#i hope you feel better. i see you're not feeling well :(

[woso-dreamzzz]

If You Were My Little Girl II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Things are looking up

Alexia watches from the stands.

They're mostly empty, like almost all Barcelona B matches.

Women's football has only really started picking up steam recently but only at the top flight. The lower level leagues are still having a bit of a popularity issue.

But Alexia, for once, finds that she doesn't mind.

Because it means she can sit practically alone in the stands as she watches the home match.

A notepad sits on her lap, a pen tapping against the pages thoughtfully as she watches.

Barcelona B are good and Alexia has never expected anything different. She's seen the system at work many times as La Masia churns out players like Aitana and Pina and Jana, and more recently Vicky and Martina.

There's a reason so many clubs wants La Masia products.

They're all good players but even now, Alexia can tell a great player when she sees one.

You rise up among the crowd in the box and slam the ball into the goal, the net rippling with the force of the shot.

The best part, Alexia thinks, is that you didn't even need a moment to control the ball, hitting it in on the volley and grinning as your teammates practically dogpile you.

A hattrick in ten minutes is impressive in any league and Alexia makes another note in her notebook, humming softly to herself.

She rises out of her seat at the end of the match, disappearing into the building and out the doors.

It takes another half an hour for you to appear again, hair damp and an old crew neck sweater that Alexia's pretty sure is Alba's being tugged over your head.

You slip into the passenger seat, throwing your bag into the backseat and Alexia pulls your head down to press a kiss against the side of it.

You smile shyly at her as she offers up the fries she'd bought for a job well done.

"You did good, kid," She says," Very impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. But I think we're going to work on evading slide tackles next," Alexia says as she drives off," We're trying to keep those ankles of yours intact, alright? I'm going to need them this season."

You roll your eyes and Alexia clicks her tongue.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," She says," I've got a good feeling about that meeting later in the week. A great feeling, actually. You should have one too."

"I'm managing expectations."

Alexia looks at you fondly. "Well, we'll see which one of us is right in a few days."

She lets you choose the music in the car, like she always does when you've scored a goal and you pull up to the apartment a lot quicker than you want to seeing as you're in the middle of singing along to your favourite song but, still, you drag yourself out of the car and up the stairs.

"How was the match?" Olga asks as she greets Alexia with a kiss on the lips.

"She did very well," Alexia brags," A hattrick within the first ten minutes and another goal in injury time."

"Exciting," Olga says indulgently as Alexia grins, already giving her running commentary of everything that happened during the match.

You escape though, hurrying to raid the cupboards before Alexia finally comes to her senses and tries to stop you 'spoiling' your dinner.

You don't know if there's any way to thank Alexia for what she's done for you.

Just three months ago, you were convinced that you were going to quit. You had no passion for the game, no hope of what your future was going to be but now all of that had changed.

You had direction. You had a manager. You had new boots and a place to live that wasn't a group home and support and love and everything seemed to be coming together for you.

A toe pokes you in the leg.

"Move."

"Alexia says that if you're trying to nap on her sofa again then I don't have to move," You tell Alba, who huffs and pokes you with her toe again," She also says that you have your own apartment and should stop mooching of us."

"But Olga's a better cook than me," Alba complains and you roll your eyes.

"Aren't you an adult? Even I can cook."

"Yeah but it's not like you could mooch off your sist-"

Alba falls silent quickly and you pretend to not notice what she was going to say for both hers and your own sakes.

The topic of your sister is kind of off limits when you're in the room. It's not completely banned because Alexia's still Jenni's national teammate but she's not really spoken about if you're in the room.

Alba's face flashes with terror for a moment so you pretend you don't notice her slip up ever though it sends a bolt of lightning into your stomach, a deep pit forming there.

It works for the most part, everyone in the house pretending Jenni isn't who she is to you, pretending that she's just Alexia's teammate and not her friend and ex, pretending that Alexia fostering you isn't her walking on a tight rope because Jenni doesn't know.

All Jenni knows is that you didn't quit when she told you to.

Jenni doesn't know that you live with Alexia. Jenni doesn't know anything. You doubt she even thinks about you when she's got a life far away in Mexico.

She lives there, far away from you and your life here in Barcelona.

She lives there and her presence is hardly ever mentioned around you.

Life is good at Alexia and Olga's house. Life is even good at training, though you could do without the smug little smirk Alexia has on her face when she picks you up.

"You already knew!" You accuse her, waving a finger in her face.

"Knew?" She asks, lips curl up in what can only be described as pure smugness," Knew what?"

"Right, who told you? Go on. Who was it?"

Alexia grins. "You do realise I am the captain? Any time they're looking to bring someone in, they ask me my opinion."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah and I'm sure you gave it."

"You're a good player. A great player," Alexia says," All I did was tell them what they already know."

You look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. You want to be mad at her, to yell at her for keeping this from you. Maybe even yell at her for promising to the staff something you're not but you know she hasn't done that.

If she thought you weren't ready, she would have told them that.

But Alexia didn't. She didn't tell them to let you have a bit more time with the B team. She didn't tell them that you don't quite have what it takes.

"Thanks."

Alexia smiles at you as she drives home, a comfortable silence enveloping you both until your hand is on the door handle.

You stop.

"When I open this door, there's going to be a party, isn't there?"

"I may have told Olga...who told Mami...who told Alba...who told the rest of the family..."

"Is that a yes?"

"Possibly..."

"And there's no getting out of this?"

Alexia ruffles your hair, a soft kiss being pressed to the side of your head. "They're here to celebrate you."

You suck in a breath, just ready to turn the handle when the sound of the lift doors opening chimes down the corridor.

Both you and Alexia turn your heads towards.

It's just a fleeting second.

Just a moment.

But your good mood plummets as the door opens.

Alexia's hand tightens on your shoulder, pushing you slightly behind her and putting herself between you and the elevator.

Between you and Jenni.

[peppermintquartz]

Buck volunteers for the Thanksgiving shift. When Maddie asks, he apologizes, saying, "I don't really feel festive right now. But keep some leftovers for me?"

On the day, firehouses around the country all have similar calls to deal with: kitchen grease fires from frying turkeys, sprains in backyard games of football, people injuring one another because "did you hear what she said about our Emma/Francis/Kailey?". Buck is kept too busy to think, and it's nice having the time to catch up with Ravi, who's thinking of going to school to study law.

Their brothers and sisters in uniform also drop off dishes at the station, so between calls, they get pretty good food. Captain Graham gives them an hour offline after four consecutive calls. Buck collapses into a chair and serves himself pasta salad and a delicious honey baked ham, while his dinner rolls warm up in the oven.

He's scrolling through his phone, diligently avoiding the messaging apps, when a message preview pops up.

Tommy.

Buck almost drops his fork. He scrambles away from the dinner table, even though no one on C shift will try to take his phone from him, and finds a spot in the stairwell to read it.

Tommy: hope you have a good & safe Thanksgiving

As he's reading, another bubble appears and Buck's heart skips several beats, but this time it doesn't disappear. A second message arrives, followed by a third.

Tommy: don't know why I texted that

Tommy: guess I just wanted to say something to you

Tommy: you don't have to reply

Tommy: anyway. Happy holidays

Buck feels a slight loosening of the vice around his heart that has been there since that night. With a smile on his face, he types, deletes, types again.

Buck: happy Thanksgiving to you too

Buck: how many kitchen grease fires you got this year? We had 3

Tommy: you're working today?

Tommy: 4, but one of it was in the backyard

They're having a conversation. They're having an actual casual conversation, as easy as they used to on calmer shifts. Buck wants to cry. But he has to answer Tommy's question or have this conversation end too soon. Thinking about his options, he decides that he has nothing to lose anyway.

Buck: I didn't wanna sit around and smile and pretend I'm thankful for everything

Buck: it's better to keep busy

Tommy: I know that feeling

Tommy: I'm sorry

Buck: I'm sorry too

Buck: I wish we could've celebrated together

Buck: I would've said that I'm thankful for you

Tommy: I would have said that too

Tommy: I'm still thankful for you jsyk. I'll always be grateful to have got to know you

Does Tommy think he can't stay in Buck's life just because they broke up?

Buck: I don't think you know me well enough

Tommy: sorry

Buck wishes he'd run after Tommy that night, or done something since to show that he wants Tommy. Well, here's your chance, his brain reminds him. Do something.

He takes a deep breath. Then he types.

Buck: I want to meet. If I come over after Thanksgiving shift, will you please be home?

Tommy: is that a good idea

Buck: idk. But I can't stop thinking about you, and I miss you, and I wanna know what I did wrong. I wanna meet.

Tommy: I miss you too. You didn't do anything wrong, I just didn't want to... Idk. I didn't want to get my hopes up too much.

Buck: we need to talk in person. Texting is not good enough.

It isn't. He needs to see Tommy again. Tommy with his storm blue eyes and tender smile and broad shoulders and soft clothes. Tommy whose crinkly smile drives Buck a little (a lot) insane. Tommy whose lips he now knows the shape of by touch alone, whose body he has mapped out in detail, who knows how it feels to be inside Buck in the most intimate of ways.

He waits for a response. Hopes there will be one. It comes several minutes after, like Tommy had to really think about it.

Tommy: maybe not immediately after Thanksgiving shift

Tommy: are you off on Monday

The relief that crashes into Buck feels almost as overwhelming as the tsunami he was caught in years ago.

Buck: yes

Buck: your place this time

Buck: I'll bring cake

Tommy: you don't have to bribe me to open the door

Buck: no I just baked too much stuff is all. I'll explain when we meet

Buck: I'm really thankful you texted

Tommy: I'm thankful you replied

Tommy: have a good rest of the shift, Evan

It's Evan again. Buck can't hide his smile at all. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he goes back to dinner. Monday can't be here fast enough.

[the-flaneur]

four-tune favours the bold (mv1)

pairing: max verstappen x alonso!reader [smau]

summary: having won his fourth world title, max finds no better time to tell your father that you're dating (and to maybe also get his blessing)

warnings: none (i think)

a/n: now that we finally have M4X (yipeeeeee), can we please get goatlonso back, preferably in the next few years (pls let the newey rocketship work)

[masterlist] [requests]

-> instagram

y/n_priv

liked by fatherofthree, blackdontcrack, inchident_no1 and others

y/n_priv reactions after max told me he had told dad about us (he lied)

view all comments

blackdontcrack max stop sending your girlfriend into a heart attack, she's already getting one from your kids

fatherofthree she learnt that one from you and roscoe 💀 blackdontcrack HEY. my son is very well behaved

notnowinsnomore I DONT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WONT JUST TELL HIM, IT'S NOT THAT HARD MAX

fatherofthree DO YOU WANT TO TELL HIM FOR ME 🤨🤨🤨 notnowinsnomore NO???? DO YOU THINK I WANT TO DIE??? notnowinsnomore IT'S ALSO YOUR RELATIONSHIP, NOT MINE

honeyhoney you've got to give him like 10 years to process that you're even in the same social sphere as his daughter...good luck man

fatherofthree thanks dan 😖 fatherofthree padel later? y/n_priv no? we have our date??? 😧😧😧 honeyhoney you beating up max now y/nnie? y/n_priv 😁👍

yourbff_priv babes ditch the men for me 😍

y/n_priv yes wifey 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 fatherofthree @/yourbff_priv stop stealing MY girlfriend yourbff_priv skill issue

fatherofthree

liked by y/n_priv, inchident_no1, notnowinsnomore and others

fatherofthree stopped her from becoming blonde and still got kisses xoxo

view all comments

notnowinsnomore that second picture is exactly is what's gonna put you on top of fernando's kill list

fatherofthree no it wont notnowinsnomore yes it will inchident_no1 yes it will blackdontcrack yes it will honeyhoney yes it will ima5starmichelin yes it will buzzlightyear yes it will y/n_priv yes it will fatherofthree ok maybe it will. but fernando doesn't need to know

inchident_no1 your rendition of my heart goes on is truly...

y/n_priv truly what CHARLES? say it with your pussy fatherofthree YEAH WHAT SHE SAID inchident_no1 rubbish 🙄 y/n_priv BOOOOOOO YOU'RE RUBBISH

y/n_priv

liked by fatherofthree, spicysugarbaby, inchident_no1 and others

y/n_priv PUTTING IT ALL ON BLACK! VIVA LAS VEGAS BABY 🤩 YOU ARE WELCOME TO JOIN US AT THE MGM UNTIL THURSDAY MORNING @/f1

view all comments

inchident_no1 should've bet on red 😉 wouldn't have lost you 100k

spicysugarbaby agreed 🤭 blackdontcrack well i SEVERELY disagree since we won 250k on the next spin on black so.... fatherofthree I LEAVE YOU ALONE WITH THEM FOR 10 MINUTES AND YOU'VE ALREADY BET 250K??? y/n_priv yeah but it's an investment babe 😘

antman can i join you guys? 🥺🥺🥺

y/n_priv not yet little kimi, in another three years (i think; i'll take you to the casino then myself ☺️) y/n_priv and yes you too @/we_are_barebears we_are_barebears YESSSSS 😌

f1 can i come over pls pls

y/n_priv of course admin ❤️ f1 yay 😁

-> messages

-> instagram

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, fernandoalo_oficial and others

yourusername feeling right at home here, dressed and betting on red

view all comments

user1 HOLY LORD MOTHER IS FINALLY BACK TO SERVE CUNT IN THE PADDOCK 🥵🥵🥵

user2 the sexy spanish alonso genes are real with this one yourusername i would hope so! 🥱 user3 istg ive never seen a spanish person look bad in red

user4 GOD REALLY GIVES US Y/N AS AN APOLOGY CAUSE HOW DOES SHE EXIST????

user5 she's literally a goddess on earth user6 the face economy is unreal with her 😍 yourusername cant just be a nepo baby, gotta make papa proud 😘

user7 super hyped for vegas now that you're here with us y/n 🤩

user8 hopefully we see another alonso top 10 (i can copium for a top 6) user9 he will literally dnf everyone if it means y/n gets to see him podium or win again (2023 was literally iconic) yourusername papa will be ready to make stroll do crashgate 😉 (but i've asked him to refrain for this weekend) user10 ya'll y/n's cooking 😌😌😌

user11 ERM ANYONE GONNA BRING UP PIC 3 CAUSE....

user12 YA'LL GIRLIE I WAS GONNA SAY THE SAME THING user13 who's that @/yourusername 🤨 user14 who's that @/yourusername 🤨 yourusername no comment 🥺👉👈 user15 whoever that is do be looking fine affff user16 also probably fearing for his life, considering she's got like ten godfathers and then over twenty drivers ready to bash a man for her 💀💀💀

user17 THE FERRARI AURA IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE 😆

fernandoalo_oficial who's that princessa

yourusername i will tell you soon papa 😁

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 suited up and ready to take on vegas. 💪 bring on the race 🎰

view all comments

user18 STILL COOKING WITH A SLIGHTLY COOKED CAR, LETS GET TITLE NUMBER 4 💪💪💪

user19 literally salivating over pic one, cause he's so fine 🥵

user20 waiting for "2024 fia f1 world champion is max verstappen"

user21 SIMPLY LOVELY PUTTING YOURSELF INTO A STRONG POSITION

user22 getting the ladies i see in pic two 🤣

user23 he knows what he wants, and what he's going to get afterwards 😏

user24 VIVA LAS VEGASSSSSS, GETTING READY TO RUMBLE

-> twitter

-> irl

as max stepped out of the cockpit of his red bull - his gloved hands trembling slightly - he could feel the relief coursing through him, palpable even under the thick layers of his racing suit and balaclava. the cold autumn air nipped at his damp skin, but he barely noticed, lost in the overwhelming rush of emotions.

after a very, very long season, filled with challenges both in and out of the car, he had finally done it…he had won his fourth world championship. 

as he stood there under the vegas lights, savoring this triumphant moment in front of the roaring crowd, his thoughts drifted to you.

throughout the year, your presence had always been a beacon amidst the chaos, a constant reminder of what truly mattered to him beyond the roar of engines and the glare of millions of fans. as he ran towards his team, his chest pounding and blood rushing in his ears, he thought of your earlier message, and his heart swelled with affection for you. he knew now was finally the perfect opportunity to share his love for you with the rest of the world.

as you watched max leap into the waiting arms of his jubilant crew, who slapped his back, clapping and cheering, chanting his name, you tried furiously to blink away the tears. your boyfriend had finally achieved his fourth world title, and he was making both of your wishes come true.

walking over to the other drivers, max felt the hand of another behind him. turning around, the butterflies in his stomach heaved once again, coming face to face with your father, fernando alonso. max's exuberant gaze locked onto the figure before him, and as their eyes met, max felt the familiar flutter of nervousness in his chest, a sensation he'd grown accustomed to whenever thinking of you and your father.

"max," fernando greeted him warmly, extending a strong hand. "congratulations. you've earned every bit of this championship." max clapped his hand firmly, trying to hide the slight tremble behind his grin. "thank you, fernando,”

max blushed for a second, as fernando leant up to pinch his cheeks, while also grinning widely at him. as fernando's gaze lingered on max, he thought for a second that he had found out about the two of you, and was instead ready to pull him by the cheek in for a very obvious threat and kick to the balls.

"i must say," fernando began, his tone sincere, "you've shown remarkable resilience this season. much like myself. i hope to see you continue working hard for many years," his words carried a hint of approval.

max swallowed hard, his mind racing, as he opened his mouth to speak.

“i-i’m dating your daughter,” max’s heart pounded in his chest, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. fernando’s expression remained jubilant, but there was a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes. the air between them seemed to crackle with tension.

“i…i didn’t know she was seeing someone,” fernando said slowly, his voice low and controlled, as he waved to the crowd, whilst pulling max towards the other drivers. there was no denying the facts now – fernando knew about their relationship. and while max couldn’t read the older man’s thoughts, he felt a surge of nervous energy course through him. would this revelation change things? between him and fernando?

as if sensing his turmoil, fernando turned back around abruptly, causing max to jump slightly.

fernando studied max intently, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "but i'm glad to hear that it's you max. my daughter deserves nothing less than the best."

with those words, fernando extended his hand once more, this time with a newfound warmth that spoke volumes. max grasped it firmly, sealing a silent pact between them. as they released their grip, fernando placed a hand on max's shoulder, pulling him in. "but listen closely mijo," he said, still grinning but his voice low and conspiratorial, "you mess with my daughter, and i will not hesitate to run you off the track or run you over. if you care for her, then show her that she's your number one priority, both on and off the track."

max felt a chill run down his spine at fernando's warning, but he also sensed a strange kind of respect behind it. this was a man who protected his family fiercely, and max wanted nothing more than to earn his place within that circle.

"yes, sir," he replied fervently, meeting fernando's intense stare head-on. "she is my priority, always. i promise you, i'll do whatever it takes to make her happy and keep her safe." fernando studied him for a long moment, searching for any sign of doubt. finally, he gave a curt nod, releasing max's shoulder.

"alright then," he said, "just remember what i told you. and welcome to the family, officially." as fernando walked away, max took a deep breath, his mind already racing. he glanced around at the celebrating crowd, their faces alight with joy and admiration, and couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within him.

but more than anything, max yearned to share this moment with you, to bask in the glow of his victory together and celebrate the love that had sustained him throughout the season. max scanned the bustling crowd, his eyes searching for a glimpse of your familiar features amidst the sea of faces. spotting you lingering nervously near the red bull personnel, he pushed through the throng of people, making a beeline directly for you. as he drew nearer, you couldn't help but notice the look of pure adoration etched across his handsome features. his dark hair was damp with sweat, his broad shoulders still trembling slightly from the exertion of the race. but his eyes shone brightly with triumph and something far warmer - his love for you.

"y/n!" he called out, his voice ringing above the din of the party. pulling you through the celebrating crowd, he wrapped you up in a crushing embrace, lifting you off your feet. you melted into his embrace, pouring every ounce of your joy, pride, and adoration into it.

your laughter mingled with the roar of the crowd as max set you back on your feet, his hands lingering on your waist. he gazed into your eyes, his own shimmering with unshed tears of happiness. in that moment, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a bubble of pure bliss.

"y/n," max whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "i did it. we did it." he pressed his forehead against yours, savoring the warmth of your skin and the closeness that came with sharing such an intimate moment.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer until your lips met in a searing kiss, pouring years of shared dreams and unspoken promises into that single, passionate gesture. the world around them melted away as max lost himself in the taste and feel of your lips, his body molding perfectly against yours. his hands roamed over your curves, tracing the contours he knew so well, as if mapping out the path to your heart.

when you finally broke apart, both panting for air, max rested his forehead against yours, his eyes shining with a mixture of triumph and tenderness. "i want to spend the rest of my life making you feel this way," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "i want to wake up every morning with you by my side and fall asleep every night in your arms."

he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small velvet box that had been burning a hole there since the day he decided to propose. max dropped to one knee, his heart pounding in his chest as he gazed up at you with a look of pure adoration. the crowd around them seemed to hold its collective breath, the anticipation palpable in the air.

with trembling hands, max opened the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring nestled within. the stone glittered under the bright lights of the track, casting glittering cascades of light across your face.

"y/n," max began, his voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through him, "from the moment we met, you've been the driving force behind everything i've achieved. your love, support, and unwavering belief in me have pushed me to become the best version of myself, both on and off the track."

he paused, swallowing hard as he fought back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

"marry me," max breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "become my wife. let's race through life together because i want to spend the rest of my life with you, and no one else, i love you,"

with a shaky nod, you sank to your knees before him, cupping his face in your hands as you peppered his cheeks with tender kisses. "yes," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "a thousand times yes."

max slid the ring onto your finger, and pulling you up with him to your feet. spinning you around once more, your laughter ringing out like the sweetest melody. the crowd surged forward, enveloping you both in a sea of congratulations and well-wishes, their excitement nearly tangible in the air.

as the celebrations continued around them, max pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss that left no doubt about the depth of his love and commitment. in that moment, surrounded by the people who mattered most, max knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of victories, both on and off the track.

-> instagram

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername I LOVE LAS VEGAS BABYYYYY 😘 but in all honesty, i'm so so so proud of you max (more than words or actions could ever express). seeing you grow throughout the past four years into the champion you are today, is more than any gift i could ever receive. there were far more battles and challenges from this season, but you rose above them every time. you are a champion, both on and off the racetrack and you will never be alone in this world, as long as i'm here. keep them coming baby. i love you, forever and always 🧡

comments on this post have been limited

maxverstappen1 i love you very much schatje, thank you for always being there for me 😘

fernandoalo_oficial i am very happy for the both of you 😁👍

yourusername thank you papa ☺️ promise me you wont shunt into max next race? fernandoalo_oficial no promises sorry princessa 🤭

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, francolapinto, yourusername and others

maxverstappen1 four time world champion baby!!! a season full of challenges, but with the support, dedication and the effort of the team, this result would not have been possible 🙌 a huge thank you to all involved for this incredible achievement 👏

and i just want to say the biggest thank you to the love of my life, my girlfriend of four years, and now my fiancee, y/n alonso. i love you so much, and i can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you (even if your dad wants to run me over now)

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername i love you more than anything else in this world maxie 🧡

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon @princessminjikwon @chick-from-nz @nina-or-anna-or-nora

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

[ilikeyoshi]

"#yes yes yes!!!! #and ngl it makes me want to read or engage with it more too!"

i hope it's ok to point out these tags bc this is SUCH a huge mood i think deserves a little more explanation!!!! (at least from my perspective as both a creator (writer) and fan (of artists))

i used to have a ton of anxiety when creating and especially sharing my works, and my impulse was always to talk down on it, because a) i* (*my anxiety) believed it to be bad, and b) because i had this idea in my head that if i lowered people's expectations, they wouldn't be as disappointed when reading it.

i want to tell you what i've learned in my years of both being a writer and being a fan of artists, and it's that this is a terrible, terrible anxiety fallacy (like so many ideas/misconceptions borne of anxiety are) that ONLY hurts you, your work, and your potential readers(/fans/etc). it SOUNDS like a good idea when you have really bad anxiety, i know, i used to DEPEND upon this idea just to have the courage to SHARE my writing—and i want to emphasize that it's OKAY if you've done this before, it's an easy, easy trap to fall into, but i also want you to try and stop doing it because there are a lot of reasons you would feel better and do better for doing so.

you are what you practice! if you only ever focus on or speak about the flaws in your art, you WILL feel negatively about your art. my very first therapist explained it in a way that still really resonates with me: you have created a well-beaten, highly trafficked "road" in your brain. it is very easy to take this road because even though it's longer to your destination, it winds and bends, it's walked on so much it's flat and easy to traverse. when you try to build a NEW path—in this case, a path where you focus on what you like about your art—you're starting with no path at all. it's all undergrowth and vines and thorns and it hurts and it's tiring and you feel like this will NEVER be easier or feel better than the old path. but you have to keep taking the new one. you have to beat down the undergrowth until it recedes, cut down the low-hanging branches until you can walk with your back straight, and if you keep at it, if you keep at this thing that feels so pointless and stupid and hard, eventually, the path will be clear, and easy to walk, and you'll make great time getting to your destination because it cuts straight through; no winding or bending. and the old path? it will overgrow, and it will become hard and stupid to take. you have to beat the new path because once it's beaten, it'll be the far superior path in every way, including ways the old path was never superior even when it WAS the one you were always taking.

further—as these tags point out, and as i agree with wholeheartedly—by disparaging your art, you DO lower people's expectations. people don't want to be sad, frustrated, disappointed when they look at art—at least, not unless the art itself is trying to tell a story about that. you get what i mean, i hope—they don't want to go INTO something they already HAVE negative reviews on—your reviews! you, the creator, have already told this person the story/art/whatever is going to be bad, and i know, i KNOW it's not your intention, you're hoping someone will see through what you can't and tell you no, no, this is good, i liked this! and some people do! but you make it a lot harder for them TO do that when you tell them right at the beginning, "this is going to be bad, i don't like it," because what you're unintentionally telling them is, "and you probably won't like it either." the first way i learned this was in people always saying in their fanfic summaries, before you even open the fic, "the summary is bad, i'm bad at writing summaries, the story is better trust me bro." because what this does—again, so unintentionally, i KNOW what you're trying to do because i've been you—is you're telling the reader, "here's my pitch, here's the hook to my entire story, it's the worst part, it's bad, but the rest will be better," and what they KNOW is they've already put the time in reading the summary, and it's hard to commit MORE time to something when you've already told them it's bad, even if you promise the rest is better. it's like biting into a fruit and you hate the taste of the skin; it's harder to try the rest of the fruit when, so far, it's been bad (or you've been made to believe it's bad).

so what's the solution? how do you begin beating that new path? well, it depends on you. everyone's a little different in how they navigate stuff like this. but what worked for me, and what might be a good place to start (and by all means adapt as you figure out what works and what doesn't), is start by just NOT saying anything negative. no, "i don't like this," or "the summary's bad, sorry," or anything. write your artist's comment, author's note, whatever as normal, and REMOVE anything that depicts your art/writing/etc in a bad light. just don't give people any opinion whatsoever on what experiencing your creation is going to be like. this, for me, was easier than jumping straight to, "i'm pretty proud of this," or "i enjoyed working on this," because it wasn't withholding AND replacing, it was JUST withholding. going back to the roads and paths metaphor, i think of this part as the "taking a breather before i get to work on this monumental task of beating this new path" stage.

then, overtime, i started "stretching" my positive comments about my works. if i liked, say, TWO LINES out of a whole piece of writing, i'd say, "i'm really proud of this work!" because i AM proud of ANYTHING AT ALL, NO MATTER HOW SMALL, within the work. it's not a LIE, to anyone including yourself, but it is, perhaps, an EXAGGERATION. that's OKAY. we're trying to teach our brain to look on the bright side, to take the new path, and i've found that treating it a little bit like a dog—giving it a treat for ANY TINY BIT OF PROGRESS, was a good way to encourage myself to start making MORE progress. ESPECIALLY because the tags i reposted above are RIGHT: LOTS of people are MORE interested in a work when their very first impression (YOUR impression!!!) is positive. 'the artist/writer/etc is proud of this? oh, i'm so glad they had a good time creating, let's take a look!" it probably sounds too easy if you're still taking that anxiety-beaten road, i know, but try to think of how you've felt when someone disparages their creations versus uplifts them. were you put off by the negativity? were you sad that your friend worked so hard on something and didn't even like it? conversely, doesn't it make you a little excited when an artist says they really feel good about something they made, especially in a world where so many artists ARE feeling inadequate? i hope you see what i mean.

it's not an overnight thing, of course, this took me YEARS. this took a miracle that doesn't happen to most people: i wrote something i felt SO TERRIFIED people wouldn't like, even though i was secretly very proud of it (but too scared to dare suggest i was proud of it), so i indicated all kinds of things like "i hope you like it, i dunno if it's any good, it's just a little thing i'm chipping away at in my spare time" (it was not, it was a full-blown passion project) and, against the odds, a LOT OF PEOPLE told me they really really really liked it. a couple of friends who were decently popular in the fandom it was for liked and shared it and i got A LOT of encouragement. i basically got to beat my new path with a HORDE of helpers, and it was more like THEY beat the path for me and i chased along like, "what is happening, oh my god, what are you doing???"

i got really lucky. that doesn't always, or even usually happen. in most other areas of my life, i've had to beat the path myself. and it takes a long time if you're doing it on your own. but you should anyway, because it's so fucking worth it dude. yeah, it was awesome to get so much help with my writing confidence specifically, but it's been just as worth it every time i've had to do it alone too. and i have good news! there ARE ways to tell people you're on this journey of making yourself a new path. here are some suggestions:

"i'm new/rusty at this, so please let me know what you think!" - informs potential readers/viewers/etc you are learning and gives them an opportunity to HELP you learn. this is a positive interaction! this allows people to find a GOOD experience EVEN if they didn't enjoy the story much, because they can help, and people DO, MOSTLY, like to help.

"i want to improve at [dialogue]" or "i'd appreciate advice on [lighting]." - similar to the first example, but does 2 things: gives viewers specific instructions that can be really helpful for those that aren't sure how/what to critique (surprisingly common thing; the more specific you are about what you want advice on, the more likely you are to GET advice), AND allows you to, neutrally and non-disparagingly, ask for help in areas you don't feel confident about.

"leave a comment if you liked it!" or "let me know what you liked best!" - listen. i don't think 'fishing for compliments' is bad as long as you're not being manipulative about it. these examples are very clear in what they're asking for, which is compliments, positive reviews, etc. and that's okay!!! first of all, lots of people LOVE praising works they like, i promise, and asking them to DOES make them feel like they have "permission" to (i know that sounds silly but i also know if you have anxiety about creating, you have anxiety about commenting, i see you, i was you). secondly, i have gotten the MOST encouraging, confidence-boosting comments this way, especially with the latter example. there is NOTHING more immediately anxiety-curing than a comment that says "i liked [scene/dialogue/character/etc] specifically." it's AMAZING. (also, if you're looking for advice on commenting, this is a GREAT thing to do. imo, this and "speculating/interpreting the work" are the two coolest comments i get they make me feel AWESOME.)

remind yourself, as many times as you have to, CONSTANTLY if you have to: likes/kudos mean someone enjoyed your work enough to press a button. views mean someone liked your work enough to click through for more. these are POSITIVE interactions, they are not "less positive" than comments or reblogs/reshares. i know those last two things are more obviously gratifying, and depending on if you NEED your work to spread (for exposure/commision prospects/etc), very good, awesome ways to support you, and i don't mean to say you shouldn't WANT comments and reblogs/reshares. but for me, it's helped me a lot to recognize that any bit of effort whatsoever means someone LIKED my work. it's also helped me to think of all the times i've shared a link to an artwork in a discord or something, and know that there is an entire, untangible metric i can't and will never see that, sure, i can choose to believe doesn't exist or isn't very high, but i can ALSO choose to believe it happens quite a lot, and the latter makes me FEEL better about my work and makes me want to create MORE, so i think that's the more productive mindset personally. it doesn't matter what the truth is, you know? we'll never know it and it doesn't harm us to never know it. but it DOES harm us to assume no one quietly, unseen by us, likes our work, and it DOES ENCOURAGE US to assume lots of people do.

here's the thing: anxiety disorders fuck you up by making you believe extremely negative, scary, depressing things. the disorder gets worse the more you allow it to make you believe these things, and the only way out, as stupid and hard and at times impossible as it feels, is to say, "no, i don't like that interpretation, i'm going to replace it with a positive one." anxiety is making paths all throughout your brain, and you have to just, make paths too. anxiety needs YOU to make paths, but YOU don't need anxiety to make paths. your paths WILL be better, safer, easier and happier. you just—and i know that is the biggest "just" ever—have to make them.

but i believe in you. i don't need to know you or your circumstances to believe in you. i believe in the sheer amount of control you have over how you face the world. and it's so much more than anxiety would lead you to believe.

i looooove seeing artists & writers proud of their work!!!!! i looooove captions & authors notes that say things like “i’m quite happy with this” “i love how this turned out” “i had so much fun making this”!!!!!! i loooooove when the act of creation is joyful & we take pride in what we make!!!!!!!!!!

[biteyoubiteme]

i’m BACK!

clearly i’m a sucker for sub!member…

sub!hyunjin !!!! we need to talk abt him more !!

i’d just love to hear your thoughts !! 🫶

sub!hyunjin thoughts

hyunjin x gn!reader

warnigns: 🔞!!! sub!hyunjin, handjob, cum eating, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 0.5k

an: omg I love sub!member so much thank you so much for requesting I hope you like this one !! :))) also answering this one before the beomgyu one im sorry lol hyunjin has just been on my mind so heavy lately

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

When you first met Hyunjin you didn't expect him to be so whiny in bed, begging for your touch, your attention. It was so new for you to be wanted so badly in this way. Not the usual pining but the need for which he wanted you was different. Your phone was full of his whimpering voice messages. “I-I can’t stop thinking about you- I need you, please baby- call me please-“ 

he will send you videos attached of his twitching bulge, leaking spots of precum dotting the fabric of his underwear. And when you tell him not to touch himself he will listen, fumbling over his words when you get back to his dorm, desperately trying to keep himself together just at the sight of you coming into his room. First tangled in the sheets, his knuckles bleached from the hold, hips jerking, humping the air. 

You always take care of him so well, so much so that he falls asleep drained in the middle of you cleaning him up. You will wrap up with him in his bed only waking up to the way he's rolling his hips, humping the mattress, half asleep and unaware he has woken you. “Hyunjin,” you draw out his name, your morning voice catching him by the throat. 

“I'm sorry,” he whines, “I just- I dreamt about last night and-and-” he's cut off by his own moan when you slip your hand in front of him, palming him over his sweatpants. 

“You have to be quiet, everyone else might wake up if you're too loud,” and you will snake your arm under his head, pulling him closer to you as you shove your fingers into his mouth.  It's instinctive for him to suck on the digits, moaning around them as you dip your hand into his waistband. He's already so leaky, your thumb rolling over his tip to collect anything you could to help aid your strokes. 

He can't even keep himself from trying to fuck into your hand, writhing against you, the vibrations around your fingers shooting up your wrist. You purposefully keep the drags of your hand slow and languid, “I love when my pretty boy thinks of me; so cute, so hard,” you build up your pace, wrist jerking as you follow his full length. But it's when you switch it up and circle your fingers around his tip, tugging short strokes, that finally breaks him. 

He doesn't need to speak for you to know he's about to cum, his stomach flexing, balls drawing up, and cock twitching, all mixed with his muffled whimpers lead to him spilling in your hand. He's still moaning when you pull out your fingers from his mouth only to replace them with your now cream-coated ones. 

Peppering kissing down his neck, he licks your hand clean, “Does my pretty boy feel better?” 

But he only responds with a whimper, still hard and begging for more. 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @possum-playground @ch4nn13luv want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[covenofagatha]

Saw you're taking requests and decided to toss one your way!

Agatha x reader, reader has had a really tough day and Agatha helps put her into subspace to relax. Some soft!dom Agatha with a splash of praise, degradation, mommy and maybe some size kink? And of course some fluffy aftercare after reader has been thoroughly fucked out of her mind❤

Hope you enjoy! (Disclaimer: I've never written subspace before so hopefully I did it justice, along with everything else you wanted)

Bad day

When Agatha comes home to find that you had a bad day, she takes it upon herself to make you feel better

Word count: 2600

Warnings: praise kink, degradation kink, subspace, size kink, mommy kink, oral, strap-on, aftercare, smut, and fluff (I may have missed one)

You’re on your last nerve when you get to your afternoon class on Wednesday. 

Your car didn’t start in the morning so your girlfriend, Agatha, had to drop you off at work, which you’d never complain about, except she had still been asleep when this happened so you were almost late because she had to get ready. 

And then work was awful. You had a shift at the popular retail store in town and it seemed like every customer who came in was on a mission to personally ruin your day. 

From dissatisfaction with the prices to vomit all over the restroom floor, it seemed like nothing could go right. 

Agatha had been at work herself so you had to call one of your college friends to give you a ride after. 

And now you had to sit in a class on Personality Theory for the next three hours and listen to your professor drone off on tangents. You would be getting your tests back from last week though, and you were hoping you had done well. 

“Alright, before we get started, I’ll go ahead and pass out your exams. Once I call your name, you can come up and look at it,” your professor says and you anxiously tap your fingers on the desk while you wait for your turn. 

Finally, he says your name. Butterflies in your stomach, you walk to the front to look and it’s like you’ve been punched in the gut. 

There must be something wrong, you don’t understand how you missed this many. 

Red ink stains the page and you have to clench your jaw together to keep your composure. Tears prick at your eyes as you hand the exam back to your professor and head back to your seat, burning with shame. 

It seems like it’s just one thing after another. 

You barely pay attention for the rest of class, head spinning with thoughts of how bad you did, how everything sucks, how you just want to go home. 

Agatha texts you a few times during the three hour time span, just checking in on you, but you don’t even respond. She always says that you get too wrapped up in your own brain and you know she’s right. You do let her know that you won’t need a ride home, not sure you could take the older woman’s softness right now. 

You just want to take a shower and lie in bed. 

Class finally ends and you order an Uber instead of asking a friend to take you home. When you get in these moods, you don’t want to talk to anyone. 

You grunt in response to the driver’s question of asking how you are and then the rest of the ride is spent in silence. It’s not often you get in such a foul mood, but when it does, it’s tough. 

When you make it through the front door of Agatha’s home, you immediately collapse on the couch and breathe in the blanket that still has her scent. She’ll be home soon and now you just want her to give you a big hug and tell you that everything will be alright. 

You hear keys jingle in the front door maybe ten minutes later and you sit up on the couch expectantly, heartbeat picking up. You’ve been with Agatha for six months now and she still managed to have the same effect on you that she had at the beginning. 

“Hey, baby,” she calls out, seeing the lights on, and she makes her way to the living room to find you swaddled in her favorite blanket on the couch. She frowns, instantly able to tell something is wrong. Usually you get up to give her a kiss. “You okay?” 

And then it’s like a dam breaks. You start sobbing and telling her all the things that have gone wrong that day and she instantly sits down next to you, engulfing you into a hug and whispering that everything will be okay. 

She lets you cry for a bit, hand stroking your hair, making soothing sounds. Eventually, you calm down enough to take slow, shaky breaths. 

“I’m sorry, doll. Sounds like you had a rough day,” she says, pressing a kiss to your head and wiping the tears off your cheeks. You nod in agreement. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You shrug while you think about it. And then you lean in and chastely kiss her lips. 

When you pull back, she’s smirking. 

“You want mommy to help you?” She coos and instantly, a fire awakens in your belly at the use of your favorite name for her. Your head bobs up and down eagerly but she tuts and grabs your jaw to hold it still. “Words, baby.” 

“Yes please, mommy,” you whisper. No one can make you feel as good as Agatha can. 

“Good girl,” Agatha hums and the fire gets worse. “What do you want?” 

You squirm on the couch, just looking at her, begging with wide eyes. 

“Why don’t you show me what you want?” You whine and grab her hand and bring it down to your shorts. “Oh, do you want me to touch you?” 

“Please,” you force out again. “Touch me, mommy.” 

Her grin is wicked as she lays you back down on the couch, positioning herself so she’s holding her weight above you. Your noses are almost close enough to touch. 

“Does my little baby want me to reward her like the perfect little angel that she is?” Agatha purrs and you gasp, feeling your head start to get fuzzy. She plays with the waistband of your shorts and your hips buck up involuntarily. You make a sort of strangled noise from your throat – all you can do, really – and she shushes you. “Just relax, doll. Let mommy take care of you.” You whimper as she kisses your nose and moves down your body to undress you. 

You feel like you’re on a different planet when Agatha pats your waist so you can lift yourself up for her to take your shorts and underwear off. 

“There we go, so good for me,” she says, leaving kisses against your thighs. You moan, senses heightened. You babble something incoherently and you can hear her chuckling at you. “Baby, you’re absolutely dripping for me.” 

Her fingers move up and down your slit, collecting wetness, and sounds are pulled out of your mouth by her administration. 

“Does that feel good, hon?” 

Your head lulls back on the couch and you try to say something to affirm her question. 

“Aw, is my little baby in subspace right now?” Something in the back of your mind tells you that you must be, but you’re too blissed out to answer. 

And then her tongue is on your pussy and you couldn’t say a word even if you tried. If you didn’t already feel like you were floating then, you sure do now. Your back arches off the couch as she sucks on your clit but her hands come up to hold you down. 

“Be a good girl for me and let mommy do all the work.” 

Your moans get louder as she keeps eating you out and you’ve never felt this good before. It’s like all your worries and stress and frustration that built up over the day are melting away to leave you in a puddle of pleasure. 

“Mommy, so close,” you slur, hands digging into the couch beneath you. Her teeth scrape against your clit and she moans into you and it sends you into an explosive orgasm. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever cum that hard. 

She licks you through it and you have to pull her away after a while because you become sensitive. 

Agatha comes up to kiss you, long and hard, and you can taste yourself on her tongue. 

“Do you want to try something new tonight, baby?” She asks once she pulls away and you nod eagerly before even asking what it is. You trust her more than anyone. “I’ll be right back.” She gives you one last parting kiss and quickly runs upstairs. 

She’s up there for a few minutes while you lay on the couch, still in a trance-like haze. 

And then she comes back down and your mouth falls open. 

Attached to her hips is the biggest strap-on you’ve ever seen. She must have just bought it. You had gotten to where you could take the toys you had pretty easily, but you are certain that this will stretch you out so much more than them. 

“Mommy,” you whisper, eyes widening as she comes back over to the couch. You can see that she’s holding lube in one hand. 

“Mommy wants to see if your tiny, little pussy can fit her big cock,” she says and a thrill runs through you despite yourself. “Might have to work you up to it.” 

Your legs part without thinking and she laughs. 

“So desperate for me, aren’t you? My perfect, little slut.” You gasp at the words, feeling yourself get even more wet. 

While you loved the praise from her, degradation almost turned you on more. 

“You have to relax, baby,” she reminds you, moving to kneel on the couch between your legs and pushing them even more open. She rubs your clit and slides two fingers in easily. You grind up on her fingers, trying to pull them in more. “Look at how well you take my fingers. So good for mommy. You can’t get enough of them, can you?” 

You shake your head and groan when she curls them just right. 

“Such a good whore for mommy,” she sighs. “Can you take another?” 

“Please,” you gasp out, walls clenching around the two already inside you. She pulls them and you feel empty, but that feeling is quickly gone when she pushes three in you. The stretch feels so good and your hips meet her every thrust, the pleasure in you already growing. 

And then it’s gone. Your head flies up to look at her wrapping the hand wet with you around her strap and coating it. And then she opens the bottle of lube and pours a hefty amount in her other hand to also stroke the toy with. 

“Are you ready, baby?” 

“Go slow, mommy,” you tell her, even though you know that she will. “You’re so big.” 

“You’re going to look so pretty, sweetheart, stretched around my big cock,” she says and positions the tip at your entrance. “Like a little, perfect slut. 

The first push steals all the air from your lungs. 

“Fuck,” you groan. You’ve never been so full in your life and you barely have any of it inside you. Agatha doesn’t move, just rubs small circles on your thighs and waits for you to tell her you’re okay. 

It takes a few moments for you to adjust. It’s definitely easier in the headspace that you’re in right now. 

“Okay,” you say and Agatha obeys, slowly moving forward inside you. She stops when your breathing gets strangled and doesn’t move again until you’re back to normal. 

“God, your little pussy looks so good taking my big cock so well,” she grunts once she finally bottoms out. If your mind was clearer, you’d tease her about the size kink she so clearly has. “How are you doing, baby? Can I move?” 

“Please, mommy,” you beg, still feeling euphoric. Every drag of her cock against your walls now feels like heaven. She smirks and starts to move.

She starts slow at first, just short, slow strokes to make sure that you’re still comfortable, and then she starts to really fuck you. 

The pace Agatha sets is rough and bruising and you can hear the wet, squelching sounds that the toy makes as it pushes back inside you every thrust, a mix of your wetness and lube. 

“Mommy,” is all you can pant as she fucks into you over and over again, a light sheen of sweat breaking out on her. 

“So fucking good, sweetheart, you’re taking my cock so well, such a perfect slut for mommy,” Agatha mutters, never slowing down once. If you were already in subspace before, you’re not sure you have a word for what state you’re in right now. There are not even semblances of thoughts in your head, there is only Agatha and the pleasure she is giving you. You can’t even remember what you were in such a bad mood about earlier. 

She reaches down to rub your clit again and you hear someone moan obscenely loudly. 

You think it might have been you. 

All you know is that you’re getting so close again you can taste it. She seems like she can tell because she somehow speeds up, which you didn’t think was possible. Little gasps are forced out of your mouth with every push and your walls are tightening so much around her that it makes it hard for her to thrust. 

“So good, baby, you’re taking me so well,” Agatha chants, a hand reaching up to play with your nipple under your shirt. “So perfect, such a perfect slut, my perfect good girl. Cum for mommy, cum all over mommy’s big cock.” 

She angles her hips just right and rubs your clit hard and you spasm, back bowing off the couch. You’ve never felt pleasure this extreme; it feels like you’re having an out-of-body experience. All the tension in your body is gone and you pant heavily as Agatha pulls out of you. 

“You okay, baby?” She asks and you wheeze a laugh. 

“M’okay,” you say happily, a slow smile spreading onto your face. You can feel your head clearing with the loss of her touch. 

“Let me get a washcloth, alright? I’ll be right back, I promise.” She gives you a kiss on your head and she’s back in what seems like seconds with a warm towel. You wince at the feeling of it between her legs but it helps. “Do you want to move to bed?” 

You nod, but you’re not actually sure if you can stand up based on the jelly feeling in your legs. Agatha seems to understand this without you saying anything and she scoops you off the couch bridal style and carries you up the stairs. 

You giggle and burrow your head into the crook of her neck, breathing her in and feeling her against you. 

“You did so good, baby,” she whispers. 

“Thank you, Agatha. I really needed that.” 

She pauses for a second in the hallway to peck your lips. “I know you did. I’m happy to help, sweetheart. Whatever you need.” 

Once in the bedroom, Agatha helps you into some comfy pajamas and makes you take sips of water from the bottle on her nightstand. You lay down and she pulls the covers over you both, pulling you close to her so she can wrap an arm around you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby, you know that?” She murmurs. “I love you so much.” She kisses you softly, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair. 

“I love you too,” you mumble in-between kisses. No one has ever made you feel more loved than Agatha. 

“I’m so proud of you,” she continues and you blush. “I know you had a hard day today, but tomorrow will be better. You’re so strong. You’re my perfect girl. I love you.” 

And she keeps whispering the sweetest things into your ear, and you drift off to sleep in her arms, feeling like nothing was ever wrong. 

[ghouljams]

The last CEO!Price drabble... Full body shivers I AM TELLING YOU oh my god it was just delicious 😭 When will it be my tuuuuuuurn

Also I'm fully willing to bet that Price is hard as rocks during the whole meeting imagining Reader sleeping on his office sofa surrounded by his things (!!!!) and goes over hoping to find Reader has mellowed out towards him buuuuuut

They haven't. The only reason they had to take that nap was that they are overworked, underpaid, and undervalued, and now that they've recovered from that momentary weakness they're ready to Create Hell

NO MR PRICE NO DINNER, WE ARE SITTING DOWN TO WRITE JOB ADS FOR ASSISTANTS FOR THE ASSISTANT RIGHT NOW

Oh it's torture watching you nod off, slowly being dragged closer and closer to sleep as the meeting wears on and on. Price can feel the way his cock strains against his slacks, the zipper threatening to bite him with how hard he is thinking about how vulnerable you are, how overworked you must be. God what he wouldn't give to pull you onto his lap and sink his cock into your warm hole, give you something to wake up for since clearly your job isn't enough.

But instead he sends you to his office to sleep off whatever lethargy has grabbed you on his couch. Which is almost as bad. He can imagine the way the leather sticks to your skin, the way your skirt rides up your thighs as you get comfortable, and your bodice pulling from of it's tuck to expose the top of your tights. Maybe you dragged the blanket off the back and you're slumbering under the afghan that's been soaked in his cigar smoke. Maybe you're nuzzling your poor sleepy head against the pillows, and maybe he's hoping that you were doing that to his lap, that he could fish his cock out and feed it to your sleepy lips. letting you suckle and lap at his cock with heavy eyelids and a dreamy sigh. Christ he's way too horny to focus on this meeting.

You are of course not taking him up on his offer to lend you the couch and trudged your way to the employee "wellness" room to curl up on the leather recliner and lock the door behind you. Overworked is right. Undervalued is an understatement. Underpaid... if anything you're overpaid, but you really should get a hefty bonus just for putting up with John Price's flirting.

He's more than a little disappointed to rush back to his office and see you sitting at your desk looking over powerpoint slides. At least you look a little better rested.

[pitchsidestories]

aurora II Mapi León x Reader

masterlist | word count: 1190

summary: Mapi and reader getting engaged under the northern lights.

author's note: dear readers, this cute oneshot was requested and we hope you'll like it as much as we did writing the story. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

„Oh, Mapi, you know you didn’t need to.”, you began, your voice full of emotions.  

In your slightly shaky hands, you held the opened envelope in which there was an invitation to see the Northern lights. A childhood dream was laying in your palms.

It was coming true, and you were going to see that natural wonder with no other than the person you loved the most. A single tear ran down your cheek as an incredible feeling of gratitude spread through you.

The Spaniard pressed a featherlight kiss to the place where your cheek was still a bit wet.  “But I wanted to. I know you always wanted to do that, and you deserve it after the year you’ve had.”

For a brief moment, your face darkened; the last few months of the 2024/25 football season had been really tough for you. While Mapi and Irene were fit enough to play in the starting eleven again, you were demoted to the substitutes' bench again, after having grown in the role of defender and been indispensable to the team for many months.

Obviously, you were happy for the two, yet it hurt to be only considered the second choice once more.

“Thank you, amor.”, you whispered gratefully.

“You’re welcome.”, she replied.

“I simply can’t wait for that.”, you hummed excitedly. Something magical at the end of the year was just what you needed, a small winter miracle.

“Luckily, you don’t have to wait for long.”, Mapi reminded you softly.

‘But you're going to be so cold!’ you realised, and there was a hint of a guilty conscience in your voice.

“You can keep me warm.”, the defender responded with an amused smile on her lips.

“I promise I’ll.”, you grinned at your girlfriend.

“Also I already bought us matching sweaters.”,Mapi confessed sheepishly

“You did?”, you asked her touched by such a thoughtful and admittable, cheesy gesture.

“I did.”, she confirmed smirking.

“Maria Pilar, you’re the softest human with tattoos I’ve ever met, I swear.”, you said.

“My tattoos have nothing to do with that.”, the fellow football player laughed.

The weeks had flown by.

Still, it felt to you like a dream when Mapi and you were looking up to the night sky in the northern parts of Scandinavia. The northern lights above your heads.

“Yes.”, she agreed solemnly. With curious eyes the defender turned her head to look at you.  “Is it just like you imagined?”

“No, it’s even better.”, you admitted.

“It’s?”, Mapi questioned happily.

You quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek: “Yes, because you’re here with me.“

“You’re so sweet.“, your girlfriend smiled, her cheeks red from the cold.

“Also this feels so good right now. We’re only half way through the season but it’s already been an exhausting one for sure.“

“I know. And that’s why you’re not supposed to think about football here.“, Mapi reminded you gently.

You nodded gingerly. Of course she was right, this was not the time or place to think about football when you finally got to see this remarkable light display with your own eyes. “Sorry.“

Silently, you both watched on for a moment, taking everything in. You still couldn’t believe this was all real. It was almost verging on overwhelming.

“Y/n?”, Mapi said suddenly into the night.

“Hm?”, you replied without taking your eyes off the sky.

“I need to ask you something.“

Finally you turned towards her and what you saw, made the northern lights pale in comparison. There was no way to top this, yet Mapi found away.

The defender kneeled in front of you, holding a delicate golden ring in a little box.

“Oh my god!”, you whispered, incapable of stringing more words together.

“I haven’t asked yet.“, Mapi chuckled.

You shook your head in disbelief: “Well, you already got down on one knee in the freezing cold and pulled out a ring from your jacket so this is pretty self-explanatory!”

“So… Can I get an answer then?”

“Without asking? Hm…“, you teased her.

Mapi shot you a look: “You just said I didn’t have to.“

“It’s a yes, amor.“, you finally answered. You couldn’t contain the smile spreading across your face when you pulled Mapi up from the snowy ground and kissed her.

“You will be my wife?”, she asked as if she needed confirmation that you knew what you had just agreed to.

“Yes, and you’ll be mine.“

She beamed at you happily: “I will be. Even in the cold… Can we go inside now?”

“Of course, I can’t let my fiancée freeze any longer.“, you nodded with a laugh and led her inside your rented cabin.

“Thank you.“, your fiancée said, rubbing her hands together to warm them back up once she was inside.

“You’re welcome. Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?”, you suggested once you saw how badly Mapi was shivering.

“Yes, please.“

While she took off her boots and winter jacket, you disappeared into the small rustic kitchen only to return with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate a few minutes later. You had even added mini marshmallows. Carefully, you handed Mapi a mug and watched her take a sip.

“Better?”

“A lot.“

“Good.“, you sighed relieved.

“That’s all I ever wanted.”, the defender realized gratefully.  

“A hot chocolate under the northern lights?”, you asked her amused.

“With my future wife.”, she added proudly. Her words made you feel suddenly very hot, so you had to pull off the scarf.

Despite the rather chaotic proposal you heard yourself saying. “Feels like a dream.”

“It does, huh?”

“Yes, I don’t want to wake up from it yet.”, you confessed.

The fireplace crackled in the background.

“You don’t have to. That’s our life right now.”, Mapi reassured you, the Spaniard gently touched your chin and turned it towards her so that you could look into her hungry eyes.

They and her waiting lips were the invitation you needed, both of your mouths touching in perfect unison, the kiss was perfect, bittersweet, you could still taste the hot chocolate in it.

Then she leant her forehead against yours, her sentence sounded full of promise. “Love you, future wifey.”

“Te amo.”, you whispered gently in your fiancées mother tongue.

“I know.”, Mapi chuckled, her lips escaping a protesting sound once you got up to light some candles and turned out the big lights, so it was even cozier than before.

“Isn’t this perfect.”, the Spaniard admired.

“It’s plus we can see the northern lights from our beds.”, you pointed excitedly to the glass ceiling which gave a picturesque view of the night sky above your heads.

“Nice, right?”, she grinned, as you both laid down on the soft mattress.

“Yes, it’s an amazing place to make..”, you started blushing.

“Love?”, Mapi finished the sentence for you with a teasing look on her face.

“Yes.”, you bit your lips while your fiancée began to leave small kisses all over your body.

Aurora, the blush of dawn would be here soon, but you two had only eyes for each other as you made love under the most beautiful sky you’ve ever seen.

if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated !

[caitified]

experience

paige bueckers x reader

warnings: slow burn then smut. this is probably my most requested fic, period so i hope this is ok. still not the best smut writer.

"hey, rookie," the voice called out from across the crowded locker room. paige leaned against the metal frame, a smirk playing on her lips as she assessed the newest addition to uconn's women's basketball team. you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves at the sight of the star player. her reputation preceded her - a force on the court, and even more so off of it.

you, the rookie, blushed under the scrutiny, fumbling with your gear trying to vacate the scene as fast as possible post practice. "hi," you murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. your heart raced as the whispers grew louder around you. you knew the stories about paige, the rumors of her endless conquests and fearless charm.

paige pushed off the lockers and strolled over, her confidence radiating with every step. "why so nervous rookie? you did good" she said, grabbing your hand. "everyone’s saying good things." her grip was firm, her eyes piercing, making you feel both seen and insignificant at the same time.

you took a deep breath, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "y-yeah," you stuttered, shaking her hand. "i'm just trying to fit in."

a knowing smile curled her lips. "well, i can help you with that." her tone was playful, yet there was an underlying seriousness that sent a shiver down your spine. "i'll show you the ropes, take you under my wing."

the first weeks of training were intense. paige was a relentless coach, pushing you to your limits and beyond. her methods were unorthodox, often leaving the other players bewildered, but she had an uncanny ability to draw out potential that others didn't see. you found yourself improving at an unprecedented rate, your skills sharpening like a knife under her watchful eye.

but it wasn't just on the court where she had an effect on you. her charisma was magnetic, and you couldn't help but be drawn to her. her stories of late-night escapades and wild adventures made you feel like you were living in a shadow of her vibrant life. you'd listen intently, blushing at the more risqué details, while she'd throw her head back and laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet gym.

one evening, after a particularly grueling practice, paige suggested you grab dinner together. just the two of you. you agreed, eager for the chance to get to know her better, away from the prying eyes of the team. as you sat across from her at a dimly lit diner, the air grew thick with a tension you didn't quite understand.

her hand reached out, brushing against yours on the table. "you know, you're different from the others," she said, her gaze intense. "there's something about you that's... pure."

your cheeks grew hot as you avoided her eyes. "what do you mean?"

leaning in, she whispered, "you're a good girl, aren't you?" her voice was a soft caress that sent a thrill through you.

the question hung in the air like a challenge. you nodded, unable to find your voice.

her smile widened, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "i have a feeling this season is going to be more interesting than i thought."

the conversation shifted gears, but you couldn't shake off the feeling that something had changed between you. the way she looked at you now was different, a new kind of curiosity in her gaze. it was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

as the days went by, you found yourself spending more and more time with paige. she'd invite you to her off-campus apartment, where you'd watch movies and share stories late into the night. sometimes, her hand would rest on your thigh, sending waves of electricity through your body. each time, you'd tense up, unsure of what to do, but she'd just laugh and squeeze gently, as if reassuring you that you were safe.

the tension grew palpable, and you began to wonder if the rumors about her were true. if she had any intention of adding you to her list of conquests. yet, she never made a move, never pushed you further than you were comfortable with. instead, she'd pull away, leaving you feeling both disappointed and relieved.

then came the night of the first big home game. you'd been playing better than anyone could have predicted, and the crowd was electric. after the final buzzer, as you walked off the court drenched in sweat and adrenaline, paige was waiting for you. she pulled you into a hug, her strong arms lifting you off the ground.

"you're a natural," she murmured into your ear. "and i want to be the one to show you everything."

for a moment, you were suspended in time. her words resonated deep within you, igniting a fire you didn't know existed. and as she set you down, her hand lingering on your waist, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you wanted her to.

you tried to ignore the feeling, to focus on the season ahead, but it was like trying to ignore the sun in the middle of a bright summer day. it was there, burning and inescapable. you began to crave her touch, the way she'd look at you when she thought you weren't watching. her confidence was contagious, and you found yourself wanting to be more like her, to experience what she had, even if just a little.

one night, as you lay in bed, unable to sleep, you made a decision. you texted her, your heart racing with each tap of your thumbs. "do you... want to come over?" the message hovered, unsent, for what felt like an eternity before you hit send.

her response was almost immediate. "on my way."

your stomach flipped as you waited for her to arrive. you straightened your dorm room, trying to make it look more welcoming. when the door finally creaked open, she stepped in, casual in sweatpants and a hoodie, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"couldn't sleep?" she asked, shutting the door behind her.

you swallowed hard. "no, i... i had some things on my mind."

she sat down on the edge of your bed, her eyes searching yours. "what's up?"

you took a deep breath and leaned in. "i want you to be the one," you whispered. "i want you to show me everything."

the room seemed to still, the only sound the thundering of your heart in your ears. her gaze softened, and she leaned closer, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. "are you sure?"

you nodded, your eyes never leaving hers.

her smile grew gentle, and she leaned in, brushing her lips against yours in a kiss so soft, it was like a promise.

as her lips left yours, paige’s fingers find the waistband of your shorts pulling them down below your thighs.

your breath hitches with anticipation, your body aching for paige’s touch.

her face breaks into a smirk, teasing you further. “you sure you want this baby?” paige whispers, the nickname sending an immediate blush to your cheeks.

“yes i’m ready. i trust you”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyou stared at paige with bright eyes and she nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. she maintained eye contact with you as she leaned down and flicked her tongue against your clit.

you let out a loud moan at the feeling of her warm tongue against you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

paige lifted her head to warn you, “tell me to stop if it hurts, yeah?”

before you could respond, paige thrust her finger into you relentlessly, beginning to pump her finger into you”

“fuck, paige.” you moaned out when her finger grazed your sweet spot.

she continued her pursuit as she began curling her fingers, testing out what got her the greatest reaction. she wanted to memorize every inch of you for future purposes.

when you had almost reached your climax, paige hastily removed her fingers from you.

your eyes flew open. “paige please, don’t tease.”

smiling, she went back to licking at your clit, and the combination of that and her fingers sent you off the edge and you struggled to catch your breath.

as you settled down, she removed her fingers from you, pulling you into a kiss.

both of you knew you had a lot to discuss, but that could wait until morning..

i didn’t proofread this as i thought it was terrible but i can continue it if people would like.

[flightyalrighty]

…I find it lowkey weird when someone says Sonic is bit of bully or mean in your comic.

I know you have him take after Archie and Fleetway, but he feels normal to me?

Or is it because I grew up with Sonic media that had him being abrasive that I got used to it..?

This image of being this -perfectly nice- hedgehog that people get from him kinda makes me wonder constantly, do you know how he was back then?

Would you perceive him the same way if you gotten to known him a bit later excluding the older comics?

SEGA has kept a few things consistent with Sonic and one of them being he was always this dude with an attitude. for better or for worse. That didn't mean he didn't care for anyone, it's just part of who he is. Once you can see past that, you know that despite his meanness, he's a solid guy that means well.

(I got a few asks in a short span of time so I hope I'm lining up the correct follow-up with the original here)

So! Okay. So, here's the thing about Sonic and his whole "attitude" thing. These days, canonically, it's kinda non-existent? Sonic's personality got sandpapered (in the games) until it was nice and smooth for the past, uhhh, like deca -- No, not even. I think he's actually been like this since 2005.

Like sure, he'll make a few lame jokes at Eggman's expense in the Meta Era but like. He's a ray of sunshine to everyone else (besides that one thing they got rid of in the Sonic Gens "remaster" with Amy). He's not even GENUINELY mean to Knuckles the way he used to be. There is no actual beef there, it's really just friendly banter he's having with his friends.

Even more about this below cut vvv

The main sources of Sonic Attitude™ I ever experienced growing up was that little itty bit left within Sonic Heroes and MOSTLY just Archie Sonic (and some STC Online reading I did as a kid) and Sonic X. Make no mistake, Sonic definitely had a range of "Attitude" to "Asshole" in those works. It just wasn't present in the games. So if you were a kid growing up and only knew Sonic FROM the games, that so-called attitude was gonna be minimal if you're age 30 or under.

And any attitude he gave would be only to people he perceived to be enemies (or Jet the Hawk).

Jump forward in time to the end of the Meta era, and we've come to a point in which Sonic is very nice. He's everyone's cool big brother. He's a "friend to all children." The perfect role model. He's very nice in Sonic Prime. In IDW, some fans would even argue he's TOO nice. TOO forgiving. To this I say, it is what it is. I just don't believe Sonic's mean-ness level is all that consistent. Perhaps someday we'll see that attitude again. Perhaps.

Now, to finally address your initial comment: I am the one who says this. I am the one who says he is mean in Infested. And! That's because he's written that way.

This isn't modern nice Sonic, but this also isn't Attitude Guy from the 90s/early 2000s. This is a secret third thing. And by that I mean he's an amalgamation of STC Sonic and Archie Sonic. He's done a lot of learning and growing and he doesn't want to hurt his friends, but his first instinct is harsh, snippy commentary or outright lashing out. He has learned and has to bury that horrible little monster inside him. For Tails's sake.

[asukiess]

i just wanna say thank you for filling the eminath tag. you're a blessing 😭😭😭

do you have any eminath or ml fic recs?

!!!!!!! thank you, that means so much 🩵 glad you and others have enjoyed!! it’s been really nice to see more traction in the tag.

always open to hearing more from people about eminath, or the women separately, too. 🫶💞 love talking about them 🥰

as for fic recs, let’s start with the Emilie ones…

thirteen by okayanna (anna-scribbles)

truly the quintessential thesis on the relationship between Emilie and Adrien and the ramifications of his childhood, as well as a truly thought provoking fleshing out of the ghost of a presence we know.

would that I could, I’d bookbind this fic, annotate it, and have it on my shelf. literally when am I not talking about thirteen.

Orbital Departure, Lose it in the Morning, Watership Down, all by bittersweetResilience

Three fics that play with unique concepts such as Adrien having twin telepathy and a soul bond with Félix, a trait shared once with Amélie and Emilie, and the family dynamics between these pairs of twins.

Could never say enough about the attention and detail Sunny brought to these characters at the time. I think about Orbital Departure all the time.

(just check out Sunny’s Emilie tag, is what I’m saying.)

What Real Human Beings Do by nemali

Amélie is the main character here, but boy 👏 do 👏 we 👏 see 👏 the beautiful scars Emilie has left on her sister. and how better to understand a character than their twin?

and for the eminath section…

in the mouth of the sun by telmes (archekoeln)

I remember reading this and being in awe. it was like reaching into the past (2020!) and finding someone who saw the same beauty in the ship and feeling so understood. love love LOVE their writing style (just READ that summary!! UGH!!!), and I need to do a dive into their other nathalie-centric fics.

On the same note, I just found their fic “you push me down” in my bookmarks too and literally teared up remembering it.

she doesn't need me, not like I need her by azalera

i love a good, sentimental story. it may seem simple, but there’s something about it that I just think about often.

I’ve been meaning to read their fic, “hello, emilie” as well!

bread and oranges by peachcitt

need to do a proper reread of this because I feel like I read it in a trance. 🫶 getting emotional all over again. AUGH

As for me—I have a Nathalie character analysis fic that I’m proud of, and quite like the eminath poetry I did. Maybe you’ll like “for the hope of it all”, too 🥰

[jelzorz]

197.

It feels like treason to think it. Opeli would feel guilty for it on a normal day, she thinks, but the situation is dire and she wonders if anything will ever feel normal again. The Banther Lodge is a far cry from the castle, and it is crowded enough without the kingslaying elephant in the room.

She watches Soren fight Rayla over it.

She watches Ezran hide his tears.

She watches the Kingslayer walk free.

Well, she thinks. There are certainly worse things than thinking it. There are worse things than talking to her friends, her family, who also happen to be part of the council. Worse things have been done than calling a meeting behind Ezran's back, who is the King, yes, but a child first, and he has enough on his hands without this too.

"I don't think Prince Callum can continue being a part of this council."

Soren grimaces. Corvus shifts uneasily on the spot. Barius makes a face and fiddles with his hands.

Opeli stares them down. "Do you disagree?"

A pause. A sigh. Soren huffs and glances through the cellar kitchen window to make sure Callum is still preoccupied with defending Rayla and her murderous father from anyone who dares to look at them the wrong way. "No," he mutters after a moment. "You're right. You usually are, but this... Is Ezran's decision, not ours."

Opeli scowls, some misplaced maternal instinct raising her hackles. "He's dealing with enough," she says shortly. "He's eleven years old, his home has been destroyed, and his own brother returns with the elf that killed—"

"We get it," interrupts Corvus tiredly. "And we're not disagreeing with you. You're right. But what are you asking us to do, exactly? Kick Callum off the council? Is more internal conflict really what we need right now?"

"With respect, High Cleric," says Barius, "are we even supposed to be having this meeting? Isn't it breaking some sort of law to be talking about this before talking to King Ezran?"

Opeli wrinkles her nose at that, the wrongness of this heavy in her gut. "It's not illegal to bring up a concern with members of the council in confidence," she grumbles. It's a weak argument, but it's been played in court before, and she's not above playing the same dirty tactics to keep her king safe. "We are Ezran's council," she asserts. "Our duty is to him and to Katolis and I don't believe Callum's priorities are quite the same. He—" She grimaces too and locks eyes with Soren. "He's starting to remind me of your father."

Soren snorts at that. "Don't I know it," he mutters, and Opeli sees the truth of it in his eyes. Soren would know better than anyone what magic can do to people, the kind of power it gives them, the cleverness they think wielding it grants. "But Opeli, seriously, what are we going to do? We can't just arrest him. All this aside, he's still the prince. He's Ez's brother."

"One might argue that King Harrow was his stepfather, and you can see how much he cares about that."

Another pause. The room flinches because they all know that it's true, what an insult it is to Harrow's memory that his murderer would be allowed to dine at his son's table.

"Have you asked Ezran what he wants to do?" asks Corvus at last.

Opeli winces. "I didn't want to burden him with it," she mumbles. "I don't know that he knows what to do and frankly... I don't either."

"A first," says Barius, not unkindly. "It's all right to be concerned, High Cleric. It's all right not have all the answers."

"Yes, well." Opeli clears her throat and bows her head, hiding her weakness in the way her hood falls over her eyes. "I'm not particularly good at not having answers. I've come to you three hoping you might have them instead."

"I don't think we can help anymore than you," says Corvus wryly. "But our duty is to Ezran, the same as you. Soren and I won't let anything happen to him. The same way Barius won't. The same way you won't. Okay?"

"Call it a secret council pact," adds Soren with a grin. "If Callum does anything else stupid, we step in, no matter what. Deal?"

Hardly, thinks Opeli, even as she nods. She takes what little solace she can get.

[vulpixisananimal]

(Siffrin) {Mal Du Pays} <Null> |Asterion| [Loop] [(Saffron)]

|. . . . Oh. . .|

|You're, awake. In a room, where ah. . . Oh you felt exhausted. Where, were you again?|

|. . . Right.|

|You're a stowaway, that's what you are. You're hiding from the others you share this body with for fear of what they will do to you. You didn't want to be here, but there was nothing you could do, was there? You're here, and so you must endure it.|

|As for where you are physicaly? You have no idea. You shuffle, and sit up in bed. It's a small room, a small room with some medical supplies on a table; there was a small dancing Change God statue on it too. Hanging on the wall above was a metal disc with some engraving on it. In the corner there was a chair with an asleep Isabeau in it. Cute. . . No, focus, Asterion.|

|Your pack is to one side, you lean over and grab it and begin rummaging for that journal. Ah, there it is. You check the back, no new headmates. Then you check the latest entries|

|Yesterday: "We got to Wolworth, it was being attacked by sadness. Looped twice trying to get it right. Won. Exhausted now and was dragged to the Medhouse. The Monets are in town. Eri died weeks ago. Don't get me out for a while, I need a break." -Null|

|. . . . . . . Concerning? Who was Eri again?|

|Two days ago: "Getting to Wolworth tomorrow! Stardust is excited to meet Eri, me? Less so~ Ramos hasn't shown any signs of being a danger yet, so as much as I dislike them Stardust might just get their happy ending, again. Ugh. I hope Eri was a good parent to Ramos." - Loop<3|

|Oh. . .|

|You feel something drip on your hand- oh, you're crying again. You close the book before you get the pages wet. You take a deep breath, and hold it.|

"Mhgh. . ." |Isabeau makes a noise from the chair, and a moment later yawns and stretches. He opens his eyes and looks lazily around.| ". . . Uh. . . Oh, g'morning. . ."

"Good morning." |You smile a little.| "Did you sleep alright?"

"Oh I slept great." |Isabeau chuckled, and rubbed his neck.| "What about you, all better after- oh yeah, who's up?"

"Who's. . . Oh" |You pause and look away.| ". . . . A-asterion. We've met, when I woke you in the middle of the night."

"Oh yeah!" |He yawns again and stands up.| "And you were trying make me breakfast that one time."

"I, o-oh!!" |Your heart skipped a beat, panicking, you didn't tell him who you were that time. Could, could he just tell anyways?!? Could he-|

"Hey it's okay!" |Isa chuckled.| "I've just been getting good at telling you all apart is all. I'm not mad or anything- oh hey is everything okay?"

"Wha. . Oh." |You rub tears from your eye again.| "I. . . Read the journal. Eri is, dead?"

|Isabeaus smile drops a little, and looks away.| ". . . Yeah. They are."

". . . Okay. . ." |You rub your shoulder, looking away. Oh Stars Above. . . . You need to, talk about. . .| "Oh. . . Oh! Ah, do you know, what that is?"

|You were pointing to the metal disc above the table. It had one curved line cutting through it, and three straight lines stretching out from the convex side. It was tilted to the side. Isa stood up to get a better look.| ". . . IIIII have no idea! Something to do with, Poteria? I think? It does look a little familiar. . ."

"I see. . ." |You look at the dancing statue on the table.| "And that is. . . A Change God statue, yes?"

"Yup!" |Isa chuckled, looking down and patting the statue.| ". . . I wonder if you had things like this. F-from where your from, I mean."

"Oh. . . Well, yes and no." |You lean back and talk.| "That's what the stars were for. The Universe asks not for us to make things to remember it, for all we need to do is look up. If anything, it's things like telescopes, orrery, and. . . ."

". . . And?" |Isabeau prompts.|

". . . . . . . . Oh?" |You shake your head, what a strange feeling.| "What was, I just talking about?"

"O-oH! D-don't worry about it!!" |Isabeau turns and quickly looks for a spare scrap of paper, before he even asks, you hand him a pen from your pack.|

". . . What are you doing?"

|Isabeau was quickly writing something down.| ". . . O-oh! Oh well sometimes you get moments where you remember stuff and then you forget it s-so, I just wanted to write it down! Y'know? So you, don't forget."

"Oh. . ." |You look down at your hands, arms.| ". . . Thank you."

"Don't mention it." |He was smiling at you.| "You guys are my buddy! Buddies? And I'm dating a couple too, s-so I just want to, help out! Y'know?"

"That is very, very kind of you. . ."

"Least I can do!" |He gets up and goes to the door.| "I'm gonna go tell the doctor you're up, okay?"

"Okay, Isabeau." |You smile at him. He smiles back, opens the door, and leaves.|

|. . . . You look down. Alone with your thoughts. . .|

|You didn't want to talk to them, but. . .|

|You. . . Breathe in, and out. In, out. In. . . Out. . . . .|

|You can see it, favor tree, stars, ocean, beach. Your mindspace, your shared mindspace, at least. It's very quiet, and your own breathing sounds like the oceans waves. . . It's nice.|

|You look down at your hands. Big, strong, scared, and bloody. You can never be rid of it. Tugging on the shackles on your wrists, the one on your neck, it's always so tight. . . Oh. . . You sit down at the tree. You felt your hair, long and heavy. Your robes felt familiar, the crown on your head was cold. . . But you wonder, why do you look like this?|

|Factive. That is the term.|

|Memories and such reaching out to form a personality, latching onto one it already knew. It creates an imperfect copy. Although it feels more like an impression of an imperfect copy to you. That's what you were. The King was frozen in the Dormont House of Change. What you were, was the memories Bright One had of the King mixing with parts of himself to make. . . You.|

|You had "memories" of being the King. You had "memories" of what happened before that you know is likely not true. You shouldn't be here, but you are. And as long as you are, you might as well try and make up for your actions.|

|. . . You cannot stay in bed all day. You move to sit on the edge of the bed. You pause for a moment, your head spinning a little, but it cleared quickly.|

|There's a quick knock on the door and it opens. Isa walks in, quickly followed by who you assume is the doctor? He had hair to the shoulders, a flower in his hair, and was holding some papers. Isabeau quickly comes to your side seeing you try and get up.|

"C-careful! Don't want you falling over all of a sudden."

"I'm fine, Isabeau." |You say softly- right! You should, try and mimic the Bright One, right?| "Besides, it's winter! Not fall."

". . . snrk-" |That was from the doctor, and a moment later Isabeau cracked up too. Ah, you probably took him by surprise. Have you told a joke like that before?|

"Thank you, thank you. . ." |You chuckle. This acting is hard.|

"Heh, glad your funny bone wasn't damaged." |The doctor chimes in.| "I'm Dr. Joy, but but just Gina's fine."

"It's good to meet you Dr. Joy." |You wave politely.| "Thank you for all the help, and sorry to be a bother. . ."

"No need to be sorry! You helped fight off a lot of sadness, it's the least I can do to help." |He positioned himself next to Isabeau and looked at the papers.| "Yoooouuuu should be all good! It was a relitvely minor case, considering how rare it usualy is."

"Really? Rare?" |You tilt your head.|

|He squints at you.| ". . . Do you get craft exhaustion often?"

"I-I, well, yes? Maybe?"

"Yeah, he does." |Isabeau says cheekily.| "This marks the fourth time actually!"

"Fourth?!?" |Gina makes a face and looks between you two.| "I- okay, I would have liked to know that a bit earlier but oh well! You do know getting craft exhaustion once makes it more likely you'll get it again? Kind of like heat stroke?"

". . . Nnnooooooo?" |You say questioningly looking to Isabeau. He shrugs.|

". . . Got it! Uuuh. . ." |Gina thinks for a moment, tapping a pen to his chin.| ". . If you're staying in Wolworth for a bit, could you come back in sometime so I can give you a more proper checkup?"

"Fine by me." |You say easily. You notice Isabeau give you a strange look.|

"Perfect! May I ask where you're staying? I could get some things sent over that could help."

"Oh. . . Ah, we're staying at Mx. Eris house, we've been traveling with their kid."

"Oh. . ." |He looked beteen the two of you, then away.| ". . . Do you. ?"

". . . We do, yes."

". . . And does, their kid. . ."

". . . Yes, they do."

|Gina goes silent for a minute, looking away. It almost gets to the point where you speak up, but he turns back to you two.| "I'll, be sure to drop by then. Give little Azzy my condolences myself."

"That's sweet of ya- Oh yeah!" |Isabeau perks up.| "They changed, actually! It's Ramos, now. They/them."

"O-oh! Well congrats to them." |That lightened the mood a little, Gina smiled.| "Well there's nothing specific for me to say right now other than eat, sleep, drink water, don't stress yourself, and get back here for a checkup!"

"Yes sir." |You say sarcasitcly. And go to hop off the bed, Isa insists on helping you off. Oh yeah! You point to the metal plate with that symbol.| "Oh. . .Do you know what that is?"

"Oh! That's a Dreamlight!" |He walks over and taps it, it makes a soft 'ding!'| "It's a Flickerism thing, Poterian religion, it's supposed to let Flicker into your home and give you nice dreams."

". . . . What?" |You looked confused.|

"Oh yeah!! Flickerism!!" |Isa snapped his fingers.| "I thought it looked familiar! Child of the sun, right?"

"That's right." |Dr. Joy turns around, smiling.| "I don't really follow it properly, just keep a few Dreamlights around and celebrate Pupalfast. You know how it is."

"You know how it is." |Isa crosses his arms knowingly.| "I woulda' thought to see more Curcelights than Dreamlights around. Isn't Flickerism kinda, niche?"

"Was." |Gina chuckled.| "More and more people have been converting from Soleanism to Flickerism. Child overtakes the mother I guess."

"Too true!!!" |Isa laughed.| "Man, I haven't thought about the Poterian religion stuff for a while, it's a nice reminder!"

"I've never heared of it, even a little bit." |You rub your head, confused.|

"Well I wont preache to you or whatever, not my circus, not my monkeys. Besides," |Gina pats the Change God statue.| "Vaugarde's religion is a nice change of pace."

|Now THAT made you laugh.|

>>>

"But it's a giant ball of superheated gasses and plasma." |You try explaining. You and Isabeau were making your way down the streets of Wolworth to where you were staying. There were people walking around all over.| "I understand it's a metaphor, and for a light deity it makes sense. . . But to worship one specific star just because it's closer than all the others is just . . ."

"It's like picking your favorite animal, they're all great!" |Isabeau replied.| ". . . It's not really a uh, ball of fire is it?"

"Oh it is!" |You said excitedly.| "It's a giant chemical reaction of sorts. A constant explosion emmiting heat and light! I don't think of community exactly when I think of the sun."

"Well it's also probably because moths are attracted to light, right?"

"Well, maybe. . ." |You were still stuck on that. The sun isn't even unique, it's one of thousands, it's, just another star. What a strange. . . You pause, is that?| "Is that, Odile?"

|Isabeau looked at where you pointed out.| ". . Oh it is! HEY!! M'DAME!!!"

"Oh, she didn't hear you, I think."

"Well let's catch up then!" |Isabeau took off, and you followed. You actually found yourself passing him soon enough, stars, this body WAS fast. . .|

|Odile dissapears around a corner. The two of you followed, and turned said corner just fast enough to see her walk into a building. It was a single story building with a big metal sign above the door.|

|You slowed down as you approached to let Isabeau catch up, and you read the sign out.| ". . . 'Neither rain nor snow nor gloom of night, can stay these messengers about their duty.' Huh."

"It's a post office, Sif." |Isa pats your shoulder.| "See? Wolworth Post."

"O-oh. . ." |You look away, how could you forget. . .| ". . . I wonder what Odile is doing here."

"Wanna see?"

"U-uh, sure. I think." |It was just one of Bright Ones party. Another one of the saviors. It should be fine, right?| "Let me, as the sneaky one."

"Of course~" |Isabeau bowed dramaticly|

|Ah yes, the sneaky one. You were anything but sneaky. If you were lucky, maybe some of that skill could transfer over. You really hope it did. You walked forward and slowly opened the door and walked in.|

|It's a simple interior, quiet, a few places to deliver mail, chairs, and many lockboxes for people to drop by and collect. There was a desk with a few people behind it, that's where Odile was now. She didn't hear you enter. You look back and Isa was following.|

|You put a finger to your lips and smile, sneaking forward and hiding behind a row of chairs. Isa joins you. Listening time.|

". . . Right here they are!" |Strangers voice, the clerks?| "Like I said, lotta fan mail."

"And they just. . . Send it everywhere?" |That was definitely Odile.|

"Just to the bigger cities from what I've heard. Y'all have a lotta fans."

"Gems. Well, I suppose it would be rude not to take it. . ." |There's a little pause.| ". . . Did you see any mail arrive from Dormont."

"Oh yeah! A few letters. . . Ah here! A few from the town, some from the house of change, oh and one here for you directly! It says it's from the Head Housemaiden-"

"I'll take that, thank you." |Odile interrupts.|

|You and Isabeau give each other a look. From the Head Housemaiden. . . Oh. . . The one you- no, the King froze. You had some stray memories of her. . . Lady Euphraise.|

|Isa leaned in and whispered.| "A letter from the Head Housemaiden?"

|You whisper back.| "Are they. . . Exchanging letters?"

"Oh that's nice." |Isa chuckled.| "Odile did like talking to Euphraise while we were in Dormont."

"Oh. . . She, did?" |You tilt your head, trying to remember.| "Well, that's, nice?"

"Heh. . . Who knows, maybe those two are actually, well, y'know. . . U-uh. . ." |Isabeau slows down as he sees your face, and then turns around to see why you're looking past him.|

|Odile was there, glaring at the two of you.|

"O-Odile! Ah, g-good to see you!"

"H-heeeeyyy M'dame! U-uhhh, funny, seeing you here-"

"Ten." |She starts.| "Nine, eight, seven-"

|The two of you run for your lives.|

[quintessenceofdust88]

Okay, tumblr milestone prompt, here it comes: As I'm in need of fluff myself, what about a day in the life of married couple BuckTommy domestic fluff? If that makes any sense? I just love the idea of them married, calling each other happy, and being in love.

Ohhh I love this prompt! There's sth about fluffiness in marriage that really gets to me.

Anyway hope you enjoy it, darling! It's not exactly a full day bc I got carried away hehe, but it's very very fluffy anyway.

And HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY AGAIN I hope you're having a great one!! (and that it's still your birthday in your timezone cause I really wanted to get this done by your birthday)❤️❤️

--

Tommy's face is the first thing Buck sees when he opens his eyes in the morning and, as cliché as stupid it sounds, that brings a smile to his face. He tried to wait up for Tommy to get back from his shift last night, but fell asleep with his cellphone in hand, reading an article about octopuses (they took Jee to the aquarium on the weekend and it had an effect on him).

When Buck wakes up, it's to find his cellphone plugged in and neatly stacked on his nightstand, and he feels a warm rush of affection for his attentive husband. He takes advantage of his sleeping state to take a good look at his relaxed face. There's nothing about it Buck doesn't love, from his dark eyebrows to his angular nose to the sweet curve of his mouth. There are little rays of sun escaping through the curtains and falling on Tommy's frame, making his few grays shine beautifully. 

Before he gives into the temptation of running a hand through Tommy's hair and wake him up, Buck gets out of bed and goes downstairs, set on making breakfast for himself and his overworked husband.

He tries to be as silent as possible as he moves around their spacious kitchen (it was the one thing he had been set on when they were house hunting; Tommy's was a spacious garage, and eventually they'd found the perfect place for a very fair price once Tommy's old house entered the deal), turning on the coffee maker, sorting ingredients for breakfast and realizing they're out of cinnamon. Knowing full well that Tommy will whine about his french toast if there's no cinnamon, Buck opts for pancakes instead.

Buck prepares the batter while humming to himself, thinking about what dessert he can take to their family dinner at Maddie and Chim’s later that day. Just as he starts pouring batter into the frying pan, he feels strong arms around his waist, and he doesn’t even pretend to startle; it’s not the first morning he’s greeted like this. Buck leans back against Tommy’s strong chest, and Tommy nuzzles against his neck. 

“Morning, sweetheart” He whispers sleepily against Buck’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine as he presses small kisses on his skin. 

“You’re gonna make me burn breakfast” He teases, and is met with a huffed laughter against his shoulder. 

“So we eat out” Tommy answers, his arms still gripping Buck’s waist, and it takes all of his strength (and the reminder they’ll probably have sex right after breakfast anyway) to playfully tap the spatula against Tommy’s hands so he’ll let go. 

“Behave, mr. Kinard” He scolds, and Tommy places a loud kiss on his cheek (and a slap on his ass) before letting go, grabbing plates and mugs on his way to the table. 

“I always behave, mr. Kinard” Tommy says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Buck doesn’t think he’ll ever get completely used to the thrill he gets to be called ‘mr. Kinard’. Tommy knows it, the bastard, and his smirk makes it pretty clear. “It’s not my fault you look particularly hot in my T-shirt”

Buck looks down at himself, realizing Tommy’s right. He barely notices anymore which clothes are his and which are Tommy’s, especially when it comes to LAFD gear, but the Bon Jovi faded black T-shirt is definitely not his. 

“Well, I look even better with no T-shirt on, if you wanna see what that’s like” He flirts teasingly, and tries for a casual one-handed flip on the pancake he’s frying right now. Except it doesn’t go that well, and the pancake lands directly on the stove instead of the pan. “Oh, shit!” 

He rushes to fix it and throws the ruined pancake out before it gets even worse. When he looks at Tommy, he finds his husband barely containing his laughter, which makes Buck point a firm finger at him with a glare.

“Shut up” He says, and Tommy raises his hands in mock defense.

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“Keep it that way” Buck threatens, and Tommy mockingly zips his mouth as he takes their mugs to the coffee maker and prepares both of their coffees (and there’s something in the way he does it that makes it even better than when Buck prepares his own).

Once the pancakes are ready (no more flipping incidents, Buck finished it pretty conservatively), Buck brings them to the table, where Tommy has already placed syrup and some butter. They sit down one in front of the other and share a smile before digging in, in comfortable silence. 

“This is so good, babe” Tommy tells him between mouthfuls, and Buck hums appreciatively. “You spoil me, you know? I never have breakfast this good at the station”

“I like spoiling you” Buck says earnestly, and Tommy blushes, a small smile appearing on his face. Sometimes it’s still hard for him to accept hard things, but Buck keeps reassuring him; it’s a work in progress. “I was gonna make your French toast, but we’re out of cinnamon, and you always say…”

“French toast is no good without cinnamon” Tommy finishes, and Buck swears there’s a beginning of a pout on his face; maybe there’s some truth about married couples picking up habits from each other. “Did you add it to the list? We’re going grocery shopping later, right?”

“Yup” Buck agrees, taking a sip of his coffee (damn perfect, as always). “And tonight we’re on for dinner at Maddie’s, don’t forget”

“So, groceries and family dinner” Tommy recaps. “Any other plans for the day?”

“Not really. Thought we could just… spend it together?” Buck suggests. 

Sometimes they’ll spend their days off with Eddie (and Chris if he doesn’t have cooler teenage stuff to do and deems them worthy of his presence), or Jee and little Kevin, and it’s great fun. But there’s also something pretty special about just basking in each other’s company all day, be it running errands or cleaning the house or having sex or just staying on the couch, Buck on his phone and Tommy with a book. 

“Sounds perfect to me” Tommy answers gleefully, and he takes Buck’s hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Any day with you is perfect”

And gosh, that’s sappy. But damn if it doesn’t make Buck smile like a lovesick idiot. Because his husband is a complete sap and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter Three: Echoes of Us

Word Count | 2.1k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x OC F!Reader Chapter Warnings | Don't want to spoil it but something more happens You awaken with a sense of determination, resolved to make the most of your day. And by “most,” you mean finding a way to know the General better.

Not in a romantic way, of course. No, he is to be nothing more than a good friend. When I become Domina, it is only practical to be close to the General of my army. Just friends, nothing more.

Yet, deep down, you know you're only deceiving yourself. You refuse to admit it, but perhaps it’s because he is the first man to truly catch your eye. He didn’t approach you with empty flattery, boasting about his victories or wealth. Instead, he was kind, thoughtful, attentive. That simple gesture—his letter and the flower—still lingered in your mind.

I must repay him in kind, you think, though your heart knows there is more to it.

“You asked for me, Father?” you say as you enter the room where the Emperor sits, surrounded by maps, documents, and the weight of his strategies.

“Oh, dearest, indeed,” he replies, his tone warm and familiar. “I am planning a hunt with the senators and the General. Knowing your fondness for the outdoors, I thought you might wish to join us.”

“Oh, I most certainly do! There are so many things I need to gather—fresh pigments for my paints, new flowers for the gardens… perhaps even a sketch or two of the countryside,” you exclaim, the excitement bubbling in your voice.

Your father chuckles at your enthusiasm but regards you carefully before continuing. “However, I’ve noticed how you seem… uneasy in Marcus’s presence. If that troubles you, feel no obligation to attend.”

“No, no, Father, I will gladly accompany you. As for the General—well, I barely know the man. But I must confess that I may have formed some unfair opinions about his character,” you say, your voice softer than intended, almost as if admitting it to yourself.

Your father tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “I most heartily hope you’ll come to tolerate him, at the very least. He is a good man, Aurelia. In truth, for a time, I even considered proposing your hand to him.”

Your heart stumbles at his confession. This changes everything. You had always assumed that your father would marry you to one of the wretched senators—a man he despised the least. But the idea of Marcus...

“What made you change your mind?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Fear prickles at the edges of your thoughts. Perhaps the General is already married. The pang of jealousy that surges surprises you—a pang for a woman you don’t even know, and for a man who was never yours.

Compose yourself, you think. You wanted to be friends, remember?

Your father’s reply is steady, tinged with quiet regret. “The General seems... indifferent to love. He’s spoken of how he would never make a woman a wife only to leave her a widow. But as a friend—” he pauses, his expression softening, almost wistful, “I admit, I would like to see Acacius know the warmth of love someday.”

He rises from his chair, stepping closer to you. Gently, he takes your hands in his, lowering his head slightly to meet your gaze.

“As I wish for you, my daughter,” he continues. “I have delayed as long as I could, hoping you would find a man who would truly capture your heart. But I fear I must soon make that decision myself. I plan to announce your betrothal before Acacius departs for his next, and last campaign, I'm afraid.”

“His last campaign?” The words escape you before you can temper the concern in your voice. His tone lightens as he mimics the General’s voice with exaggerated solemnity: “‘After this campaign, I will find a place to rest—whether in the quiet fields of the interior or the Elysian Fields with the gods!’”

“Do not trouble yourself with such matters, Vita Mea. Not for a few weeks yet. There is still much to plan—strategies to devise, funds to raise, preparations to make.”

Your father chuckles, clearly amused by his own impersonation. “He’s quite the witty man, the General. Now, off with you, Aurelia. The hunt begins before the sun reaches its peak.”

You leave the room feeling... unsteady. The idea of the General departing pulls at you more than it should.

Perhaps he is one of those men burdened by unhappiness, shaped by the unrelenting hand of war, you muse.

And then, almost involuntarily, another thought slips through: I wish I could change his mind.

Perhaps you can.

You just don’t yet know how a friend might do such a thing. · · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You leave in a chariot with two other maids, but your thoughts are elsewhere. You wish Vera were with you. The two of you could have spent this time gossiping about your most recent discoveries regarding the General's life. Ever since the festivities a few nights ago, she has seemed distant, as though a veil has been drawn between you two. You saw her talking to a soldier earlier, but didn't think much of it. Was she with him today? The two ladies accompanying you are much older, and though their company is pleasant enough, they would undoubtedly slow you down.

"You shall stay here as I go fetch some flowers and things to make paint. I will not go far, and you'll be more comfortable waiting here," you tell them with a casual smile. They exchange looks of mild concern but nod in silent compliance, knowing better than to question the princess's command.

As you wander deeper into the familiar fields, the calmness of the space starts to settle over you. The flowers and the gentle breeze bring a sense of peace, almost as if your mother were right there beside you. You miss her terribly in moments like this, when your thoughts wander to what advice she would have given you—especially about how to approach the General. Is it proper for a lady to speak to a man like him? Is he truly worthy of your time? Since her death, you've rarely ventured out to the fields; your father, protective as ever, hasn't allowed you the same freedoms. You can see the years catching up with him, and the thought of disappointing him is enough to keep you in line.

The flowers here remind you of the days when your mother would bring you here to gather blossoms, to paint, to breathe freely. As you step carefully through the waist-high plants, the sight of a soldier ahead catches your eye. He’s standing near one of the poisonous trees your mother once warned you about, inspecting one of the fruits.

“You shouldn’t eat that, soldier!” you call out with a playful yet firm tone. He looks up, startled, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to approach, especially not you.

But as you draw closer, you realize this isn’t just any soldier.

“General Acacius,” you bow respectfully, surprised at how much you enjoy saying his name aloud. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh, not at all, Lady Aemilia,” he replies, his voice soft but careful, as if unsure whether his words are too bold. “You are always a welcome sight.”

You feel your heart flutter at the compliment, and for a moment, you forget about your awkwardness.

“You are too generous, General,” you say, averting your gaze in a subtle gesture of shyness. "I must thank you for the flowers you gave me yesterday. They helped with the pain."

A shy smile plays at his lips, and he steps closer, his movements measured as if he's unsure of the boundaries. “I’m happy I could help, my lady,” he says with a small bow. “I am here to serve you.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you find your voice again. “I must also apologize for the way I’ve behaved—at the gardens, and again at the coliseum. I was not raised to treat anyone in such a manner, and I am truly sorry.”

His gaze softens, and for the first time, you see a hint of something else in his eyes—understanding.

“We can always start again, Gemma,” he says, his voice warm, offering his arm. “Will you do me the honor of accompanying me?”

You smile shyly, almost relieved, and nod as you accept his arm.

“Must I assume you were lost from my father and the senators?” you ask playfully, trying to ease the moment with a lighter question.

“Oh, not at all,” he replies, his tone light. “I was the one who got lost. They spoke of matters I have grown weary of hearing. I came back from a place where all I heard was suffering and war. I simply needed a change of scenery, something more peaceful.”

You listen intently, your heart softening. "I see. The Senate, and sometimes even my father, seem to speak only of war and conquest. I can only imagine how tedious it must be to hear the same things over and over again."

“Indeed,” he agrees, his tone thoughtful. “But tell me, Lady Aemilia, what brings you to the woods alone? You should be accompanied by at least five of your father's best men.”

You laugh softly. “I love the fields. My father never lets me come unless he’s with me, which doesn’t happen often enough.” There’s a touch of sadness in your voice, but you quickly shift to something lighter. “And, by the way, I wasn’t the one surprised by your presence. I know these corners as well as the palm of my hand,” you tease with a playful smile.

He laughs, a sound that you find endearing, and you notice how his steps slow just a little as he seems to ponder your words.

“I see, I see…” he says, avoiding your eyes now, looking instead at the ground ahead.

As you both walk, your maids come into view in the distance, talking distractedly among themselves.

How did he knew your maids were in this direction?

“You should not be walking alone, Lady Aurelia,” he says softly, his voice taking on a note of concern. Gently, he takes your hand in his, and with a subtle, almost imperceptible motion, his thumb traces small circles over your palm. “I shall return to your father’s side now. Please, promise me you will be safe.”

You look up at him, heart fluttering at his words, and nod. “I promise, soldier.”

Before he leaves, you add, almost as an afterthought, “You may call me Aemilia, General.”

His posture straightens, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword as he meets your eyes. For a brief moment, there’s a warmth there, an understanding between the two of you. “And you may call me however you wish, my Lady,” he replies, with a slight bow.

You smile as he turns and walks away, his steps confident, as if he knows exactly where he’s going. But you are left standing still, with a sense that something has shifted between you—something both fragile and meaningful. · · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Sleep refused to find you, no matter what you tried. Every attempt to calm your mind—warm baths, reading, writing—had failed miserably. Thoughts of General Marcus Acacius consumed you, swirling endlessly. Had you been foolish to imagine his feelings extended beyond duty and respect? Could he truly not know how every fleeting touch of his lingered on your skin like a whispered secret? Frustrated and restless, you rose from your bed, determined to quiet your turmoil.

A walk shall fix the problem, you told yourself.

Donning a simple nightgown, you stepped into the dimly lit corridors of the palace. The chill of the marble floors sends a shiver through your bare feet, while the night breeze tangles your unbound hair. You don’t mind; the palace is cloaked in silence, its residents deep in slumber, save for the watchful eyes of the night guards stationed by the doors.

The gardens, bathed in pale moonlight, were your destination. As you reached a bench near the lake, you froze. Familiar eyes met yours in the half-light—his eyes. General Acacius sat there, looking as weary as you felt.

Him again?

"My lady," he said, standing quickly and bowing with graceful respect. "I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Shall I leave if you desire solitude?" His voice was rushed, and he looked prepared to vanish into the shadows.

"Oh, you mustn’t," you blurted, failing to suppress the desperation in your tone. "I mean—your presence is... welcome." Your cheeks burned as you fidgeted with the hem of your gown, suddenly acutely aware of how little fabric covered either of you. His tunic hung loosely over his frame, ending mid-thigh, and he shifted, seemingly just as self-conscious.

"Please, sit," he said softly, motioning to the bench beside him.

You hesitated but finally sat. The silence that followed teetered on the edge of comfort, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. Every so often, your shoulders brushed, and each accidental touch sent an unwelcome thrill through you.

"I must ask—"

"What are you—"

You both started at the same time, the shared interruption prompting a sheepish laugh. He gestured for you to speak first.

"What are you doing here, General Marcus Acacius?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid your nerves would betray you.

"I... I struggle with sleep," he admitted. "The war—it clings to a man’s mind, even in peace."

"I’m sorry to hear that," you murmured. Conversation felt so much easier with others, but with him, every word felt monumental.

"And you, Serenissima Aemilia Aurelia?" His voice softened as he brushed your shoulder lightly, the touch unspoken reassurance. "What burdens your mind tonight?"

"Not something..." you began, "but someone."

His demeanor shifted, his brow furrowing as though your words had struck him. "Is it... a boy? One of the men trifling with your affections, my lady?"

Your breath hitched. You should be the one telling me.

"Excuse me?" he asked, leaning closer, clearly having heard your whispered protest.

Suddenly, emboldened by a rush of courage, you rose, facing him with defiance. Your chin lifted, and your voice rang steady. "I am the daughter of the great Emperor Antoninus Justus. I will not be treated as a mere bauble for amusement." You took a measured breath, but your resolve did not falter. "You may be the esteemed General of the Phoenix Legion, but you are still a guest in my home."

For a moment, you paused, softening your tone. "From the start, you have shown me kindness I never expected from a soldier, and I must admit..." Your voice dropped lower. "...my thoughts have been fixed upon you in a way they never have with any other man."

"My lady…" He rises, beginning to speak, but you swiftly cut him off, making him sit back. "I am not finished," you declare firmly. "I have guarded my heart, vowing never to give it to any man, for they seem to know only destruction and death," you add, your tone steady and resolute.

"However," you continued, lifting your chin again, "if your intentions are to make a fool of me, I must demand you cease at once—"

He rose so swiftly you stumbled back, but before you could register his movement, his hands were cradling your face. His lips brushed yours in a whisper of a kiss, soft and reverent. His voice trembled against your skin, more a breath than a word: "Amor mea."

The world stood still. You surrendered to the warmth of him, your hands instinctively finding his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. But the kiss ended all too soon, and he pulled back, wide-eyed and almost startled by his own audacity.

"Forgive me," he stammered, his voice unsteady. "I don’t know what came over me—I’ve never—"

"You silly man, come here," you interrupted, seizing the fabric of his tunic and pulling him back to you. This time, he groaned against your lips, his restraint crumbling. His hands found your waist, firm yet gentle, pulling you flush against him as though afraid you’d vanish.

"We shouldn’t," he murmured against your skin, his lips tracing down to the curve of your neck. "We can’t, Aemilia."

But his actions betrayed his words as he nipped at your ear, sending a shiver through you.

"You’re the one saying this, yet here you are," you teased breathlessly, tangling your fingers in his curls. The low, defeated sound he made spurred you on, pulling him closer until it seemed nothing could separate you.

With a herculean effort, he drew away, his breathing ragged. "Carissima," he whispered, his voice pleading. "Please..."

The broken look in his eyes stung more than you cared to admit. You made a mistake. He kissed you so you would shut up. You faltered, your confidence waning. "You... you don’t want me?"

His hand shot out to grasp yours. "No, no, never think that," he said with fierce desperation. "My heart has belonged to you since the moment we met. It calls for you as the earth calls for the rain."

His words made you smile, and his answering smile was radiant. But his gaze darkened slightly as his eyes roamed your figure.

"It is not that I do not want you, Solis mea," he said, kissing the back of your hand tenderly. "It is that I want you far too much. And tonight, with so little between us..."

Your pulse quickened as his meaning sank in.

"Marcus..." you whispered, but he shook his head, cupping your face once more.

"You bring light to my darkest days, Aemilia. You bring joy where there was none. I am yours," he said simply, his forehead resting against yours. "Now and always."

And in that fragile, moonlit moment, you knew your heart was no longer your own. It belonged to him, as his belonged to you.