an extension of his authority. It wasn’t just the verbal abuse, though. There were moments where the anger would spill over. He’d hit her, sometimes, not out of frustration but out of a need to keep her “in line.” If she argued or disagreed with him, there were times he’d drag her out of the house, leave her stranded in the middle of nowhere just to teach her a “lesson,” and then come back hours later, violently pulling her into the car as though nothing had happened.
Y/N shook her head, pushing the dark thoughts back. She’d spent so long trying to bury them, trying to focus on anything else that didn’t make her feel like a child again, helpless under his control.
It wasn’t until that one night when she was 19—kicked out of the house, no place to go, just a bag and nothing but cold streets—that she decided enough was enough. She didn’t have the luxury of time or an easy choice. She’d had nowhere to go but a friend’s couch for a few nights, and that’s when she made the decision: she would join the police force. She needed the money, the stability, and more than anything, the chance to break free from the past.
The police program offered her a way out, an escape, a way to stand on her own two feet and start building something for herself. At the time, it also came with education, which was a huge draw. She could pay for her tuition while working, get the training she needed to eventually leave all that behind. She’d never intended to stay long in the force, but it turned out to be the best decision she could have made, even though it came with its own set of challenges.
Her eyes flickered back to the table, the laughter still ringing around her, but now muffled, distant. She had come a long way since those dark days, but sometimes—like now—the weight of it all crept back in.
It was easy for her to laugh along with the others, easy to let the jokes flow. But sometimes, when the noise died down, she could still feel the sting of her past, just beneath the surface.
Her thoughts snapped back to the present as someone nudged her elbow. “Oi, you alright, Y/N? You went all quiet there,” one of her friends said, concern lacing their voice.
Y/N blinked, shaking herself free of the memories. She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah,” she replied, taking another swig of her beer. “Just a long day, that’s all. Don’t mind me.”
They didn’t press further, thankfully, but she could feel their eyes on her for a moment before the conversation shifted again.
The laughter from the table faded as everyone began to gather their things, slipping out one by one into the cool night air. Y/N lingered for a moment, the clink of glasses and murmurs of her friends still echoing in her ears, but it felt distant now—like a tune she was no longer part of. As she stepped outside, the damp pavement underfoot caught the glow of the streetlights, each step sharp and purposeful. She let out a long breath, the chill of the evening sinking into her skin. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed this—quiet, space to herself, far away from the constant chatter and noise that seemed to follow her every move.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, snapping her from her thoughts. She glanced down at the screen. An unknown number. Normally, she wouldn’t even bother answering, but something told her to check it.
She unlocked the screen and swiped open the message.
"Hi, Y/N. John Price here. Gaz gave me your number. We should grab a drink sometime. Maybe chat about a few things. Cheers."
Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, eyes narrowing. Her thumb hovered over the screen as her mind scrambled for a reaction. John Price. The John Price? The former SAS legend, now retired, and apparently still involved in some highly classified business? What the hell was Gaz thinking?
"What the fuck, Gaz!!!" Y/N hissed under her breath, staring at the message with disbelief. Her gaze snapped up and scanned the street. She could see her friends walking ahead, far down the street now, their backs turned. Gaz, that bloody menace, had passed her number along without a second thought.
She stormed a few paces ahead, but her steps were more frustrated now. Her mind raced as she considered her options. She didn’t want any part of whatever ‘chat’ Price had in mind. She wasn’t a fool—she knew how these things worked. She could already picture the smug look on Gaz’s face when he thought he was doing her a favour, setting her up with some ‘good guy’ from his circle of military buddies. But military men… well, she had enough of that in her life already.
Y/N scrolled through her contacts, her fingers moving like clockwork. She was about to fire off a quick response to tell Price to kindly go to hell when she caught sight of her reflection in a shop window. Her face looked tired, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to her. She could feel the cold seeping through her coat, and for a moment, it was like the weight of everything—the years of trying to make it on her own, the trauma, the nightmares—settled right back on her shoulders.
She quickly closed her phone and shoved it back into her pocket. A drink with John Price? Yeah, that was definitely not going to happen. But Gaz? He was going to hear about this. She didn’t care if he was busy with some top-secret ops or whatnot—this was a step too far.
"Next round’s on you, Gaz," she muttered to herself as she walked toward the corner, feeling the familiar mix of annoyance and amusement begin to churn in her stomach. ----------
Y/N's eyes fluttered open to the soft light of the morning, spilling through the gap in her curtains. The events of last night—Gaz's matchmaking attempt and the unexpected message from John Price—already felt like distant memories, lost in the haze of sleep. She groaned and stretched, her arms reaching out before she swung them over the side of the bed and planted her feet onto the cool wooden floor.
She was hungry. More than that, she was starving.
With a deep sigh, she pushed herself to her feet, feeling the weight of yesterday’s long hours still in her bones. Her body moved on autopilot as she made her way to the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee hit her senses before she even flicked on the kettle. The day ahead was full—pottery to finish, pieces to deliver, and the usual grind of meeting deadlines for design projects. But the pottery was the steady foundation. It brought in consistent income each month, even if it required hours of backbreaking work.
The market was always a good outlet for her—hands-on, personal, where customers could appreciate the craftsmanship and effort she poured into each item. She enjoyed the physicality of it, the quiet satisfaction of shaping clay into something functional and beautiful. She had a reputation for it, too—well-known in the area for her distinctive, handmade pottery, with a smooth, glossy finish that always caught the light just right.
After a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon, she shuffled into her workshop. There was something grounding about the familiar rhythm of her craft. The kiln had cooled overnight, and her latest batch of pottery—plates, mugs, vases, and a few statement pieces—was ready for inspection. Y/N carefully removed the items, one by one, from the kiln. The glaze had set perfectly, giving each piece a rich, lustrous shine. She ran her fingers over the smooth surfaces, admiring the precision of her work. Her hands were still stained with the evidence of yesterday’s labor, but it didn’t bother her. It was part of the process.
As she carefully packed the finished pieces into protective wrapping for transport, she nodded in approval. She may have put the hours in, but the result was always worth it. The market would love these.
Later, Y/N stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, examining her reflection with a critical eye. She’d always believed that people treated you better when you looked your best—when you seemed approachable and friendly. And since she was about to step into the public eye again, it was important to put a little effort in. She applied her makeup with precision, the soft strokes highlighting her features, then slipped on a small pair of gold-plated silver earrings that added a touch of chic to her look.
She was wearing a loose white linen shirt with long sleeves, its cuffs casually rolled up. The shirt was light and breathable, perfect for a day of carrying boxes and setting up her stall. Over it, she tied her craftsman apron—dark, worn from years of use, but still functional, with enough pockets to hold all the tools she needed.
Her wide-legged chinos reached just to her ankles, the fit comfortable and practical, paired with her slip-on loafers—a soft, leather pair she’d had for years. It was casual yet still put-together, an outfit that made her feel at ease while still ready for whatever the day might throw at her.
She practiced her smile in the mirror—a grin that wasn’t too forced or strained, but warm and inviting. Some days, it felt like a performance. But she’d learned long ago that a good smile could sell a piece of pottery. And that was what she needed today: to sell, to engage, to make her art speak for her.
With a deep breath, she adjusted her apron, straightened her shoulders, and gave the mirror one final smile before grabbing the first box of finished work.
She had a day of selling ahead. And though sometimes the world felt heavy, she was ready to face it head-on. Her pottery, her designs—they were the bright spots in her life, the reasons she’d fought so hard to keep going, to stay grounded.
With another steadying breath, she stepped out into the cool morning air, the day ahead waiting for her.
-----------
Once Y/N had finished unpacking and arranging her wares at her stall, she took a moment to step back and admire the display. The pieces were neatly arranged—vases catching the light, mugs stacked just right, and her signature pottery glistening with its smooth, glossy finish. She felt a small sense of pride bubble up, but it was quickly tempered by the hustle of the market around her. There was no time to linger; there were customers to engage, products to sell, and a whole day ahead.
Grabbing her phone, she tapped into the group chat with her friends, which, of course, included Gaz. A small smile tugged at her lips as she typed out a quick message:
“Hey guys, I’m set up at the market today—stall 30 if you’re in the area and fancy dropping by. Would be good to catch up if you have the time! 😎”
She added a few relevant emojis, then hit send, tucking her phone back into her apron pocket with a sigh. If they could make it, great. If not, no big deal. It would be nice to see a familiar face, but she’d already grown accustomed to the solitude of her work.
As she glanced up from her phone, she was met with the hustle and bustle of market-goers milling around her stall. Some stopped to admire the pottery, others just passed by, lost in their own little world. Either way, it was all part of the game. She adjusted a few pieces that had shifted during the unpacking and waited for her first customer of the day. -------------
Y/N was arranging the last of her pieces when a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped up to her stall. She glanced up, quickly taking in his dark blue shirt, trim hair, and the kind of build that made him look like he could carry a truck on his back if he wanted to. The guy looked like Papa Bear material—muscular, solid, and with a presence that seemed to fill the space around him.
He stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning over the pottery on display, then back at her. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly attractive he was. He had the kind of look that made heads turn, even if he didn’t seem to be trying. She could feel a little flutter of nerves creeping in, but she pushed it away, focusing on the pieces in front of her.
"Hi there," she said, forcing a smile as she adjusted a mug on the table.
"Hey," the man replied, his voice deep and steady. "You’ve got some brilliant work here."
Y/N nodded, her hands still busy with arranging. "Thanks. I’ve been at it for years, trying to get the perfect finish."
There was a pause as he looked at her again, this time with a more direct gaze. “You’ve definitely nailed it. Everything looks... well, perfect.”
Y/N felt a little warmth in her cheeks. What’s with this guy? she thought, still unsure of why she was feeling so off-kilter. He didn’t strike her as the type who would be interested in pottery, let alone strike up a conversation about it.
Then, with a small smile, he stepped forward and said, “I’m John, by the way. Gaz sent me.”
Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat at the mention of Gaz’s name. Gaz? The first thought that shot through her head was, No, no, not this again. Her stomach turned as she realized that Gaz hadn't given up on matchmaking her with this Papa Bear of a man. Gaz!! You matchmaking bastard, why'd you do this to me!!
She tried to shake off the feeling. "Gaz, huh? Of course. I should’ve known."
John’s smile softened. “Yeah, he said I should come over and introduce myself. Said you’re someone I should meet.”
Y/N gave him a wry grin, glancing at the ground for a moment. "That sounds like something Gaz would say." She forced a casual tone, but inside, she was already second-guessing everything.
There was a brief, knowing pause between them before John continued, his voice a bit quieter but warm. "I’ve seen the pictures Gaz sent me... you’ve definitely exceeded that. And you look even better in person."
Her heart pounded, and she could feel her pulse picking up, but she didn’t want to let him see how much his words affected her. Gaz... you absolute idiot.
John continued, stepping a bit closer. "I don’t usually do this, but I’d love to take you out sometime. Dinner, drinks... whatever you fancy."
Y/N felt a flush creeping up her neck. This was it, wasn't it? Gaz and his matchmaking nonsense had really gone this far... She looked up at him, her expression softer now, but still holding a hint of surprise. This guy wasn’t just tall and fit; he was exactly the kind of person Gaz would go on about.
“Look, I am a little busy right now... uhhmmm,” she said, but there was a small, teasing smile playing at her lips.
John smiled, his eyes twinkling with something playful. “Take your time. I’m patient.”
Y/N sighed inwardly. Gaz hadn't given up on this... She couldn’t help but feel the pressure of it all, even as she admired John's presence. Big guy, military background, and that soft, paternal charm. She’d met her fair share of tough guys, but there was something different about John Price. The way he carried himself—genuine, steady, and disarmingly kind—was impossible to ignore. A/N: I do hope you enjoyed that one! I’ll be writing another chapter when inspiration strikes, or feel free to drop any suggestions you might have! On to the NEXT CHAPTER ----->
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bluespring864 · 2 days ago
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Tags by @crossedcourt <3
I will now run with them and write an essay because I am always insane about Novandy ;-)
Specifically I want to talk about the "yes i've beaten you on every surface" part. Because I've had a few messages and seen a few comments to the effect of "Wait, they are starting a partnership at the Australian Open of all places?! How many times did Novak beat Andy there?" To which the answer is: Andy lost four of his five Australian Open finals to Novak, three of them rather badly (two in straight sets, one with a fourth set bagel) and he also very narrowly lost probably the most epic match they ever played - according to both of them - which was the Australian Open semifinal in 2012.
While this would be devastating and a cause for animosity for many tennis players I need you to understand that THEY ARE NOT LIKE THAT. At their first meeting at an under-14 tournament, Les Petits As in France in 2001, which concidentally was Novak's first international tournament ever, Andy destroyed him 6-0, 6-1 (Novak: "You gave me one game!") and they still laugh about it to this day. If and when they do press for this new coaching partnership, expect this to come up a few times.
It has always felt to me like their modus operandi was: us against the world (Novak: “Sometimes we catch up for dinner. It’s good to see somebody you grew up with doing so well in professional tennis and it’s great to show to people that top-five players, who are big rivals on the court, can be really good friends as well.”) And it never really changed, even when Novak took a commanding 24-11 lead in the H2H over the years (I am only counting matches played and leaving out the fucking tragic walkover from Andy that prevented their last meeting from happening), after it briefly almost evened out in 2012/2013.
This attitude, of course, is rather impressive from Andy, who could very well be bitter about how differently their careers have gone, considering that they are such similar players who were born only one week apart and that there was definitely much more hype around Andy at the start of their careers (Novak said when they were both 18 and played doubles at, you've guessed it, the Australian Open, that he would and wouldn't like to be like Andy because on the one hand Andy had much more support than him at the time, on the other hand he had the crushing weight of expectations to contend with).
But instead of being bitter, for the last few years of his career you could hear Mr. Murray say things like: “It would be amazing to see him do it [win the 23d Grand Slam] on Sunday. I will be supporting him. And I hope he can do it. Because it is incredible what he has done.” or plainly "I'm happy for him, he deserves it." Or even: "After Wimbledon [2023], everyone was saying it was a changing of the guard, but it wasn't for me." Oh it wasn't for you? You are defensive over the man who has beaten you more than any other in your career being written off too early?
Even during that crazy year of 2016, when they were the two frontrunners in the rankings by miles and Andy was chasing the number one spot, what did he say after losing the only French Open final he ever played? Well, he started it off with "This is his day today. What he’s achieved the last 12 months is phenomenal." and not only told the audience they had been extremely lucky to see Novak make history once again, but also ended with: "I’m proud to have been a part of today."
Us. Against. The. World.
So that's Andy, but what about Novak? Well, not to be outdone he will mention Andy in almost every interview, even when he was very much not asked about him. He will remember the 2013 Wimbledon final which he lost in straight sets to Andy as "a historic, special moment that I cherish" and, on court at the ATP Finals 2016, after his own second half of the year had been rather dismal, he also explained to the crowd that they were part of history that day and that "It was an honour to be on the court and to be a part of the big occasion. Andy is definitely number one of the world. He is the best player. He deserved to win."
If asked about the best matches he has played with Andy he will readily mention the 2012 London Olympics semifinal. We all know how important the Olympics have always been to Novak (if you didn't before 2024, you certainly know now) and this was a semifinal loss at his beloved Olympics in straight sets. Let that sink in.
When Andy retired this year, Novak explained: “He will inspire many generations to come. He inspires me, and we are about the same age." He, who has just finished his career outside of the top 100 and in a doubles match because his body wouldn't even let him play singles anymore, inspires you, who has achieved more than any other in this sport? That's really lovely, Novak. Oh, and by the way, how about Andy becoming world No. 1 and ending Novak's longest stint at No. 1 in his career? Novak's post at the time: "I am really happy to be in the same era with you."
Us. Against. The. World.
So, to make a very long story short: If I was surprised about the coaching news yesterday it was because they actually went for it, not because it seemed outlandish to me in any way. As you can see, it makes perfect sense. I am really glad we are getting another chapter of this story which - according to Novak - is "A script, a long story. A romance, I’ll call it." after we previously were treated to - according to Andy - "Rivals, doubles partners, friends and lovers?" By the way, he still has that Instagram post pinned. Anyway, before I digress, let me conclude this by saying:
You thought their story was over? Think again.
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dreamersworldduh · 16 hours ago
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UNSPOKEN TRUTHS
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• Dick Grayson x Male!Reader
SUMMARY — you and Dick Grayson go way back but it’s been so many years since you two last spoke. So what happens when you two reconnect in the oddest way possible.
WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.
WORDS! 7.8k
AUTHOR’S NOTE! firstly, THANK YOU all for the love and support for Sunday Mornings. Now, this is a long one and I may have gotten a little carried away but nevertheless I hope you all enjoy!
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Dick Grayson.
There's an undeniable magnetism about Dick Grayson—an aura that makes it impossible to stay away from him, even when every instinct tells you that you should. He embodies everything that simultaneously irritates and captivates you. He's infuriatingly charming, effortlessly sociable, and devastatingly handsome. Add to that his cocky attitude and penchant for being the ultimate goofball, and you're left with a contradiction wrapped in an irresistible package.
You've known him since your very first year at Hudson University, where fate (or maybe bad luck?) had you both enrolled in the same criminology class. While you were focused on minding your own business, diligently taking notes and keeping your head down, Dick Grayson had other plans. He was the kind of guy who seemed to thrive on interaction, and apparently, you had caught his attention.
It started innocently enough. You were hunched over your notebook, furiously scribbling details from the professor's lecture, utterly engrossed. That's when Dick made his move. Leaning over with that trademark mischievous grin, he decided your focus was far too serious for his liking.
"Hey," he whispered, his voice low enough not to draw the professor's wrath but loud enough to break through your concentration.
You tried to ignore him, hoping he'd get bored and leave you alone. But this was Dick Grayson, and persistence was practically his middle name. He didn't just want your attention—he demanded it. Whether it was tapping on your notebook, cracking an unnecessary joke, or asking a deliberately ridiculous question about the lecture material, he seemed determined to throw you off your game.
At first, you hated him for it. Who did this guy think he was, barging into your quiet world of focus and discipline with his infuriating grin and boyish charm? But over time, something shifted. Maybe it was the way he made you laugh when you least expected it, or the fact that underneath all the cockiness, he was genuinely kind and intelligent.
Dick Grayson wasn't just a distraction; he was a force of nature. And whether you liked it or not, he had a way of turning your world upside down.
Your friendship with Dick began as a slow bloom, nurtured by shared classes, late-night study sessions, and moments of unexpected laughter. What started as a simple camaraderie between classmates grew into an unshakable bond that lasted all four years at Hudson University. The two of you were inseparable, each other's confidant, cheerleader, and partner in crime-solving, so to speak.
By the time graduation rolled around, everyone assumed that life would pull you in different directions. With the ink barely dry on your diplomas, it seemed logical that you'd both scatter to explore the opportunities your criminology degrees offered. And for a while, it seemed like that was how the story would end. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
You eventually landed a job in Blüdhaven as a small-time investigator, the kind of work that fit your personality like a glove. Observant to a fault and driven by a relentless curiosity, you thrived in the world of puzzles and mysteries. Unraveling clues, piecing together fragments of stories, and finding answers where others saw dead ends gave you an unshakable sense of fulfillment.
But being as observant as you were had its downsides. You were the kind of person who couldn't let things go, even when every rational instinct told you to back off. That's how you found yourself in your current predicament—a missing persons case that had taken a dark and dangerous turn.
It had started innocently enough, following breadcrumbs that no one else had noticed. But as you dug deeper, you realized the case was connected to a local gang, one that didn't appreciate your meddling. Unfortunately for you, they'd noticed your snooping long before you realized you were on their radar. By the time you put the pieces together, it was too late. They had you.
The gang's leader, a stereotypical brute with a barrel chest and a growling voice to match, stood over you, barking out threats. His speeches were a predictable blend of clichés: "You should've minded your own business!" and "You don't know who you're messing with!" It would've been almost funny if the situation weren't so dire.
Despite the danger, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. You'd managed to find the missing person, even if it had landed you in chains. And now, as the leader ranted, you sat there, tied to a chair in some dingy warehouse, mentally kicking yourself for not being more careful.
Then, something caught your eye.
Out of the corner of the dimly lit room, a movement stirred in the shadows. At first, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you. But then, you saw him—a figure dressed in sleek black and blue, moving with cat-like precision through the darkness. The gang leader, oblivious to the silent intruder, continued his tirade, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.
The man in the shadows was swift, almost inhumanly so. One by one, the gang members guarding the room were dispatched with precise, fluid motions. He was a blur of calculated power, blending perfectly into the gloom until he wanted to be seen. And then, he was there.
Nightwing.
You'd heard whispers of him before—Blüdhaven's vigilante protector, a myth to some, a menace to criminals. But seeing him in action was another thing entirely. His black and blue suit seemed to absorb the faint light in the room, his presence commanding yet effortless.
As chaos erupted in the warehouse, the gang leader spun around, barking orders to his panicking subordinates. You could only watch in awe—and maybe a little bit of relief—as Nightwing expertly dismantled your captors. You didn't know how or why he'd come for you, but in that moment, you didn't care. All you knew was that your life was in the hands of someone who clearly knew what he was doing.
The warehouse was a symphony of chaos. Nightwing moved like a shadow come to life, his every step deliberate and his strikes landing with unerring precision. You couldn't look away, transfixed by the fluidity of his movements. He wasn't just fighting—he was dismantling. Each thug fell with a grunt or a pained yell, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground. The air was thick with the sharp sounds of punches landing and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the cold cement floor.
The leader, who had loomed so intimidatingly just minutes ago, now looked like a lumbering fool. He charged at Nightwing with brute force, swinging a metal pipe with the confidence of someone who had never faced someone of this caliber before. Nightwing sidestepped with ease, his movements economical and almost effortless. In a flash, the vigilante grabbed the leader's arm, twisted it with a sharp motion, and sent the weapon flying. A quick roundhouse kick to the chest sent the man sprawling onto his back with a groan of defeat.
And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the fight was over.
The silence that followed was almost deafening. Nightwing straightened, his breathing steady despite the intense effort he'd just exerted. He surveyed the room, his sharp gaze ensuring no threats remained. The dim lighting cast a faint glow on his black-and-blue suit, accentuating the imposing figure he cut. You couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and awe, even as your pulse raced from the ordeal.
Finally, his focus shifted to you. His stride was purposeful, his boots barely making a sound as he crossed the distance. He crouched beside you, the sharp angles of his mask now just inches from your face. His hands, encased in black gloves, moved swiftly, slicing through the ropes that bound your wrists and ankles.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but carrying a gentle concern that caught you off guard. His eyes—calm, steady, and searching—met yours briefly, and in that moment, the hostage trembling nearby seemed like an afterthought.
You swallowed hard, your voice shaky as you replied, "I'm fine. Thanks to you."
As he helped you to your feet, his hand lingered on your arm, steadying you. It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt through you. Those eyes. Brown, warm, and so achingly familiar. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as realization struck.
"Dick?" you whispered, the name escaping your lips before you could stop yourself.
He stiffened, the subtle movement confirming what you already knew. His head turned slightly, his gaze flicking to the hostage, who was watching the exchange with wide, curious eyes. His silence said everything.
You bit your lip, realizing your mistake. Swallowing your questions, you forced yourself to focus. The hostage needed to be taken care of, and this wasn't the time or place for the confrontation brewing in your mind.
"Thank you," the hostage managed to stammer, their voice shaky. Nightwing gave them a curt nod, his usual confidence slipping back into place as he offered them a reassuring glance.
Moments later, the sound of sirens filled the air, the flashing red and blue lights of the approaching police cars spilling into the warehouse. Officers rushed in, taking the gang into custody and escorting the hostage to safety. Meanwhile, you stayed put, standing just outside the chaos as the adrenaline slowly ebbed from your system.
Nightwing lingered, his posture tense but his presence solid and unwavering. It was clear he was waiting—perhaps for the right moment, or perhaps for you.
"You're not leaving," you said, stepping closer to him with a sharpness in your tone that surprised even you. "Good. Because we need to talk."
He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. Still, you caught the faintest hint of unease in his posture. He knew what was coming.
As the last of the police cars pulled away, leaving the two of you bathed in the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, you finally allowed yourself to say what had been clawing at you.
"It is you," you said softly, the weight of the realization settling over you. "Dick Grayson."
Nightwing let out a soft, resigned sigh. Without a word, he reached up, his gloved fingers curling around the edges of his mask. In one smooth motion, he pulled it away, revealing the face you'd known for years.
The sight of him hit you like a wave. His dark hair was slightly tousled, damp with sweat, and those familiar brown eyes stared back at you with a mix of guilt and apprehension.
"Hi," he said, his voice quiet but steady, as if testing the waters.
You stared at him, struggling to untangle the mess of emotions inside you. Shock, anger, confusion, and something else—something softer—swirled in your chest. "You've been here," you said finally, your voice trembling. "In Blüdhaven. This whole time. And you didn't tell me?"
"It's not that simple," he replied, his tone gentle but laced with regret. "I wanted to. I just... couldn't."
You huffed, crossing your arms as you glared at him. "You're not getting out of this, Dick. We're talking about it. All of it."
A small, sheepish smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, he almost looked like the carefree friend you remembered from Hudson University. "Yeah," he said softly. "I figured as much."
The weight of the moment hung heavy between you, unspoken questions lingering in the air. There was so much to say, so much you needed to understand, but for now, the two of you simply stood there, the silence stretching like an unspoken promise.
Soon, the two of you arrived at Dick's apartment, the closest and most convenient place to regroup. The space was warm and inviting, a surprising contrast to the gritty chaos of the warehouse you'd just escaped. Dick excused himself to change out of his vigilante uniform, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and his belongings.
It wasn't long before your curiosity got the better of you. Old habits die hard, and you found yourself wandering the apartment, taking in the details. The first thing you noticed was how organized it was compared to his dorm back in college. Gone were the piles of laundry and cluttered desks; everything here had its place. The sleek, minimalist decor hinted at someone who valued function over flair, though the occasional personal touch softened the aesthetic.
There were pictures scattered around, mostly in simple frames. You stopped to study them, recognizing some of the faces from news articles and social media posts. These must be his siblings. During college, Dick had rarely talked about his family, offering only vague hints that he was adopted and that his adoptive father was extremely wealthy. Back then, the extent of his family's resources was evident in the way he casually splurged—never obnoxiously, but like the carefree college student who'd buy a round of shots for half the campus without a second thought.
Your gaze lingered on a particular photo, and your breath caught. It was a picture of you and Dick, taken during a Christmas party in your junior year. The two of you stood beneath a sprig of mistletoe, your face frozen in an exaggeratedly annoyed expression as he planted a kiss on your cheek. But you remembered that moment vividly. You remembered how fast your heart had raced, how flustered you'd felt, and how you'd struggled to keep your reaction under control. Out of all the pictures you'd taken together, you couldn't believe he'd kept this one.
The sound of his voice startled you from your thoughts.
"You know, this is exactly how you got yourself captured the first time," Dick said, his tone tinged with amusement.
You turned sharply, only to find him leaning casually against the doorframe. He was dressed in a navy blue tank top that revealed the lean, athletic build beneath, his arms toned from years of training. Loose-fitting gray joggers hung low on his hips, offering a distracting peek at his defined waistline. For a moment, your thoughts betrayed you, wandering where they shouldn't. You quickly shook the imagery from your mind and refocused, gesturing toward the picture in question.
"Why this picture?" you asked, pointing at the frame.
Dick stepped closer, glancing at the photo with a soft smile. "It's my favorite of us," he admitted, his voice light but honest.
Your chest tightened. You stared at him, studying the way his expression softened as he looked at the photo, as though it held a special place in his memory. You remembered that night clearly, but you'd never imagined it meant as much to him as it had to you.
"You don't even like Christmas," you teased, trying to deflect the sudden wave of emotion threatening to surface.
He shrugged, turning to you with a playful grin. "True. But I like you."
The simplicity of his statement made your heart skip a beat. He said it so casually, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, yet the weight of those words hung heavy in the air between you. You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.
"Dick..." you began, your voice faltering.
"Don't overthink it," he said, his grin fading into something softer. "I just... like having a reminder of how happy we were. That's all."
You looked back at the photo, the moment frozen in time, and then at him. For all the chaos that had led to this point, standing here with him now, it was hard to deny that something about this moment felt right.
The dining room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen. You leaned against the chair, arms crossed, watching as Dick moved to the table where a stack of papers sat in disarray. His movements were deliberate but lacked his usual confidence, as though he were stalling for time.
“So,” you began, your tone cutting through the silence, “I’m guessing things have been rough if you decided to change careers. Last we talked, you were dead set on becoming a cop. It was literally all you could talk about.”
You turned to face him fully, your words sharp but not without curiosity. Dick froze for a moment, his shoulders tensing before he turned his head slightly toward you.
“That’s still in the works,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with defensiveness.
“Yeah?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow as you pointed to the table. “You mean with those blank applications over there?”
Dick followed your gaze to the stack of untouched forms on the dining room table. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair as if that would somehow untangle the thoughts swirling in his head.
“You don’t understand, Y/N…” he started, but you weren’t about to let him finish.
“I may not be a crime-fighting vigilante in spandex,” you interrupted, stepping closer and folding your arms tightly across your chest, “but I do know you can’t keep putting your life on hold like this. Blüdhaven isn’t Gotham, Dick. You don’t have to be out there night and day. It’s not your responsibility to carry this city on your back.”
He turned to face you fully now, his jaw set. “I also run my own team, you know,” he pointed out, his tone firm but not without frustration.
“Okay, and?” you replied, your voice rising slightly. “I’m thankful for what you did tonight—for me, for that hostage, for everyone you help. But come on, Dick. You can’t just live for this. You should have a life outside of your nighttime activities and team leadership. You deserve more than this relentless grind.”
His hands clenched briefly at his sides, and then he threw them up in exasperation. “I did!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion. “I did have that life. Four years, Y/N. Four years of normalcy. School, friends… you.”
You blinked, his words hitting you like a freight train. He wasn’t done.
“I fell in love with you, for god’s sake,” he continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But I knew—deep down—I couldn’t hold onto that. I couldn’t keep living in a reality that wasn’t mine to have.”
For a moment, the air between you felt impossibly still. You stared at him, mouth slightly ajar, his words ricocheting in your mind.
“You… fell in love with me?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.
Dick looked at you, his expression vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. His usually confident demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and honest.
“I never stopped,” he admitted quietly, his gaze unwavering.
The weight of his confession hung heavily in the air, but before Dick could react, reality struck you like a lightning bolt. Without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.
The sharp sound echoed in the room, startling you both.
“You waited four years to tell me you’re in love with me?” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of frustration, disbelief, and something you couldn’t quite name.
Dick blinked in surprise, his cheek barely reddened from the slap. He raised a hand to rub at it, murmuring, “Ow.” Though you knew it hadn’t actually hurt him—your slap had been more for dramatic effect than anything else—it still made him flinch slightly.
“You know,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperated humor, “it took a lot of courage to admit this. I mean, at first, I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling. But the more I got to know you…” He paused, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “I was whipped. Everyone knew how protective I was of you.”
“Clearly not everyone,” you shot back, folding your arms tightly across your chest.
Dick tilted his head, his expression softening with that boyish charm that always seemed to disarm you. “That’s because you were always so oblivious to things,” he pointed out, a teasing edge in his tone.
“This isn’t about me,” you retorted, your frustration flaring again. “This is about you—about you waiting years to—”
Before you could finish, Dick’s hands moved with startling quickness, cupping your face as he leaned in, cutting you off completely. His lips crashed onto yours, silencing your protests in an instant.
Your first instinct was to resist, your mind screaming at you to stay angry, to push him away and demand answers. But the moment his lips moved against yours, warm and insistent, your anger began to dissolve like sugar in water. His touch was firm but not forceful, as though he was pouring every unspoken word, every pent-up feeling, into that kiss.
Damn him.
Your hands, which had been frozen in mid-air, slowly lowered to his chest, resting against the fabric of his tank top. You wanted to be mad, to hold onto your indignation, but instead, you found yourself leaning into him. His lips were soft yet commanding, and they melted away every ounce of tension in your body.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours. His brown eyes, now so close, bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. There was an undeniable hunger in them, a raw and unguarded lust, but beneath it was something deeper, something that spoke of years of unspoken feelings and restraint finally breaking free.
The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with tension as he leaned in closer, his forehead still brushing against yours. His hands, which had been gently cupping your face, slid down to your jaw, his thumbs tracing soft, maddeningly slow circles on your skin.
“I want to make love to you so bad,” Dick whispered, his voice husky and low, the words trembling with emotion. “But I want to do this right.”
The warmth of his breath tickled your lips as he spoke, and the sheer vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. Yet the weight of those words, so raw and sensual, sent a jolt of arousal through you. You felt your body react instantly, your breath hitching as your dick tightened in response.
You had never heard anything like this from him before—such a delicate balance of sweetness and longing, spoken with the kind of confidence that sent heat pooling in your stomach. His voice wasn’t just sexual; it was reverent, like he was making a promise wrapped in desire.
Your hands rested against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tank top as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth of his body beneath your touch only heightened the tension, and you struggled to form a coherent thought, let alone words.
“Dick…” you finally managed, though it came out as little more than a breathless murmur.
His eyes never left yours, his gaze darkened with an intensity that made it clear just how much he wanted you—but he didn’t move, waiting for your response. Waiting for you to meet him halfway. And in that moment, the depth of his restraint only made you want him more.
“I want you to make love to me,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze. The words hung in the air for a moment, electrifying the space between you.
Dick’s eyes darkened instantly, the flicker of hesitation replaced by raw desire and unrestrained passion. That was all he needed. In the blink of an eye, his lips were on yours, crashing against yours with a fury that made your knees weak.
The kiss was nothing like the soft, tentative one from earlier. This was urgent, consuming, as though he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t contain himself any longer. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The heat of his chest pressed against yours, and you could feel his heart pounding as wildly as your own.
You gasped against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with an intensity that made you shiver. His fingers trailed up your back, one hand tangling in your hair while the other held your waist, anchoring you to him.
Your hands found their way to his shoulders, sliding over the smooth, warm skin exposed by his tank top. You clutched at him, your fingers curling into the fabric as you felt his muscles flex beneath your touch. He kissed you like a man starved, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years, pouring every ounce of his suppressed longing into it.
When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling and swollen from the sheer intensity. His forehead pressed against yours as he steadied himself, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse, though the look in his eyes made it clear how much he wanted you.
You nodded, your hands sliding down his chest to rest against his waist. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
That was all he needed to hear before his lips were on yours again, this time softer but no less passionate, as if he wanted to savor every second of what was about to happen.
Dick’s lips moved from yours with deliberate, unhurried precision, trailing a path along your jawline before finding the sensitive skin of your neck. The contrast between his soft kisses and the occasional scrape of his teeth sent a shiver coursing down your spine.
When he finally found your sweet spot just below your ear, your breath hitched sharply, and a low, involuntary moan escaped your lips. The sound seemed to spur him on, his lips lingering as he alternated between gentle kisses and slow, teasing nibbles.
Your hands, which had been resting lightly against his waist, tightened instinctively. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his joggers, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat radiating from his body. The firmness of his waist beneath your touch grounded you even as your head tilted back slightly, offering him more access.
He hummed against your skin, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. His arms wrapped around you more securely, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other pressed against the small of your back, holding you flush against him.
“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and rough. The combination of his words and his lips on your skin was overwhelming, igniting an firm erection in your dick that made it impossible to think of anything but him.
Your breathing grew heavier, your chest rising and falling against his as you surrendered completely to the sensations. Every press of his lips, every soft graze of his teeth, sent sparks of pleasure rippling through you, and you couldn’t help but cling to him even tighter.
“Dick,” you breathed, his name spilling from your lips in a way that was half plea, half encouragement. His response was a low, approving growl that made your knees go weak, but his strong arms kept you firmly in place.
Dick’s hands slid down your sides, lingering for a moment at your hips before they gripped your thighs firmly. In one fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. His strength, always impressive but now impossibly intimate, sent a shiver through you.
Your arms clung to his shoulders for balance as he held you close, your chest pressed against his. His lips captured yours again, and the kiss was slow but no less hungry, his steps steady as he carried you toward the darkly dim room down the hall.
Normally, your inquisitive nature would have taken over, and you’d have surveyed every inch of the space. But right now, your attention was consumed by him—by the heat of his body, the way his fingers flexed against your thighs, and the electric connection between you.
The faint glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on the walls as he entered the room. You barely registered the surroundings, focusing instead on the way his breathing had quickened, mirroring your own. He reached the bed, lowering you carefully to the floor with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.
His hands lingered on your hips as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze burning with unspoken desire and reverence. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch warm against your skin as he lifted it over your head. He took his time, his eyes roaming over you like he was memorizing every detail.
Your breath hitched as he began to undress himself, his movements fluid and unhurried. His tank top came off first, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint sheen of sweat on his skin. His joggers followed, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.
Your hands moved instinctively to his waist, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, but he stopped you gently, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone.
His hands returned to you, sliding along your sides with deliberate slowness before slipping beneath the waistband of your own boxers, guiding them down. The intimacy of the moment made your pulse race, every inch of skin he revealed heightening the tension between you.
Now, with both of you standing there, bare except for the thin fabric separating you completely, the air felt charged, heavy with anticipation. Dick’s eyes locked onto yours, his expression a perfect blend of lust and something deeper, something that made your heart pound harder than ever before.
Dick’s hands wrapped around your dick with deliberate care, his grip firm yet gentle. The slow, teasing movements of his fingers as he stroked you sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. His eyes stayed locked on yours, their intensity leaving you breathless. He watched your every reaction, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile as soft moans began to spill from your lips.
The sound seemed to embolden him, as if each moan was a symphony only he could conduct. He leaned closer, the heat of his breath ghosting over your skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Before you could process what was happening, he guided you backward, gently pushing you onto the mattress.
The soft surface cradled you as you fell, the world around you blurring into insignificance. All that mattered was him—his touch, his gaze, his presence. Dick climbed onto the bed, settling himself between your legs with a confidence that made your pulse race.
His hands found your thighs, gripping them firmly but not aggressively as he spread your legs slightly wider. The warmth of his palms was grounding, his touch both possessive and reverent. His eyes never left yours, a silent question hanging in the air, one you answered with a slight nod and a quiet, shaky breath.
Leaning forward, he placed a featherlight kiss just below your navel before lowering himself further. The sensation of his tongue grazing your dick made your back arch slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He didn’t stop there—his tongue trailed down with slow, deliberate strokes before his lips closed around you completely.
The heat of his mouth was overwhelming, his movements skilled and calculated. He alternated between slow, torturous licks and firm, rhythmic suction, drawing louder moans from you with each passing second. The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure, mingling with his soft hums as he worked.
Just as you thought the sensations couldn’t intensify, you felt something new. His hand, which had been resting on your thigh, moved downward, his fingers tracing teasing circles near your hole. The first press of his fingertip was gentle, testing, and when he felt your body relax, he slid a single finger inside with the same care.
The combination of his mouth and the intrusion sent a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and your moans grew louder, higher, uncontrollable. Your hands instinctively reached for him, one tangling in his hair as the other clutched at the sheets beneath you.
“Dick,” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips like a plea.
He glanced up at you, his brown eyes dark with desire, a glint of satisfaction evident as he took in the sight of you unraveling beneath him. He added a slight curl to his finger, hitting a spot that made your entire body tremble. The way your voice broke with pleasure was like fuel to him, and he redoubled his efforts, his lips and fingers moving in perfect harmony to push you further toward the edge.
The only thing you could do was surrender to him completely, your mind and body consumed by the intensity of the sensations he was creating.
The sudden press of a second finger into your hole sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, a sharp moan escaping your lips at the unexpected intrusion. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, your chest rising and falling as Dick’s fingers moved inside you with increasing speed. Each curl and thrust was precise, hitting spots that made your back arch off the mattress in ecstasy.
The heat pooling in your hole was overwhelming, your breath coming in short gasps as you struggled to keep up with the rhythm he was setting. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of control, his fingers stopped abruptly and slid out, leaving you gasping at the loss of contact.
“Why did you—” you began, your voice breathless and laced with confusion, but the words caught in your throat as your eyes traveled down to him.
Dick had shifted back slightly, his hands hooking into the waistband of his boxers. With deliberate slowness, he slid them down his hips, his eyes never leaving yours. As the fabric pooled at his knees, your gaze dropped, and your breath hitched at the sight before you.
His dick was fully revealed, and he was… well, impressively endowed. Huge as hell. The dim light of the room cast shadows that only emphasized his size and shape, and for a moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The anticipation in the air was electric, and the confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips told you he noticed your reaction.
“You were saying?” he teased softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement.
Your mouth opened to reply, but no words came. Instead, your eyes flickered back up to meet his, and the hunger in his gaze made your stomach flip. He moved closer, his hands returning to your thighs, gently spreading them wider as he leaned over you, his bare skin brushing against yours. The weight of him above you, combined with the heat radiating from his body, sent your pulse racing again.
“You trust me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a mix of tenderness and desire.
You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”
His smile softened for a moment, a flicker of something deeper crossing his expression before he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was an invitation.
Dick broke the kiss, his breath warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly. His eyes stayed locked on yours, filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Reaching over to his dresser, he grabbed a small bottle of lube, his movements deliberate but steady.
“You okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing a reassuring circle against your hip.
You nodded, your anticipation building as he popped the cap. The cool gel landed on your hole, and you squirmed at the sudden chill, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Dick chuckled lightly at your reaction, his hands smoothing over your thighs to steady you.
“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he worked the lube gently around your hole. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant, his touch careful and precise.
Once he was satisfied, he coated himself in the gel, his large hands moving confidently as he spread it over his dick. The sight alone made your heart race, but before you could get lost in the thought, he tossed the bottle somewhere across the room with a soft thud, refocusing entirely on you.
His hands returned to your waist, gripping you firmly but gently as he positioned himself between your legs. The weight of his gaze anchored you, and you took a deep breath as you felt the head of his dick press against your hole.
“This might feel a little intense at first,” he warned, his voice husky but tender. “Let me know if you need me to stop.”
You nodded again, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as he began to push forward slowly. The stretch was immediate, his size making you wince slightly as your body adjusted. Dick paused, his brows furrowed in concentration as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.
“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple before trailing down to your cheek.
He continued inching forward, his movements measured and deliberate, giving you time to adjust with each small push. By the time he was fully seated inside you, your breaths were coming in shallow gasps, but you could feel the tension in your body beginning to ease.
Dick stayed still for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. His hands moved up to cradle your face as he kissed you softly, his lips tender and warm. “You feel so damn good,” he murmured against your lips before trailing kisses down your jawline and neck.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses, his words laced with affection as he peppered your skin with soft touches. His hands stroked your sides gently, grounding you while his lips worked to soothe any lingering discomfort.
“You’re everything,” he added, his voice low and filled with emotion, as though each word was meant to make you feel as cherished as possible.
The warmth of his presence, the tenderness of his touch, and the sincerity in his words made it impossible not to relax completely. Your body adjusted to him, the initial discomfort fading into something far more intimate and fulfilling.
Dick’s thrusts began slow and deliberate, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he slid in and out of your hole. Each thrust was careful, as if he were gauging your every reaction, ensuring you were comfortable. The initial stretch had given way to a new sensation—fullness that sent sparks of pleasure radiating through you with every deliberate motion.
Your hands clutched at the sheets, your knuckles whitening as you let out a shaky moan. The heat building in your core only intensified as Dick’s strokes grew deeper, his pace gradually increasing. His hands gripped your hips firmly, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to anchor you but not hurt. He adjusted his angle slightly, and the next thrust hit a spot that made your back arch off the mattress and a louder moan escape your lips.
“That’s it,” Dick murmured, his voice a deep, encouraging rasp that sent shivers through your body. “Let me hear you.”
Your moans grew more unrestrained as his movements became more confident, each stroke deeper and more precise than the last. His body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin adding to the growing intensity. The sound of your bodies moving together—his labored breathing, your gasps, the rhythmic creak of the mattress—filled the dimly lit room, creating an atmosphere of pure intimacy.
“Dick,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips as the pleasure built higher. His response was a low groan, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. His lips were warm, insistent, and grounding, keeping you tethered to him even as your body felt like it might unravel from the sensations he was creating.
Every thrust felt like a wave crashing through you, each one pulling you further under, until all you could do was cling to him and let him take you where he wanted.
“Say it again,” Dick whispered in your ear, his voice low and full of need. His thrusts grew faster, deeper, his breath hot against your skin. “Say my name.”
“Dick,” you moaned, your voice breaking as another thrust sent a wave of pleasure surging through you. “Ugh, Dick—”
He growled softly at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you up from the bed. In one fluid motion, he shifted, sitting back on his knees with you straddling him. Your legs remained tightly wrapped around his waist, your bodies pressed together as his hands slid up your back, anchoring you against him.
You didn’t need any encouragement. Your body took over, moving instinctively as you began to rise and fall along his dick. Each motion sent him deeper inside you, filling you completely, and your moans grew louder, spilling into his ear with every movement.
The sensation was overwhelming—the stretch, the heat, the way his hands gripped your hips to guide you as you moved. But before another moan could escape, Dick silenced you with a kiss. His lips crashed into yours, passionate and demanding, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer.
“I love you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice raw with emotion and desire. “I love you so fucking much.”
Your breath hitched at his confession, your heart racing as you whimpered in response. “I love you too, Dick. I love you.”
The rhythm between you grew faster, more desperate, as your body tightened around him. The pleasure was building, an unstoppable crescendo that left you trembling in his arms. You buried your face in his neck, gasping out, “I’m close. Faster, baby. Please.”
His lips brushed your ear as he chuckled softly, his voice deep and intoxicating. “As you wish.”
With that, he tightened his grip on your hips and thrust upward with renewed intensity, meeting each of your movements with precision. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breathing and the steady slap of your bodies moving together. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, your nails digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life.
Dick’s lips found yours again, his kisses feverish and consuming as he whispered words of love and encouragement between each kiss.
Your entire body tensed as the pleasure reached its peak, and you let out a cry of pure bliss, your climax washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking in his arms.
Dick’s thrusts didn’t falter for a moment. If anything, they became more relentless, each one deeper and more deliberate than the last. His breathing grew heavier, his body pressing firmly against yours as his rhythm quickened. The telltale tension in his muscles and the soft groans spilling from his lips signaled that he was nearing his own climax, but he didn’t let up.
His lips never left your skin, moving from your mouth to your neck and back again, as though grounding himself in the intimacy of the moment. Each kiss was full of raw passion, his lips trailing heat and leaving you breathless.
“You feel so good,” Dick murmured against your ear, his voice strained and low. “So perfect.”
The intensity of his thrusts made it impossible to form coherent words. Your body arched instinctively, your hands clutching at his back as he held you tightly against him. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten, his fingers digging in slightly as his movements became more erratic, more desperate.
“Y/N,” he groaned, your name rolling off his tongue in a deep, guttural tone that sent shivers through you.
A moment later, he buried himself to the hilt, his hips pressing flush against yours as he reached his breaking point. The warmth of his release filled you, a rush of heat that made you gasp. His head fell against your shoulder, his breath ragged as he rode out the waves of his climax, his body trembling slightly against yours.
Even then, his lips continued their tender assault, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder and up to your neck. His voice was a low whisper, almost inaudible over the sound of your labored breathing.
“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d hit you,” you breathed out, your voice heavy with exhaustion but tinged with playful annoyance.
Dick chuckled, his warm breath ghosting over your neck as he pressed a soft kiss to your skin. “Why?” he asked, his tone light and teasing. “What did I do this time?”
“You robbed me of four years of amazing sex,” you replied matter-of-factly, shooting him a tired glare that only made him laugh harder.
His laughter was rich and unrestrained, his chest vibrating against yours as he leaned back just enough to lift his head from your neck. His gaze locked onto yours, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. Without warning, he captured your lips in a kiss so passionate and full of promise that it left you breathless all over again.
When he finally pulled back, his grin was wicked, and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Oh, baby, we’re just getting started,” he said, his hand sliding down your side possessively. “I hope you don’t have plans in the morning.”
You barely had time to process the meaning of his words before his lips were on you again, igniting another round of passion that carried you both well into the night.
By the time morning rolled around, the two of you were sprawled on the floor of his living room, completely spent. The apartment bore the evidence of your nocturnal escapades: furniture slightly askew, scattered pillows, and discarded clothes littering the space. The air was still faintly warm from the fire you’d burned through the night.
Dick’s strong arms were wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, your breaths soft and even against his skin. His chin rested gently atop your head, and both of you wore blissful smiles as the sunlight began to filter through the curtains.
The world outside was quiet, but in that moment, everything felt perfectly complete. There, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared intimacy, you both slept peacefully, content in a way you hadn’t been in years.
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enpr-ss · 1 day ago
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MOUNT GEM IS SO TRUE LOL. I eagerly await the return of GeminiSlay. SHE GOT A CAMEL!!!!! An unholy screech left my mouth!!! I thought we were done reliving past series with last episode. Wait why would Tango remember Murder Camel? Did he get murdered by them? Wow actually EVERYONE remembers the Murder Camel.
That cow spawner coming in CLUTCH.
Etho: “Oh yeah? You’re gonna be tough now, finally?” OH MY GOD ETHO!!!! UNCALLED FOR.
Are Etho and Grian flirting or just trying to out pathetic each other??
Of course the warden spawns in right in front of the Decked Out 2 Court.
Who thought it was a good idea to go to a trial chamber during an increasingly hostile mob swap wild card. Why. Of course Scar dies to a vex after the evoker is taken care of.
I guess yellows are basically reds now since there aren’t any???? WAIT WHEN DID MARTYN KILL SKIZZ???? WHY???
How are these Minecraft professionals dying to mobs. This is EASIER than the snails and the food swap wild card. They have so much gear from TriviaBot by now. How.
Scar: "Etho, do you want a TNT mine cart?" Etho, jumping in excitement, shaking with glee, tail wagging and dancing from paw to paw: "yes yes!"
They’ve just given up on Skizz. He’s that loser son meme.
If Etho survives Grian, I really hope that he builds him a grave next to Skizz and Mumbo’s and gives another terrible speech just to complete the set.
Of course Etho goes and plays with the omnidirectional TNT tower launcher. Going back to his roots. That tower is going to cause more deaths I bet. HE LITERALLY TRIES TO ASSASSINATE GRIAN TWCE IT WAS SO SMOOTH.
The way Bdubs IMMEDIATELY ruins his unsolicited compliment from Etho by calling himself a Tuff Boy.
The lost opportunity from Bdubs and Etho to get a better horse from the wild card.
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Gem’s so traumatized from Secret Life LOL. Being sacrificed to isn’t just glory and fun either. She and Joel are truly on a whole ‘nother genre. She’s just wistfully sighing at all the craziness that she’s not allowed to do as a green.
Joel about to pull a Ren and drop a life just to take revenge on Pearl (hypothetically.) He and Gem are so insane in their own ways.
She literally gave Impulse the saddle for the camel that he and Pearl come riding in later on to make her jealous… that backfired on them so hard LOL. And she’s the first one to think and get wolf armor instead of Pearl.
Who would have thought Gem would be more insane than Pearl in a Life Series, especially when she’s green and Pearl’s red/yellow? Pearl really rolled up on a murder camel with her new bae trying to make Gem jealous and Gem’s just playing hard to get and KILLING AT IT!!!! Gem expertly turns every verbal trap Pearl sets up back onto her and when Pearl tries to have the final word about going back to Impulse “who actually treats me right” Gem goads her back with the taunting “You scared?” bomb. And so Gem gets the final word in “You’re still not honorable.” (Incredibly biased / unreliable narrator of her) and saunters away, cutting Pearl off at her plaintive “Gem?” Absolutely fantastic how much more toxic and seemingly reasonable but actually unfair Gem is being. Everything has to go Gem’s way; if it’s not, she tries to reconstruct the situation to have it on her terms. And if she can’t, if Pearl points out the illogic, she just changes subject or moves the goalpost so that she’s in the right. Yanking on Pearl’s chain and playing hot and cold. MARVELOUS EDITING AND RPING. IM IN AWE.
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Classic Shiny Duo Pearl: "-because Impulse actually treats me right." Gem, in the most provoking tone: "What? You don’t want to 1v1 me? You scared?" I went OOOOOOOOOH SNAP at that. And to call PEARL dishonorable is SUCH a slap in the face of what her Life Series character is all about. Absolutely stellar yandere behavior. Gem’s bringing up past seasons and Hermitcraft; she’s really playing into her Watcher / Void lore. I thought this was it, I didn’t realize there would be MORE INSANE INTERACTIONS. I AM IN A FEVER DREAM. I AM GLUED TO MY SCREEN.
Impulse: "...that was all I had." Joel: "He tried to creeper egg you, I saw it." Gem: "Wimp."
The Skizz shade that’s proven right within the session.
Literally speaks Pearl and Impulse’s shenanigans into existence. Her narrative sense is impeccable. BACK ON THE 2V1 BS AGAIN LOOOOOOOL. An excellent play by Gem, basically driving a wedge between Pearl and Impulse and isolating her from the player she’s trying to get to win Wild Life. Even spreading the “you don’t need Impulse you’re capable by yourself” message to Pearl’s allies. SHE TOOK 0 DAMAGE AHAHAHAH. Creeper eggs and webs??? Soooooo last episode. Reminding BigB of his propaganda agreement and PEARL IS THE FIRST ONE HE TELLS IT TO RIGHT THEN AND THERE. AMAZING COINCIDENCE. Pearl’s indignant yelp in the background! Truly the universe is just going Gem’s way.
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I'm going to pass away from all this. ANT IN YOUR PANTS NAMED PEARL?!?!? GEM!!!! Gem: “You’re going to blow yourself up…” Double life flashbacks…..
Flaunting her encouragement of Skizz to kill her right in front of Pearl who’s trying to flaunt Murder Camel AGAIN with Tango. “Pearl is… thirsty!” WHY YOU GOTTA SAY IT LIKE THAT??? Making Pearl confirm that the kill was Skizz… devious. Truly she makes sure the world goes according to plan. Gem is the only person who’s happy to die FINALLY.
Ren: Are there any traps? Because I just watched two people die to traps. *narrowly avoids being blown up by Etho and Gem* THE COMEDIC IRONIC TIMING. THIS SERIES KEEPS ON DELIVERING.
Everyone’s panicking about the mob swap and Gem’s just crafting for her barn.
Gem: "[Grian]’s already having a bad day; just make it worse." LOL AND GRIAN IMMEDIATELY JOINS THE FAMILY AND REFUSES TO TAKE ANY BLAME FOR THE DEATH TOWER HAHAHAAH. The trial chamber banger music as he shows them the death tower is pure dissonant vibes but it weirdly does fit with Gem’s genre this series.
Universe goes perfectly for Gem in the same way that it hinders Pearl at every step. Billy got turned into a donkey; there goes all their cows, she can’t set up a dog army as easily as before.
The way she immediately abandons Impulse to chase after Gem. And this is really evident in Pearl’s POV but she’s always talking to Gem’s back; Gem doesn’t give her the decency for a face to face conversation. PEARL CUT OUT THE “WHAT YOU SCARED?” LINE LOOOOOL. And then the wild card kills the therapy camel and Gem just walks away HAHAHA. Pretty sure those creepers did more damage to her and Impulse than to Gem. Pearl’s trying so hard to kill Gem but she’s praising and admiring how smart and great and beautiful she is all the time, even in other POVs. To Gem’s face even. Simply can’t help herself. Completely unnecessary, might I add. Gem’s literally giving her the same advice she gives to all the incompetent assassins HAHA.
She’s goes "puppy!!! :D" And it instantly DIES IN FRONT OF HER HAHAHA.
Basically flaunting her new murder buddy Tango; the one who killed Joel multiple times LOL. While Gem deliberately encourages Skizz right in front of them. The way that Tango and Pearl both groan in disgust at that. And surprisingly I think Tango’s windcharge was the best attempt so far. Back to the 2v1 thing HAHA. And Pearl has to hear Skizz’s success right as it happens.
She got the totem!!!! Truly the Queen of Decked Out 2.
She’s so sad about the murder camel AHHAH. And of course the raid fails because the universe just likes to see Pearl suffer.
Omg she gave the totem to Impulse. PEARL!!!!
Pearl and Impulse embarked on a trapping adventure and immediately u-turned bravely when the mob swap happened LOL.
Pearl still on her pathetic wet puppy arc. Cannot get a single trap to work; it injures her and her allies instead.
Etho, Grian, and Pearl being the “cheaters” of this season was NOT what I expected.
Joel: "-kinda cruel but also hilarious." If that isn’t the theme of this series then I don’t know what is
Of course Grian puts the name Big and Bloop; he's still haunted by Mumbo. Scar really hanging around Grian a lot this episode
The sheer disbelief at Etho naming the warden and Etho playing this wildcard right. Grian leaves Skizz alone for one second and he's attacking wardens and dying to BigB’s creeper web and walking in the sky on a one-block bridge.
Bloop is the PERFECT name for an iron golem in remembrance of Mumbo.
OF COURSE THERE WAS GOING TO BE AN EVOKER AND VEXES WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN IN THE TRIAL CHAMBER!!?!?
Why did Jimmy fall for the bait. It didn’t take long did it.
0 grief for Skizz and instantly moving on to the nearest friendly. During the cheery jingley music as well. Literally said Skizz Issue!!!
Oh the illusioner! That’s a rare one. Yep, called the stuck in the ender pearl stasis chamber issue last episode.
The way Jimmy nearly swore at BigB. And how Scar casually offers to go red to match his teammates. Even did Grian’s "uh-oh! spaghettio!" phrase.
Jimmy just got two-shotted by Bloop that was on his leash. His outrage at Skizz’s carelessness is matched by everyone else on the server.
Lizzie’s “Do you hear what I hear?” sounds like a professional voice acting line in a horror genre omg.
The group delight in Skizz's final death!
Bdubs: "You don’t even have a bow…. Alright then go play Minecraft." He has the same tone of voice, matter-of-factly stating how Tango broke the rules by windcharging Skizz, as when he did to Scar in Limited Life when he TNT minecarted AFK Grian and Cleo.
Tango must still be riding the redemption of the previous episode because he’s noticing things before anyone else; figured out the mechanic and how to stay safe from early on; experienced the butt scooting murder buddy camel; didn’t get caught in any of the 5 traps (especially Lizzie’s), and spectacularly won his beef with Skizz. He was basically involved with all the major things and had a front row seat of the funny events this episode (Skizz and Martyn). All because today is his turn to be leader. Tango Villain Arc was what he needed all along.
Of course Tango fell into the obvious hole in the bridge.
Of course it was Tango windcharging Skizz off. Absolutely no one was surprised. Foretold and lampshaded. Not even a dramatic foreshadowing - it’s just a simple logical conclusion. Twice now Tango windcharged that same location and Grian’s teammate died. Twice now that Tango killed Skizz against the rules by making him fall to his death when he shouldn’t be so high in the first place. Twice now that Skizz died from someone windcharging him AT THE EXACT SAME LOCATION. Truly how many times must we teach you this lesson old man.
Martyn's windcharge on Skizz with 100% hilarity and 0 regrets LOL. HE JUST WALKED INTO LIZZIE TRAP FULLY AWARE AND EXPLODED TO BITS. ETHO SAID THE “I WISH HE WAS BETTER AT THE GAME” AT THE FUNERAL LOL
THE TIMING OF MARTYN FALLING FOR LIZZIE’S TRAP!!
BIGB GOING FULL REVENGE ON SKIZZ WITH THE SAME TRICK AT THE SAME PLACE LOOOOL. AND THEN HE DIES TO WILDCARD BECAUSE HIS ARMOR IS OFF TOO LOOOOOL. THE KARMA. He was SO RIGHT to be cautious during the mob swap - the moment he relaxes a vindicator spawns in and just executes him immediately. Incredible irony.
Even Skizz knew it was a bad idea bad he kept on doing it. His bad luck really does rub off on everyone else. Wait Martyn got Skizz to red with a windcharge? And Skizz didn’t learn his lesson??? Bruh. And of course he attacked the warden and immediately regretted it.
Impulse a professional 3rd wheeler this season: Pearl and Gem, 3G.
The poor inventory management is going get someone killed I reckon. Wait is the random ender crystal replacing a mob actually a thing or was it just BigB?
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lucid-loves · 20 hours ago
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Feelings Reforged
Imagine: March carrying you home after you fall from a fever.
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“Earth to Y/n? You shouldn’t space out while handling the forge.” March began to chastise like he always did, but you knew it came from his worry for you. You were zoning out a little too much for someone that was handling hot coals. 
“Huh? Oh, sorry. . .” You simply apologized, a rosy blush creeping along your soft cheeks. 
March quirked a thick brow, but didn’t question you further. It was nice that he tended to mind his own business in moments where it counted. It wasn’t like you were ready to confess your feelings for him just yet. 
Besides thinking about how handsome he looked next to the light of the fire though, you were also starting to feel a little burnt out. You’ve been toiling away at the farm for a good two years without a real break trying to prove him wrong, that you were here in Mistria to stay, and to get money in your pockets.
Everyone was busy seemingly all the time, but even the hardest workers in town found the time to relax at the beach or at Juniper’s bathhouse. Even Adeline, the workaholic that she is, managed to fit in quality time with the girls. 
There was a time where March noticed just how busy you were each week too during a Friday night at the Inn. Called it out too with a bright smile and invite you to the seat next to him. Yeah, he was drunk at the time, but he still noticed.
You hoped that he didn’t notice how you subtly swayed your head in lightheadedness. 
“Pay attention. We don’t want any accidents.” He reprimanded again, quickly getting annoyed with how distracted you seemed. You asked him to teach you how to make more metal works. He had to make time out of his busy schedule for you. And now you were daydreaming? He could be getting through another order of nails by now.
“Sorry, March. Can you show me again?” You heavily sighed, placing your shaky hands in your pockets. 
March gave an exasperated huff and struck his heavy hammer down on a molten shield, molding it to the perfect shape. “Strike like this. See how flat I made it? Not too thin, but not too thick either. You don’t want it to snap on impact or be too heavy to hold. Got it now?”
You nodded lazily and reached for the shield, your vision getting dark. A strong grip grasped your hands roughly before you could make contact with the project. “You idiot! The shield is like lava! Are you trying to burn your hands off?! Grab the forceps!”
An attempt at an apology was made, but it came out slurred as you caved into the fever. March stiffened as your body leaned into his, your eyes closing in sudden exhaustion. The feeling of his bare shoulder on your head felt cool to the touch, despite the both of you being near the hot forge. The blacksmith noticed that stark contrast in body temperature.
“H-Hey! Y/n?!” He held you up, once furrowed brows in annoyance now morphing into worry. He held you steady against him, feeling just how hot your forehead burned against his hand. 
March looked around the area, hoping that someone from the small town was around to help out. When he noticed no one, he clicked his tongue and stepped up. Thanks to strength built by years of blacksmithery, you were light as a feather as he began to carry you home.
As he walked with you in his arms, he thought about how he should’ve noticed your fever sooner. You were zoning out a lot more than usual. You didn’t seem as energetic either, not like how you were every day. Now that he thought about it, he’s never really seen you not working.
And he thought he knew you better than this.
“You should take better care of yourself.” He scolded at your unconscious body. You stirred a bit in response, the side of your head nuzzling closer to March’s skin. He knew that you probably didn’t know that you were doing it, but he couldn’t help but start to redden. His ears were burning so hot that he could be the one with the fever.
The door to your house was unlocked, the town being safe enough to warrant such carelessness. March considered dropping you on the couch, but then decided that you would be more comfortable on the bed. Once you were settled down and tucked in, he took a moment to breathe from the long walk.
You were still warm and asleep, clearly sick from all your hard work. March bit his lip as he noticed how nicely decorated the house was. How organized and full your fields were with produce. He remembered when this land was nothing but a rotting home and overgrown grass.
He was wrong about you. 
March brushed back some hair sticking to your sweaty face. “Sorry, Y/n. You’ve worked hard. I’m proud of you.” 
He blushed hard at his own words, his heart going a mile a minute. More of your features began to come to light as he watched you sleep. How nice your lashes looked. How perfect your face contoured. 
He’s tried so hard to push those invasive feelings down since the moment he met you. March didn’t want to have false hope about you. He didn’t want to get hurt. Yet, you have consistently proven yourself every single day.
Damn it, he was in love with you. 
To distract himself from his feelings, he went to your kitchen to begin cooking. You were going to need something gentle on your body once you wake up. 
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nervouswhizkid · 17 hours ago
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i. am so mad. i'm mad at season 4 and at every one of you that interacted with my last post abt vld season 3. i know u were all sitting there giggling at me as i walked into s4 knowing full well it was going to destroy me. no WARNING??? i don't even want to sit down and write about it, i'm gonna start crying all over again
i hate that keith left the team. i have to actually practice breathing techniques right now because it's making me so mad omg. i know i said last time that voltron without lance was unthinkable, but i didn't mean that keith should leave. THAT IS NOT WHAT I WANTED!!!! that also means that there was less keith (and klance) content this season, which i take personally. they did that to hurt me specifically. and on top of that, the team was being so mean about keith's wavering priorities. i feel like when anything goes wrong, with lance and keith specifically, everyone is so mean to them??? god forbid they make a mistake or have personal struggles, DAMN
i feel like this screencap says it all.
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guys how about let's talk to each other instead of being passive aggressive and icing people out (i do want to point out though that lance seems more sad/disappointed here than anything. my little klance heart is breaking 😭) AND THIS SCENE??
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the moment i realized keith was about to walk in my stomach dropped. they all look so angry and here comes Mister Puppy Eyes McGee. i actually can't take it that's my son everyone leave him alone!!! 🤺🤺🤺🤺 i know they had a big group hug after but that's not good enough for me, they should have tied keith up or handcuffed him to the ship, or something. WHY ARE WE LETTING HIM GO WITH THE BLADE OHMYGODDDD
look at this, like??
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the camera setup is what gets me. you have keith smiling with all of his friends in the background and then it swaps to a dark, yawning hallway with the most heartbreaking frown on his face. that doesn't look like someone sure of their decisions to me. this boy is in pain!! i'm also just confused about shiro being able to pilot the black lion. maybe confused isn't the right word, but i'm not sure how to describe it. i'm not convinced?? black already denied him, so why now? i kinda feel like it would've been better had he not tried to reconnect with her at the end of last season, because there was no suspense for me this time. the moment he decided to go try again i was like "oh it's gonna work this time isn't it" i get that it's likely black could sense keith's internal struggles and feel him pulling away and maybe that's why she gave shiro a second chance, but shiro becoming the black paladin again gave keith the excuse to leave, because why do they need him now? they have a black paladin, and it's not him. but to me, it should have been. he went through all of that growth last season, and for what?? just to abandon them when things get rocky?? ugh, i hate this!!
i can't even talk about episode 2 without crying, so just know that i'm sitting here with tears streaming down my face as i write this. i was really excited to finally get some closure on the whole pidge-missing-family mystery, considering that's been a subplot since the beginning of the show. as much as this episode broke my heart, i really did love it. they executed it so well. the scene where pidge lands on that planet with the graves? and they're running and pleading for it to not be true, all the flashbacks of cherished memories and images of matt? dropping to her knees in front of his grave in disbelief??
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now that's fucking cinema. you best believe i was bawling my eyes out the whole time. i have a little sister and our relationship is very similar to pidge and matt's, so this was just excruciating. i'm very glad he wasn't actually dead, but part of me almost wishes he was? that sounds SO dark, i hope you guys get what i mean. they just put the audience through the absolute wringer and then they're like "oh, actually he's still alive LOL gotcha!" and that makes me really happy for pidge, but man, what a plot twist that would have been. they've been searching for their brother all this time, so you expect some kind of payoff for dedicating so much time to that storyline, but what if he was just dead?? and there was nothing she could do?? wow this is painful to talk about why did i start watching this show if there's a fic where someone explores that possibility then pls share, for some reason i want to torture myself again, i just love how they did this episode. it's very trope-y, but sometimes you just have to lean into it and enjoy, and this was one of those times
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the classic fighting-each-other-unknowingly and middle-of-the-fight-identity-reveal? i'll eat it up every time!!
real talk though why is matt so attractive 😏
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soo, zarkon is back. fantastic. do he and haggar just not care about each other?? they haven't mentioned the fact that they're married at all and haggar basically still acts like his loyal follower. i'd entertain the thought that maybe it's been so long that it just doesn't really matter to them anymore, but haggar sounded like she actually cared when she realized they were husband and wife last season. but now it's like nothing happened?? i don't expect them to act all lovey-dovey, but there wasn't even a single line of acknowledgment. and i still cannot understand what lotor's plans are. what is his agenda? he wasn’t bothered at all by zarkon reclaiming the throne, and even went to the trouble to make them think he cared. he got that comet and made a couple of ships, but i still don't know what he plans to do with them. also– i can't believe he killed narti!! i know, i was literally just talking about how she specifically frustrated me, but i was so not expecting their death. i get why he did it, but now the rest of his group doesn't trust him.
i'd say that the one bright spot in this season was episode four. that episode was just so silly and gave me so much secondhand-embarrassment i actually had to look away at times LMAO is this where we got the whole Loverboy Lance and Lone Wolf Keith thing from?? i thought that was purely fandom-made, i was not expecting to hear that in an actual episode. talk about whiplash. and we got this ICONIC scene:
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he did that wayyy too naturally. lance, buddy, got anything to share?
i really would have loved to see keith with the team during that episode. i can just imagine how he would've reacted to having to do all of that stuff. god, that would've been hysterical!! the images of the parasite in coran's brain made me gag though, was that really necessary🧍‍♀️
i don't have a ton to say about the final episodes. i mean, it was two episodes of them fighting on naxzela. it was definitely a bit of an avengers endgame feeling with all people they helped in previous seasons showing up to fight, so that was cool! i'm curious as to what purpose naxzela served to the galra empire though. were they always planning to use it as a bomb? and couldn't they still do that technically? they only broke the witches connection with it, so all they'd have to do is get another ship out there and she could do it again. what do you even do with a planet like that?? just destroy it?? i also just want to point out that lance said they should get out of there immediately, and nobody listened!! and then five seconds later they were like "oh no, we need to get out of here!" justice for lance i stg ohmygod and LOTOR is on their side now?!?!?! i actually can't wait to see how this plays out!! total transparency, i love atla and i could absolutely see this being a zuko redemption arc situation. it's clear his parents don't like him at all (are they actually heartless or something??) so why not join the other side!! I'M HERE FOR IT
i have to be honest, this definitely wasn't my favorite season. we're getting into the later seasons and i've heard plenty about how the writing goes a little left-field (though i'm not sure when that happens. most people seem to agree season 8 is shit, but i've heard complaints about s6-7 as well) so we'll just have to see! i'm sticking it out as best i can🚶‍♀️‍➡️ onto season 5!
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2346khith · 2 days ago
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Hello dear friend,
I’m Noha from Gaza, Mother of martyr and wife of martyr .
17 people of My family was forcibly displaced from their homes to the southern Gaza Strip, and they now live in samall tent , The occupation completely destroyed our house and our business and we no longer have anything that we used to own.
MY mother suffers from joint pain and back cartilage pain. Also, she had surgery before the war to remove a tumor in the intestine 💔!!️ and she needs to continue her treatment.
As for my middle brother, Darwish,He has a family of 10 people, he is paralyzed in his right leg, he suffers from severe leg pain.  Two months before the war, he had surgery in Egypt to implant a joint in his leg, and he was supposed to return to Egypt to continue his treatment, but the war prevented him from doing so, so he urgently needs to go to Egypt to continue his treatment.
As for me, I lost my small and beautiful family in the 2014 war, which consists of my husband and my only child, whom I gave birth to after 7 years of deadly waiting and a very long and expensive treatment journey. He was only two and a half years old. I lost him and did not hug him enough to forget the agony of waiting for him to come. I also suffered injuries, which resulted in several operations on my right leg and other parts of my body, the effects of which I still suffer to this day. So, I don't want to experience what it's like to lose someone I love again. It's a very painful feeling. Please save my family.
Life here is unbearable, especially tent life is very difficult, and the situation is getting worse every day.
I urge you to support us to save our lives, Your support is our only hope for survival after losing everything.
We hope you will continue to support us by donating or sharing to help save and rebuild our lives. Every contribution matters, much appreciated
Many thanks to everyone who supported us.
https://gofund.me/e6644700
For those who see this please, visit their blog and reblog their blog’s posts so they  get more attention and if you have the money to spare please donate.
Also I apologize, but I do not have the ability to donate to you. Trust me if I had the ability I would but I don't and I can't. I have no bank account or credit card to transfer money to and no job to gain any money. Every time I ask my parents to help they shut me down so this is the only way to help you. Please forgive me.
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liquidstar · 9 months ago
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sleepovers save money on hotel rooms while on missions 👍
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todayisafridaynight · 5 months ago
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Is that character gay? *points at Mine*
Allegedly.
#snap chats#depends on what day you check the wiki. schrodinger's homosexual#i couldnt FATHOM showing mine to my mom i know she'd be so annoying 😭😭😭#actually i cant even imagine what'd happen. 'is he gay' 'yeah' 'oh-' LIKE WHAT. WHAT NOW MOTHER WHAT HAVE YOU SAY TO THAT#like i think my mom asks that so much as a cope for my existence when i dont even like men mom As Per Usual mother you got it wrong#she's so weird because her. 'best work friend(? boss?)' is gay so she doesnt care about gay people she just doesnt like. me LMAO#but my moms selective hating aside i do wish i could show her characters i like#not because i want to bond with her but because it always seems funny when everyone else does it with their parents#but id just be too embarrassed ... or i can just imagine her saying like. every other chara is scary lookin. or ugly. liek my grandma did 💀#my sisters keep telling me to show her daigo since they think he looks like our dad and im always tempted to#god wait that just reminds me how when i did a daigo cosplay last year my dad saw me and he was like 'you're like a mini me :)'#like .... cmon dawg youre not helping LCKAEJLKCJAE love him. hope to see him again soon <- literally just saw him#wait while im rambling my dad came over and our 'uncle' (no actual relation just dad's friend) gave us. 12 fucking bottles of wine#when no one in this house drinks enough to warrant TWELVE BOTTLES ?? so funny. at least my sis and her husband drink#and i have one (1) friend who drinks LOL so thats cute. do i have any other unnecessary lore bits to drop before i disappear for a week#our ac broke and its been hot as balls. yeah thats it thats the end of it see you guys next week
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barklikeagod · 1 month ago
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momo is doing a lot better today :) first time he’s went to the bathroom without leaving any blood behind!!! and despite fluid building up around zuko’s heart his resting respiratory rate was 32 last night!!
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mayspicer · 7 months ago
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Ok, the boss is no more! There were some super stressful moments but surprisingly we all survived o:
My animal companion got hit with disintegrate, but we had hero points to make him avoid it. I would cry actually, because disintegrate means no resurrection x_x
The war is prevented! At least this one, because Cayden's party is right at the center of a much bigger one just starting. Today we saved the country. Cayden is trying to not even save the whole world, just maybe slow the whole thing down and save as much people as possible...
#majek says shit#I have the diamond for a raise animal companion spell but it can only be used if you have a body and even then there are restrictions#and Kela wouldn't even know about it until after the fight because she got trapped between a wall of force and a stone golem?#or a stone Big Humanoid Fucker idk what that technically was but it would've killed me pretty fast#and it all was in an area of supernatural darkness emanating from the powergamer's character...#which interfered with so much of everyone else's actions and we even addressed it before the session that it's a bad idea to cast this#but its ok because HE will be able to see through it and HE won't be targeted easily:))))#he also almost ended the encounter in the first round of proper combat...#by using mechanics so outrageous but technically ambiguous enough that our GM can't deny them by using only RAW...#and he prefers to settle arguments by going as RAW as possible...#and it wasn't a problem until now when we have a player who exploits to an actually unbelievable extent#we shared our character sheets online yesterday and I finally saw his... still have no idea how the character works#because like half the stuff is custom and missing from the app#he has 9 AC in the app and allegedly 32 AC before buffs...#and the GM says the math checks out but 1. nobody saw that math besides him and 2. so far he trusted that player without too much questions#and only recently he actually realised he's been manipulated multiple times when me and some others started dismantling that players actions#I so hope this was the last session with that person#the worst thing is I think he's an ok guy when I'm not playing any kind of game with him#and I understand different people find enjoyment in different aspects of games - his being figuring out how far he can go with the rules#and there are whole groups of people who like to play like that and enjoy the challenge of making the most broken “build” possible#but the rest of the group are not that kind of people. maybe some like to have fun with researching what's possible#but it's never the purpose of the game and these things dont find their way into the actual game#I'm actually considering the possibility of just leaving the campaign if he stays there... I know I whine a lot in the tags#about different players that get on my nerves for various reasons. it sounds like I'm never happy about anything#but our group is big and we play together as a friend group in 4 different campaigns now (I'm in 3 of them)#and every one of these smaller groups has it's issues. sometimes it's the characters not matching and sometimes different expectations#or interpersonal stuff that can be worked out. this here is not a group composition issue because the powergaming attitude is everywhere#it's impossible to talk casually between sessions and confronting the guy leads to like actual temper tantrums#literally said “the fuck do I care if the party dies I'm not gonna be useful anymore” after the GM gave him feedback to maybe ease it up#he never says things like that when the gm or me are present but we still get info. he just can't be confronted by the gm like that
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muttsona · 8 months ago
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ihateyouihateyouihateyou
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ragnars-tooth · 10 months ago
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HELLO. YOUR UPDATE IS THAT THIS FLAT IS ACTUALLY INCAPABLE OF RECEIVING AN INTERNET CONNECTION. I HATE LANDLORDS. I HATE ESTATE AGENTS. I AM GOING TO WALK INTO THE SEA.
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