#i don’t want to give up on something when i feel like i haven’t even tried

[munsonsmixtapes]

Mechanic Eddie? The reader is Eddie’s girlfriend or wife and she’s stopping by the shop cause they have lunch plans. While she’s waiting for Eddie one of the other mechanics (who Eddie cannot stand) starts hitting on her thinking she’s a customer and Eddie gets mad… 👀 and reader and Eddie don’t make it to the lunch plan cause Eddie goes feral 🤭

She’s back at it again with amazing ideas!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, creampie, cockwarming, reader gets hit on by one of Eddie’s employees

The shop is practically empty when you enter it and everyone stops to wave at you, making sure to do so since they all seem to want to kiss up to the boss’s wife to get on Eddie’s good side. And as long as you’re happy, he is. You’re the most important thing in his life so he takes your opinion very seriously. When he opened the shop, he let you pick out a lot of the decorations. And he can’t help but smile proudly when customers compliment the 50’s themed decor that was all thanks to you.

You’re so in love with each other and everyone knows it. All of his employees love you and they’re all so respectful, treating you like they do him. It also helps that you bring them sandwiches pretty much every time you come in.

Rod is the new guy who always flirts with the women who come in, even when they bring along their romantic partners and he’s one more complaint away from being fired. Three strikes and he’s out. He’s got one more left and Eddie really hopes he doesn’t blow it.

But when you show up in your short dress, that promise Rod made to Eddie about being on his best behavior goes out the window. He watches you move through the shop, handing out sandwiches and making conversation with the other employees and he has a one track mind now, completely abandoning his current task as you approach. He thinks that maybe his flirting will finally work out.

He leans against the hood of the car he’s working on, making an attempt to make you notice him and you do, making a beeline for him with your basket of sandwiches. You figure he must be the new guy Eddie’s constantly complaining about and now you’re interested to see if he’s actually as bad as your husband says because he always tends to be a bit dramatic.

You put on your bright smile and hold the basket out to Rod. He happily takes a sandwich then steps forward and makes an attempt to put on a flirty smile. Yours matches his, but he doesn’t know that you’re just trying to be nice.

“I’m y/n,” you smile, putting your hand out for him to shake and he takes it despite all of the grease on his hands. You give it a shake then quickly pull away, already feeling uncomfortable being near the man.

“Rod,” he says with a nod, stepping even closer and now you’re fearing for your safety. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

“I think maybe I should reintroduce myself again,” you reply. I’m y/n, y/n Munson, Eddie’s wife.” You hold up the hand you’ve got your ring on and Rod’s mouth falls open at the giant rock on your ring finger. The thing is so huge that he’s sure he could see it from outer space.

He doesn’t seem to care that you’re married because he’s stepping even closer, causing you to step back again and again until your back hits someone’s chest. Their hand lands on your shoulder and just from the weight of it, you just know that it’s your husband.

“That’s the final straw. I’ve given you plenty of chances to change but I haven’t seen any growth. You have made so many people uncomfortable and now you’re hitting on y/n? Get out.”

Eddie is normally very relaxed so seeing him so riled up is so different. He’s always so sweet to you so this isn’t something you see very often. But when you do…god, you’re nothing but a puddle. The way he’s so angry and on your behalf makes you feel the need to go clean yourself up, just knowing that you’re making a mess in your panties.

“What-”

“Did I stutter? Apologize to my wife and the fuck out!” Eddie’s pointing towards the door and you’re no longer scared but rather turned on by how protective Eddie is of you. You know he was wanting an excuse to fire the guy anyway, but still. He’s always quick to jump to your defense and you feel so loved because of it. He’s your hero until death do you part.

“I’m sorry,” Rod apologizes then makes a scene of leaving the shop, throwing different tools around while screaming expletives and how he’s going to sue for wrongful termination.

You laugh it off, not actually scared anymore as Eddie protectively wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. Once Rod is gone, his tired screeching as he pulls out of the parking lot, everyone goes back to work and you and Eddie go to his office, business as usual. It’s just a little blip.

Once safely inside his office, you sit on his desk, admiring the photo he has of the two of you on your wedding day, sharing a kiss. He has copies of that exact photo everywhere, even keeping one in his wallet to look at when he misses you, which is anytime he’s not around you.

You spread your legs and he steps between them. You grab hold of his shirt and pull him closer, pressing your lips to his as he cages you in, pressing his hands against the desk. You both know he needs to get back to work, but the position you’re in and the need is far too strong to ignore.

You watch him slowly sink to the floor, pulling your panties down as he does and once they’re off, he sticks them in his back pocket before discarding your shoes. He then grabs hold of your thighs and pulls you closer, draping your legs over his shoulders. Your dress is pushed up as he kisses up your legs, murmuring what you just know are sweet nothings into your skin.

“Shouldn’t I be the one giving you head?” You ask and Eddie can’t help but let out a chuckle.

“But I’m not the one who looks fucking hot today so really, I’m just giving you what you rightfully deserve,” he replies, peppering your inner thigh with kisses before shoving his face into your cunt.

He’s being nothing but gentle, teasing as he goes in with his tongue, putting just a little pressure on your clit as you let out a moan, making sure to get his hair out of the way so it doesn’t interfere with his work. You move it this way and that as he gets more aggressive, biting down again and again. Both of you are grateful that he had all of that soundproof material installed for exactly this reason. Let’s just say that this isn’t the first time that you’ve been in the exact position in this exact setting…

He somehow gets you even closer, pushing his face further into your cunt as your heels dig into his back, moan after moan falling from your lips. The whole thing is making you dizzy just like usual, but this time, you’re on such a high that you feel you’re seeing stars. He’s much more aggressive, more hungry than normal, acting like he didn’t do this exact thing last night when the two of you couldn’t sleep.

You’re close, you can feel it. You’re pulling on his hair and that only encourages him, putting more into it than he ever has and as you reach your orgasm, nothing but his name falls from your lips in a loud, breathy moan which makes him hard as a rock.

He doesn’t even give you time to come down when he comes up for air. He immediately presses his lips to yours, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to his chair. He sits down, letting you straddle his lap as his tongue slides into your mouth so you can taste yourself on him.

Eddie grabs hold of your hips, helping your grind against him, making him even harder as you move together. He’s bucking his own hips against yours as he moans into your mouth at the feeling. He think he’s earned a fuck after making you come like he did.

You’re unbuttoning his pants as he rolls the chair back against the wall so it’s less likely to move with your activity. His pants are somehow down in an instant and you’re rolling the condom onto him before topping him, your lips moving to his neck as you begin to ride him. Soft and slow as you kiss his neck, his hands moving up your back and curling into the fabric.

You’re moving slower than usual, not in any rush even though you’re in Eddie’s place of work. That’s not even something that’s on your mind. You’re so caught up in him and the way he makes you feel that you can’t possibly stop now, not for anything.

He’s bucking his hips against yours the best he can, watching you hover over him, showering him with compliments about how he’s your hero and how you can always count on him to save the day. He’s eating it up, both your words and the way you’re moving, wanting to take your time.

It always seems like you both are in a rush just because of how horny you are for each other, but this is different, it’s much more intimate, more loving. He wants to stay like that forever. And even when Eddie is coming, he’s still thinking about how much he doesn’t want to leave.

So you two stay like that for a while, just holding each other until it’s time to go home, your lunch plans- the entire reason you had even shown up-completely forgotten just like always. Now you suppose you just have to make it up to him by skipping straight to dessert.

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. Kissing, teasing, suggestive.

A/N: Mhmmmmmmmm (hehe)

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P14: Messing With You

Chris’ POV

She looks peaceful—untouchable, even. 

My eyes are barely open, the sun from the window gleaming a little too brightly. Usually, it would annoy me, not right now though—right now it’s making her look heavenly, making my heart squeeze in my chest as I watch her lips puff open with each soft breath. 

I feel lucky. 

She’s here in my bed, in my arms, coming to me for comfort. It feels good to feel important to someone, even better to feel important to her, but it’s also horrifying. 

I can’t tell if it’s butterflies, anxiety, or maybe both swarming in my gut when I’m around her. 

It makes me want to run away. Not that I don’t want her—I do, I really fucking do. 

The thought of calling her mine, having her in my arms, and making her smile—it makes a reassuring warmth spread in my chest, the type of excitement I haven’t felt in a while. 

My lips roll together as I watch her eyes flutter open. She spares me a hazy smile, her hand combing through my hair as I stare up at her. 

God, she’s perfect. 

“Morning,” she hums, lightly hugging my head a little closer. 

I try to bite back a smile, the sensation of her nails lightly grazing my scalp making a sigh of contentment fall from my lips. It’s just so effortless. 

This should be more difficult, I haven’t really talked to anyone, let alone allowed them to hold me like she has since I lost a part of my heart—my mom and Nick. 

“Hm.” I hum, the sad thought making my throat tighter as I swallow thickly. 

Her hands stop waving through my scalp, her eyes opening wider, looking down at me with concern. “What’s wrong?” she asks, the question rolling off her lips as she gazes down at me with soft eyes. 

I miss them. That’s what’s wrong, but complaining about it won’t bring them back. It will just make me feel more, and it already feels like too much. 

“Is it something I did?” 

My eyes perk at her question, my head shaking from side to side, stopping as I realize I’m buried in her chest, practically shoveling myself in her cleavage. 

“Shit, I didn’t mean to—oh god.” I let out, my eyes squinting shut as I feel a wave of warmth crawl behind my neck, onto my cheeks, and to the tips of my ears. 

Her light giggle makes my eyes peek open. The soft smile cascaded on her face makes my chest heave with a deep breath. 

“You’re fine. Now,” she places her hands back into my hair, her thumb swiping along the top rim of my ear as she stares down at me with intent, “-what’s bothering you? Did I do something?” 

The pout tugging on her lips makes my heart clench in my chest. 

I don’t want her to think anything is wrong with us, maybe I should tell her. At least I know she’d understand. 

My lips smack together, opening and closing as I hesitate. “I, um—I guess I just miss ‘em a little more than usual today…” I wince hearing the slight crack in my voice. 

The desperation of the confession makes me feel bare, her eyes seeming so soft, yet so intimidating, each second feeling like hours as I wait for her to respond. 

“I get that.” 

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until she speaks those words, my lungs burning as I inhale slowly, trying to even out my breath patterns. 

She gives me a sympathetic smile. Usually, the sympathy made everything worse, but not when she does it—hers just makes me feel understood. 

My chest slows with deep, calm breaths. The burn in my lungs fading as I let myself melt under her gaze. 

I can’t remember the last time I felt like this, so safe and secure—so free of judgment. 

“Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe we can take Trevor on a walk?” she offers, her eyes twinkling with hope. 

The sadness settles in my gut, but the feeling doesn’t exactly make me feel sick like it normally does. It’s accompanied by a calm wave of comfort—her touch, her eyes… everything about her just making the sadness seem okay. 

“I… could, um—can we…” 

I flinch as I stumble helplessly over the words. Her face scrunches with amusement, her eyes squinting as she smiles brightly. 

“Are you nervous?” she taunts, her eyes flickering between mine as I force a scowl onto my face, my lips scrunching into a tight line as I feel the blush crawl up my neck and onto my cheeks. 

“No, I’m just still half-asleep,” I remark, rolling my tongue along the inside of my cheek as I hear my tone waver. 

I don’t even believe the lie—and by the look on her face, she doesn’t either. 

“Okay, okay,” she laughs, nodding as if she’s accepting the lie without any doubt. My hand on her back finds the ends of her hair, twirling them mindlessly as the soft strands wisp through my fingers. 

Her mouth muffles with a short giggle. She takes a deep breath, trying to keep a straight face, “Ask whenever you’re awake enough, I guess.” 

My eyes roll from her teasing. I rest my head against her, hiding from her gaze as I take a deep breath.��

I’m definitely awake now, but it’ll have to wait. 

___

Y/n’s POV

Something is resting on the tip of his tongue. I can tell he’s fighting inner thoughts, trying to blurt out whatever question lingered from this morning. 

It’s kinda cute. 

His bottom lip is bright pink, his teeth constantly gnawing on the skin as his eyes drift with thought. The hue reminds me of last night, the feeling of those lips on mine, how good it felt. 

I already miss it. Something about it felt so electric yet so comforting—like a warm bath after having numb toes from the cold. It felt overwhelmingly good.

And I really wanna feel it again. 

My body stiffens as I sit on the barstool, my hands on the kitchen island clenching as I feel large hands callous over my shoulders from behind. 

Jimmy. 

“Hey. Want some bacon and all? I got the stuff…” he trails off, yawning with a small smile as he walks around the kitchen and shuffles through the fridge. 

My mouth watering as I recall the last time he made breakfast for me. I nod, blushing as Jimmy laughs, turning the knob on the stove to erupt a flame beneath the pan. 

Chris shifts beside me. He spares me a quick glance, shaking his head. “I—I’ll be back, I’m gonna go shower real quick.” he says, stalking off and down the hallway. 

Part of me is dying to know what he’s wanting to ask, but another part doesn’t want to know. 

What if he didn’t like the kiss? 

Does he just kiss everyone like that? 

Was he trying to find a way to let me down slowly? 

“You good, kid?” Jimmy asks, sparing me a small glance with concern before turning his attention back to the stovetop. 

I swallow thickly, relaxing my clenched hands as I huff out a quick sigh. “Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, my face twitching as more doubts run through my head. 

The sound of water running from the bathroom makes my stomach churn, my heart pumping harshly in my chest. 

I hate this, it’s exactly what I’ve had nightmares of since I had my heart broken by my last boyfriend. The uncertainty, the doubt, the endless loop of questions that made my eyes burn with stubborn tears. 

“Here ya go,” Jimmy states, pushing a plate of steaming food in front of me while curling his lips into a subtle grin, pulling me out of my thoughts as I inhale the smell with greedy taste buds. 

Breakfast. Real food. 

My house is filled with protein bars, protein powder, and probably even protein water for fucks sake. 

Eating is a chore sometimes. Especially when it’s those disgusting protein pancakes that Baylen loves, but that’s always his go-to breakfast.

Jimmy walks towards the kitchen island, setting a plate on the counter next to me. “For Chris when he comes back, but if you steal any bacon, I saw nothing.” he remarks, holding his hands up in defense before stalking off with a different plate of food, heading outside towards the porch. 

Trevor trots behind him, his nose twitching as he follows the sizzling bacon on Jimmy’s plate. “I’ll be outside with Trev. Let me know if you need anything, even if it’s more bacon, you hear me?” he jokes, pointing a finger at me with a stern look interrupted with a smile. 

“Alright,” I puff, chewing more as he closes the door behind himself, leaving me in a quiet room alone. 

The shower water humming from the bathroom stops, the sounds of shuffling making my heart beat a little faster. 

What is he trying to ask me? 

Curiosity bubbles in my gut. My lips rolling together as I stiffen, hearing the sound of footsteps come closer before I feel a waft of air as Chris sits down in the barstool next to me. 

His damp hair brushes against my shoulder. I shiver at the wet sensation, my spine straightening. 

“My bad,” he mumbles, petting over the skin with his warm hand, the touch soothing away the shocking cold wetness. 

Chris starts to scarf his food down next to me. I feel his hand dip between my thighs, pulling one of my legs over his lap. “Chris, what’re you–”

“Here. Now, shut up.” he mutters, placing a piece of his bacon on my plate, his hand grasping at my thigh soothingly, right above my knee. I should be upset that he told me to shut up, but it makes me smile. 

He’s nervous. 

Shoveling the bacon into my mouth, I stare at him from the corner of my eye, watching as he straightens his posture. 

“So…” I trail off, my gaze drifting across the room as I hear him let out a subtle sigh. “What were you wanting to ask me?” 

The question makes him freeze. His hand grips tighter around my leg, his fingers tapping against my skin as he stutters, “I, uh—was… was just gonna ask if you, if you maybe wanted to uh—” 

I guide my hand down to his, pulling it further up on my thigh as I lean forward, placing a kiss on his cheek. His eyes are directed towards his plate of scrapped food. “Stop making me more—stop being so—ugh.” he huffs. 

A giggle purses through my lips. “What? Am I makin’ you more nervous—”

“No.” he interrupts, glaring at me as his hand squeezes my thigh. My breath halts in my chest, my gut tightening as he stares at me with pure intent. “I wanna go on a date with you. I’m not fuckin—’m not fuckin’ nervous. You’re just being difficult.” 

My lips curl into a grin. I lick over my teeth, leaning against his shoulder as I bat my eyes up at him, watching as his face contorts with a slight snarl. “I still didn’t hear a question, Chris.” 

The observation makes his jaw tighten. His fingers tap impatiently against my thigh, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Will you—do you wanna go on a date with me?” he asks, his eyes softening for a quick second before returning to his plate. 

“Nah.” 

Chris whips his head towards me. A loud laugh bursts through my lips, my stomach tightening with sharp breaths. “The fuck?” he asks, his face scrunched with displeasure as he watches me clutch my stomach with a tinge of pain. 

“I’m—’m kidding,” I rush out, squeezing my hand on top of his, my nose scrunching as his face relaxes into a bland expression. “Sorry, just wanted to mess with you,” I remark, sitting up straight and moving my leg back into my own seat. 

“Mess with me?” Chris tuts. I look over, yelping as I feel his hand wrap around the back of my leg once more, repeating the action of throwing my thigh over his lap. 

But this time, it’s closer. 

He stares directly at me, his teeth greedily biting on his bottom lip as his eyes float over my face. 

I feel my lungs burn, screaming for air as I forget how to breathe. 

His face leans in closer, his breath hovering over my lips before shifting to the side, his lips ghosting over my neck with light kisses. 

“Chri—”

Before I can call out his name, I feel his tongue swipe across my thumping pulse, right beneath my ear. His lips enclose around the area, a light suction echoing in the room as my ears begin to ring. 

Oh god. 

My hands tangle in his hair out of pure instinct. Before I can pull him any closer, he pulls my leg upwards, lifting and dropping it back onto my own chair. 

I watch as he stands up, my lips parted as I pant for air. 

“What–what’re you doing?” I question, my voice wavering with heavy breaths as he stacks our plates, walking towards the sink. 

Chris shrugs. He sets the dishes down, running a hand through his damp hair and sparing me a soft smile. 

“Just messin’ with you.” 

[lunajay33]

Over Looked Part.2

•🪽🌌🌑•

Summary: Being the youngest Archeron sister was hard and when you’re thrown into a new life as a high fae living in the night court people don’t see your struggle, and the one you crave only has eyes for your sister Elain

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Info: Elain and Nesta always hated reader, Rhys and Feyre adore her, angst with a happy ending

Part.1

•Masterlist•

It’s been a month since I left and no one has found me yet, I’m either really good at hiding or they just haven’t tried to look for me, the look one Azriels face when I told him we’re mates haunts me every night, like he felt desperate and betrayed at the same time, most likely disappointment that it wasn’t Elain

I’ve been wandering between the different courts surviving within the wild like I did when I tried to find Feyre, I eventually found myself here in the summer court just relaxing on the beach, I’ve been here for about a week in the same spot just eating fruits I find along the beach

“I’ve come to find out that the pretty girl sitting on my beach for a week is none other than the high lady of the night courts sister” I hear from beside me looking up from my spot I see a darker skinned man in all his glory, he must be the high lord of the summer court

“Oh I’m sorry, this has been the nicest court I’ve ventured through yet, I just wanted to visit for a while, I can go” I say frantic packing some fruits into my bag and going to walk away when he gently grabs my arm

“Sweetie you can stay as long as you want but what concerns me is that you’re looking quiet….frail, disheveled, my guards tell me you’ve ate nothing but stray fruits, why don’t you come back to my palace and I’ll get you a proper meal” his voice is like liquid gold

“Oh I don’t know I don’t wanna be an inconvenience”

“Please it would be my honour” I hesitate but eventually nod when my stomach grumbles

He leads the way and upon arrival the house in magnificent, the decor is ocean based and gold, we sit at a table when servants come in with platters of food and my eyes grow wide

“This is too much”

“Eat what you can, during then I’d like to ask you a few questions” I nod as I fill my plate munching down on the food like a wild animal

“So why are you here and not in the night court?” And I feel that pang in my chest again

“I don’t feel welcome there, the high lord and lady and Cassian are wonderful but…..I just can’t stand it anymore”

“What about your two other sisters and that one Azriel” I look at him with pleading eyes to drop it but I know he won’t

“My mate is into another, he doesn’t even care that I left”

“That doesn’t sound right, mates would do anything for eachother” I shrug sighing

“Don’t tell them I’m here” he gives me sad eyes then looks behind me, I turn seeing Feyre and Rhys

“Y/n we’ve been looking everywhere for you” Feyre cries pulling me into a hug looking over my features and her expression saddens

“You look just like the day Azriel found you in the woods” I look down too ashamed

“I’m sorry I just couldn’t handle seeing Az with her anymore”

“He’s been a mess since you left, he’s looked everywhere his shadows are out of control, he needs you” Rhys says

“What about when I needed him and he was all over Elain, I thought mates were suppose to be happy ever after like you guys, why does nothing ever work for me” he sighs as he rubs my arm

“We know it’s hard sweetheart but just come back and we will figure something out and if you still feel the same you can come back here and relax at the beach” he says pleading with me

I groan but give it not wanting to upset them

“You’re always welcomed here my dear” thesian said before Rhys winows us back

I’m back in the living room of the house of wind and I’m immediately engulfed by Cassian picking me up and spinning me around

“God I missed you Nesta has been draining me” he smiles squeezing me so tight I might pop

“Can’t breathe cas” he sets me down and looks me over like Rhys and Feyre did

“Oh angel….i looked all over for you you know, where have you been?”

“All over the courts, wandering through the forests and plains, winter court was not fun I almost got taken by a polar bear” I laugh but they’re all serious, the room falls silent and I feel the familiar sensation of the shadows running all over my body and not just one or two but all of them wiggling everywhere excited almost until I’m basically just a black blob

“They’ve missed you” I hear from the couch, I turn and it’s Azriel, he looks skinnier, his eyes dark, scruff grown and his hair a mess

“I…I’ve missed them too” they tighten around me reassuringly as he stands and walks to me

“I’m sorry” and I feel my heart break when I feel that thread between us pulling me to him

“I understand I guess, Elain is beautiful and talented but……why did you ignore me too, I am struggling too”

“I guess I just hung onto her because she reminded me of you when I first found you, you were so scared in the woods and I guess since I didn’t heal you I could heal her”

I feel the shadows pull me to him and I rest my head against his chest and everything felt okay for a moment like it was suppose to be the whole time and his arms holding me close

“I know you can’t forgive everything right away but let me show you how good this can be and the mother was right to bring us together”

“One last chance Azriel, prove to me that this is real”

[meazalykov]

soft place to land

catarina macario x chelsea!reader with features of platonic!sam kerr x reader

warnings: cancer, recovery, angst

you haven’t been to any major doctor’s appointments since the ankle injury a few months ago. nothing urgent, nothing scary. it was just routine physio after a tackle during that game against west ham. there was light rehab, and a return to full training before the season picked up again. 

everything healed the way it was supposed to. 

or at least, that’s what you told everyone.  

now it’s something else.  

it started slow. a tingle at the base of your neck, creeping up your throat, like a subtle warning that didn’t feel worth mentioning at first. your voice would crack during post-training banter, or disappear altogether when you tried to call for the ball. you blamed it on overuse, maybe dehydration. you figured it would go away but it didn’t.  

you live with it now.  

you train, you play, and you act like nothing’s wrong, but every day it gets harder to pretend.  

you do not want to cause worry, especially not for cat. she has enough on her plate… coming back after recovering from her own serious acl injury, easing back into match fitness, proving herself all over again. but she notices. she always notices.  

"you didn’t say anything all session," she murmurs as you collapse beside her on the pitch after training one day. the black and pink training shirt clings to your back with sweat. your lungs burn. your throat aches.  

you give her a tight smile and a shrug, but it feels forced.  

"just tired," you say, even though the words come out hoarse and strained.  

cat’s brows pull together, concern flickering in her expression. she reaches over, fingers brushing gently under your jaw. 

"it’s your throat again?"  

you nod.  

"you need to tell sonia," she says quietly.  

"i’m fine," you lie, and she hears it. she always does.  

catarina doesn’t push. she just sighs and leans into you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder like it’ll ground you, knowing her love will hold the pieces of you together. the next day, you feel it again…worse this time. the pressure sits like a stone lodged in your throat. you can barely speak. your hands shake. your vision swims mid-sprint. when lauren passes you the ball, you miss the trap completely.  

"y/n, you good?" millie calls from across the pitch, jogging toward you.  

you wave her off and bend over, hands on your knees, willing your body to behave. you hear hannah whistle, then sonia’s voice from the sideline, sharp and direct.  

you straighten and pretend you’re okay because that’s what you do. you’ve always kept things to yourself until they become impossible to ignore.  

after training, you sit in the locker room with your boots still on, half-zoned out as the chatter around you continues.  

"she didn’t say a word again," erin whispers to lucy, trying to be subtle but failing miserably.  

"it’s not just her throat," ashley adds, brushing a towel over her head. 

"she’s slower and her passes are off. that is not normal for a player like y/n."  

you feel their eyes on you, but you keep your head down.  

when you finally glance up, it’s catarina who’s kneeling in front of you. your girlfriend’s hands rest lightly on your knees, her eyes searching yours. she doesn’t say anything. she doesn’t need to.  

later that night, when you’re curled into her on the couch, her arms around your waist and your face tucked into her neck, you let yourself exhale.  

"i don’t know what’s happening to me," you whisper, voice thin and trembling. 

"i feel like my body’s shutting down."  

"then let’s find out what it is," she says. 

you feel her hand over your heart. steady. warm. you nod.  

however, the fear lingers because it’s not just the throat thing anymore. it’s everything and the rest of the team knows. you see it in how guro always walks beside you now, keeping pace even when you fall behind.  

how mayra offers to cover your runs without being asked.  

how millie wraps an arm around your shoulders before matches and leans in close, like she’s trying to carry some of your weight.  

no one says anything directly but it’s there, all of it, aka the silent dread none of you know how to voice.  

a week later, you are more than aware that the champions league match against real madrid was days away. everything was intense for this group stage match. training, tactics, focus. every player was locked in, especially with how competitive this season had been. 

the club enforced mandatory monthly clinicals, making sure everyone was in top condition before important matches. it was routine. you had done it plenty of times before.

you stepped into the medical room like it was just another checkbox to tick off. same nurse, same hallway, same small talk about the weather. you were calm. casual, even.

things were fine until you stepped on the weight scale.

you stood still, the machine humming quietly beneath your feet. the doctor glanced at the screen, then back down to the scale, brows pulling together in a confused frown. the doctor’s mouth opened slightly like she was going to say something, but didn’t. instead, she stepped forward and checked the scale again, typing something into her computer with more urgency than before.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice scratchy and hoarse…same as it had been lately.

the doctor looked up at you, professional, but concerned.  

“have you noticed the weight loss?”  

you blinked, “huh?”  

she took a careful breath, “you’ve lost eighteen pounds in the last three months.”  

your chest tightened, “i haven’t changed anything,” you said quickly. 

“my diet’s the same and i sleep all nine to ten hours.”  

she nodded once but didn’t look reassured. 

“that’s what concerns me. unexplained weight loss like this, paired with other symptoms, it’s not something we can overlook.”  

you were in there longer than expected. one by one, you started listing what had been happening. you did not want to draw attention to yourself, but because it suddenly felt like all of it was connected.  

your throat…the discomfort, the inability to speak sometimes.  

your periods…completely off schedule, skipping whole months.  

your hair…thinner in the shower, on your pillow, in your brush.  

your sleep…ten hours felt like three.  

the doctor listened closely, then gently reached out, fingers pressing along the sides of your neck. you winced slightly. she nodded again, like something in your body confirmed what she had already started suspecting.

“i want to send you in for a full body scan,” she said, still using that calm, practiced voice that somehow made everything feel more real. 

“your symptoms and physical indicators suggest we may be dealing with something involving your thyroid. it’s best we know for sure.”  

you waited for hours after that and the scans felt surreal. the cold machines, dim lights, the hum of technology that had nothing to do with football.  

when it was over, you were told to wait in a small private room. you waited for about an hour before the door finally opened with a soft knock.  

the club’s main doctor returned, this time with sonia, your coach, by her side.

sonia offered a gentle smile and stepped forward, “are you alright?”  

you swallowed. your throat ached again, “i don’t know.”  

the doctor explained it carefully, like she had done it a thousand times before. her tone was level. informative. precise.  

“the scans revealed abnormalities in your thyroid. after consulting the images and your recent symptoms… i’m sorry… but we’ve confirmed you’re in the early stages of thyroid cancer.”

your heart didn’t drop. it froze since everything inside you went cold and quiet. you didn’t react right away. all you did was just stared ahead, blank. your vision blurred at the edges, the words thyroid cancer echoing in your mind like a far-off siren.

the doctor kept talking…mentioning how it was the easiest form of cancer to recover from, how it was caught early, how treatment options were promising…but the words barely registered.

you weren’t thinking about recovery.  

you were thinking about football or about training or about your place in the squad or about the champions league or about the call up to the national team.

all you thought about was how everything was about to stop, and you had no idea how long the recovery process will take.  

sonia rested her arm around your shoulders, a comforting gesture. you didn’t lean into it. you looked at her instead, tears building in your eyes.

“where’s catarina?” your voice cracked. 

“please… can you get her?”  

“of course,” she said softly, “anyone else?”  

“sam,” you whispered, “please get sam too if she is in the recovery area today.”  

sam, your closest friend on the team. it was not just because of football, but because of kristie. kristie and you had grown up through the national team system together. she had been your person, your steady support. sam is too thanks to her.  

minutes later, the door opened again. cat walked in first, her face immediately searching for yours. sam followed close behind, her smile gone the second she saw the drained look on your face.  

sonia closed the door quietly behind them, giving you space.  

the doctor repeated the explanation, this time for them. you didn’t look at either of them. you couldn’t. you just stared at the floor, shoulders slumped, hands trembling in your lap.

your chest hurt…not from the diagnosis, but from the heartbreak. you weren’t stupid. your career would stall. you wouldn’t be able to train or to play. you were scared, no…terrified, actually.  

sam knelt in front of you and took your hands, already teary. 

“you’re gonna be okay. we’ve got you, yeah?” she said softly. 

“you’re gonna fight through this, and we’ll all be right here.”  

it was cat who saw the fear in your eyes. it was not the surface-level sadness, but the deep, soul-crushing fear in your eyes. the ’what if?’ fear.  

she moved beside you quickly, arms wrapping around your body, anchoring you against her. your cheek pressed into her chest, your hands fisting the front of her hoodie.  

“i’m here,” she whispered into your hair, “i’ve got you, baby. i’m not going anywhere.”  

you started to cry…finally. heavy, silent tears. your throat felt too tight to sob, but she felt your body shake against hers.  

“you were there for me every single day of my acl recovery,” she said, her voice thick. 

“you never left me. you pushed me through it. and now i’m going to do the same for you. every step. every appointment. i’m not letting you face this alone.”  

you nodded against her, barely, because it was all you could do. your girlfriend’s arms were holding you, and your best friend was sitting beside you but you didn’t feel like a footballer. you didn’t feel like someone strong or unstoppable. you felt like a woman who was scared out of her mind.  

“how could i be so stupid?” you whisper, voice breaking as you cling to the sleeves of catarina’s hoodie, the sterile walls of the room closing in around you.

cat pulls back just enough to cup your face, her thumbs wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks, her brows pulling together with quiet urgency.

“no. don’t do that,” she says firmly, “don’t start blaming yourself for this. you didn’t know. there’s no way you could’ve known.”

you try to look away, but she gently guides your face back to hers.

“you’re not stupid. you’re sick. and now we’re going to deal with it. together.”

sam nods beside her, sitting on the edge of the chair near your hospital bed, eyes glassy, “cat’s right,” she adds, “you’re not a doctor and none of us on the team are either. don’t be so hard on yourself, y/n. you did what you always do…you kept pushing. that doesn’t make you stupid.” 

you don’t say anything for a while, just sit there with both of them, the weight of it all slowly sinking in. it doesn’t matter how early it is or how “treatable” the doctor says it is. the word cancer sticks to your ribs like cement. you feel your career pause. you feel time pause. everything shifts in your world with no warning, and now all you can do is hold on.

a few days after the announcement is made, chelsea posts an official update on the matter. you don’t check social media at first. you think it’ll make you feel worse. when you finally do, you see hundreds…no, thousands of comments. people from everywhere. your national teammates. old teammates from your time in france. fans who remember your debut. strangers who just want to wish you well.

your chelsea teammates post pictures with you. sam writes a long message calling you “one of the strongest people i’ve ever met.” erin tags you in a throwback clip of one of your goals that she assisted, writing, “we’ll be here waiting, don’t rush. we need you whole.”  

even with all the love, you feel… weak like nothing inside you matches the strength people are seeing.  

you need cat more than you’re willing to admit.  

she's there every chance she gets. when she’s not training, or playing, or traveling, she’s with you—helping you with picking up your prescriptions, driving you to hospital visits, cooking when you’re too exhausted to lift your head. 

she’s become your steady presence, even when you feel like dead weight.

you hate relying on her so much, afraid of pushing her away somehow.  

one night, you break down while brushing your hair…a lot of it falling out in your hands. you throw the brush down, tears streaming silently down your cheeks. you don’t even hear her come in until her arms are around you again.

“stop it! i don’t want to be a burden to you,” you say softly, “you have your own career. your own recovery. you don’t need to babysit me if you do not want to.”

she looks at you like you’ve just said the dumbest thing she’s ever heard.

“you’re not a burden, y/n,” she says seriously, “you’re dealing with cancer. of course you’re not in top condition. of course you’re going to need help. and i want to help. just like you helped me. remember those two years when i didn’t feel like myself? when you sat with me through every painful stretch and every lonely rehab session? you never left and i’m not going to either.”

you try to protest, but she just presses a kiss to your forehead.

“i’m not doing this out of obligation,” she whispers, “i’m doing this because i love you.”

after your thyroidectomy, the healing begins slowly, but noticeably.

your strength doesn’t return all at once. your voice feels hoarse some mornings, and the hormone fluctuations leave you with bouts of exhaustion, but you can tell things are improving. the doctors at the hospital chelsea partnered with are kind, attentive, and thorough. your hormone levels are being monitored carefully. you’re told you’ll need daily thyroid hormone replacement therapy, but the prognosis is good.

you mainly stay home resting, taking meds, watching cat’s games when she’s away. the couch becomes your new recovery base. the one place where cat can return after training and just hold you without a single word needing to be said.

when naomi, yes naomi girma your national teammate, signs for chelsea a couple weeks later. she surprises you at your flat with coffee and snacks, giving you the biggest hug. you cry in her arms for ten minutes without saying anything. she doesn’t let go once.

your world is smaller now, but the love in it feels infinite.

a month later…just one month, though it feels like a lifetime…you’re back in light recovery training with the other injured players. you jog lightly. you stretch. you do basic ball work. everything feels harder than it used to, but you’re doing it. you’re moving again.

catarina watches from a distance during her cooldowns, waving at you every time you look her way. sam throws an arm around your shoulders at the end of each session, joking that she missed your chaos on the pitch.

“you’re getting there with me,” sam says, “we need to go slow and steady like a little comeback queens.”

you grin at her, then glance at cat, who’s already walking toward you with a water bottle and a towel in hand.

“you’re not my physio, you know,” you tease as she reaches you.

she smirks, brushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“no,” she says, “but i am your girlfriend.”

you laugh quietly, “your love might actually be part of the recovery process.”

“then i’ll keep it coming,” she says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “as much as you need. for as long as you need.”

honestly, right now, you need it more than anything. for the first time in weeks you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re gonna be okay again.

masterlist

authors note: I took some inspiration off of this post. you should check it out as well, its amazing writing!

[causeimcrayzeebee]

In defense(?) of Tamba Ruiko with the trajectory of chapter 5 so far and what the YouTube comments have been looking like, im seeing very mixed feelings about tamba, so lemme become a defense attorney real quick and give some of my thoughts on her!

now obviously, tamba isn’t everyone’s cup of tea so I totally understand people who just don’t like her. reminder that people do not need very deep reasons (or any at all tbh) to not like a character, people can not like a character for whatever reason n that’s valid!! id just like to give my thoughts n insight into her actions for people to consider (and ofc im not von so this is my interpretation).

yes, tamba was an asshole for exploding at hiroaki. accusing him of faking his apology, of planting the threat, and proceeding to tell him every moment of the killing game he was a shitty person? kinda insane to do, especially when hiroaki has genuinely been trying to get better. not to mention how she pointed out him passing his punishment onto others while she herself did that exact same thing.

but the thing is that episode was tamba calling out hiroaki for shit that she likely knows is a fault of her own as well. tamba and hiroaki clash because they're two sides of the same coin. they are loud, obnoxious, hypocritical people who have looked out for themselves and tried to find someone to blame. they're both flawed people. the difference right now in their stories is that hiroaki has been improving, and tamba hasn't gotten to that point.

let's also remember that hiroaki's outward development hasn't been happening for too long. of course, us as the audience who has seen his growth know he's been struggling in the kg as much as anyone else, and is really trying to be better. ojima, yanagi, and wada especially know that. but those who haven’t been close to him don’t; hasegawa doesn’t understand him as he’s seen the same ups and downs that tamba has. like trial 4, hiroaki has had some regression at some points (which does not discount his general upwards trajectory!!) but out of curiosity, i do want to know why i saw hardly as much of criticism towards hiroaki when he said shit at wada…. im super confused about that. I think it's understandable for tamba to assume what kind of person he is. she hasn't seen what he's gone through. she's upset because she seen him be a dick countless times and assumes he sent the threat because he's the only one left who has been like that towards her.

tamba isn’t as level headed like everyone else has been. she lets fear n paranoia get the best of her, and can you blame her? she is surrounded by people who are all able to solve murders and conduct plans of escape, and while she's tried her hardest to do that too, she isn't as good at it. what she is good at is not something that she can use to contribute to the group, so she feels useless. tamba has said that she doesn't even know how she's still alive and if she even deserves it. with the last trial approaching till the game is supposed to end, i think she's absolutely allowed to be that worried over the threat-- who says she won't be killed for the sake of everyone else's escape? I still have no idea who sent the threat, and I don't think it was hiroaki, but she's in no way overreacting. tamba has been paranoid, especially recently, because she, just like everyone else, doesn't want to die, and knows she'd be an easy victim. while her paranoia has pushed her to do things that would cause her to be even more of a target, it's clear she's just really stressed out about being next. that doesn’t justify trying to look for a scapegoat, but it makes sense as to why.

tamba hasn't gotten the chance to live her life to the fullest. her life has revolved around gymnastics and numbers on a scale. it didn't matter to her parents that she wanted to play soccer, cause "she didn't have the body for it". she couldn't be in theater cause it was too much of a commitment that would take away from gymnastics. she hasn't had agency over her own life, so she has been trying to start doing things on her own. she finally does something about it and rejects hayashi's help.

this doesn't discredit hiroaki's life and what he has/hasn't done, neither does it discredit any other student. it's just human nature for someone to prioritize their life over others in a life or death situation. tamba is trying to make sense of a situation that makes less and less of it.

everyone is exhausted. a month of being trapped in an underground school forced to kill strangers and watching them die one by one? that'll kill you (literally). tamba is just someone who is cracking under the pressure.

of course, if I misinterpreted or missed something, please let me know! my understanding isn't the objectively right one or anything LMAO so please lmk if I am thinking about things the wrong way. thank you for reading ^^

[mahowaga]

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT FOR THE BEAU IDÉAL OF IDIOCY | N.K. — TASK #2

SUMMARY: you're supposed to be in the stands, eating snacks and talking strategy with your friends, enjoying watching the three champions battle for the triwizard cup. you're not supposed to be entangled in what seems to be your own personal (hell) triwizard tournament.

PAIRING: ravenclaw!nanami kento x hufflepuff!fem!reader | mc's best friend yu haibara GENRE: hp x jjk au, (friends who are) idiots to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, profanity PLAYLIST: the course of true love never did run smooth WC: 6.6k WARNINGS: none, a thrown bread roll

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— TASK #2: HOW TO SUCCESSFULLY FAIL AT FINDING SOMETHING TO WEAR AT THE ABSOLUTE LAST MINUTE

(Imagine sewing a whole tie and headband to wear to the Yule Ball with your date but forgetting that you don’t actually have anything else to wear. That’s the predicament you find yourself in, scrambling to get your hands on a dress just two days before the Ball. You blame Kento for being so distracting with his charm, but at least you’ve gotten better at dancing - and that was by practicing with the aforementioned distractingly charming young man. You have to give yourself flowers for that one.)

If you play stupid games you’ll win stupid prizes. Except you didn’t get your stupid prize for completely submerging Fushiguro Toji in vinegar.

You wait it out for two whole days before you meet up with Satoru and ask him what the situation is looking like - why the two of you haven’t been summoned to the Headmaster’s office. He’s just as confused as you are. 

Ultimately, the two of you decide that Toji didn’t press charges, so to speak, because how is he supposed to justify being in the kitchen corridor and asking you, of all people, to the Ball? And, let’s face it, everyone saw what happened between the two of you when you asked him the first time, and they sure as hell heard what he’d called you. (There’s just no space for a change of heart within such a short timeframe, Your Honor.) It just wouldn’t make sense on his part. At least he has the brainpower to come to that conclusion.

The spray paint duo gets away with yet another assault against Toji. History always repeats itself. You’re glad it’s in your favor once again.

You’re sitting with the rest of the Hufflepuffs in the Great Hall, listening to the constant buzz of excitement as the Yule Ball draws even closer. You can’t deny that the enthusiasm is also getting to you. Especially not when you look up from your plate of eggs and toast and make direct eye contact with Kento over at the Ravenclaw table.

Your heart flutters violently (a normal occurrence for you these days). He’s eating porridge, or cereal, or soup - something he needs a spoon for - and when he catches your eye, he puts the utensil down and raises his hand in a small wave, his lips quirking up ever so slightly.

It feels as if you’ve been struck by Cupid’s arrow. It hits you square in the chest, sharp and burning and aching; Kento is truly your heart’s one true weakness, seeing how it decides to act up everytime he looks at you or talks to you or touches you. (Even thinking about him does numbers to you.) The version of you from your Fourth Year would not have survived the knowledge that you and Kento are now kind of a thing. (It’s up in the air. You haven’t really discussed it with him.)

You wave back, albeit timidly, and his smile grows wider before he turns his attention back to his breakfast and the students chattering around him.

Haibara catches you biting your lip when you return your focus to your toast. He nudges you with his elbow.

“Did I just see you waving at lover boy over there?” he asks. You don’t even want to look at him, already knowing he has an incredibly smug grin on his face. (You do it anyways and prove yourself right. You know this boy better than the back of your own hand.)

You exhale slowly, trying to make yourself look as innocent as possible, and reply, “You act like you wouldn’t do the same thing. He’s your friend, too, you know.”

Haibara huffs a laugh. “Sure, he’s my friend,” he says, glancing at Kento on the other bench, “but I don’t blush after I say hey to him.”

That’s it. He’s done. You’re going to physically assault him.

You shove him, cursing his entire lineage, only for him to burst into laughter. If you knew anything about wrestling it would be instant lights out for him. He would be in the Hospital Wing before he could even say ‘lover boy’ again.

“What’s happening here?”

You pull away from Haibara and straighten immediately, turning your head to see who came up behind you. You relax (slouch) when you realize it’s just Shoko.

Her red and gold tie is loose around her neck. She leans between you and Haibara, the end of her tie brushing against your shoulder. (You’re reminded of a certain tie that a certain someone will be wearing at a certain ball in two days.)

You clear your throat, trying to look put together. Hopefully she doesn’t notice how red your cheeks are - not just from Kento, but from your best friend calling you out. The last thing you need is an onslaught of questions about who the object of your attraction is. (That would be your last straw, you fear. You wouldn’t make it out alive.)

Thankfully, Shoko doesn’t seem to pay attention. Instead, she seems to have her sights set on grabbing Haibara by the collar.

He stiffens. She pulls him close, her voice low. You stifle a laugh.

While he’s getting interrogated, no doubt about what color he’s wearing to the Ball, what time he’ll meet her and all the other tiny details, you shift your attention to the table behind you.

The Slytherins.

You’re not scanning the faces of the students for Toji. You’re looking for-

Satoru waves at you, and because he’s built like an insanely tall and lanky tree branch, he looks like one of those inflatable tube men with the wavy hands you find at gas stations.

You let out a laugh at his ardor and wave back. Your heart isn’t exactly racing, but it feels lighter than usual. 

Without the weight of imminent suspension or expulsion on your shoulders for your crimes, you’re feeling pretty good about the Yule Ball coming up in two days. After all, you’re going with Nanami Kento, who seems to get bolder with you with every passing day, always knowing exactly what to do to make your heart race. (Then again, maybe you don’t hide it as well as you think you do. Your face is a canvas of every streak of emotion you feel.) And Toji hasn’t bothered you in a hot minute either - he’s no doubt afraid you’ll pull your little vinegar trick on him again. (You really ought to figure out a spell that shoots the damn thing out of your wand.)

Shoko jostles your shoulder, pulling you out of your self-made bliss. You blink slowly before realizing she’s talking to you.

“Huh?”

She rolls her eyes. “Your dress?” she repeats. “What style are you going for?”

“My dress..” you murmur. You’re pretty sure your eyes have glazed over. (The prospect of a bright and unproblematic future has you in a chokehold.)

Wait.

Wait a minute.

Your dress?

“My dress?” you ask.

Haibara presses his lips into a thin line and pulls Shoko by her arm, her attention returning to him, since he’s clearly given up on the thought of you ever coming up with a coherent answer.

A beat. Then-

It hits you like a sack of rocks. Pointy rocks. Right in the gut. It takes all the air out of your lungs. If anyone is looking at you, all they’ll see is you keeling over your breakfast, groaning in horror.

Haibara, only mildly concerned, throws a bread roll at your head to make sure you’re alive, but you don’t even feel it bounce off of your cranium because:

You. Don’t. Have. A dress.

The biggest event of your life with the guy you’ve been crushing on since forever and you don’t have anything to wear besides a stupid hairband you sew yourself.

You wish for nothing but death to come and take you.

(Explaining your situation to Kento is probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever had to do (and you know a thing or two about embarrassment). What makes it worse is that you have to spill the beans after he catches you trying to go to Hogsmeade on your own when it’s clearly become a thing the two of you do together on the weekends. To his credit, when you tell him he simply shrugs and says, “Let’s go get you a dress, then,” before taking your hand. He’s really a roll with the punches type of guy, you’re beginning to realize. After every incredibly humiliating thing that has happened to you within the past few weeks that he has had the adversity of witnessing, he doesn’t bat an eye and takes it in stride, continuing to look at you like you’re the warmest, freshest loaf of bread that’s come right out of the oven, the scent of flour and yeast and comfort wafting into the air, hitting you with fond memories, contentment and comfort. Or maybe he just looks at you as if he can’t believe he’s stuck going to the Ball with a person whose entire existence could be characterized by a pair of clown shoes. You hope it’s the former.)

The snowflakes fall from the sky slowly, reminiscent of cherry blossom petals in the wind. They’re gentle, unassuming, simply fluttering down from the neverending expanse of gray up above with no real destination, piling on top of each other to create a soft, icy blanket on the ground.

You hold on to Kento’s arm as tightly as you can as you walk through the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade, determined not to slip and fall. You’re not sure you’ll ever recover if that happens to you.

The village is quiet, as if it is holding its breath as it observes you (a clown) and Kento (a distinguished young man) strolling down High Street, boots sinking into the powder-y snow that’s accumulated after three hours of snowfall, leaving behind an exquisite delineation of two people huddling together for warmth - and maybe something more.

You sneak a glance at Kento. His cheeks and nose are painted a rosy red, a souvenir of sorts, from the arctic winds blowing through the street. The temperature itself isn’t that unbearable - it’s the wind making it feel chillier than it is. It’s overreacting. (Quite like how he probably thought you’d been overreacting when you had a minor freak out about not having a dress.)

He catches your eye and nudges you, pulling you closer against his side. Your arm is looped around his, your other arm holding onto him, occasionally grabbing a fistful of his coat’s sleeve when the ground beneath you decides to transfigure into a skating rink.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks, the corner of his lip twitching upwards.

You tear your eyes away from him with a roll of your eyes, shoving him ever so slightly, flustered by his antics. (That boy knows damn well why you’re looking at him.) 

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter.

He doesn’t let go of you. Instead, he holds you tighter. “Am I really?”

You double down on your statement, because you are not a coward. “Yes.”

He laughs at that, then tilts his head so that it touches yours. A gentle touch that makes your insides liquefy.

A comfortable silence slots itself into the gaps between words unsaid - words that don’t need to be said because your actions speak louder.

This is how it often is with him. It’s quiet. Quiet in the way that whispers of tenderness and ease, a sense of coziness, of relief that neither of you expect each passing moment to be permeated with the cloud of conversation. You can just be, and it is nothing short of bliss.

The snow thins out on the cobblestones as you make your way to your destination, creating a thin layer of what you can only call a slip hazard. You’re half-tempted to ask Kento if he’s found some sort of charm to keep himself from falling over because as of right now you’ve managed to slip three times, bend your ankle twice, and land on your ass once. That’s six times he’s had to stop himself from cracking up. (Your ego can’t take a seventh.)

You choose to ask him about something entirely left field.

“What do you want to be when you graduate?”

For a moment it’s like he hasn’t heard you, but you know he has - he’s just processing. He reminds you of one of those humanoid robots after being given a slightly complicated task.

After a while Kento hums, his voice deep and resonant. He rolls his shoulder. “I’d be an Auror, maybe.”

You look at him, your eyes narrowed. You’re trying to imagine him as an enforcer for the wizarding governing body. It’s not as hard as you thought - he follows rules to a fault, hates people who cause trouble, and he’s got the brains and the brawn to find and raise hell.

He’s a model employee. The blueprint.

“I can see it,” you say, nodding. You wonder about your own goals and ideals. Being an Auror definitely isn’t in the cards for you. 

You raise your eyes to the sky in thought. The snow descends gently, weaving a delicate veil over your face and settling on your lashes like tiny crystals.

Kento shifts beside you. He pulls away, untangling your arms. You feel the loss of his warmth instantly. It’s glaring, and the winter’s chill doesn’t allow you the leisure of processing it before swooping in and latching itself onto you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, but you try to do it discreetly so that he doesn’t notice you’re freezing.

Unfortunately for you, he’s been watching you the entire time, and now he’s stepping in front of you. The flakes of snow are still stuck in your lashes, stubbornly refusing to melt or even blow away with the winter wind. You groan internally, regretting ever turning your face to the snow to think about the future, and blink as quickly as you can so you don’t miss whatever he’s about to do.

Kento reaches out, placing his hands on your cheeks, his touch feather-light. “Let me,” he murmurs. Your body locks up immediately.

He leans in, close enough that his breath is warm against your chilled skin, thawing you bit by bit. He’s so close that your world narrows down to him, only him, and the gentle exhale that sends the stubborn snowflakes fluttering away.

You don’t move. You don’t even blink.

You feel your heart quicken, the sheer intimacy of the moment - of such a simple yet significant action - catching you off guard. Your brain is running as fast as it can, trying to recognize whether his gesture is an act of affection, or, rather, an act of care. With Kento, you can never tell. You want it to be both. (You are also greedy.)

His hands don’t leave your face. You lift your eyes to meet his, your breath hitching when you find a certain warmth in his gaze that is strong enough to mirror the winter’s chill.

Then, as if waking from a reverie, he lets go of you. You just stand there, fixated on him, as the snow continues its gentle descent around the both of you, painting the entire scene with a certain ethereal beauty that you can’t replicate anywhere else.

Something has shifted between the two of you - quiet, unspoken, yet undeniable. You don’t have any concrete proof of it just yet, just a persistent hum in your gut. (And you’re beginning to learn that when it comes to him, your gut feelings are usually right on the money.)

Something has shifted, and you’re very aware that he’s not trying to be your friend anymore (not that he has been one for the past few weeks). He’s making a statement.

Maybe he’s been making one for a long time now, and you - wrapped up in your own head, tangled in your own overcomplications - have been too blind to see it, because he’s right there, patient, steady, hand outstretched for you.

Maybe he’s been waiting for you to notice all along, and you’re not sure how to digest this revelation.

You reach for his hand, your heart suddenly calmer than it has been in a long time, your nerves completely passive, as if you’re finally allowing yourself to acknowledge that there is a real connection between you both that goes beyond a meager crush, or even just physical attraction. You don’t feel like you’re caught between anticipation and vulnerability anymore, no longer stuck between a rock and a hard place (your mind being the outstanding puppeteer to all your overthinking). 

No, something inside of you has dislodged and is granting you complete permission to feel the closeness, the profound tenderness in everything you do with him.

You take a deep breath and exhale, your breath misting in the cold air. It steadies you. His hand in yours works, too.

“What do you want to be?”

You’re still reeling from the realization that what you have with Kento is real and has substance that you don’t hear him for a split second.

You frown. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Kento smiles, bright as ever, full of nothing but pure joy. He shakes his head slightly before pulling you closer. “I asked you what you’d want to be when we’re done at Hogwarts.”

Oh. Right. You still don’t have an answer. Well, there’s always the option of being-

“A professional quidditch player,” you blurt out. Despite your heartbeat being normal and not bordering cardiac arrest, it doesn’t stop your nerves from firing back up. Being this close, pressed against him, basically, just inches away from his face, your head tilted up to look at him, it makes you jittery. In a good way. Because now you get to stand there, your hand in his, his attention solely on you, and gloat in the fact that he is yours. (You should probably wait for confirmation before saying all that.)

A beat of silence.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, like he’s saying something meant for only you, “the other schools are going to be at the Ball. They’re going to have their eyes on the champions, sure, but they’re going to be looking at you and Gojo, too. The two of you are Hogwarts’ best quidditch players in years. There’s no doubt they’ll put in a word for you guys.”

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. He basically just repeated Satoru’s pitch back to you, except he didn’t tell you you should go with Gojo instead of him.

Huh. You underestimated Nanami Kento. You’d originally thought he’d sacrifice being your date to let you receive your flowers from the other schools’ higher ups, but it seems he’s found a way to satisfy both your needs: he gets to keep his date, and you get your exposure.

He’s a genius, actually. You simply look at him in awe. They don’t make guys like him anymore, you’re sure of it. Your grip on his hand tightens, and if he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

You force yourself to nod. “You think, though? I mean, Satoru’s a given, but me?”

Self-doubt is a disease.

He raises a brow. “You’re one of the best players I’ve ever seen,” he says, touching your cheek. “Trust me, no one is going to skip over you.”

You beam at him, and he does the same, though his eyes are sharp, as if telling you Don’t ever put yourself down like that ever again.

You swallow hard and tear your gaze away from his.

The street is basically empty, save for some locals wandering around, but that’s because it’s not exactly the selected weekend for Hogsmeade visits. You’re just here because Kento gets Head Boy privileges.

The signature pink framed windows of Gladrags Wizardwear catches your eye in the distance. That’s your destination.

Your fingers tighten around his, a quiet anchor in the cold. “Come on, I see it over there.”

He chuckles, but he doesn’t just oblige - he readjusts his grip and laces his fingers through yours, squeezing once before following your lead.

The warmth envelops you the moment you step into the quaint shop. (You say quaint because it looks like a hole in the wall from the outside, but it’s actually as huge as a standard grocery store on the inside.) Your skin tingles from the sudden change in temperature, but you’re glad for it. 

The scent of candle wax, fabric and something vaguely floral lingers in the air. The walls are lined from top to bottom with dresses, robes, shoes, accessories - it’s the type of place where you can either find exactly what you’re looking for, or nothing at all. You’re just hoping you can get your hands on something beautiful enough to complement Kento, because you’ve no doubt in your mind that he’s going to look absolutely dashing. (He always does, but that’s besides the point.)

Kento steps in beside you, exhaling slowly, shaking off the chill from outside. He takes his gloves off and stuffs them into his coat pocket, then rubs his hands together absently, flexing his fingers, trying to jumpstart the blood circulation.

You try not to stare. (He’s making it hard not to.) Everything he does seems so effortless. (He literally just took off his gloves.)

His hazel eyes slide over you before he looks around the store, scanning it with an almost lazy curiosity. He’s not here for himself, after all. He’s here for you. The mere thought makes your stomach flutter way more than it should.

“Do you have something in mind, or do you need help picking something out?” he asks casually, and for a second you want to scoff, because there’s no way this boy is acting like everything’s normal when he just held your face and blew snowflakes off your lashes. Absolute madness.

You cast a glance at your surroundings, eyeing the entire section dedicated to dresses. The size of the selection is vaguely threatening. (You’re sure that if you don’t find something it will quite literally get you blacklisted from the shop - over one thousand options to choose from and nothing catches your eye? Something has to be wrong with you.)

“I, uh. I mean.” You swallow. Get it together, please. “I can figure it out,” you mumble, shifting towards the displays.

“Okay.”

Kento follows, keeping close - too close (but you’re not complaining.) You like knowing he’s there, feeling his presence, his warmth at your back. It also serves as a reminder that you can’t exactly spend all day here because you need to get back to the castle before curfew. You doubt it’s very ladylike of you to abuse Kento’s Head Boy privileges more than two times a day. (You’re joking. Mostly.)

You flip through the vast selection on the rack nearest to you, skimming through embroidered silks, soft velvets, delicate laces and shimmering chiffons. You’re hyper aware of his eyes on you despite his fingers ghosting over the gowns as if he’s sifting through them, too.

It’s silent for a while. Then-

“You’re stalling.”

Your eyes widen. “I’m not.”

He raises a brow. “You are.”

You pretend not to be rattled when he reaches over and curls his fingers around your wrist, tugging gently. The contact is brief but scorching, sending a jolt up your arm. You move over to where he’s standing. He looks at you, smiling- no, smirking. He knows what he’s doing to you.

“Here,” he says, plucking a gown from the rack and holding it up against your frame. He eyes you up and down as if assessing how well it would work. When he seems satisfied, he nods slightly. “Try this one on.”

You look at his pick. It’s an off-the-shoulder gown with an intricate lace pattern on the bodice, the color an intense, enigmatic cobalt blue. It’s elegant, flowing and not too over-the-top. (You can’t deny he has taste. More than you, maybe, because you were eyeing a puffy yellow dress.)

“Blue?” you ask.

He lifts a shoulder. “My dress robes are blue. I thought you’d want to match.”

While he’s not wrong and you’re currently trying to imagine what he’s going to look like at the Ball your mind is plagued by something else. Something absolutely horrifying.

You recoil. “Blue?” you ask again, and before he can say anything you continue, “With that yellow tie? Kento.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head. (That spotted yellow necktie is an ignominious failure of yours.)

He looks amused, huffing a laugh. “I think it goes well with my outfit.”

“We need to work on your fashion skills.”

“My fashion skills are unmatched.”

You scoff, and return your attention to the gown in his hands. It’s not the type of style you’d usually go with, but before you can protest (or bash his sense of style), he’s lightly guiding you towards the fitting room, his hand hovering over the small of your back.

Your brain is seriously lagging. Too much has happened and is happening. You’re just going with the flow at this point - it’s the only way your survival is guaranteed.

You’ve been standing in the fitting room, slack-jawed, for at least ten minutes now, just staring at yourself in the floor length mirror. You adjust the fabric over your body, making minor adjustments.

It’s perfect.

The color, the fit, the way it moves when you shift - it’s everything you’ve wanted and more. (So Kento does have taste.)

You smooth your hands down the bodice, tracing the lace as you do, a nervous thrill curling in your stomach.

From outside, you hear Kento’s voice, casual, but expectant.

“You’ve been in there for a while,” he says. “Do I have to come in there and get you out?”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you because you can just hear him grinning. You step out anyway, lifting the fabric so you can walk.

His eyes light up when he sees you. He doesn’t say anything at first - it’s just his gaze sweeping over you, taking in every detail, every wrinkle, every curve. His grin fades into something quieter. Something unreadable. His eyes flicker over your figure again, tracing the lines of the gown, the way it falls around you like it’s made for you. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve actually rendered him speechless.

Then, finally, after you’ve somehow convinced yourself that he doesn’t like it, his lips twitch upwards.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low. “That’s the one. It looks- you look beautiful.”

God, you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that. Like you’re something worth admiring.

“Really?” you mutter, twisting around, trying to do anything to avoid his piercing gaze. “I mean-” You catch sight of the price tag hanging from the sleeve. You reach for it, praying it isn’t an outrageous price, and flip it over.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh no.”

It’s more than you expected. Way more.

Kento notices the frown on your face almost immediately. He leans forward. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitate, awkwardly shoving the tag into the bodice, and turn to him. “Nothing.”

(You lie here because, and Helga Hufflepuff will most definitely back you up on this, nothing is more humiliating, i-want-to-chug-poison inducing and jump-in-front-of-the-Hogwarts-Express inspiring than admitting you’re broke to the boy you like. You think you deserve a pass for this one.)

His brow arches. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Of course this is what he clocks as your worst lie (not the one where you said you were basically a professional at ballroom dancing). It’s not your finest moment.

You sigh heavily, your face burning. “Fine. Have you seen the price on this thing?”

He comes closer to take a look while you hold out the tag for him. His brows raise and he casts you a glance. “Oh, that’s-”

“Expensive,” you finish, already making your way back to the fitting room, the fabric lightly gripped in your hands.

“So?”

You pause. So?

You turn around, the gown flaring. “So I’m not about to spend an obscene amount of Galleons on a dress I’m only going to wear once.” (You’re hoping you sound logical instead of heartbroken, because you’ve fallen in love with the gown - but price hikes are truly a dealbreaker.)

He huffs a laugh. “Okay.”

“Hmph.”

Kento watches you as you disappear into the fitting room and come back out with the gown back on its hanger. He doesn’t say anything as he watches you hang it up rather forlornly, your fingers lingering on the fabric longer than necessary. You are crying on the inside. Such a waste. Such a shame it is way out of your budget.

You don’t look at him as you turn away, pretending to be interested in another rack of dresses - ones that are, unfortunately, also expensive.

It’s not looking too good for you. You might end up being blacklisted, but this time it’ll be because you’re practically bankrupt and not because there wasn’t a single garment that tickled your fancy.

Kento, for his part, leaves you be, silent as ever. You’re not too sure what’s going through his brain. Has he given up on helping you? He’s probably realized that there’s nothing here that’s within your ideal price range. He stands there, watching you without a word, before he walks off toward the counter where the shop employee is standing.

You don’t really pay attention. You assume he’s just giving you some space to find something you like without him hovering - seeing as how the one thing he chose was so close yet so far.

You’ve probably gone through at least ten racks of gowns and it’s all for naught. There’s a ton of gorgeous ones (although that blue one really is the love of your life) but they’re all way too overpriced for your liking. You can’t afford a single one without completely putting yourself in a tough spot financially.

You exhale in defeat and make your way over to Kento, who is talking to the employee, his voice low.

When he sees you come over, he nods at the employee and then gives you his full attention.

You spread your hands and shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. “Maybe we should come back tomorrow. They might have something cheaper.”

His expression is surprisingly unreadable. You frown slightly, trying to make out what he’s thinking.

“Yeah?” he says.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He slips his hands into his pockets, a smile tugging at his lips as he tilts his head. “Good. They’re having a sale tomorrow. He just told me.”

You blink. “What?”

“A sale.” He shrugs, smiling. “Fitting, huh?”

You poke his chest. “Fitting? That’s the worst pun ever.”

He laughs, taking your wrist in his hand before you poke him again.

Something’s off. Something about the way Kento’s acting, from his unreadable expression to his smile, which reeks of mischief and trouble, is eating at you.

You squint at him, leaning in until you’re a few inches away from his face. “Are you up to something?”

He gives you the most innocent look ever - his eyes wide, his head cocked, his brows raised - one that screams, How dare you accuse me of committing a crime? Look at me. (You can’t argue with the logic there.)

“Come on,” he says smoothly, tugging you along with him as he makes his way towards the door. “We’ll find something tomorrow.”

You follow him, but you glance back at the blue dress. You blow it a kiss in your head, as if you’re parting ways with a forbidden lover. The moment you do, the employee takes it down from the rack and starts to pack it into a box.

You sigh. Someone already bought it.

Kento’s looking at you with a small smile on his face when you finally leave the shop and step out into the wintry air once more. It hits you like a brick wall, bringing you back to reality.

You squint up at him once more, and his lip twitches.

Oh, he’s definitely up to something.

By the time you make it back to your dormitory, you’re rightfully breathless (physically) and exhausted (mentally). You lean against the door to catch your breath - the chilly winds had somehow decided to pick up as you made your way back to the castle, and it had both you and Kento pushing your way through, breathing hard once you were exposed to the warmth of the school once more.

He’d dropped you off at the barrels near the kitchen, as usual, and before he left, you’d tried to ask him what he was up to again, only for him to kiss your cheek and leave with a grin on his face. (How insufferable of him.)

A groan leaves your lips. Your legs ache, your brain is absolutely fried, and your heart is still very much recovering from the absolute menace who runs around Hogwarts with the name Nanami Kento.

You don’t even want to think about how he looked at you while you were in that dress, how he’d cupped your face in his hands like it was second nature to him and blew the snowflakes away, how he’d reached for your hand time and time again - and how you’d let him do each and every one of these things without hesitation.

Sighing, you push off the door and head over to the dresser, shedding your layers like they’re a second skin. All you want to do right now is collapse into bed and pass out, forgetting about the world for a moment. (The circuits in your head are too overloaded to even begin to process anything that happened today.)

As you drape your coat over the back of the chair, something clicks. While you mightn’t have gotten the dress you set out to get today, you did get something much more meaningful - the realization that you and Kento have crossed a line in your relationship. It’s no longer just surface-level romantic gestures and playfulness - it’s comfort, care, understanding.

The thought makes you smile out of giddiness. You used to pray for times like these, to be the one Kento looked at like you hung the stars in the sky, the one he spoke to in that soft voice of his, the one he smiled at - it’s still unreal to you, but you’re beginning to accept it. He’s different from the person you admired from afar.

He’s better.

You cast a glance around the room to make sure your roommates aren’t there to see you blushing like a maniac. No one’s here yet. They’re all probably with their dates for the Ball, finalizing last minute details, making sure everything is the epitome of perfection.

You exhale slowly, remembering that you have yet another long day of shopping ahead of you tomorrow. You grumble under your breath as you change into a warm sweater, cursing the wizarding economy and capitalism. (For the price they were selling that blue dress for it might as well be threaded with real silver. Actually, that’s an overstatement, but your point still stands.)

You huff, mildly annoyed. At least you get to spend tomorrow with Kento again. That’ll be the highlight of your day.

With that thought, you make your way to your bed. The house-elves made your bed while you were out again, because it’s as neat as ever and you know you left it looking like a hurricane had run through the room. You murmur a silent thanks to them.

You glance at the bedside table to make sure your lamp is switched off.

Wait.

You freeze-

Because there, sitting neatly on the rich mahogany of the table, is a blue box.

A rather large, elegant, expensive-looking blue box. With a bow. (Very important.)

Your heart skips. You lean in closer. Is this-

No. No way. Absolutely not. This can’t be.

You turn away quickly, covering your eyes - if you can’t see it it doesn’t exist.

Obviously, that doesn’t work.

You sigh heavily, your heart thumping hard against your chest, butterflies rioting in your stomach, and reach for the box, slowly, cautiously, as if it might explode.

Your fingertips graze the embossed surface. The golden ink spells out the name Gladrags Wizardwear. You close your eyes tight, hoping this isn’t what you think it is.

Kento, I swear to God-

Beneath the ribbon is a plain white envelope. You pluck it off, and even before you flip it open, you know who it’s from.

Your stomach does somersaults when you read the singular line scrawled on it in impeccable cursive:

For my favorite delinquent Quidditch captain.

You stare for a moment, unable to make sense of it. Kento has knocked you off of your axis. You shake your head slightly and stare harder.

It’s like your soul is buffering, like it has lost its internet connection and is scrambling to find a suitable replacement to get the job done. While all this happens you’re just standing at your bedside table, reading and rereading that one line, your lips slightly parted.

Your brain doesn’t want to accept the truth, because this can’t be what you think it is. It simply can’t be.

Except, unfortunately, it most definitely is.

You exhale shakily. Your hands tremble slightly as you pull at the lace ribbon and then lift the lid, holding your breath.

It’s exactly what you think it is.

There, neatly folded, looking as perfect as it did in the store-

Is the gown. The gorgeous cobalt blue dress. The one he’d picked out for you and had fit you like a dream. The one he liked. The one you liked. The one you’d reluctantly had to give up because it was way out of your budget. The very one you’d seen the employee start packing away-

Your breath catches in your throat. Your pulse pounds in your ear. Your face burns like a thousand suns.

You slam the box shut hurriedly.

(Kento’s really doing a number on you.)

You open it again, slower this time, as if making sure it’s real, that it’s still there. Just to make sure you’re not hallucinating (as one does).

It’s still there. Still real. Still from him.

(At this point, you’d like to add, your brain is screaming. It wants to revolt after everything you’ve put it through. It’s begging you to get a lobotomy so that it can finally escape its confines.)

It hits you like a ten-tonne dump truck to the face. He bought this for you. That’s why he’d been talking to the employee in such a low voice. It’s why he’s had that look on his face the entire time after. It’s why he was ecstatic when you told him you’d come back tomorrow, because he knew you’d come up to your room and find this here.

Oh, he’s on another level. He’s playing 4D chess with you.

You sit on the edge of your bed and run a hand down your face.

He bought this for you.

He bought this for you.

He bought this for you.

He bought this for you. 

He bought this for you.

It was expensive. And he spent his money on this. For you.

What. An. Idiot.

You close the box and snatch the card back up again, reading his stupidly casual message over and over again like it might magically explain what he thinks he’s playing at. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you. (Sure, you had a revelation about your relationship with him but that doesn’t mean your brain and heart got the memo.)

You flip it over and find another line scrawled there:

Don’t worry about the price.

(He knows you too well.)

You groan, burying your head in your hands. You fall backwards onto your bed, simultaneously kicking your feet and cursing his very existence.

Ugh. You have no idea how you’re going to face him ever again without losing your damn mind.

Nanami Kento is going to be your salvation and your undoing.

A/N: thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this one, it was by far one of my favorites to write simply because of how much i love snow. (art by elitamasan on X)

[schemmentisimpasours]

Chapter 6-Simping for Schemmenti

Five Things To Love About Melissa

Summary: Over the summer you came up with five moments that made you love Melissa Schemmenti even if you weren’t able to tell her yet.

(not like the other chapters but I'm trying to break up some of the more intense shit)

Previous chapter - Next Chapter

Masterlist

-

There were five moments in the summer that you knew you were madly in love with Melissa Schemmenti.

1.The Fairy Lights

Another day at tutoring has passed uneventfully and you has been overjoyed when Melissa said she would make your favorite dinner. Melissa’s home was starting to feel more like home then you apartment had ever been. After giving Melissa a kiss you went to drop your overnight bag in Melissa’s room, turning to look at her questioningly. Above her bed was a set of brand new fairy lights that illuminated the room in a soft glow, “Fairy lights?”

“You said they help you sleep at nights and I know you haven’t had a nightmare in some time but I wanted you to feel comfortable when you spent the night here so I bought some.”

You pulled her hand dropping down on the mattress giving her a devilish grin, “How about we add to our photoshoot from the first time?”

2. The first sister’s night

The first Wednesday sister’s night Melissa had grocery bags full of ingredients for the cannoli cake that you all were going to make. She had changed her mind nearly a hundred times before settling on this recipe that used to be her grandmother's. You found it cute that she asked to stop before you opened the front door so she could calm her nerves.

“Why are you nervous baby? I told you that she is going to love you,” You reassured her.

“We are talking about your sister here. I have seen the pictures of you two. Yous actually love each other and probably don’t fight.”

“We fight frequently,” You amended, “But I can't stay mad at her long.”

“See she is your person. I want to make a good impression.”

“You will,” you said kissing her cheek and opening the door.

Melissa was immediately swarmed by Tara and Ava white lab coats on and clipboards in hand. You groaned but with Melissa’s laugh at their first statement you knew they were going to be great friends.

“Melissa Schemmenti you have been chosen for our most recent study: who the fuck is our sister dating,” Ava stated seriously.

“You will be asked a series of intense questions all of which you must answer honestly or face the wrath of losing Mr. Pickles,” Tara said pointing dramatically to Melissa’s lego dragon.

With a gasp Melissa placed her hand on her chest, “Not Mr. Pickles.”

“It is up to you to save Mr. Pickles from being beaten with the wooden bat by answering all questions without hesitation. First question- what is in the bags?” Ava questioned eyeing the bag.

“Stuff to make cannoli cake,” she replied and you watched as your sisters’ eyes grew big.

“We have to take this interview to the kitchen immediately,” Tara said and whisked Melissa away to the kitchen.

Their relationship unfolded easily after that. Stories and jokes flowing easily. She fit in without even trying and it made your heart soar. Soon her desserts were the only ones being made at sister’s night.

3.Dancing in the rain

You had been at the grocery store with Melissa when you heard the first clap of thunder. It made you jump but Melissa rested a reassuring hand on your back promising to be done before the storm finally hit. A promise she kept for as the last bag was placed inside the trunk it began to downpour. Melissa had rushed into the car turning it on so the stereo blazed to life. When you did not get in she popped her head off.

“Mi cuore, what in the world are you doing?”

“Dance with me!” You shouted grabbing her hand.

She hesitated only for a moment but then wrapped her arms around you. Something to Talk About by Bonnie Raitt spilled through her open door as the two of you spun together. Once you were soaked through Melissa pulled back slightly to kiss you.

“You are absolutely ridiculous sometimes,” She said jokingly when she pulled back, “I love it. Never stop.”

At those words you felt like you could conquer the whole world.

4. Picnic Day

One day you arrived to Melissa’s house from work early and found Melissa rushing back and forth between the backyard frantically.

“What are you doing baby?” You asked setting your stuff down on the counter.

“Yous wasn’t supposed to be home so early so I had to rush but come look mia ragazza,” she said extending her hand.

You followed her back to her garden which had grown exceptionally well over the summer thanks to Gregory’s tips. Sitting in the grass was a blanket and a picnic basket overflowing with treats. You hugged Melissa gratefully and then helped her unload the food. After awhile you began turning your most recent romance book in your hand.

“Read to me mi cuore,” she said adjusting to lay in your lap.

You complied reading from the book and you lazily dragged your fingers through the red head’s hair. As you got to a particular steamy scene she gently pulled the book away from you.

“We need to take the rest of this inside,” She said and when you looked at her quizzically added, “Nonna is probably over there eavesdropping."

“Am not!” The older woman yelled from her side of the fence.

“Old woman you need a hobby!” Melissa yelled back, “Now as I was saying we get away from Ms. All Up In My Business…”

“I heard that!”

“I though you weren't listening!” Melissa said rolling her eyes, “Get inside and go get ready for you shows.”

With a large grumble about how she wanted the book when you were done Nonna packed up her things and went inside. Once Melissa was sure she wasn't listening she looked up at you, “My idea was you read that book to me and then we test it out to see if those positions are even feasible."

You laughed but agreed and helped Melissa pack up the picnic before she dragged you and your book up to her bedroom.

5. The touches

You enjoyed having sex with Melissa. It felt easy. Like you two had always been made to be in each other’s arms. Melissa knew when you were about to come undone. Where to touch you just to send you over the edge. You knew how to make her open up the silent Melissa transformed to the one who chanted your name like it was the only thing that kept her grounded to the earth. But you loved more than these moments.

It was the touches that Melissa did without thinking that drove you insane. When she was standing at the kitchen island slowly scrolling through her phone picking at a muffin and she had to wrap her arm around your waist and pull you in so she could rest her head on your shoulder. How she always reached for your hand when you both were leaving out the door. The way she ran her thumb across the back of your hand as you sat together outside reading on the porch. During sister nights she would guide your hand in making desserts and kiss you on the cheek every time she passed by. She played with your hair as you drifted off to sleep. Rubbed small circles in your back when you told her you only needed five more minutes to sleep. The way she kissed you every chance she got as if one missed opportunity would crush her.

You loved her for all these moments and so much more… you just weren't ready to tell her yet fearful that once she saw all sides of you that she would turn and run just as all the other people in your life had.

[xoxoaugust]

holidays

pro footballer!rin itoshi x childhoodbsf!reader

now playing : holidays by Conan Gray

-▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10

years have passed since the two of you have seen each other

December 23rd, 2023

You have just landed at the airport, frankly exhausted and drained. Visiting home for the holidays after maybe five years of being away for school, now work. You called your mom, telling her that you’ll be home in a bit since you had just landed.

Tightening your coat around you, you walked out of the airport to find your uber to finally take you home. Sniffling a bit from the cold and taking in the scenery, your mind drifts off to old memories. Snowball fights and putting up wreaths, you really missed it, you missed being a naive little kid.

Your nostalgic break was interrupted by your uber, which finally pulled up to take you home. Staring out the window, you would mentally point out buildings that you remembered from five years ago. Your school, your favorite store, favorite restaurants. You snapped out of the daze you were in and checked your phone for any texts. It was around midnight so you assumed there wouldn’t be any, but unbeknownst to you, a text from an unexpected send would be waiting for you.

12:47 AM

no caller ID

Hey, is this y/n?

You

Who is this??

no caller ID

I don’t think I need to say, I just need to know if this is y/n

You

Then you don’t get to know if this y/n

no caller ID

This is Rin Itoshi.

You

Rin???

Rin Itoshi

Yes?? Can I know if this is y/n now?

You

Yes it’s me, it’s been a while! I haven’t seen you in ages

Rin Itoshi

Yeah I know, I wanted to ask if you’re back in town for holiday season

You

Yeah I am, im gonna be here for around two weeks!

Rin Itoshi

I’m here for two weeks too, we should catch up soon

You

Of course! Let me know if you have a place to go!

Rin Itoshi

👍

You caught yourself smiling at your phone, same old Rin.

You still remember how your childhood best friend was then, and he hasn’t changed. The same considerate nature, the cold demeanor hasn’t changed but his heart was always in the right place. He was always thinking of others, he was the first to remember what people liked and disliked.

In elementary school, people thought he was weird. Falling over on purpose, for fun? Or maybe attention? It was weird, but you didn’t care. You would fall over with him, you would give him bandaids, making sure you always had matching bandaids. You watched him play soccer with his brother, in awe of his talent. You were his number one supporter through and through. The two of you always got popsicles together, that was your favorite thing to do after every hangout. Rin treasures those memories, getting popsicles with you and his older brother.

In middle school/junior high, the two of you got even closer, inseparable even. Everyday after school, the two of you would go off and do whatever. Get food, play soccer, stop by that one cafe that served the coffee that was too bitter for the two of you, so you’d end up getting hot chocolate and writing latte on the cup. Those were the days you’d never forget. You remember going to the airport with Rin to say goodbye to Sae. You also remember how Rin’s face was dull afterwards, so you took him to get popsicles. That’s when you vowed to yourself that you would never let him feel sad like that again.

Come high school, things hadn’t changed between you two, until Sae’s return. Prior to Sae’s return, you would hangout after school at the fields to help him get better at soccer, then go to his house so he could get changed, then go to the cafe so you could “study”. You always had to order for him because he was always too tired to say anything to anyone other than you. Then he would complain about the coffee being too bitter and tasting weird. You would roll your eyes and tell him to order something else, but he never did. That was your little routine everyday for about a year, until Sae. One day he had told you that we would be practicing a little extra that day so you should just wait at the cafe. You waited maybe two hours before deciding to go to the field to make sure he’s okay. News flash, he was far from okay. As you approached the field, you saw two figures conversing. It didn’t take you a while to realize it was Sae, you had grown up with him so you knew it was him. You looked at Rin directly, an unusual distressed look on his face. Before you could move any further, Sae started dribbling the ball to the goal. You watched the situation unfold before your eyes in horror. The defeated look on Rin’s face made it a thousand times worse. You watched Sae walk away, leaving Rin on the ground in shambles. Within seconds, you were on the field in front of Rin, trying to comfort him, trying to make him laugh or smile in any way. He didn’t smile, or laugh at all, he didn’t smile or laugh as much onwards. Your daily hangouts went from fun and laughter and conversation, to just soccer. You missed your Rin a lot, but you knew that he needed someone to rely on. You were always there to listen to what he had to say or complain about. It wasn’t long before he was offered a spot at Blue Lock, and you were off to college. You hadn’t kept in touch, mostly because he wasn’t allowed a phone and you had changed your number since then, plus you went to college in London m. It had been five whole years since you two had spoken, at all.

Your daydreaming was cut short when the Uber had finally pulled up to your driveway. You thanked the driver and grabbed your luggage. Taking in the reality that you’re actually back home, you smiled seeing how everything is just as you left it. You sighed contently, your breath visible due to the crisp cold weather outside. Walking up to the steps of your front patio, you felt warm inside. Everything was blissful as it was, just like when you were younger. Ringing the doorbell, your mother opened the door excitedly, ushering you inside. Though it was your first time back home in a while, your family had come to visit you a few times since you were too busy to go visit them, but it had still been a while since you had seen them. You sat down on the couch in the living room, a cup of hot cocoa in your hands (courtesy of your mother) catching up with your siblings. It was maybe 2:15 AM when you had said goodnight and went to your room. Your room was the same, nothing was moved, definitely cleaned but not moved. You placed your bags in the corner of your room, deciding to take a quick shower after smelling yourself. The ‘quick shower’ was 45 minutes. You got dressed and flopped onto your bed, slightly sore from the uncomfortable plane seats. You picked up your phone to place it on the charger.

3:04 AM

Rin

Hey, does Cherrywood work for tomorrow?

You

Yes! What time do you prefer?

Rin

Does 3:30 work for you? I know you’ll be tired from jet lag.

You

Yes that works! I will see you then, bye!!

Rin

Bye :)

You smiled at your phone before setting it down on the bedside table and falling fast asleep.

That same morning, you woke up around 11:30 AM. The exhaustion in your body had left, but you were physically sore. You mustered the energy to get up and make a coffee and a light breakfast, knowing that you would meet with Rin soon for a late lunch anyway.

You noticed the extra energy you were spending on getting ready. The strong perfume you had applied, remembering that Rin liked strong and bold perfumes. The extra jewelry and effort into your look was evident. You weren’t doing it for him, not for attention or anything, it was for you. You and Rin were eerily similar but just as different. You liked soccer, so did he, but he was obsessed with it. He liked strong perfumes very much, and so did you. It wasn’t liking something because someone likes it, but finding common ground and interest with a close friend.

The clock struck three o’clock and you got into your car, driving towards the place you knew oh so well. Having thirty minutes of leeway, you knew you only really had fifteen, because Rin was never late, on the contrary he was always too early for his own good. You finally reached the little cafe and parked in the spot right next to your favorite cherry blossom tree, it wasn’t in bloom but it still looked beautiful. Staring at the big sign at the front labeled Cherrywood, you smiled to yourself, memories flushing back to you.

Cherrywood Cafe was yours, and Rin’s. It was the cafe you had always gone to, everyday. You had made so many memories there, the owners knew you by name and order, they always thought you were a couple. You still remember the times Rin would surprised you on your birthday with a little set up at the cafe. Good times.

You walked inside, the owner recognized you instantly.

“Oh my goodness! You have grown so much my dear!”

You loved that sweet old lady, she was the cutest thing to ever exist.

“Come come, your boy is waiting for you.”

You instantly felt the warmth creep up to your cheeks, because you knew exactly who she was talking about. She dragged you over to the table in the corner with the large window, which had little succulents on the sill. There he was, Rin Itoshi in all his glory. He stared at you with so much intensity you thought you would puke. He stood up to greet you, well he got tall.

“Oh! Hello, it’s nice to see you.”

Well he is awkward as always.

“It’s nice to see you too Rin.” You gleamed.

The two of you sat down in awkward silence for a bit, and the food had arrived before you started the conversation.

“So how have you been, I know you’re a big shot soccer player now, how’s that going for you?” You smiled.

“It’s great honestly, not too bad, minus the paparazzi.” He said with a blank stare.

You nodded in acknowledgment, the silence was slowly creeping back in.

“How about you? What do you do now?” He asked.

“I am a physical therapist, I just completed my clinical studies. I had my white coat ceremony a while back, now im in the field. I actually get a lot of athletes, I think I met a friend of yours.” You rambled.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you meet?” He asked, it felt more like an interview.

“He was eccentric for sure, I think his name was…Shidou im not sure it was a while back.”

He stared at you, mouth agape. You stared back with a puzzled look on your face.

“Did I say something wrong?” You questioned

He sighed before starting.

“It pains me that you think that he is my friend, I would never, and I mean never, consider him my friend.”

That statement elicited a chuckle from you.

“And why is that?”

He frowned.

“You met him, he’s such an odd person.”

You laughed even harder.

“Yeah I noticed he has an obsession with Sae.”

You didn’t know what you were starting. It was like Rin was waiting for this moment his entire life.

“Right? It’s so…odd. If you like a person and you think they are talented, don’t start jumping on them and saying odd shit, on live television too. He is a PR nightmare.” He rambled on about how weird Shidou was.

You don’t think you had laughed at someone complaining this hard. Somewhere in the ramble, Rin laughed a bit too. When he finally stopped, you were still laughing, he was then just staring at you. He was too busy listening to your laugh.

“Wow you have the same laugh from when we little.”

Well that caught your attention.

“Really?” You replied

He nodded with a small smile on his face.

“It’s nice to see you haven’t changed much.” He continued.

You smiled, not knowing how to respond. He was never one to be super nice, just respectful enough to get by. You would be lying if you said you didn’t like him, and his compliments.

“You changed for the better, you’re smiling more.” You complimented back.

His smile slightly fell, your smile also fell when you noticed.

“Keep smiling, it suits you.” You quickly added before finishing the last bite on your plate.

Rin had always been ghastly pale. Even being an athlete, he was very fair and it was probably one of his biggest social weaknesses. This is because, his face would turn bright red at any given moment, he could be embarrassed, shy, angry, surprised and everyone could tell, because his face had changed colors. He tried to cover it up, but as you said that, his face instantly turned pink. You pretended to not notice so he could save face but it was no use. You giggled a bit, slightly poking fun at him.

You two finally finished your lunch, getting up to pay for the meal, you insisted on paying. As you went to give your card, Rin snatched it from you and gave his instead. He handed the card to you, not uttering a single word. Walking out of the cafe side by side, he broke the silence.

“I had fun, we should stay in touch.”

“I did too, and we should, let me know if you’re ever in London.” You nudged his shoulder.

“I will I promise.” He held out his pinky, securing it with yours. He hesitated before continuing.

“You should come to one of my games, I’ll seat you in VIP.”

You looked at him, surprised and giddy.

“Oh my gosh Rin id love to see one of your games!”

He smiled, blushing furiously, he was so glad it was cold outside.

You guys parted ways again, but not for long. You texted everyday, called frequently even on busy days. You stayed in touch, a little too much maybe. When he played a game in London, you attended, sitting in the nice VIP front seat. He kept glancing your way, trying not to make it obvious so the media wouldn’t get any ideas, he already had plans to ask you out, he didn’t want rumors to ruin that.

When he won the game (obviously) he met with his team and then quickly ran over to you, telling you to meet him outside the stadium in the staff parking lot.

You stood there for maybe 15 minutes, waiting for Rin in front of his car. Then, a pair of hands came up and covered your eyes. A smile adorned your face, knowing exactly who it was. It was a bit out of character for him, but you weren’t complaining. When he lifted his hands off your eyes, you finally turned around, looking straight at Rin, who had a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, and a small box. He looked handsome as ever. You gasped, mouth agape, you didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t say anything, instead you instantly leapt forward and kissed him. You have been waiting for this moment for god knows how long. You felt Rin’s arms pulling you into a hug, you could tell he’s been waiting for this too. When you pulled away, he gestured you to open the small velvet box in his hand. You smiled at him before taking the box and opening it. Inside was a beautiful charm bracelet, and a ring with white and teal crystals on it. You were speechless, you didn’t think this day could get any better, until he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing a matching bracelet and ring on his hand. You hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe properly for a bit, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was living his dream now, dream job and dream soulmate.

And it wasn’t long before you and Rin had to switch those matching rings for another set, this one had diamonds though.

xoxo, august

[broidobe]

𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤

requested

☾you have axl and duff wrapped around your finger, teasing them until they’re desperate, needy, and utterly at your mercy☽

☾warnings: heavy teasing, dom!reader, begging, degradation, light praise, competition for attention, slight overstimulation, filthy filth☽

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ᡣ𐭩 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝜗𝜚 𝓰𝓾𝓷𝓼 𝓷 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

axl's already panting, flushed from his cheeks down to his chest, arms shaking where he's propped up on the bed. duff isn’t doing much better, biting his lip so hard it’s nearly white, hips twitching forward in a way that’s honestly a little pathetic. they look ruined, and you’ve barely even touched them.

“look at you two,” you murmur, dragging a lazy finger down axl’s throat before shifting to duff’s sharp jawline, tapping his chin like you’re considering something. “you’d do anything, huh?”

“yes,” duff blurts out first, voice all breathless, needy, his hands gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles turn pale. “yes, fuck, please—”

axl whines at that, tilting his head up like he’s offended that duff got the first word in. “n-no, fuckin’—me first,” he stammers, shifting closer. “been good, been—i’ve been fuckin’ good, haven’t i?”

you click your tongue, tilting your head in mock sympathy. “good? you sure about that, baby?” your hand grips his jaw, just enough pressure to make him gasp, his pretty lips parting instinctively. “good boys don’t get so desperate so fast. good boys wait.”

duff lets out a little choked noise at that, rubbing his thighs together like it’ll do anything. axl, of course, glares at him like he’s about to bite. “he’s worse than me,” axl argues, and you can’t help but grin.

“you’re both fucking pathetic,” you coo, voice dripping with mock sweetness as you let your hands trail down, teasing but never quite giving in. “so needy you can’t even think, huh? just sitting there, waiting for me to make the decisions for you.”

axl swallows hard. duff lets out something close to a whimper.

yeah, you’ve got them exactly where you want them.

but you’re not done yet.

you shift, letting your fingers barely graze over their thighs, the lightest, most infuriating touch that makes axl’s breath hitch and duff’s hands tremble. “look at you,” you hum, trailing a single nail down duff’s stomach, feeling him twitch under your touch. “so easy to ruin.”

axl shudders, shifting even closer, his voice bordering on a whimper. “please—“ he starts, but you’re quick to press a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly.

“you don’t get to beg yet,” you warn, your voice low and firm, and fuck, the way axl melts at that—his eyelashes flutter, his whole body trembling slightly. duff exhales sharply, his hips twitching again like he can’t even help himself.

“please,” duff tries next, his voice rough, wrecked, and you tilt your head, watching him with a slow, satisfied smirk.

“please what, sweetheart?” you prompt, dragging your nails lightly across his ribs, just enough to make him shiver. “use your words.”

axl glares at him like he’s offended that duff’s trying to take the lead, but there’s no real fire behind it—not when he’s practically in the same wrecked state. you glance between the two of them, feeling their bodies tense under your hands, knowing you could drag this out as long as you wanted.

and you might just do that.

“what’s the matter?” you tease, trailing your fingers over axl’s cheek before turning back to duff. “too desperate to think? too dumb to form a proper sentence?”

axl makes a tiny, strangled sound in his throat. duff groans, eyes squeezing shut for a second before fluttering open again, pleading. completely at your mercy.

“that’s what i thought,” you murmur, leaning in just enough to make them chase your touch. “keep being good, and maybe—maybe—i’ll give you what you want.”

[autisticlenaluthor]

A little Jackienat drabble - tw for a brief mention of scars/previous self-harm

“Wait- is it gonna hurt?”

Natalie pauses. She glances at the needle between her fingers, then back at Jackie. It’s near impossible to keep her expression flat as she gets a better look at her face and realizes the other girl is in fact serious.

Natalie bites her lip to keep from snarking back.

They survived a fucking plane crash and now Jackie’s scared of a stick and poke? The very thing Nat started giving herself at twelve?

God, Natalie thinks. She never should’ve agreed to do this. She’s still tempted to back out. She could make up some excuse about hunting with Travis. It wouldn’t even really be a lie; all they got today was two rabbits and a measly chipmunk. But now Jackie’s looking at her and-

“Nat?”

“Yes, Jackie.” It’s something about Jackie’s big watery doe eyes and nervous little pout that makes her impossible to say no to. It’s no wonder she had Shauna so whipped. “It’s a needle. It’s gonna hurt.”

“Like…” Jackie tilts her head. “Scale of one to ten?”

“Compared to what? Falling out of the sky?”

Jackie shrugs, a bit dejected, and Nat can’t help the guilt that creeps up on her. She doesn’t want to hurt the girl, it's just too easy sometimes. And after Jackie ran her mouth about Bobby Farley… maybe she deserves it.

“Okay, sorry,” Jackie murmurs. “I’m ready. Just- don’t go crazy with it.”

Fuck you, Nat thinks, mentally kicking herself as Jackie straightens her spine and lifts her chin in preparation. She doesn’t deserve it.

“You got it, Cap.”

Jackie gives something between a smile and a grimace at the nickname. She looks away- gazing off at the mountainous trees and colorful leaves blowing in the wind. Nat resides on the porch beside her and takes this time to examine the once tanned skin on Jackie’s upper arm. Jackie’s already pulled up her sleeve to make room for Nat’s work, so for the first time, Nat is allowed to truly look at her.

Not that there were any rules against it before. At least, not spoken ones. But after the rumors started floating around sophomore year about Natalie being a lesbian who only joined the soccer team to try and rope the others into hook-ups… it was better safe than sorry.

“Okay, I’m starting now,” she says, feeling the need to announce it before poking the needle into Jackie’s arm.

When Jackie hisses at the sensation, Nat can’t help the snort that escapes her.

“I’m sorry,” she says. She gets her laughter under wraps until Jackie shoots her a look - something that’s supposed to be threatening but really just mimics an angry lamb, and Natalie loses it all over again. “I’m sorry! You’re just- I haven’t even done anything yet - I basically just gave you a freckle!”

Jackie rolls her eyes but Nat doesn’t miss the blush creeping into her cheeks.

Jackie Taylor. Blushing over her?

Natalie pushes the thought from her mind. The only things that make Jackie swoon are Jeff (though, anyone with eyes could see through that) and Shauna. Only now, things with Shauna are getting weird. They’re tense. And sure, Shauna is still… Shauna but there’s something about Jackie that makes Nat wonder if she knows something the others don’t.

Again, Nat pushes it out of her head and turns her focus back to Jackie’s arm. When she pokes her this time, Jackie doesn’t flinch, and if Nat were a kinder person who didn’t care about Travis or Bobby Farley or all of Jackie’s Shauna drama - she would praise her for it. But she does care. She cares so much that sometimes, she thinks her head might explode from trying to carry it all. So she stays silent.

She focuses on Jackie’s arm and slowly traces the sun her kind-of-friend had requested. It’s a simple line drawing, like the sword Nat has on her ankle. Nat does her best to think about that and not how Jackie’s skin is pale enough out here that she can clearly see the faded scars arranged in uniform rows above her elbow. More importantly, Nat tries not to think about how her stomach is twisting at the notion of Jackie Taylor doing that to herself, because if Jackie Taylor truly has done that to herself - there must’ve been a reason. And if there was a reason, then the layers Nat convinced herself could never live behind the girl’s perfect sunshine smile must really exist.

Natalie exhales and dips her needle back in the ink. A sudden breeze rushes by the cabin and pushes the oxygen straight up into her nostrils. Natlalie’s grateful; without it, she surely would’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“I’m almost done,” she says, pressing the needle back into Jackie’s skin.

The sensation makes Jackie tense, but she smiles at the update and gives a nod of approval.

“You’re good at this,” she says. “I mean- I knew you would be. I wouldn’t have let you if I thought you were gonna screw me over or something. But you’re like…”

Jackie’s voice trails off and she shakes her head, smiling.

“Thanks.”

Nat looks down. She can feel herself starting to smile too. It’s a weird sensation - one she has to stop before it can fully begin. She finishes the sun with a straight face then puts her needle back in the ink pot and taps Jackie to get her attention.

“Finished?”

Nat nods.

Jackie smiles and pulls her arm in so she can get a good look - her eyes widening as she sees it. For a second, Nat wonders if she’s starting to regret her decision. She could be remembering who she is- who she was before this happened- and thinking she’s gone too far.

But Jackie’s smile only widens. She looks back at Natalie, beaming, and all but wiggles with excitement.

“I love it!” She says. “Do me again sometime?”

“Y- yeah, sure,” Natalie stammers.

It leaves her feeling confused and well, dumb. She just tattooed Jackie fucking Taylor and now Jackie is… thanking her for it?

Natalie swallows.

She wants to say something more - something about how this feels important. It’s like a shift between them that Nat’s the only one with the balls to acknowledge, though, that part, she would keep to herself. Or, she realizes, she should start with something smaller. Something about how Jackie did well, especially for her first tattoo, or something informative - like she should try not to get it wet until the skin heals. The last thing they need out here is an infection and so far Jackie seems to have an impressive lack of survival skills.

But before Nat can gather her thoughts and turn them into something coherent, Jackie is standing back up and brushing the dirt off her thighs.

She shoots Nat one last smile then walks back into the cabin, and leaves her on the porch alone.

[kissboybyler]

I don’t want perfect characters. I don’t even want these pretentious, amazing characters who are perfect and have one slip-up and oh no! See? They’re not so perfect after all *takes a drag off of a cigarette*

No, please just- give me all the truly broken characters, the ones who have truly fucked up, the confused and complex ones, the nerds who fail at school, the lovers who can only show anger, the poets and painters who stifle their screams and kick themselves at night. Give me the characters mischaracterised by the GA (i’m looking at you mike wheeler), the characters who grew up feeling wrong without really doing anything that off, the characters who hurt themselves and their loved ones just to feel something, to fit in, to find their place, to be somebody other than themselves.

Please give me the characters who don’t know what they want out of their lives. The confused and lost ones, the ones who hate themselves so much they punish others, the ones who love others so much they punish themselves, the ones who laugh unapologetically, who snark at people, the losers that nobody wants. The ones dreaming of running away, the ones trying new things only to give up, the ones giving up on themselves just to try new things, the ones who lie to themselves so much, they’ve created a new reality.

Give me all these characters that feel like they are nothing, who try really hard to be something only to end up feeling like they didn’t try hard enough, but everybody is like “yeah you are trying” HOW DO YOU KNOW? The characters that try things from novels and movies, but their lives are blunt, so it’s not the same. Give me the characters who destroy their friendships and hate themselves for it and devote themselves to making everything right again. The ones who believe others hatred for them. The ones who feel like themselves only when somebody else is there to witness them. If nobody’s there to see me, do i really exist?

The ones who feel left out and never understood, that speak their minds and are loud and ramble non-stop, that are called overly sensitive but they don’t try to change themselves because although they hate everything that they are, they are way too stubborn to succumb.

Give me the losers, the feelers, the poets, the tortured ones, the ones who haven’t felt anything so profound to be called tortured, the ones who prefer pain over boredom, the ones who don’t know who they are.

People don’t want perfect characters because nobody relates to them. We only envy them. Give us real characters- give us fucked-up little shits.

[misfxtteam]

Bucky watches Tony sit up and is surprised when he just takes hold of his hand. He chuckles though because of course Tony had a million questions, Bucky had even surprised himself with everything he just did and it was still a shock to him that he had felt comfortable enough to do any of it. He had also heard that Tony didn’t sleep much, he had wandered the compound when he’d had his own nightmares and the music coming from the lab would be echoing at all hours of the night. He always avoided it but now who knows, maybe they would be okay enough with each other that he would be able to go say hi or something. He’s still reeling from the fact that this all happened because they wanted a way to change what they each saw when they looked at each other. Steve was going to literally kick his ass if he found out, especially with all the grief Bucky put him through about not wanting anything to do with Stark.

Bucky is definitely not expecting the offer to join him sleeping. His eyes widen a bit and he wipes the last of the mess from Tony’s body. It would be nice if they could shower, but Bucky took scalding hot showers because of how much he hates being cold and he knows most people don’t like that. He tosses the rest of the napkins away and then moves to get some to wipe himself off, smirking a bit at the mess Tony had made him, again. He doesn’t let go of his hand though and squeezes it lightly as he replies, “I..would like to join you honestly, I haven’t slept right in weeks especially with the way my arm had been hurting,” he admits, he knows he had downplayed it before but the pain he had been in was a lot better now after Tony he helped him out.

“I know this was just about..association change, but are you alright with me wanting to give you some aftercare? I was rough, honestly rougher than I’ve ever been i think, so it would feel…weird, in a bad way, if I just walked away right now,” he explains with a faint blush on his cheeks, “So yeah I think I would really love to join you and then after we can get a drink or some food and talk,” he offers. He doesn’t know what exactly is going to happen now, they’ll probably still be so snarky with each other but the hatred maybe would be gone? He doesn’t hate Tony anymore, he doesn’t think he really ever did but the antagonistic feelings towards him are gone too, at least for right now. He grabs their clothes, sorting out his own before offering Tony his as well. He stands carefully, a little sore from kneeling on the concrete, and begins to pull his briefs and then his jeans back on.

Bucky cries out and cums a final time, it wasn’t as heavy as the first two but it wipes him out, he can barely catch his breath as he also feels the absolutely mess that Tony had made on both of them. He immediately softens, not just his cock but his entire demeanor. His hand holding Tony’s wrist above his head loosens, shifting to just be holding his hand now in the final moments of the after waves of pleasure. He also kisses Tony softly, first on the jaw then the lips as he has to pull away.

He was definitely completely spent, holy hell he hadn’t cum like that ever. He never usually cared for more than one but three? He can’t even complain about how sensitive he feels because it really was all his fault. He immediately reaches for the paper towel and begins cleaning Tony up carefully, wiping the thick coating of his seed that was all over his abdomen even up to his chest. That had to be one of the strongest orgasms he had ever caused for a partner before and that realization brings a smug smile to Bucky’s lips even as he’s trying to clean Tony up.

Aftercare had always been more about cuddling than anything but as he looks at the mess Tony is, and the marks that his rough grip and biting had started to cause, he felt it was important to try and help him get cleaned up.

“Jesus Christ, Stark that was..” he can’t even find the right words as he tosses the first set of napkins and gets two more to continue wiping Tony’s skin clean.

[rcgame-thoughts]

The Parallel Universes Bureau infantilizing women…

(Warning: spoilers)

And here’s the bad news:

Maybe I’m not taking enough diamond options, but the people feel really flat to me.

Albert is really controlling and has anger issues. He’s very prejudiced towards all magical creatures. Our first impression of him is him kicking Colin, who is a tiny harmless creature. Is this supposed to be attractive? He treats Nettie like a bad child despite the fact that she’s a grown adult. I know he went through a lot as a kid, but is that an excuse? I’m having a hard time liking him. This author seems to think possessiveness = protective hero. 🤮

Glim keeps saying what a good guy Orion is, but… where? …how? I’m mostly bored with the whole arrogant king thing... and OMG!! I CANNOT BELIEVE he took everyone on this WILD GOOSE CHASE just because he needed backup but didn’t wanna call for help!!! Ughhh!! I really hate when people drag me through their shit, instead of just growing a pair and talking to me straight. 😡🤬😡🤬. I really hate manipulation. Nettie totally called him out on his BS at his own court. Everything she said was right, and I’m so glad she stood up to him. Probably the only one to ever do it.

I’m not romancing women… Does Glim get any deeper than goody-gosh tee-hee little girl stuck in a woman’s body? Even though she has some strong moments, she still mostly acts like a child. She has no real personal agency, but seems like a cheerful extension of Orion. Does she ever become her own person?

If Glim is a little girl, Nettie is the permanently grounded teenager. Rolling her eyes, scowling, sneaking around. She even dresses like she’s stuck in her rebellious stage. Not totally her fault though, bc Albert treats her like a teenager. But of the four, she’s the best one. She’s intelligent, decisive, and sticks to her guns. Major respect for letting Orion have it.

(Btw, no disrespect if you happen to love the characters I don’t. I’m not judging anyone (just the characters 😂), this is just my opinion. If you’ve unlocked something I haven’t, I’d be happy to find out more.)

The infantilization of the female characters is really disappointing. The women are treated like children — both by the men in the book and in concept by the author. The mayor, who is the only woman in a position of power, is depicted as having a schoolgirl crush on Albert. When he’s around, instead just kicking ass at her job, she’s reduced to an infatuated adolescent, batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair in front of Albert. 🙄

Archie is in love with her, so he hovers over her as if she needs his protection 24/7. And he seems to think his input can actually sway her in her decisions as mayor.

Even Isla isn’t that good at her job. Despite being a senior field agent, she still has to call a male coworker for help. She doesn’t know what’s going on with her own case until after he provides her with more information. The excuse is that she’s a good worker who could handle the case, but she’s still being taken advantage of by her superiors. Why set up these female characters like this? It’s really condescending.

The only character that doesn’t show any sexist attitudes or behavior is Locke. Can we have more of him? Seriously. His involvement in the plot was a huge breath of fresh air. In fact, can we make him an LI? If Nettie’s only into girls, I’d be happy to take him…

There are a few more episodes to go, so I’m still giving it a chance. I want to like it. The visuals are so wonderful… but the shallow portrayal of women is disappointing. Perhaps every character will grow until then? I hope. 🤞🙁

Or just give us more Locke. 🙏

[kix-mm]

are you still working on once a cruel god?

Yes I am! However I am taking a break from the main storyline to focus on smaller stories about these characters. Some will be cannon, some will be AU’s it’ll give me a way of showing more about the individual characters and side characters.

This next story will be one of the first ^^

Bare blessing

There was a time when blessings got rather popular, especially among those with newborns. Gods would boast among each other about how many blessings they had given to children and families, it was quite the trend, a big deal for anyone who got involved…

But like all trends, they eventually die out, and become irrelevant… though gods would still receive requests of blessings on the daily, they usually went unanswered unless the person was a big deal, or left a rather favorable offering.

Victor had never bestowed a blessing, it’s hard to imagine that anyone would trust a god with such a reputation for chaos to be trusted with blessing a baby…

Yet… what was that feeling? A calling, but from who? Victor sat up, his hand on his chest as he felt an unfamiliar sensation warm him, his eyes widened as he slowly came to the realization “A… blessing..” he mumbled in disbelief. Even Amber looked shocked, staring at Victors towering frame which cast a large shadow over the human “a… a what? My lord?” Amber asked meekly. “A blessing. Someone wants… my blessing” he looked to the human, stumped, why him? There were hundreds if not thousands of gods to choose from, each one more fit for the task than the other, so why him?

“Amber, what do I do? What if they were mistaken? I haven’t been to my shrine in so long, I don’t want to be disappointed” Victor nervously picked at his fingers as he watched the human ponder. “Is… the offerer still there? What offering have they made?” Even Amber was suspicious, yet also somewhat curious. “Yes, and they’ve offered dried wheat and fruits” Victor took a moment, but then added “they’re young, the note tied around the wheat is not their handwriting…”

“A child?” That just confused Amber more, but would confirm his suspicion that the one making the offering wasn’t aware whom it was to… Amber looked back to Victor about to try and persuade the young god not to go, but alas, Victor was already standing up, making Amber quite nervous “M-my lord, what are you going to do?” He mustered the courage to ask. “To answer their call, I can’t let them down now can I? Especially when they’ve asked so nicely…”

Ambers panic began to rise, this was bad, this was a bad idea! “W-wait, Victor!-“ the god vanished before Amber could be heard out.

Victor was a lesser known god, his temple was small, but well maintained by those who knew of him. A young boy, maybe 5-6 years old, knelt on both knees while anxiously awaiting for a reply, a mere sign would do, just something, anything! He looked up at the mural, his eyes widening and face turning pale as a large ghostly hand emerged from the mural, the child quickly backed away as the hand slammed down right where he previously sat, had he upset the god?? Was he being punished for bothering him?? A second hand came from the same mural, making the boy bolt out of the temple as it began to creak and groan menacingly, floorboards began to crack and break under the weight of the gods presence, making the child trip and topple down the stairs into a soft ethereal embrace…

The boy trembled as his eyes trailed to the sky, only to be met by darkness and an otherworldly voice “are you okay little one?” The god spoke, brushing the boys head carefully to soothe the pain, though his efforts to soothe the little boy were less than satisfactory… “p-please, don’t hurt me” the child whimpered. This wasn’t a very good start, and to make matters worse the gods appearance drew a crowd of concerned faces, both his size, the crying child and the temple he came from made everyone uncomfortable.

Victor shrunk down to the best of his ability till he reached 10ft/3m. It’ll have to do for now… he crouched down in front of the quivering child and tried to offer a kind smile, one without baring his teeth. “Did you… place that offering on my alter? Were you the one who needs a blessing?” The child’s trembling stilled, but he still hesitated to give a verbal answer, shaking his head slowly “my… sister was born today…” the boy mumbled “no other gods would answer our prayers, my dad has given our best offerings he could provide, but we were always ignored” the boy spoke with a pout, there was resentment in the words he spoke, resentment towards the mighty gods who ignored his family… “daddy gave up, but I thought… if I could get anyone to give even a small blessing, we would be happy, my sister deserves to be blessed by the gods!” He look e up to Victor with determination, something that made the god smile a little more with ease. “I see, you’re very kind to work so hard for your little sister, I’ll give her my blessing.”

The boy smiled, getting up and dusting himself off “this way miss… mister?” He tilt his head and furrowed his brow, unable to tell whether the god was a man or woman. “Lead the way little one” Victor smiled, watching the boy grab ahold of his finger and guide him along, were children always so precious? No wonder some deities would devote themselves to protecting little ones.

The walk was long and far, the child began to grow tired, his little legs already made the journey all the way to his temple, and the way back was getting too much for the boy. Victor briefly stopped, crouching down again “do you want me to carry you?” The child leaned against the gods frame and shook his head halfheartedly, only to moments later wrap his little arms around the gods neck and give a small whimper. Victor happily obliged and lifted the child into his arms, letting the boy rest his tired head on the giants chest as he continued walking. “What’s your name?” The boy asked “I couldn’t read your name on the temple” “my name is Victor, what’s yours?” He briefly looked down to see how the boy was doing, but he was met with silence. “Well?” Victor asked. “I can’t tell you, mommy says I can’t tell you” right… “will you give me a name to call you by?” “Hmmm…” the boy thought for a moment before giggling “poop master” the boy giggled some more, very pleased with his creativity.

Victor snort, very ungodly, but very amused. “Okay poop master, nice to meet you” the boy burst out laughing, which only encouraged Victor to laugh with him. Then the boy spoke up again “no, no, KING poop master!” The boy laughed, Victor snickered “my apologies your highness, king poop master-“ the boys laughter echoed through the valley, his bright smile sparked a glimmer of hope in Victors heart, maybe this was proof that he could be good with people… if only Amber could see this.

They eventually came to a farm, small, but enough to feed a growing family. The boy wiggled free from Victors arms and ran to the door, knocking excitedly and calling out “daddy! Daddy I found one!” Heavy footsteps approached the door, and a very concerned man quickly answered “Cassian! Where in dickens name have you been?!” He hugged the boy tight, relief briefly washing over the tired farmer before he caught sight of their visitor. The man’s eyes remained locked onto Victor as he pushed the boy inside “go to your mother” “but-“ the boy protested, briefly glancing at Victor before he was pushed further out of sight “I said GO!” His father yelled, concern and dread rang through his voice…

Victor slowly approached, his posture calm, yet he was undoubtedly nervous. “I’m here to give a blessing, that’s all” the man’s brow formed a deep crease “I don’t recall giving any requests or offerings to your alter…” “you didn’t” Victor spoke “it was your son, he told me of your struggles to find someone to bless your daughter” the man began to turn pale, sweat glistening on his forehead “I…um” he closed the door a little more “that’s no longer necessary” he began to break eye contact “why?” Victor asked, leaning down to the man’s hight, pressing further, was it his reputation? Did something happen to the child?

“She’s uh-“ the man averted his eyes completely “she’s no longer with us-“ just as the man spoke his lie, a high pitched wail could be heard from the next room over, making the man melt in defeat… shit. Victors ears perked “seems to me like she’s perfectly fine” he spoke while staring daggers into the defeated man “so. Will you let me in? I’ve come all this way, your son put a lot of effort into finding someone to bless your daughter… you wouldn’t want a good offering to go to waste do you?

The man was silent, and slowly opened the door, letting the god in… he lead Victor to the room, where an exhausted woman lied with a tiny bundle, her expression was one of concern when her husband walked in.. and of horror when Victor followed, she clutched the tiny bundle tighter, right against her chest, beads of sweat still remained, the infant was only a couple hours old…

Victor could recognize that dreaded look, he gave a gentle smile “I’m not here to cause any harm… I won’t be taking anyone from you either miss… I’m here to bestow a blessing upon your little one” the woman remained silent, but her hold on the little one relaxed “a blessing… thank you my lord, it’s truly an honor” finally… someone who was happy to see him…

Victor knelt down by the bedside seeing the tiny sleeping face of the newborn filled him with a sense of purpose… it was happening, truly! “She’s beautiful…” he whispered, stroking the infants cheek ever so carefully, she was so soft too… “what will you be calling her?” He asked, looking to the couple. The father of the baby looked to the mother “well, I’m no good with names so..” the mother chucked and shook her head “he’s really not, hm…” she looked to the young god once more “you’re… Victor right? I’ll admit that I never thought I’d see you of all deities in person but… in honor of your grace, may I name her after you?”

Victor stared, never in all his years had anyone named their child after him, not even his own followers “I… yes I.. it would be an honor” oh god, he was getting emotional, was it always so emotional? The woman smiled “then… I shall name her Victoria, after the grate god Victor…” she gently held little Victoria out to Victor, who held the tiny bundle in his cupped hands, being careful not to stir, and to support her head. “Little Victoria…” he took a deep breath, there was tension in the air… Victor could do anything he wished, bless, curse, eat… steal… no, get those thoughts out of your head Victor, you’re not that monster anymore.

He looked back down to the little sleeping baby “I bless you… with good fortune, a strong mind, and love… wherever you may go” he spoke placing a small kiss on her forehead, earning a soft coo from the newborn, and a little glistening spark on her forehead, which wold fade in a few days time… and thus concluded the blessing ceremony. Victor was surprised to find a few offerings here and there after the blessing took place and he had returned home, he never knew if it was from the same family or maybe others who heard of his story, but he felt eternally grateful nonetheless… maybe he’d get a chance to preform another blessing some day, but even if not, he’d always remember little Victoria.

[sleepybarnesgirl]

Happy Little Omega Farms (2)

a/n: part two!! reader meets the rest of the pack. who are you most excited to see more heat between? I should try and look into making cute little picture headers sometime... also no beta reader because I'm IMPATIENT..

summary: reader meets the other ten members of the avengers pack including the two beta members

warnings: mentions of smut books, mention of sex toys, lots of implications, omega!verse warning bc it will get smutty eventually

word count: 2,100

masterlist (wip) | happy little omega farms (wip) | part one

Happy Little Omega Farms apparently had much less strict rules for the betas of packs when it came to visits. Natasha and Wanda took full advantage of this, leaving behind the lobby full of men as they were allowed to walk right past the meeting rooms and into the sanctuary properly. They did of course have to wear little visitor badges and they were pretty recognizable so some of the omegas kind of stared at them wide eyed, but they had one in particular they were looking for. 

“What was the room number again?” Wanda asked. Natasha showed her the little slip of paper with a ‘6’ printed on it and she nodded, looking at the bedroom numbers as they began to descend. 

You had been in your room, lounging on the bed. You weren’t the biggest ‘people’ person, especially since most of the people around you were omegas and god they could be such horny people. You’d much rather spend time reading. The book you were reading though might have been… also horny. It was good reading! The door opened and it took you a minute to process that the two betas that entered the room definitely didn’t work here. You snapped the book shut and sat up, practically sitting on the book to hide it. “O-oh, hello.” 

The two redheads exchanged a knowing look and the shorter of the two grinned, stepping into the room first. “We heard you left quite the impression on our lead Alphas yesterday.” You blink at them and that’s when you notice the faint traces of the scents on them that seem familiar. The woman smiles and she approaches the bed, sitting down on the edge, just beside you. God she smells divine. You’re not sure if it’s just because she’s a beta and their scents are meant to be especially soothing to omegas or if she’s just a goddess. 

“I think you’re making the same impression on our little omega.” The other redhead teased. You felt your cheeks flush even warmer and you cleared your throat softly, casually shifting further on top of the smutty book you’d been reading. “I’m Wanda.” she approached the bed, though she left enough room that you didn’t feel cornered by them. She was also breathtakingly beautiful and something about her scent was much warmer than the others, almost like cinnamon. 

“Natasha.” The first redhead said. You hadn’t even noticed her hand sliding further up the bed until she had the book in her hand and was pulling it into her lap. You sucked in a sharp breath and cleared your throat again, glancing anywhere but the woman.

“It’s- they don’t have a great selection of books here.” you stammered, feeling shy for having been caught reading a trashy smut novel. Natasha just laughed softly.

“You mean you’re not liking this one?” she asked. You dared a glance at her and caught her gaze. “I thought this one was pretty good. Though you haven’t gotten to the best chapters just yet.” she thumbed through the book, tapping at a chapter later in the book and giving you a knowing look. “Might want to make sure you’ve got some alone time for these.” Wanda took the book from her hands and looked over the back of it and you felt maybe a little less shy about having been reading it. 

“I uh. I read other books too, not just saucy ones.” you confess. Nat gave you an all too knowing smile and she nodded. “Fantasy and sci-fi are nice but.. I think these are the most popular around here.” you admit a bit sheepishly. Nat laughed. It was a rich and beautiful sound and your eyes met with her green ones. She reached a hand out and brushed a piece of your hair that had flown forwards around your face. Her fingers were silky soft and you leaned forwards chasing her fingers with your face in a way that would embarrass you had it not been for how painfully obviously into her you were.

“Nothing wrong with ‘saucy’ books. Isn’t that right, Wanda?” Natasha didn’t look at the other redhead but as your eyes trailed up to the other redhead, she had a similar look in her eyes, one that seemed to cut right through you. Wanda smiled a bit wider, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

“We have quite the collection of this genre at home.” Wanda sat down at the edge of the bed, leaning back against the wall beside the bed. “And lots of toys to help with the imagination.” she winked. Okay so maybe you had thought quite a few times about the idea of a dragon modeled dildo once or twice, but hearing that they definitely had things like that made it feel a little less embarrassing. Wanda let out a soft laugh as she could see the look on your face and she ran a hand back through her own hair. “Maybe we should stop embarrassing you and actually chat for a bit, before the boys get you to themselves.” she smiled.

The three of you talked for a while before the door opened and another beta walked into the room, this one though was actually a worker. They looked between the three of you for a moment before signaling to their bracelet. You looked over at your own, forgetting you had yet to put it on for the day. Oops. You grabbed it and saw the little heart icon lighting up. “You’ve got three meetings with Alphas.” Your eyebrows rose. Three?

“How many alphas are in this pack?” you found yourself asking the betas on your bed beside you. Natasha sat up and she grinned at you, brushing a hand back through your hair in a way that was so very tender for having just met you. It was incredibly soothing and you kind of wanted to just lay back in the little pile the three of you had been in, but you knew it was important to meet the rest of the pack.

“Ten total. You’ve met two of them already, of course. Our lead alphas.” she rolled her eyes and leaned closer. “They may both say they share charge with each other but they’d also jump at the chance to be the only leader.” Wanda gently patted your hip and nudged you closer to the edge of the bed.

“Go meet them. The sooner you meet them the sooner we can spend more time together.” You felt your heart skip a little bit at that. While the idea of meeting so many new alphas was a little bit intimidating, the idea of getting rewarded with more attention from the beautiful red haired women was definitely worth it. You followed the beta worker out, glancing once more over your shoulder at Wanda and Natasha who both seemed to get comfortable with each other once again.

The meeting room you were ushered into had three Alphas. Neither of the two you’d met before were present, but you could faintly smell their scents among these men. You took a deep breath, this would be fine. You felt more at ease after having apparently wooed the other two alphas, you just hoped the other eight would feel the same. Your first meeting had been with Sam Wilson, Clint Barton and Thor Odinson. They all seemed to enjoy your high spirits and the fact that while you were a submissive, you were still feisty and high spirited. Your second meeting had been with Pietro, Peter and Pepper. You’d never met a female alpha before but gods she was incredible. Pietro was endearingly flirty and might have been close to a stereotypical alpha. Peter was the cutest Alpha you think you’d ever met. You didn’t even think alphas could be this cute. He had been incredibly bashful and blundered over so many words and you just wanted to wrap him up and keep him. But eventually it was finally time to meet your last group. You felt your nerves pick up. So far the six new alphas had all been great, you just hoped the last two liked you.

As you stepped into the next meeting room, you immediately recognized Steve and Tony. The other two men were very different from any of the other alphas in the pack you’d met before. One of them was brooding, as though he didn’t want to be here and the other one looked probably more nervous than you felt. You approached the nervous one first and you offered your wrist to him. He took in a deep breath before he slowly brought your wrist up. His hair was dark brown, curly and he was a bit older. He wore small rectangular glasses and you could tell he only inhaled your scent partially before he pulled back.

“I’m.. Bruce Banner. Doctor Bruce Banner.” he admitted a bit shyly. You’d never met a shy alpha before either, this pack really was all over the place. You gave him a small smile in hopes to soothe some of his nerves. You felt a pull to comfort him, to make sure he felt safe.

“A Doctor? That’s impressive.” you confessed. You knew you’d seen this man before on tv with Tony and Steve but you couldn’t quite remember him. Tony rubbed Bruce’s shoulder and he said something quietly into his ear before the billionaire’s attention turned back to you.

“Not even his most impressive feat.” He smirked, squeezing Bruce’s shoulder. You could tell he wasn’t used to the attention by the way his cheeks went red and he seemed to duck away shyly. Tony slipped a hand out and took yours, bringing your wrist up to his nose and inhaling deeply, his eyes shutting as he breathed it in. This man was hooked. He looked to his right at Steve and he motioned for him to come close. Steve hesitated only a moment before he leaned in as well, taking your wrist from his and inhaling. “Still smell incredible, angel.” Tony added, pulling his scent block stick out and rubbing himself down with it before offering a smaller one to Bruce who applied some beneath his nose.

You looked over to the last alpha and caught his blue gaze. His eyes were like a stormy night and you felt your breath hold in your chest for a moment as you approached him. He was seated in one of the chairs but even seated you could tell he was tall. You offered him your wrist and he took it carefully, his grip on you delicate as he brought your wrist close to his nose and he inhaled. A low sound rumbled from him and he let go of your wrist. 

“This is Bucky.” Steve said, placing both of his hands on his friends shoulders. You could see the way Bucky tensed at the touch, though he didn’t do anything to knock the hands off of him. Bucky reached a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a scent blocking stick as well, rubbing it on himself. You swore you could see the faintest bit of pink in his cheeks but maybe it was just your imagination. “He’s the newest member of our pack, but he’s also my best friend.” Bucky looked away from you for a moment, grumbling something under his breath. God how was this man so cute while looking so angry? 

You spoke with the three men while Bucky mostly watched for the allotted time and eventually a beta worker came in to collect you. Tony was the first out the door and Steve let out a weary sigh. “Sorry about him. He’s just excited.” Steve’s hand found your lower back and he led you out the door and into the hallway where you’d all part ways. Bruce skittered out next and Bucky lingered in the doorway as if afraid to cross your path. You gave him a smile and looked at Steve once more. 

“Are you all going to stay a while?” you asked, unable to help but think back to the two beautiful women you’d left in your bed. Steve hummed and he let his hand reluctantly fall away from your back.

“Probably just Tony and I. Oh, and the girls. They weren’t too much trouble were they?” he asked, arching a brow. You thought back to the few presses of lips to your throat and the brushing of dainty wandering hands and your cheeks went warm as you smiled up at him.

“Perfectly behaved, Cap.”

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[theboywhoswallowedthesun]

“Under the stars, Above the sun.”

A good old-fashioned Sunkiller One shot by me

“You do know that he’s supposed to put in effort too, right?”

Barty twists and tangles into a criss-cross, because Merlin knows that man’s never sat right a day in his life. He outwardly finishes his thought.

“I mean I love him like a brother, don’t get me wrong, but he isn’t… like us.”

James shoots him a look. “Us?“

“Yeah! You know, like us. Like- giving. Caring. All of that bullshit.” Barty scuttles around to face him.

James can’t help but scoff. “Right. The infamously giving and caring Barty Crouch.”

After an excessively harsh shove to the shoulder and a a few seconds of chuckling, James straightens out. “Regulus is trying, Barty. That’s what matters here.”

Barty shakes his head, resisting the urge to gnaw at his own hand amidst the blind frustration this conversation brings. He’s got this sort of.. unique patience when it comes to James. Try as he won’t, Barty crouch isn’t perfect. So he breaks under the agonizingly minimal pressure. His next words are brash- sort of ugly as he speaks them.

“You’re going to kill yourself some day James. Letting people ruin you like this- it’s going to make you want to kill yourself.”

James doesn’t even reply. He won’t gratify that with a response. He doesn’t feel the need to, not with Barty. The idea of over preforming holds no weight for James. He doesn’t feel an external pressure to compensate for anything. It’s peaceful. Awfully hard to understand, but peaceful.

It’s not easy to choke down. The conversation. Talking about your best friend being a shitty boyfriend for some guy you’re supposed to hate, it was overly complicated. Always had been between these two. Sitting in some high-up tower on a night way too warm to pass up should’ve been the first indicator that things were going to go sideways. Whether he intended to rock this boat or not, he didn’t anchor once it began to sway. In fact, he might have, maybe, thrown the paddles overboard when that sweet innocent relic of a man wasn’t looking. Who could blame him? He had his goal in mind. Be that goal noble or not was between him, the sky, and the way James’ eyes lit up just a little every time Bartys touch overstayed its already liberated welcome.

Once a minute goes by, James forces himself to speak. He can’t handle silence. Barty knows this of course and uses it to his absolute advantage. What doesn’t Barty knows? James will no sooner find the answer to this question than he does his owns self respect. Two things seemingly impossible to understand. “What else am I supposed to do, Barty?” James pushes a hand through his mop of curls. “He’s my best option. And I hate to say that. I hate- I hate to say it like he’s just some choice I’m making. Because he isn’t. He isn’t.”

Barty cuts James off. He tends to.

“Don’t overcomplicate this.”

Damn if it works. Because it always does. A reminder to stay in the moment, a hand on his shoulder, his eyes on James’. Something, anything, to keep him level. James continues, less vigor in his tone. “He isn’t. But he’s the best one I’ve got. I mean, Merlin, Barty, who else haven’t I shagged? I’m out of options.”

Barty grips the cigarette in his hand so tight it burns. He doesn’t react to it. That’s hardly the most painful part of this conversation. “Me.”

James shakes his head. “I’m being serious.”

“And I’m not?” Barty gets achingly close to James, hand freshly patterned with cigarette burns finds its way to touch the side of James’ face, his voice cut like glass, terrifyingly honest.

James exhales a colder, sharper breath of air as he fully faces this new, scary situation. “Don’t be stupid, Crouch.”

Barty shakes his head, the same tantalizing smile spread wide across his face, his eyes honest despite this. And that’s how James knows, how James knows, it’s going to work. How he knows he’s going to fall right into the jaws of this sharp-toothed, dark-haired monster of a man. “Barty. Fucks sake.”

“No,” Barty snaps, his tone as angry as he is desperate. “James, I’ve watched you run your own self esteem into the ground twenty times over by now for people that wouldn’t give a fuck less if you were alive or dead. You’re ruining yourself. I won’t stand for it. I know, I’m a conceited bastard, and I know, everything I do goes against just about everything you stand for, but let me make up for that. Let me make you feel like you’re worth it, James. You are. If I have to get on my knees to prove it so help me Merlin-“

“Alright.” James chokes on his words. “Alright. I, I believe you. I believe you. Just.. yeah. Good. Okay.”

James Potter has been lost on many men. But tonight, under the stars, Barty makes a fool out of religion the way he worships a man half so noble. He finds faith between layers of fabric, and his hymn comes from the sighs of someone never made to sigh himself. Blasphemy, that’s Barty Crouches name now. He knows not who he is without a hand knotted in his hair, pushing his head down to a level so devout he found the remnants of sinners past and present along its walls. James potter is holy. James potter is holy. The fate held by Icarus does not so reflect the fate he felt he’s met. Barty knows what it’s like to taste the sun, and he’ll rise again from the sea to find that same light all over again.