#if that's not a sign of internal struggles i don't know what is

[lelithefirst]

i'm sick and tired of people acting like 2022 was a normal season for ferrari and everything was perfectly fine within the team.

girl, the tp was FIRED. use your brain.

[nayziiz]

Pillowtalk | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Warnings: some smut, fluff

Author's note: Short and sweet for Osc. Been getting a ton of CS55 requests, so expect some of that coming soon.

Masterlist

Oscar groaned as the recycled air whooshed through the MTC simulator room. Another sunset he wouldn't see thanks to another gruelling preparation session.  Sure, F1 was all about pushing boundaries and whatnot, but right now, pushing the snooze button on his internal alarm clock sounded infinitely more appealing.  He glanced at the blinking steering wheel in front of him, a million buttons mocking him. 

"Essential," his brain chanted sarcastically.  Yeah, essential torture.  At least the stale protein bar he choked down earlier wouldn't fight back when he pretended it was a juicy steak. 

The prospect of her back in their apartment, her absence, a constant ache in his chest, made the cramped simulator room feel even smaller.  He knew she'd be prepping her "welcome home" ritual by now.  First, it would be the low lights, the ones that mimicked a real sunset. Then, the soft jazz that always seemed to melt the tension out of his shoulders, a stark contrast to the incessant hum of the simulator.  Next came her magic touch.  Oscar could practically feel her fingertips already, working their way across his scalp, a symphony of relaxation that could turn his frown upside down faster than any race car in the world.

He pictured her fingers moving down his back, her gentle pressure a welcome contrast to the stiff chair he'd been glued to for the past eight hours. Oscar knew the routine well enough by now. Her efforts were like a well-worn path leading him to sleep, each step a familiar comfort. But Oscar had one quirk in this carefully constructed relaxation ritual: his chattiness. The more exhausted he was, the more his voice box seemed to loosen, overflowing with nonsensical observations and half-baked conspiracies.

Sometimes, she found it endearing. She would play along, asking leading questions, feigning interest in his theories.  Other nights, his ramblings stretched on like an endless loop.  She would listen patiently for a while, her eyelids growing heavy with the drone of his voice.  But inevitably, fatigue would claim her, and she would drift off, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips, only to be woken up later by a trailing sentence or a nonsensical question that hung in the stale air.  Oscar, blissfully unaware, would keep talking, his voice a lullaby of exhaustion until it finally sputtered out, surrendering to the weight of his eyelids.  The silence that followed was a welcome sound, a sign that the bedroom was finally bathed in the quiet hum of sleep.

Other nights, she was too tired to entertain his delirium. He blinked at her, a goofy grin spreading across his face. 

“You know,” he started, his voice thick with sleep, “I was in jail once. It wasn't very fun, let me tell you.”

He hiccuped, a sound suspiciously close to a giggle. Struggling to keep her own eyes open, she jolted awake at his statement.

“Jail? Oscar, what are you talking about?” she retorted.

They had been together since high school, partners in crime when it came to studying. Jail? The closest he ever came to incarceration was detention for accidentally setting off a stink bomb in their high school’s chemistry lab.

“Monopoly,” he mumbled, the word slurring slightly. “Went to jail for, like, three turns. Worst experience ever.”

He punctuated his declaration with a dramatic sigh, then rolled over, burrowing deeper into the  bedsheets with the air of someone who had just solved a major existential crisis. She couldn't help but snort with laughter.  This was classic Oscar behaviour. 

“Honey, if you don't quiet down and get some sleep, you might end up in an early grave, not jail,” she teased, rolling her eyes playfully.

She reached out and gently swatted at his shoulder, the familiar warmth of him a comforting presence.  Oscar's pout, even obscured by sleep, was enough to disarm her.

“You’re so mean,” he mumbled, the accusation laced with a sleep-induced vulnerability.

“Look, it's three in the morning. You haven't slept a wink, and you have practice later this morning.  Think you can handle G-Force with no sleep?” She countered, her voice softened.  She knew the pout was a facade, a sign he was close to drifting off.

“Call it the 24 hours of Montreal,” he teased and nuzzled his face into her neck.

“Call it your last conscious moments before I suffocate you with a pillow,” she retorted, her fingers tracing circles absently on his arm.  She could feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, a slow, steady rhythm that was lulling her back to sleep.

“I'm in love with a bully, what has become of this world?” he sighed hopelessly, his breath hitting her neck at the right angle to make her skin tingle.

“Might need to call your Mom and tell her I'm in love with a criminal who went to Monopoly jail, bet she'd be impressed I've lasted this long with you,” she continued to tease him.

“If you continue to be mean to me, I will have to-” he began, but she interrupted him.

“What, Osc, what are you going to do?” she teased, knowing exactly what he intended.

A beat of playful silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken desire.  Then, before she could even form another witty retort, Oscar was a blur of movement.  With a whoop that startled her awake, he was on top of her, his laughter echoing in the room.  His hands, surprisingly nimble for a man who had spent the last eight hours glued to a chair, sought out her ticklish spots with an almost professional ease.  

Caught off guard, she erupted into helpless giggles that filled the room.  She squirmed and swatted at him weakly, more laughter than resistance escaping her lips.  Oscar, emboldened by her reaction, rained kisses down her neck, each one sending shivers down her spine.  Playfulness soon gave way to something more heated.  The laughter died down, replaced by a low moan that escaped her lips as Oscar's kisses migrated south, his touch turning from playful to urgent.

Their make-out session was a slow burn, fueled by exhaustion and a deep longing for each other. Each kiss was a whispered promise, a way of erasing the miles that separated them from a normal life at times. Hands explored, clothes became an impediment, and soon they were tangled together, in a universe of their own making.

The act itself was a whirlwind.  Oscar, fueled by a potent mix of sleep deprivation and pent-up desire, moved with a raw intensity that left her breathless.  He poured every ounce of remaining energy into it, their bodies moving in a perfect rhythm, a silent conversation spoken only in touches and moans.  

Afterwards, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.  Oscar collapsed beside her, a contented sigh escaping his lips.  He fumbled for a cloth, wiping away the afterglow on her skin with a tenderness that belied his previous intensity.  Flushed and breathless, she leaned into his touch, a wave of post-coital bliss washing over her.  

Within minutes, the steady rhythm of his breathing filled the air.  Exhaustion, finally winning the battle, claimed him.  He was out cold, a peaceful smile playing on his lips.  She watched him for a moment, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his face.  Oscar, with his sleep talk and his goofy Monopoly anecdotes, was her home, her safe harbour in the unpredictable world they found themselves in.  She snuggled closer to him, the gentle hum of the city in the distance a lullaby lulling them both into a shared sleep.

[ama0310]

Bubblegum Bitch

Character: Aaron Hotchner

Requested: No

Type: Song Fic, Angst/Fluff

Summary: Hotch never thought he'd fall in love again—until he met Y/N.

Author's Note: Based on Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

***************************

Meeting the Unit Chief should have been terrifying, but for you, it was exhilarating. Strauss had recently transferred you to the BAU from the Counter-Terrorism Division.

You suspected she added you to the team to ruffle the Unit Chief's feathers. It might have bothered you if it hadn’t come with a nice bump in your paycheck.

The moment Hotch saw you, he knew you were trouble. He just didn't realize how much trouble until your very first case.

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll Don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all

You stood before the mirror in a dingy motel bathroom, applying the finishing touches to your makeup. The skin-tight leather mini dress hugged every curve, transforming you into the perfect bait for the unsub who had been terrorizing local nightclubs.

Hotch's reflection appeared behind you, his face etched with worry. "Y/L/N, I really don't think you're ready for this."

You turned, cocking an eyebrow as you placed your hands on your hips. "And why is that, sir?"

Hotch's response was immediate and brutally honest. "You're still new, never been face-to-face with an unsub, let alone undercover. You're reckless, difficult to control, and frankly, a loose cannon. Need I go on?"

I'll chew you up and I'll spit you out

A smirk played at your lips as you sauntered towards him, invading his personal space. The scent of your perfume mingled with the tension in the air. "Look, Hotchie," you purred, noting how he stiffened at the nickname, "I was transferred here for a reason. I know what this job entails. So be my boss and let me do it."

You could see the internal struggle playing out behind Hotch's eyes. His professional concern warred with something else – an attraction he was clearly trying to suppress. You were a walking danger sign, and part of him was drawn to that fire.

"First," he said, his voice low and controlled, "don't call me that. Second, I'm not trying to offend you. I simply think Emily might be better suited for this operation. You can take points next time."

You scoffed, taking a step back. "Next time? With all due respect, sir, I fit the victimology perfectly, and you know it. I've spent the last hour transforming myself into exactly what this creep is looking for. If I don't do this, he'll likely claim another victim before we can catch him. So again, Hotchie," you emphasized the nickname, watching him bristle, "let me do my job. Don't make me have to disobey orders."

Without waiting for a response, you slipped on your stilettos and brushed past him, the warmth of your body tantalizingly close for a moment before you were gone.

Hotch watched you go, a mix of admiration and trepidation swirling in his gut. You were brilliant, fearless, and undeniably effective. But you were also unpredictable, pushing boundaries at every turn. As he followed you out, preparing to oversee the operation, one thought echoed in his mind:

Definitely trouble.

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored I'm the girl you'd die for

Over the past few months, you had become the team's radiant beacon of positivity, your presence a cure for the often-dark nature of their work. Even the usually stoic Hotch, though he'd never admit it aloud, had fallen under your spell.

It was impossible not to be drawn to your infectious energy. Each morning, you breezed into the bullpen, a whirlwind of warmth and enthusiasm. Your greetings were accompanied by compliments, tailored to brighten each team member's day. After particularly grueling cases, the aroma of your famous blueberry muffins would fill the office, a comforting reminder that there was still sweetness in the world. You even patiently endured Spencer's lengthy tangents, sparing the others from information overload.

As the team prepared to head out for a new case, you sprinted across the parking lot, your laughter echoing off the concrete walls. "Shotgun!" you called out triumphantly, playfully shoving past Spencer to claim the coveted front seat next to Hotch.

Your friendship with the young doctor had blossomed quickly, bonded by your shared status as the "kids" of the team. While the others sometimes found his endless stream of facts overwhelming, you delighted in his knowledge, often engaging him in spirited debates that left the rest of the team both amused and bewildered.

The unit chief's lips twitched, fighting back a smile as he watched your antics. Spencer, mock indignation coloring his voice, appealed to their leader. "Hotch, come on! She rode shotgun last time. It's my turn, isn't it?"

Hotch cleared his throat, his tone stern but his eyes betraying a hint of amusement. "Y/N, you know the rules. It is indeed Reid's turn to sit up front."

You turned to face Hotch, unleashing the full power of your most irresistible puppy dog eyes. Your lower lip jutted out ever so slightly as you pleaded silently. Behind you, Spencer let out a resigned sigh, already knowing he'd lost this battle. Your ability to wrap Hotch around your finger was legendary among the team, even if the man himself was loath to acknowledge it.

Hotch held your gaze for a moment, visibly wavering. With a barely perceptible shake of his head, he started the engine, tacitly allowing you to keep your place.

Victorious, you twisted in your seat to face Spencer, sticking out your tongue in a childish display of triumph.

"Y/N!" Hotch's voice held a note of warning, though it lacked any real heat.

You straightened immediately, your voice dripping with faux innocence. "Sorry, sir!"

The apology was hollow, and you both knew it. As Hotch pulled out of the parking lot, you caught the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Your sunny persona had once again melted the ice around the unit chief's heart.

Oh, dear diary, I met a boy He made my doll heart light up with joy

The realization hit you like a thunderbolt – you were hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Aaron Hotchner. For the first time in your life, you felt a fear that chilled you to your core.

How could someone like him ever reciprocate such feelings? The cons seemed endless: a decade age gap, your extroverted nature clashing with his stoicism, your wild spirit at odds with his controlled demeanor. Not to mention the professional boundary – you were his employee, AND  he was still navigating the aftermath of his recent divorce.

Your newfound awareness of your feelings for Hotch led to a desperate attempt at avoidance. It was hard, given how intertwined your lives had become over the months. For a week, you'd been dodging his texts, offering only cursory greetings, and maintaining a physical distance that felt painfully unnatural.

Hotch noticed the change immediately, and it gnawed at him. Your vibrant presence had become a constant in his life, a source of warmth he hadn't realized he'd come to depend on until it was suddenly gone.

He found himself missing the little rituals that had naturally developed between you. The morning car rides, once a practical solution to your car troubles, had evolved into a cherished start to each day. Your habit of bringing him a piece of candy during lunch breaks, with the excuse of "sweetening up his day," never failed to bring a smile to his face. Most of all, he missed the casual physical contact – the way you'd unconsciously place your hand on his arm when standing close, a gesture that grounded him more than he cared to admit.

As the week progressed, Hotch's concern deepened. Had he unknowingly offended you? He wracked his brain, trying to pinpoint any misstep. Perhaps the latest case had affected you more than usual, or maybe you were simply exhausted. Whatever the reason, he was determined to lift your spirits.

During his lunch break, Hotch made his way to your favorite café. The aroma of freshly baked goods enveloped him as he ordered your usual – a ham and cheese croissant and your preferred coffee blend. Back at the office, he noticed your empty desk and quickly left the bag before retreating to his office.

When you returned from the restroom, steeling yourself for an afternoon of paperwork, the sight of the familiar bag on your desk stopped you in your tracks. With trembling hands, you opened it to find the still-warm croissant and perfectly prepared coffee. Atop the container, a piece of candy was taped to a note that read: "To sweeten your day up! – Hotch"

Your heart swelled, a mix of joy and ache flooding your chest. Looking up, you caught Hotch watching you from his office window. Despite your best efforts to maintain distance, you couldn't help but offer him the radiant smile he'd come to cherish.

In that moment, the truth was undeniable. You were completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with Aaron Hotchner. As your eyes locked with his, a flicker of something – hope, perhaps? – passed between you, hinting that maybe, just maybe, these obstacles weren't quite so impossible after all.

Oh, dear diary, we fell apart Welcome to the life of Electra Heart

Aaron Hotchner never imagined falling in love after Haley left. His life revolved around his job and Jack. He didn't need anyone else. That is, until you entered his life.

You were the first to sense something was wrong when he didn't answer his phone. Racing to his apartment, you found it covered in blood. With Penelope's help, you tracked him to a hospital, learning he'd been stabbed nine times.

When he opened his eyes and saw you, Hotch thought he'd died and gone to heaven. You looked angelic - an angel he couldn't bear to see harmed.

So when George Foyet shot him in his own home, Hotch realized he needed to end whatever was blossoming between you before you got hurt.

But you made it difficult.

The moment he was released, you were there every day, before and after work. Groceries, cleaning, anything to ease his burden. You knew how hard it was for him to send Haley and Jack away, how alone he must feel. You were determined to show him the team - and you - were there for him. For anything.

Driving him home after the Darrin Call case, where he'd recklessly entered a house without backup, your anger finally boiled over.

"What the hell were you thinking, Aaron?" you demanded, following him into his apartment. "No gun, no vest, no backup. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Hotch turned, his face a mask of stone. "I knew the profile. I had it under control."

"Under control?" you scoffed. "If it were anyone else, you'd have suspended them! This isn't you, Aaron. What's going on?"

His eyes flashed. "What's going on is I'm the Unit Chief, and I don't answer to you. I think before I act, unlike some people."

The barb stung. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said coldly. "Just find it ironic you're lecturing me on recklessness."

"I've never walked into a hostage situation alone and unarmed!" you countered.

"I don't have to explain myself," Hotch snapped. "Especially not to you. Get out."

Your eyes widened. "No. We're talking about this. You're spiraling, Aaron. This obsession with Foyet-"

"Stop. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know you're not alone in this!" you pleaded. "The team needs you. I need you."

Hotch laughed bitterly. "If you haven't noticed, I am alone. My son is gone. I have no one. And I won't rest until Foyet is dead."

Tears welled in your eyes. "You have us. You have me. We can figure this out together."

"There is no 'we,'" Hotch said, his voice cold and final. "There never was."

The words hit like a physical blow. "Don't say that. You know that's not true."

For a moment, his mask slipped, revealing the pain beneath. But then it was back, harder than ever. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."

You stared at him, hurt turning to anger. "Go to hell, Hotchner," you spat, before storming out, leaving him alone with the wreckage of what might have been.

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips Hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

Your relationship with Aaron had crumbled to dust. Since that night you stormed out of his apartment, you'd made it your mission to avoid him at all costs. Difficult, considering he was your boss.

You understood he was facing unimaginable challenges - the loss of his ex-wife, becoming a single parent. Part of you ached to support him, but you both needed space.

That space stretched into a year.

You'd left transfer papers on his desk days ago. Despite your love for the team, staying had become impossible. It wasn't fair to you or Hotch. Counter Terrorism Division beckoned - a fresh start.

You hadn't told the team yet, dreading their reactions. You'd become their wild, sassy, overdramatic little sister. But tonight wasn't about goodbyes. It was Spencer's birthday, and Derek had chosen a club to celebrate. You wouldn't miss it for the world.

Arriving in a hot pink mini dress and matching heels, you spotted the team immediately.

"Happy birthday, Boy Genius!" you exclaimed, hugging Spencer tight.

"Please," he whispered, "get me out of here. Derek's trying to set me up with his friend."

You laughed, ruffling his hair. "No can do, Spence. It's your night. Go crazy. I promise not to film anything too embarrassing."

Turning to greet the others, you froze. Hotch was there. You hugged everyone but him, pointedly avoiding his gaze.

"Damn, girl! You're on fire!" Penelope gushed, clearly tipsy.

Emily nodded appreciatively. "I'm borrowing those heels."

"You know how to make a girl feel special," you winked. "First round's on me!"

An hour later, you were dancing with Penelope and Spencer, the alcohol buzzing through your veins. Suddenly, Spencer spun you – right into Hotch's arms. You glared at Spencer, who mouthed 'Karma' with a smirk.

The tension was strong as you and Hotch swayed silently. You wanted to escape, yet craved his touch.

"You requested a transfer," he stated, his voice low.

You quirked an eyebrow. "Did you sign it?"

"No."

You pulled back, stunned. "What do you mean, no?"

"We need to talk first."

Anger flared. "You're unbelievable," you spat, pushing past him and out of the club. He followed close behind.

"Y/N, please-"

You whirled to face him. "There's nothing to say. It's been a year, Hotch. Whatever we had is dead."

"You don't mean that," he insisted, his eyes burning into yours.

The alcohol amplified your emotions. "I do. I'm over it. Over you. There's nothing left to talk about."

"Then I'll talk, and you listen," he said firmly, gripping your shoulders. "There was a 'we'. Everything I said that night – it was a lie. To keep you safe from Foyet. He was targeting everyone I loved. I couldn't risk losing you."

Your heart stuttered. "You... loved me?"

"I still do," he breathed, cupping your face. "This past year has been hell. Not having you by my side – our carpool chats, sneaking candy, just... you. It was torture. I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness."

You wanted to resist, to make him suffer longer. But the alcohol, the longing, the raw emotion in his voice – it was too much. You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck.

You both exhaled, tension melting away. It felt right. It felt like coming home.

"I love you too," you murmured, then pulled back with a stern look. "But you've got a lot of making up to do."

He pressed his forehead to yours. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to. You deserve the world, Y/N, and I intend to give it to you."

Your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, full of promise and the weight of a year apart.

As you parted, you whispered, "This doesn't mean I'm not still furious with you."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch

Again, you were trouble. Even after two years together, you definitely kept him on his toes. Not transferring and working alongside your boyfriend made for an interesting way to live.

“What you did was stupid and reckless, Y/N.” Aaron's voice was stern as the team boarded the jet to head back home. The case had been a success, but it came at the cost of you getting into the unsub’s car without any weapons. Fortunately, you had your team.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Y/N. I’m serious.”

“Ooooo, Mom and Dad are fighting,” Spencer teased from across the jet.

“Shut up, Spencer,” you snapped, making him raise his hands in mock surrender. Then, you turned to Hotch. “You know damn well I needed to get into his car. If I didn’t and you caught him, he would’ve acted like he was just trying to get with me.”

Aaron rubbed the side of his head. Migraines. You gave him migraines. “The plan was for you to walk down the street, and the moment you were alone with him, we would get him. You went rogue.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Well, technically we were alone, and you did get him.”

He was about to argue again, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him your infamous puppy dog face. “Aaron, I’m okay. You know I did what I had to do to catch him. I’m sorry I worried you, but I’m not sorry for helping bring him in.”

He sighed, knowing you were right, and he could never stay mad at you. “I hated every second of it. My heart stopped the moment you got into that damn car.”

You smiled and pecked him on the lips. “Hey, you always said I was going to give you a heart attack.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes before he kissed you. “You have, and you most definitely will again.”

“Hey, that’s what you love about me.”

“That is true.”

[hotnbloodied]

Hiiii can I request popular yandere classmate x oblivious reader, oh and can it be smut pleassee?

Thanks for your ask! I started randomly naming all my yanderes even if they are all one shots, I don't know if I want to keep it though. We'll see. This one almost fucking tore me to shreds, I might need a break after this. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

-˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Yan!Popular Boy X Oblivious Reader (!!SMUT!!)

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

CW: not proof read, yous/yours used, gn reader, there is SEX, sloppy lewd writing, yandere tendencies, reader is kind of silly here. (LMK if I'm missing anything.)

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

It was the first group project of the year! You and three other people were going to be randomly assigned together to work on a research project about something or another. The first two seemed like nice people but the third was Atticus, your friends have talked about him before. Wasn’t he popular or something? When the group met face to face you finally understood why, he was funny, charismatic and quite the looker. Your group decided to meet up in the library and you thanked your lucky stars that it seemed everyone was working well with each other. The other two in the group knew each other and were friends so when one of them had to leave later on in the day the other one did so as well leaving you and Atticus the only ones in the group still in the library.

Without the other two here, people were more inclined to come by to say hi to Atticus causing him to get distracted, you didn’t care much honestly, you had work to do after all. You overheard a couple of the people who came to talk to Atticus talk about some sort of group karaoke and that he should join them. “Sorry guys, I’m still with my group partner,” he apologized. You looked up, “it’s all good, this is just the first day after all.” Atticus looked at you incredulously. “See? Even your groupmate thinks it’s fine. Join us, Atticus, the girls are asking for you.” Internally he was annoyed, he already said no and the least his groupmate could do was back him up. Were you really that stupid? Eventually though, he was able to convince them to leave him alone. But when he turned expecting to see you still sitting there you were gone. Your stuff was still here so he assumed you went to get more material to research.

Scanning over the library he spots you eventually, struggling to reach for a book on a higher shelf. He sighs and starts walking over to assist but it turns into a run when he notices that you’re about to get toppled by said books. He covers you from getting hurt and curses at himself because having books fall on him fucking hurts. “What are you doing?” He says sternly, “if you can’t reach something ask for help.” He gasps, some of his true self leaked out, his image of a prince type is over. “Dang I’m sorry, you’re right. No sense in getting myself hurt, thanks! By the way, are you okay?” Suddenly, his heart raced, he didn’t know why. It might have been the way you looked under him currently, or it might have been the way you accept his rough tone with you, but either way he was going to explore it, explore you.

The project goes by smoothly, you still hang out with Atticus since the two of you exchanged numbers due to the project. You found it really weird though, each time you hung out with him and his friends, his friends were never able to make it. You hope you’re not scaring them away. Little did you know that if anyone is scaring people away it’s Atticus. The more time he spent with you was like heaven but also hell. He loved spending time and learning new things about you but, fuck, why were you not picking up any of the hints and flirty signs he was giving you?! Like today when it was just the two of you again, you two were at the movies and he tried to get an arm over your shoulder. “Oh my! Are you cold? Here, you can have my jacket.” And wrapped him up in your jacket! Sure, being able to smell your scent was nice but that’s not what he wanted! To rub salt on the wound too, after the movies his friends spotted him and invited you two to join them and you ACCEPTED! “Oh sorry, were you guys on a date?” One of his friends asked. “Oh no, we’re just chilling! We’d love to join you!” You responded. He almost choked up blood.

He went to his last resort and feigned sickness. Worry etched your face and you apologized as you helped carry him away. He convinced you to go to his place since it was nearby and was a bit hurt that you agreed so readily, you were going to be in a private space with him after all. Arriving at his place you helped him inside, all the way to his room. As you wished him better and got up to leave he tugged your arm. “Wait a minute,” he says. “Hm? What’s up, need something?” He hugs you, “I… I need you.” Not sure what he meant, but feeling like he needed this, you hugged him and both of you stayed like that for a while. That was, until his lower half decided to act up. “Do you, uh, need help with that?” You ask, almost too innocently. His face flushed, “help with this…?” “Of course, a boner is a natural part of your body, you know. Though I also heard that boners don’t happen just because someone is horny though…are you horny?” Atticus felt the blood rush to his head, all he could do was meekly nod.

You were sucking on his member, he could tell that you’ve done something like this before but maybe not too often due to the slight hesitation you exhibited. Regardless though he never imagined you would have been so willing to do this for him, should he have asked sooner? The sight of your mouth wrapped so prettily around his cock, he wasn’t the type that was quick to cum but just because it was you doing this act on him he felt close. He couldn’t have that, so he grabbed your shoulder and urged you on to his bed. “Take off your clothes,” he instructs. You did as he told, he gulped, he wanted this for how long now? It felt surreal that this was real. He couldn’t help but use his hands to explore your body, groping, touching, feeling your warmth. Your breathing quickened, you weren’t sure why he was taking so long, his exploration of your body started making you feel needy. You were close to telling him to hurry but let out a yelp when he started to suck and lick on your chest. He worked his way down to your lower area.

“What are you doing? Is all this necessary?” You ask him. “Please,” he begged, “I just need this, won’t you let me?” You whimpered, this is good and all but all this teasing is something you aren’t used to. He sucked and tongue prodded you for a while, you said that you would let him do what he wanted but you wanted to release soon and his tongue wasn’t doing that for you. “Hey, uh– hnn!!” Before you could say anything more he inserted a finger then two into you, rhythmically finger fucking you. Making sure to brush against your g spot each time. You were so close and Atticus knew it, so he stopped making you whine even louder. “Why did you stop?” “Grind on my dick,” he ordered. Sluggishly you got up and did as he was told. “Don’t even try to insert before I allow you to.” So you rubbed your sensitive area against him, slow at first but even you can grow impatient and you’ve been that for a while. Your wetness making a mess and with your bodies grinding against each other a squelching sound reverberated through the room along with the heavy panting and moaning. “Soon please?” You begged. Atticus needed you badly as well so he pushed you down on the bed again and aligned himself before pushing in causing you to scream out from the intrusion. He jackhammered you silly, “fuck, fuck, fuck, please. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” he chanted like a mantra, “I need you so bad.” What followed was one of the hardest orgasms you ever had. He unsheathed from you and quickly went to your face marking your face all over with his seed.

After a couple of beats you asked, “hey, uh, can I have some napkins?” “S-sorry,” he scrambled to his drawer and took out a box of tissues. After you cleaned yourself up you asked, “I’d like to borrow your bathroom.” He told you that it was down the hall. You took your clothes and left his room, when you came back you thanked him. “Well that was fun! I’m going to head home now. I’ll see you later alright?” And left. He was shocked, how fucking clueless can you be?? He was going to make sure you understood that you were his now and he was going to move heaven and hell to make sure that happens, his darling.

[millieisawriter]

La redención de un tonto

javier escuella x reader

summary: the fall of the van der linde gang was the thing that doomed what had been between you and javier. you loved each other, you truly did, but after he chose dutch's side, and you stood by arthur, you knew this is the end. however, a few years later the fate had led you right back to javier.

wc: 2.7k

all pics taken from pinterest

!!!rdr2 spoilers!! rdr1 spoilers too i guess?

♡this was requested!♡

a/n: okay so i have never played rdr1 nor have i watched any gameplays, but i conciously spoiled it to myself after having finished rdr2, so i know what happens in rdr1, but forgive me if i have missed some details from the game

You never had the intention of heading to Mexico. Well, back when you and Javier were a thing, he always talked about how he was someday going to take you there. But due to what happened to the gang, it never happened, so you buried the memories six feet deep.

Long story short, Javier sided with Dutch and his ideas that got crazier each day, one worse than the other. On one hand you understood his loyalty, but you looked at the problem more objectively. Dutch's brilliant ideas were dangerous, leading the gang into a dead end, from where there was no saving.

"Loyalty is the only thing that can save us." Javier would often remind you.

By then, the gang had moved somewhere near Annesburg. The damn cave you had cleared of its previous tenants was making the camp feel cold, unfamiliar, even scary. Or maybe it wasn't the cave's fault. So much had changed the past few months since that failed job in Blackwater.

"Look, I love Dutch like a father, he practically raised me," you had replied, "but right now he's leading us all into a grave!"

"So what, you're going to side with Arthur? With John? Turn your back on everything we've built?"

"I can't be with you if you support ideas of a man who doesn't give a shit about none of us anymore!"

In that moment, you had been ready to leave. If only Javier wanted to, you two would have left the gang, keep your head low for some time, and eventually leave a happy ever after.

But that never happened. Javier had been blinded by his loyalty to Dutch, and you saw it even without Arthur pointing it out. Because Dutch saved Javier's life a few years before, Javier was now willing to give it up for plans that were doomed from the start.

After you had left, you had no idea what happened to any of the others. You've heard a whisper here and there in saloons, talking of the great fall of the Van Der Linde gang, some people that died, but never any details.

"I guess this is where we part ways." You had stated the last time you ever saw Javier. It were as if you needed to say it for yourself, because it still didn't feel real.

Old you never thought a breakup with Javier would ever have to happen. But then, the old Javier wouldn't put Dutch over the love of his life. Maybe it just wasn't what you were to him, after all.

He knew you still loved him, even if you hated you were on separate edges of the war within your gang. "You don't mean that."

Did he say that because he still loved you too? Or was he just so full of himself? In that moment it hit you, the memory of how John had called Javier a cynic that tried so hard to be a romantic. Maybe the fall of the gang caused Javier's true colors to show.

"I do." Tears appeared in your eyes when you thought about how you'd often imagine saying these words to Javier, but in slightly different circumstances.

For a moment, you thought he might argue, that he would try to convince you one last time. But instead, he looked at you with an expression you had never seen on his face before. There was sorrow, and regret. And the sign of an internal struggle within him.

"Then go," his final words pierced your heart, "just don't expect me to save you when everything falls apart."

Like a prophecy, everything did fall apart. The next few years were so difficult for you. You couldn't get a job, you had practically nothing left. You left the gang, but you never left the life of crime. It was the only way of living you knew.

The price on your head grew, at some point you stopped keeping track of how much it was. You had no way to redeem yourself, but there wasn't a thing you'd regret. You did what you had to in the order to survive. Regret wouldn't feed you, and it sure as hell wouldn't protect you from the men who wanted your head.

The next job was supposed to be simple. You were going to deliver a shipment of rifles to a small band of people like yourself near the border. But nothing ever went according to plan and you were ambushed. You ran, and all you knew was that now you were in Mexico, the place you were supposed to someday visit with the man you once had loved.

Coming back to America would be too risky, maybe fate just wanted for you to end up in Mexico, so after weeks of travel you thought you finally found a safer place to rest. The building looked like an abandoned house, falling apart, but it was better than the lack of any roof over your head.

You woke up one night to a group of unfamiliar male voices talking to each other outside. In Spanish, so you didn't even understand a single word. Before you could silently flee, the door opened, and you had been found by a group of Mexican bounty hunters.

Maybe it was the dehydration, the hunger, the lack of good sleep, but you could swear one man looked way too familiar.

"Javier..?" You asked quietly, to shocked to be scared by the three other men pointing their guns at you.

"¿La conoces?" One of the men asked, as Javier's shocked expression didn't go unnoticed.

["Do you know her?"]

Javier quickly recomposed himself, as if slipping into a role. "Es mía." It was a gamble, but Javier had always been good at those.

["She's mine."]

"¿De qué carajos estás hablando, Escuella?"

["What the fuck are you talking about?"]

"Vale más viva. Y no pienso compartir la recompensa. Váyanse ahora o ninguno de ustedes se va a ir caminando."

["She's worth more alive. And I'm not going to share the reward. Leave now, or none of you will walk away walking."]

The other bounty hunters passed knowing looks among each other. "Bien," one of them nudged Javier, you reckoned it was a playful gesture, "es tu problema."

["Fine, she's your problem."]

The other men left, and you were confused. How the hell were you having a reunion with Javier in such circumstances? As if out of habit, your reached for your gun, resting your hand on the holster at your hip.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, standing up.

"I could ask you the same thing, querida." He raised his hands to show you he doesn't mean bad. "I'm not going to hurt you." He's always had an accent when he spoke in English, which you had always adored. Now, the accent was even more prominent.

You pointed the gun at him, unlocking it. "Yeah, just hand me over so I can swing." You snapped. "That's the great Javier Escuella! Bounty hunting, of all things! That's ridiculous!"

"At least it's honest work. Continuing the way you chose... did you think the law will never catch up to you?"

"That's rich coming from you."

Javier's jaw muscles twitched, betraying the calmness was just a mask he put on. He lowered his hands slowly, but didn't reach for his weapon. "You don't know what I've been through. I lost everything."

"Just as I did! I've lost the gang, the life we had... you..." you paused before you seethed at him, "don't you dare act like you're the only one who's suffered. Nothing justifies selling people out for a few... whatever currency you have here."

Javier's gaze softened, you could swear you saw his lips twitch into a smirk momentarily. "I didn't sell you out, did I?"

Suddenly, the words 'then go, just don't expect me to save you when everything falls apart,' rang in your mind again. Truth be told, those words were said in anger, and right now... Javier was far from angry.

He hadn't seen you in years, but he still loved you. Maybe even more than before. After the gang fell appart, he quickly came to the conclusion you were the love of his life. There was no one better before, nor after. Meeting you again was felt like life giving him another chance.

"Why don't you sell me out, then?" You asked, lowering your weapon.

Javier smirked, as if the answer was supposed to be obvious to you. "Because I don't want you to swing, querida." He took a few steps closer, carefully as if approaching a wild animal.

"You don't get to suddenly act as if you care." Your voice was aggressive, but it sounded forced, almost cracking. "Let me go, and tell your... friends that I ran away."

"I couldn't let you go for all these years. You think I haven't thought about you every day since we parted? You think I don't regret the choices I made?"

You knew Javier has always had a way with words. In the charming way, not in the brash way Sean used to. Javier's words were like quiet, seductive whispers whenever he wanted or needed them to be. And maybe right now he just needed to sweet-talk you into giving in.

"Regret doesn't mean shit," you tried to snap at him, "you chose Dutch over me. We could leave the gang, leave a good life—"

Javier interrupted you, "Dutch knew how to get inside our heads."

"Just help me get out of here."

Javier took a deep breath, glancing outside the broken window momentarily. He could see the other bounty hunters leaving, the road's dust raising at their horses' hooves. They were far enough.

"Fine." Javier said finally, his voice disappointed.

The man grabbed your wirst, sternly but without hurting you. Now that he had you again, he was supposed to let you go. That wasn't what he wanted.

After he led you outside, you felt his grip loosen up to eventually let go of your wrist completely. Contrary to what it should make you feel, you were... disappointed? As if at some point you thought he would fight harder to win you back.

Then you realized. Javier didn't want to part ways again, but neither did you. And just when you thought there was no more hope, the man spoke up.

"You don't know this place," he said, "you're hungry, exhausted, don't know the language. Let me help you."

Your stomach had been empty for a long time, your legs ached, and the pounding in your head was getting unbearable. There were more reasons not to trust Javier, than to trust him, but you needed help. Maybe you could just sneak away after he helps you.

"And what do you get out of this?" You asked.

"I get to make up for my mistakes." He replied. "I'll show you I'm not the same man that let you go. Maybe I'll even get to keep you safe this time."

"I don't need saving. I can survive on my own."

"Not here, querida. This isn't the United States. How are you going to survive if you don't know how to even buy a damn apple in Spanish?"

Scoffing, you crossed your arms. "Don't need talking to steal."

"And make your bounty grow?" He sighed. "Admit it, you need help. Let me to that, please."

You replied after a moment of silence, "Fine. But don't think it makes up for what you did."

Javier nodded, smiling faintly. He led you to his horse, offering his hand to help you mount. Hesitantly, you took it. You pride didn't want to, but you were too exhaused.

Before climbing up himself, Javier reached for his sombrero and handed it to you. "Here."

It wasn't much, but it was better than leaving your face fully exposed, so you accepted it. You hoped wearing a man's hat didn't mean the same thing in Mexico as it did in the United States, but you tried to push that thought away regardless.

Then, you pulled the bandana from around your neck up over your face, completing the makeshift disguise. It was better than nothing, but what you really needed, were new clothes. Maybe something that wouldn't scream wanted criminal.

Some time later, a time that felt like enternity to you, Javier's horse came to a stop at a saloon. It looked as if it was about to collapse, but apparently the interior was full of life.

"Don't worry," Javier reassued you, dismounting, "most of them got a bounty on their heads. No one will care."

You reluctantly followed Javier inside. The saloon was dimly lit, and no one even seemed to care when you two walked inside. Despite the location being rather safe, Javier paid for a room, and that was where you ate your meal.

The meal wasn't fancy, but it tasted like heaven after weeks of surviving on whatever you could find. Either the saloon's cook was wasting his talent working in a place like this, or the fact that you hadn't had a proper meal in so long made it seem that way.

Javier leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you. "Good?" He asked.

You nodded, swallowing the last bite. "Yeah."

Javier watched you for a moment longer before looking away. For all the tension between you, there was something in his gaze that you recognized well. Inside the man he was now, was still the man you once loved.

He was different. Older, worn by life and everything that had happened the past few years, but so were you. Thinking about what to say next, you moved from the tiny table to the bed.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, making Javier's eyes shift back to you.

"Because..." he hesitated, "I never stopped thinking about you, about what happened. I didn't even know if you were alive. I was a fool, querida. I thought loyalty was everything, that Dutch had all the answers. Turns out he didn't, and it cost me the only thing that ever really mattered."

You didn't know what to reply. Of course, years of anger wouldn't disappear after a bunch of nice words. But it definitely cracked the surface of your shell. Part of you wanted to push him away, to protect yourself. But another part wanted to believe him, the part that saw in him your former lover.

When you didn't answer, Javier continued talking, making a bold move by sitting down on the bed. Right next to you. What it made you feel was so familiar yet so distant, you had to shift in spot, attempting to make the distance between the two of you a bit bigger. It barely worked.

Javier leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He wasn't looking at you when he spoke. "I know I don't deserve forgiveness," he couldn't look at you when he said this, "but I need you to know I never stopped loving you."

His words were an arrow that pierced right through your heart. As painful as it was, his feelings for you never faded. Even back when he made that choice to stand by Dutch. Especially then.

You took a breath to reply, but you couldn't come up with any words. So it just sounded as if you let out a sigh. That didn't make Javier feel any better.

He turned to look at you. "I'd take it all back if I could. I'd leave it all behind for you, right here, right now. Just say the word."

It was the way he said it that finally broke your shell completely. The way his voice was vulnerable. It proved to you that he wasn't trying to manipulate you.

Without thinking, you reached for his hand. He didn't know what to do, but he surely didn't want you to let go.

"You're an idiot." You said, but your voice was soft, without malice. "But so am I for what I still feel for you."

Judgning by how he's been acting, you thought he'll catch a hint this is the moment where he kisses you. It seemed as if he was too stunned to react immediately, so you took the matters in your own hands and leaned in.

It started hesitantly. He kissed you back, but the both of you were carefully walking along the thin thread of any trust that there was left. It took Javier a moment, but his hands eventually pulled you closer. He used to think he had lost you forever, so when he finally found you again... he didn't want to let go.

[hypewinter]

Bruce carefully approached the child playing by himself in the park. The child giggled as they played with chalk, the sidewalk illuminated by a single street lamp.

"What are you drawing?" he said softly, not wanting to alarm them.

The child turned, revealing themself to be a little boy, no older than 5. He had raven black hair and icy blue eyes. Bruce could practically already hear Oracle snickering on the other end of the comms. She had probably already taken a snapshot of the boy through his visor and posted to the batkids group chat which contrary to popular belief, he did know about. Bruce sighed internally. He'd never hear the end of it when he got home. Especially if he had the kid in tow. Let's hope that didn't happen.

"Hello Batman!" a cheery voice broke him out of his thoughts. "I'm drawing a gargaggle!"

Bruce refocused on the boy who showed no signs of fear. He didn't even look surprised which was strange to say the least. "A gargaggle? Do you mean gargoyle?"

The boy furrowed his brows for a bit before piping up again. "I do! It's such a funny word. I can never get it right."

"I know the feeling," Bruce said, crouching down next to the boy. "Sometimes I struggle with words too."

The boy's eyes went wide as if he couldn't believe the Batman struggled with words. "Say-" Bruce started, "-it's pretty late out are your parents nearby?"

The boy shook his head. "No, I don't have parents," he said as he went back to doodling.

Ok Bruce don't freak out just yet. "Oh, then do you have a guardian of sorts? Like an older sibling, or another family member? Like an aunt or grandparent?"

The boy shook his head again. "Nope. Oh! But I do have a friend. She's very nice and gives me lots of gifts and special things."

Alright, he could work with that. Maybe this 'friend' was the kid's guardian and he just didn't realize it yet. That could happen if he was put in their care recently. Bruce cleared his throat to get the boy to look up at him again. "Do you know where your friend is right now?" he asked.

The boy smiled wide. " 'course I do! She's right over there!" As he spoke, he pointed to a clutter of trees, just to his left. "She really loves you and your family," he said. "She's shy though, so she hid when she saw you coming."

"I see," Bruce replied as he got up. "Well maybe I can convince her to come out." He walked over to where the boy had pointed and pulled apart the bushes, hoping to find a woman who he could talk to about the dangers of wandering around at night. Instead he found nothing.

Bruce heard a giggle from behind him. "That's not where she is silly," he said.

"But that's what you-"

"She's not in the bushes, she's in the shadows. She's really good at hide and seek you know. Once we were playing and she hid in the shadows. Then she snuck up behind me from another shadow. It was really unfair! I never win hide and seek or tag against her," the boy said, starting to pout.

She's in the shadows? A meta? And one with a similar power set to Signal no less. Hmmmm.

Bruce began making his way back to the boy. "Then where is she right now?" he asked.

The boy shrugged, as he returned to his drawing once again. "I don't know. Sometimes she leaves and doesn't return for days. Since you're around, I don't think she's coming back for a while."

Great, just great. He had managed to scare off a little boy's only guardian in the middle of the night. Good going Bruce. he chided himself. He crouched down next to the boy again. "Do you know how to get home? Maybe we can wait for your friend there."

The boy turned to Bruce again. "Sure do!" he said, puffing out his chest. " 'cause I'm a big boy and big boys know how to get home on their own." he recited.

That was another point for the growing concerning information checklist. "Okay let's go wait for her then."

The boy's face dropped as he looked longingly at his gargoyle drawing. For a moment, Bruce thought he would have to bribe the kid with a lollipop but instead he held up his arms to be carried. "Okay," he said solemnly.

Bruce exhaled in relief as he picked up the boy. After pulling out his grappling gun he turned to the boy. "Where to...." Shit. Had he really forgotten to ask for the kid's name?

The boy in question didn't seem all too bothered by that fact. "Danny," he answered seamlessly. "And it's that way." Bruce aimed his grappling gun and off they went.

----

It took Danny all of two directions before he was out like a light. Bruce sighed, switching directions. Yep, he would truly never hear the end of it.

Next

[blackmoonoracle]

PAC - LOVE UPDATES & ADVICE

For singles & those in relationships/situations

PILE ONE

SINGLES:

You may have someone interested in you that doesn't know how to approach you romantically! It seems like a secret admirer, someone who watches from afar. For some of you this could be someone a bit older than you, it could also be a coworker or boss! It feels like there's a lot of admiration and nurturing energy coming from this individual. They may see you as very hardworking and possibly even unfairly self critical? This is definitely a huge secret, I see that this person WANTS to come forward but feels nervous to do so. Almost like they may be very shy? This is definitely earthy energy here. I also heard "capricorn & aquarius" so even if they're an air sign or some other sign they have earthy qualities to their character. This is an individual who may also have not so good self esteem. They may also be a late bloomer of sorts? Even if they are older it could be that this person has a deeply private nature. I also heard perverse. LOOOL. wild.

If you know who this is and feel the same way, I feel like you are very irritated just waiting and waiting. I'm not saying they won't come, however I am saying- that this individual may never have the inner strength to approach you. Be unapologetically expressive, if you feel the need to say something and you feel comfortable doing so then say it. If you feel like you're tired of waiting and vague back and forth flirting walk away girl! You deserve to have someone with enough inner strength to just approach you and make you feel like a prize! If you're the masculine, or brooding earthy energy reading this! Then you absolutely need to make a move. Stop worrying about whether you're good enough, rejection is part of life. If you end up being rejected then it is what it is. You live and let live, it is not the end of the world! You will regret having never taken action. Don't live in this isolated bubble forever.

TAKEN/SITUATION:

There is a need for some introspection in this pile! I'm not seeing anything bad, I'm just seeing that communication is super important and that you may struggle with it. I see here where there is an intention and desire to communicate, but I also see where there's a lot of mental anxiety regarding communication. I keep hearing something about picking yourself apart. I feel like there's a lot of really intense self criticism here. Which is also something I picked up for the singles in pile one. So that's an interesting consistency. Anyways, it's important for you to maybe be more relaxed in this connection. Not everything needs to be so deep, and you don't have to be so harsh on yourself. However, you absolutely are learning how to communicate more effectively. There needs to be more practical application of the thoughts and ideas you have. Like actually putting what you think and what you feel out there to be examined by the other party. It seems like you feel like you're above your own emotions? smfh, if I could roll my eyes at you I would. I promise you no one is above their own emotions. It looks like you need to work on a tendency to emotionally repress. All of this internal conflict you experience literally can be solved by communicating openly. I feel that there is a sense of arrogance regarding communicating emotions. Like you just don't know how to comfortably do it without feeling disgustingly vulnerable almost. It's like you just want to remove yourself from that state of being. If you just open up there will be a lot more success in your relationships of all kinds I'm seeing. Business, Romantic, Friendship. Etcetera.

PILE TWO

SINGLES:

Okay, we have 2 separate messages here for you guys.

So, some of you are manifesting your perfect person. Others are in a state of limerence. So, let's see, I'm gonna start with the manifestors. I'm seeing here that you have kind of pulled back, and pulled in all of your energy from an individual who seemed to be taking it all up and wasting your time. GOOD for you. I'm proud of you. So, it seems in my opinion that you are in a deep state of manifesting your desires and focusing on yourself and what you truly desire in life. Now, for the flip side. You guys are in deluluville, take a step back and ask yourself if you are putting this person on a pedestal to fill a void. What can you do right now to come back to yourself and feel more connected with your needs. Have you spent time with friends recently? Done any pampering self care? These things might be able to help you feel more secure and pull you out of that state of projection. I'm seeing that the advice for both piles here is to get out of this dreamy energy and start showing up in your physical life. Manifestation is great, but if you're not taking physical action how are your manifestations going to come to fruition?

You're being asked to be present in the world around you, and to remove yourself from this constant state of daydreaming!

TAKEN/SITUATION:

I feel like you need to have more confidence in yourself and in your connection! This is honestly a really positive message, I feel like you need to spend more time honestly focusing on you? Developing yourself, allowing things to unfold for you. Have more faith and confidence.

You may be exploring something you've never experienced before. Don't be afraid to get your hands dirty and really explore what's going on around you right now. Be more secure in knowing this is an actual solid situation, I feel like you are feeling restless somehow. Try to get to the root of that, understand what is causing you to feel so uncomfortable and confront it. I feel like you may be feeling frustrated because you're trying to reach something. Like maybe you feel distant from your person and it is causing a lot of friction? I feel like, you need to just relax a bit. You will get your desires! There is a truly solid foundation here, and everything will truly be okay. <3

PILE THREE

SINGLES:

ngl, I feel like a lot of y'all are either fixated on one person or like this super idealized idea of intimacy and romance and I honestly feel like its kind of unfair? I feel like there may also be a specific person who is interested in you that you're just NOT feeling. Right now is a really good time to focus on building yourself and your stability up. I feel that honestly a lot of you are just a bit stuck up at times? There's not really a huge message here. It seems like nothing is really good enough for y'all, which is fine like you're allowed to desire whatever you desire. At some point though you might want to ask yourself if you're lacking gratitude for what you DO have. If you're feeling bored, or like nothing is really fulfilling you perhaps it's time for you to find new hobbies and interests. It seems like maybe y'all aren't even interested in love rn? Which has me like why are y'all even reading this LOLOLOL. Regardless, I wish you all well! TAKEN/SITUATION:

I see that you guys may be in a brand new connection! omgggg, it looks like there's a lot of mystery surrounding how this might unfold. I feel like this might be a talking stage on the verge of becoming official, or possibly you just met someone that you have a very intense connection with. I feel like some of you could be younger, perhaps your family is not comfortable with you dating? So I'm seeing that this connection might be secret. I feel like you're being told that it will be okay and you will be able to let this circumstance come to actual fruition. Just know how to keep your situations separate and private so that your family isn't in your business. I'm also seeing something about love notes or love letters. So maybe you should write your person a letter confessing how you feel! Sorry this is so short pile 3 <3

[copperbadge]

how did u psych urself up to go to therapy? my executive function has been awol for like 2 years and it's gotten to the point where it's wrecking my ability to do anything. i'm scared to waste a bunch of time and money going and getting told i'm just lazy or that the problem is just me

Happy to talk about that! But this is really two issues, so I gotta do a fly-by real first on "scared of getting told I'm just lazy". :D

It sounds to me like you're aware intellectually that laziness isn't the issue. You know this is an executive function issue and not a personal flaw, but I definitely get that it's hard to internalize that. So I'm going to drop links here to some discussion of "laziness":

How do you know you're not just lazy? (ask sent to me -- it's long, but you can skim for the laziness bits if you want.)

Lack of motivation means you are avoiding pain (second ask in response to the first)

Laziness Does Not Exist by Devon Price

These are essentially my proofs when I want to remind you that laziness is a label that stigmatizes an innate behavior -- inability to act is real, laziness is not. If a therapist tells you that you are lazy, and ESPECIALLY that you are the problem, you should fire that therapist. Don't even stay the rest of the session if you don't want to, just say "I see we are not compatible," and bounce. I don't think the odds are high that you'll encounter that, but on the off-chance that you do, that's a bright neon sign that they're a bad therapist.

In fact I would open with that pitch: "I'm struggling with executive function and the self-perception that I'm really just lazy. I need help with the actual executive function issues but also with how I view myself because of them." The therapist's response will tell you a lot about whether they'd be a good fit.

So with that out of the way...

I eased myself into therapy with the speed of a small child entering an extremely cold lake. It helped a lot that all of my therapy has been virtual via Zoom, so a lot of stuff that would have been a barrier, like going to the physical appointments, discomfort in a strange space, etc. were swept away.

I didn't even want to see a psychiatrist for my Adderall prescription, but I knew I needed help and medication seemed to be my best option, so with the assurances of several people that it wasn't therapy so much as mental health maintenance, I saw a psychiatrist. And he was lovely! (I just met with him yesterday to go over my next few months of scrip.) For a while that was all I did: talked every month to a kind person who asked specific and measurable questions about my mental health -- mood, sleep patterns, ability to work, hobbies -- without getting especially personal. I thought, okay, I can handle this, I can probably handle more, so I asked him for a recommendation for a therapist.

He looked at the network of independent practitioners he belonged to (Clarity Clinic Chicago, if you want an example of a good network) and found me a couple of options. I got extremely lucky to find someone I felt was appropriate for me right out of the gate, though some of that was also knowing what criteria I had: I wanted someone who explicitly stated they specialized in adult ADHD and disability, and who seemed like they were interested in addressing a whole person and not a single issue. When we met she seemed nice, wasn't pushy or judgey, was familiar with spoon theory and disability activism because she also has ADHD, and didn't blink (or ask overly invasive questions) when I said I was very uneasy about therapy because of past experience. She was comfortable with the ambiguity I brought -- I basically said "Look, I think this is something I need but I'm not entirely sure what my goals are yet, it's just I only recently found out I have ADHD and I am rethinking a lot of stuff," and she was like fine, let's rethink it together.

It still took me a long time to start talking about anything meaningful, but she handled the non-meaningful stuff as if it was serious and important, which helped. Admittedly I have really good insurance so I pay $20 a session for therapy, which also helps; it's pretty negligible in terms of health costs for me. I can afford to dawdle.

So, all that said...my path may not be an option for you, but I think it indicates the kinds of options you have. You don't have to jump into serious and heavily emotional processing first thing if you don't want to. You can shop around for therapists and you can drop any bad ones you encounter speedily, or if you find one you immediately like you can still spend time getting comfortable before dropping into the heavier stuff.

I would suggest that if you have a prescribing psych or doctor for any kind of mental health meds, ask them if they have a recommendation. If you don't have that, ask around people you know or believe have access to therapy and see what they think. If those aren't available to you or you're uncomfortable with that, I'd do a search for licensed therapist and your health insurance, or see if your workplace has an employee assistance program that can recommend you someone.

Good luck! I hope you get what you need. Lord knows I've been there.

[aurekiwi]

Your love life within the next 6th months?

𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐞 | follow me | support me (ko-fi)

Pile 1 ; Pile 2 ; Pile 3

Be aware that this pick-a-card(picture) reading consists of only three piles, meaning that it won't resonate for everyone. Some of you may not have a relationship within the next six months. This PAC reading was for a very specific audience. Open it only if you feel drawn to opening this reading. Please let your intuition guide you when deciding which pile to choose!

Any form of feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Pile 1

Hello Pile 1! Within the next six months, you may feel pretty overwhelmed due to your work and personal responsibilities that you might not really a strong pull towards having a romantic relationship with anyone. It can also be that your life is a bit turbulent and you don't really have the time or energy to meet with someone. I do see that you might fall in love with someone or have a big crush on someone, but it feels more like a situationship or an interaction that'll leave you feeling upset and disappointed in the end. Whatever romantic interaction you have with this future person may drag out for a bit of time but unfortunately end on a not-so-desired note- you'll have to move on from this bond. You may meet this person through your workplace or your school, or in a particular setting where you need to work with someone on a mutual goal or a project. You may establish a bond with this person initially through mutual interests and compatible personalities that is discovered through interacting with this person while working together.

Pile 2

Hello Pile 2! I think some of you may already be in a relationship and some may have someone in mind at the moment and have thoughts to establish a romantic relationship with a person of interest. This person of interest seems to be surrounded by lots of Pentacles energy. For some of you, I'm feeling boss, a leader of some organization/company, some kind of authority figure. For some of you, I'm feeling a coworker/peer/classmate. You may feel that the two of you are compatible and ignore earlier signs of turbulence. It feels unbalanced. The relationship feels like there's a focus on infatuation rather than something more grounded and secure. You may put in way too much time and energy that isn't reciprocated, leaving you feeling emotionally burnt out, upset, and unheard. Some of you may have the relationship consumed of sexual relations with a lack of communication. Some may turn to substances or some unhealthy addictions to cope. Some may struggle with co-dependence or excessive trauma-bonding. I also sense knowing how to hurt the other person and saying something that'll hurt the other person on purpose to establish power within the relationship. Overall, I think the relationship will be short-lived and end within the next six months. After the relationship, you'll find that you feel really free, like you can do anything you want and roam free, a breath of fresh air almost. You're asked to reestablish balance in your life after the separation, to start anew as the kind of person you truly are rather than matching someone's likes/type. You are much more than just XYZ's lover. Stay away from substances or any other unhealthy addictions. Go out with friends, with loved ones that make you happy. Have a great time with those who truly care about you and your well-being.

Pile 3

Hello Pile 3! Within the next six months, you may find yourself struggling with lots of overthinking, internal conflicts, or arguments with those who're around you. I looked into what it might be about, and it seems like it'll be arguments about how you're going forward in terms of life decisions, it can also be able something related to career such as a promotion gone wrong, rejection from a program that you thought you'd be getting into, etc. Lots of turbulence and unfortunately just a chaotic time where it feels like the ground beneath you just opened up and you're completely taken aback by everything that is happening. Within this dark and stressful time, however, you'll be uniting with someone who brings you balance, strength, hope, and motivation. A new relationship, a new lover, or the return of a lover who has been your lover for lifetimes. This person will help you through a very hard time. They will be very patient with you and show their support for you so that you don't feel alone. They'll be there to listen to you when you feel frustrated about your current circumstances, kind of help you start moving again. They'll show you the power and control that you have over your own life, that you can do anything and become anything that you want to be. I think they'll help you recover your relationship with your inner voice, your conscience, the "you" that you ignored for a long time due to the people that surrounded you at the time who made you feel you had no control over your own life. I think this will be a very healing relationship and one that is very nurturing and balanced. This sounds like a beautiful bond!

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 5

Masterpost

“Well, she has survived,” DamiBat said blandly. He had clearly already showered and changed into casual clothes. His robin colors were neatly laid on the usual table. He had been waiting for her. Cass shut the plane door and swooped down to give him a hug.

“You worried,” Cass cooed. She ignored his struggling to get out of her arms. “Very sweet.” 

Damian hissed and tried a nerve strike. She kissed the top of his head and let him escape. 

“Black Bat, report,” demanded the Batdad. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat in the silly way it got inside the cowl. Worried. Fear. Nothing can happen to my baby, not my baby. 

She pranced over to give him a hug as well. He needed to touch her and know that she was real. 

Only when she detached did she consider answering him. “No,” Cass said thoughtfully. “Shower.” 

Batdad unhappily let her go. Cass took the time to get her thoughts into order. 

She did have to say something. 

She changed into comfy clothes and made her way to her computer. Damian had gone upstairs in the interim, and there was no sign of RedJason or Dickiebird. She sat and turned on the screen. Then she turned a stern glare on her family. 

Batdad and Timmybird looked away sheepishly, as if they hadn't meant to stare. 

Cass wrote up a factual report. Arrival time, important parts of conversation with Marvel, the area they had explored and his magical commentary. Then she got to the creepy laboratory. In the corner of her eye, she saw Timmybird tense. 

Cass sighed and spun her chair to face him. 

His shoulders went up guiltily. He meekly reached out and tapped a key. The secret spying of her computer screen ended. “Bad,” she said, because someone had to teach him manners. “Don't look at my screen.”

Tim hunched over a little more. Sorry. Sorry. (Will do it again.) 

Cass let out a heavy sigh and finished her report. She paused over her word choice a few times. 

“You entered an unknown machine, it powered on, and you received an electric shock?” Bruceman Batdad summarized before she had sent him the report.

Cass threw her hands up in disgust. “Stop spying!” She told him. “Stop it!” 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry honey.” He was sorry. He'd do it again, too. 

Ugh. 

UGH.

“Yes,” black bat confirmed tersely. 

“No lingering symptoms from the shock?” Bruceman Batdad came closer. Hovered. Flap flap, worried bat. “We should do a full check.”

Cass hissed at him, fed up. 

“Master Bruce is correct,” said Alfie. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at her. Little Miss, listen now. Caution is the virtue.

She waited until he wasn't looking to roll her eyes. 

There was no sensible reason to escape. She sulked through the examination. 

“Heart rate is normal,” Alfie narrated for their audience. Cass narrowed her eyes. See? See what you've done? Wasted her time, is what you've done. 

“No pain?” Alfie poked and confirmed. Again and again. No, pain, no pain? Always no pain. “Well then,” he sounded very pleased. She blinked to full attention. “You must have done a very good job taking care of that rib, Miss Cassandra. I must admit I anticipated that there would still be soreness.” 

Cass was very still. Then she nodded. 

Uh. 

Um.

She thought about cartwheels. She thought about vaulting down a flight of stairs. 

Hm. 

…Probably her rib should not be totally healed. 

She weighed internally whether this was troubling to her. On the one hand, it seemed very odd. There was pain a few hours ago. Why no pain now? Pain usually left while she slept, not after flying a plane. Could healing be a side effect of magic girl transformation? Big, if true. Should probably tell her adults. 

On the other hand, no pain was objectively an improvement.

Cass decided to say nothing. Maybe Captain Marvel would have a theory. 

Speaking of. When she got back to her room, she sent him a text message. 

🪄 🧙🏻📞?

The answer came near instantly. 

Not yet! 😭 💔 She isn't answering me. Should I contact Constantine, you think?

Huh. Fast response, very good. Cass sent 

😬 

But 

🕵🏽‍♂️ 🤙🏽 🟰 👌🏽

Lol, wrote Captain Marvel. I know what u mean. 

Cass smacked her lips in the quiet of her room. He probably did. But he oughtn't. Old people had a hard time with her communication style. 

Idly, she lined up a theory. 

Captain Marvel had a magical girl transformation. Captain Marvel seemed too young for his body to her. 

Ergo:

He was baby. 

Cass, all of 17, wasn't that pressed about it. Bats and birds usually started flying and fighting as babies. Damian was still extremely baby. But. Hmm. 

Birds weren't in the Justice League. That was the difference: he had to hide it from Batdad, Superguy, and Wonder. 

Oh. Cass put a hand on her heart and frowned. In her dark room there was no one to see it aching in sympathy. 

Baby Captain was… was a little too baby, emotionally, for the Justice League. 

Well. It was decided, then. The next day at breakfast she announced, “Bruce. New rule.” 

Heads swiveled to look at her. 

“We are entitled to make rules for Father?” Damian asked Alfred, sotto voice. He looked intrigued. Alfie made a face that indicated his answer would depend on what rule Cass made.

Bruce lifted an eyebrow at her in prompt. 

“Stop bullying my Marvel,” she commanded. “He’s-” 

She hesitated and edited out the word “baby”.

“sensitive to hostility,” she settled on.

Bruce got a consternated look. “Sweetheart,” he began. 

“Yes,” Alfred said to Damian, voice extremely soft. “Upon occasion.”

“Play nice,” Cass said firmly. No arguments. She took a pointed bite out of her toast. No more need for words. Eat now.

Tim giggled. When Bruce looked at him he lifted his fork in front of his face, as if the slice of pancake was enough to hide that he was laughing at the pater familias.

“If he said that I'm bullying him,” Batdad started, sounding harassed, “then there must have been some misunderstanding. I've never intended-” 

“No misunderstanding,” Cass denied. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I see. I see his body get small when you use the stern Batdad bigman voice.” 

Bruce grumbled into his hand and turned his face away, defeated. Resentment. Insecurity. Do I really do that?

“Yes, Father,” chimed Damian, who loved to kick the defeated. “Surely this fool quakes at the barest hint of your displeasure. But should he not?” 

Alfred huffed a subtle little laugh at the manipulation. He squeezed Damian's shoulder.

Bruce, thinking that Damian approved of his coworkers fearing the Bat, looked even more constipated. Resignation. “I will be careful with my tone around him,” BatDad settled. Sullen. Embarrassed. Resigned.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Cass said cheerfully. She squeezed her eyes when she smiled at him, because she was also baby. He melted, vanilla ice cream in July.

Damian made a solemn nod of respect out of Bruce's line of sight. She winked back her thanks for the assistance. 

Marvel got back to her not long after. Cass took the call outside, so that Bats could not flap nearby without her noticing. 

“Black Bat!’ he said, excited. “I got Constantine!” 

She blinked at her phone. “...In a trap?” 

“What? No,” he dismissed. “I know where he's going to be this afternoon. Can you come meet me?” 

Cass looked back at the house. “...Yes,” she decided. She was off the patrol roster tonight anyway. “Where are we going?” 

“Uhh….” Marvel's voice trailed off for a bit as he clearly consulted his note or phone or something. “I'll send you the address.” 

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Fruits

I don't know what's possessing me to write all these Bucky fics but they exist now. I really should be doing school work but...man the brain worms, someone needs to help me kill them. I secretly blame marvel rivals for this resurgence

Summary: Fruits have a special place in your heart for what they've done to help you and Bucky become closer

You don't know what possessed you to do this, but now you have a scowling ex-Hydra assassin super soldier who could kill you at any moment sitting across the table from you in your very own safe house. He silently stares at the table as if it's going to attack him at any moment, flesh arm resting on said table as you peel an orange, popping a slice into your mouth.

"Want one?" You internally cringe at how loud your voice is when the house is deathly silent and nearly take your words back when he looks up, his blue eyes a mixture of curiosity and wariness. His fingers twitch, reaching towards the slice of fruit in your hand but just as quickly, he pulls back and resumes his staring contest with the table.

Looks like you're not going to be able to get him to talk any time soon. You're surprised he even took up your offer of a safe house in the first place, his look of confusion which faded into the familiar scowl when you handed him a cell phone as well as an address made you believe he wouldn't show up at all. Yet here he is, silently brooding in his chair with no signs of wanting to going anywhere else.

Rising from your chair, the way he flinches ever so slightly doesn't escape your notice and you head to the kitchen cabinet to grab a small plate, setting the porcelain object in the middle of the both of you. You pick up the half eaten orange and resume peeling it, placing slice after slice on it. A quick glance in his direction tells you he's intrigued by what you're doing and an idea strikes you. Setting the skin aside, you begin arranging the slices in a circle, stacking them into a mini pyramid of orange slices before nudging the plate towards him.

"All yours," you say with a smile but he doesn't move. You raise an eyebrow, slowly taking a slice from the top of the pyramid and popping it into your mouth, chewing it. "It's safe to eat."

His hand inches towards the plate, cautiously taking a slice before biting into it, blinking in surprise as juice begins to drop from the corner of his mouth. You can't help but laugh, pushing the box of tissues towards him and he takes one with his metal hand, wiping off the juice. His eyes crinkle, lips tugging upwards but the expression quickly vanishes and he's back to his stoic self. He finishes one slice in two bites and reaches for more, taking his time with each slice as you busy yourself with taking stock of what groceries you need now that you have a super soldier to feed as well.

When you look back at the table, you find the plate cleaned out and smile. "It's good, isn't it?"

He gives you an uncertain nod, then a soft 'yes' escapes his lips and you internally cheer. Progress! He's talking now!

You head back into the kitchen, emerging with two more oranges and set one down in front of him. He stares at the orange, picking it up and setting it down, then at you as you walk over to him.

"May I?" You gesture at the chair next to him and after a moment of deliberation, he nods. You take a seat and begin showing him how to efficiently peel the orange. He frowns, struggling to control how much strength he's using with his metal arm but manages a pretty decent attempt, revealing the juicy flesh beneath. You grin, watching as he manages a small smile, clearly proud of his orange and begins stacking the slices in a pyramid on the plate.

You let him, even contributing a few slices of your own orange to the pyramid and sit back as he looks his creation over, giving it a few pokes before looking over at you.

"All yours." You gesture at the pyramid. "You peeled it, you should be the one to eat it."

He blinks, then takes a slice and pops it into his mouth. With a huff of amusement, you leave him to eat his orange in peace and head out to the grocery store.

The next few weeks continue on like this, with you bringing back groceries, ordering takeout because you can't cook and arranging fruits on a plate that you both share. The Winter Soldier, no, Bucky, sometimes helps with the unpacking of the food but he always helps you prepare the fruit platter, silently working away at the fruits in the kitchen and comes out with a beautifully decorated plate of fruits whenever you present him the fruits for the night. You let him be, realising that he's happiest when preparing the fruits and always let him decide what fruits to get from the grocery store. The first time you had asked him for the fruits he wanted you to get, he'd stared at you silently until you prompted him further, but you refused to give up. He deserved to take back his autonomy, and heck it, you were going to help him do just that starting with choosing what fruits would end up on the platter. You also begin to realise that Bucky enjoys eating plums the most.

Weeks turn to months and Bucky begins to gather enough courage to roam outside the safe house by himself. You don't monitor him like a hawk but you do tell him to text you when he leaves and when he's roughly be back just in case anything happens. At the start, he tells you exactly where he's going and what he will be doing but you quickly explain that you don't need to know all that, you just want to know when he'll be back just in case anything happens. It takes him a while to stop going to you with his detailed plans for the day but when he does, you can tell it's having a positive effect on him. The grouchy scowling ex-assassin smiles more often now, even if it's only in private and his posture has relaxed a bit. He no longer tenses at every little thing and you can sit beside him without needing to ask his permission.

You only found out about the latter when you did so by accident after a long day at work and he didn't flinch or say anything. He even shifted a little closer to you, offering you a half of the plum he was eating. That had been huge progress, and for the first time it was you who didn't know what to do. The plum that day tasted especially sweet, and something clicked between the two of you.

"Hey, I'm back," you call out, shrugging off your backpack. Bucky's head whips around at the sound of your usual greeting, ice blue eyes lighting up as he makes his way over to you, only for his steps to falter when he sees you.

"You're hurt." His gaze flicks over you, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Just a couple of scratches, nothing to worry abou — ow!" You yelp as Bucky gives the gash on your arm a poke.

"That doesn't sound like a scratch." He firmly seats you on the couch, leaving to grab a first aid kit only after he's sure you won't move away the moment he turns his back on you. You sigh, leaning back against the couch as much as your injuries will allow you and close your eyes, waiting for your roommate to come back. Exhausted, you feel yourself begin to fall asleep.

"Don't die on me, doll." His voice is a low murmur but it startles you awake anyways.

"Who said I'm dying?" You crack open an eye. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"You've got to stay awake for me, alright doll? Even if you're too tired." Bucky begins cleaning your exposed gashes, expertly bandaging them with a gentleness you rarely see from him. He flinches slightly at every wince you make but resumes his task when you relax once more. He always bites his lip when he's deep in concentration, you realise. Yet another habit of his that makes him more human than weapon, traces of the man called James Buchanan Barnes coming back to the surface now that he wasn't forced to be the Winter Soldier.

The rest of your wounds are hidden beneath your clothes, and Bucky looks to you, hand hovering over your shirt in silent question.

"Yeah, sure." You wince as you try to take it off, pulling at your wounds in the process. He gently tugs your hand away, helping you pull your shirt off the rest of the way. A light blush creeps onto his face when you catch him staring at your chest and he quickly tears his gaze away, focusing on the deep cut in your side, but the tips of his ears still burn red.

"What happened?" He asks quietly as he finishes bandaging your last wound.

"Intel was inaccurate. It happens from time to time, don't worry about it." You pat him on the hand in thanks. "You should see the other guy though."

"Do I need to kill them?"

"What?"

"Do I need to kill the person who hurt you or the one who gave you the inaccurate intel? I'll kill both if needed." Bucky's face hardens, the Winter Soldier rearing his head. He really means it, he really will kill people for you.

As much as you would like to see certain people punched in the face, you're a little worried about asking Bucky to help you with that. No face is going to be able to withstand that metal fist of his, and considering how much irritation is radiating off him, he's going to be hitting faces hard. You're just going to have to do that once you've recovered enough to throw a punch without reopening any injuries.

"Uh, no thanks. You don't need to kill anyone. Thanks for the offer though, I'll keep that in mind." You flash him a pained grin. He scowls and heads for the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts on the couch.

This is the first time Bucky has shown so much concern for you. You're touched, and rather proud of how far he's come since the first time he silently sat across the table from you, staring at the table. The nights where his nightmares haunt him in full force still happen often but it's not something you can really help with aside from ensuring that there's always hot tea available for him to drink. You're pretty sure he still doesn't know that you wake up every time he has nightmares, startled awake by the heart-wrenching screams that echo throughout the house. He doesn't need to know that you stay awake for the rest of the night, listening out for him just in case he needs help. You hope that one day he'll be free of them, free of the fear that binds him to Hydra and free to truly live the life he wants.

Your fingers brush over the bandages on your arm as you continue to sit in silence, slowly drifting off to sleep.

"You should at least eat something before going to sleep. And drink some water." Fingers gently brush your hair out of your face. The clink of glass against wood followed by porcelain against wood makes you open your eyes again. Bucky is standing in front of you, pressing his flesh hand to your forehead to check your temperature.

"Good, no fever. Finish the glass of water and the fruits then you can go to sleep, alright?" His ice blue gaze is soft, filled with an uncharacteristic gentleness that you've never seen before. You tiredly reach over for the glass and your hand bumps into another warm hand as Bucky's flesh hand reaches the glass before yours. He lifts the glass to your lips, gently tipping it such that water trickles into your mouth at a drinkable rate.

"You don't have to —" You get cut off by a piece of fruit shoved into your mouth. Bucky scowls, as if daring you to continue talking and you deflate, letting him feed you. You chew the cube of plum in your mouth, realising that Bucky had taken the time to pit the plum and cut it into bite size pieces just so that it would be easier for you to consume it. Wait plums? You don't recall having that fruit in stock in your kitchen previously.

"Did you buy the plums today?" You ask.

"Do they not taste nice?" He pulls back, looking at the plum cube he had just picked up with the fork. You swear he looks like a sad puppy from the way he hunches over, nibbling on the plum.

"They taste good! It's just I don't remember having plums in the house."

"Oh. I…went to buy them today. Do you not want me to? I won't buy anymore if you don't want me to."

"It's alright. I don't mind plums, besides you seem to like them. By all means buy more." You chuckle, reaching over to stroke his hair.. "Thank you, for today."

He blinks, surprised and smiles shyly. "You're welcome."

Once you've finished the plums, he rises from his chair and is about to head to the kitchen to wash the dishes when you stop him with a firm tug on his flesh arm.

"Could you stay with me? For the night?" The words come out as a whisper. For some reason, you don't want him to leave tonight. You want his company, his warmth, to feel his arms around you and to rest your head against his chest. You're not sure why, but you can't shake the feeling.

"As you wish, doll," he murmurs, slotting himself into a free spot on the couch. You curl into him, humming happily as sleep finally gets to claim you and feel him gently run his flesh hand through your hair. One day, you'll get him to use his metal arm for physical contact, but for now, you're satisfied with him initiating physical contact. And his ability to choose good plums. Yeah that too.

[toboldlygohome]

"I'm not giving up on you!"

Leonard McCoy X Reader

Summary: Following a terrible attack on the Enterprise, Dr. McCoy does everything he can to save the heavily-injured reader.

Character(s): Leonard "Bones" McCoy

Warning(s): Wounds, Death, Implied violence, Ends in fluff

Dr. McCoy carefully navigated the sea of bodies, careful not to step on any one of them. The Enterprise had been boarded little more than thirty minutes ago. Bones followed the path of destruction, hoping to find some survivors. No such luck.

McCoy scanned every body for signs of life, but yielded no results. He grimaced and trudged onward. He hated this feeling of powerlessness. So many good people were dead and there was nothing he could do about it. If only he had gotten down here sooner, maybe there wouldn't be so many casualties.

Leonard rounded a corner and was disappointed to find even more bodies strewn all over the floor. But amidst the flashing red lights, he saw you. You were leaned against the wall, blood staining your blue uniform. His tricorder picked up your heartbeat and he immediately hurried to your side.

"Hey, can you hear me?" He asked, snapping his fingers near your ear. Much to his surprise, you slowly opened your eyes.

He couldn't believe you were alive, let alone conscious. Your arm was a mangled mess of burns, you had a massive laceration in your lower abdomen, you were sitting in a pool of your own blood, and you had a terrible concussion. Your groan came out as more of a choked gurgle.

Leonard wasted no time in prepping a hypo to ease your pain. "Can you speak?"

"Yeah," You managed weakly.

"That's good. That's really good. Can you tell me where it hurts?" He asked.

"It hurts everywhere," you murmured.

"Perfect."

"Perfect?" You asked.

"It means you still have feeling in your limbs. That's a really good sign," Bones jabbed the hypo into your arm and started digging into his bag. He had to get you stable if you were going to have any hope of surviving this. "I'm Dr. Leonard McCoy. Can you tell me your name darlin'?" He asked, trying to ease you into a sense of calm.

"Ensign Y/N Y/L/N. Biology department."

"On, I know about you, you're the one who wrote that dissertation on the possible medical uses of Aldebaran Serpent venom. You graduated top of your class in the starfleet academy. I heard you've got a promotion coming up." Leonard said, hoping to keep your mind alert. He didn't want you passing out with that concussion, not until he was sure there wasn't some internal bleeding going on that his scanners weren't picking up.

"Yeah, if I make it that far..."

"You're gonna make it, trust me." He swallowed. You could see it in his face. The chances of you living weren't very high.

"You're a terrible liar doctor McCoy...I'm gonna die here, aren't I?" You whispered.

"I brought the captain back from the dead using the blood of a homicidal maniac. I've performed greater miracles than this. You ain't gonna die, not if I have anything to say about it." He said, already working to disinfect the gaping wound in your stomach. "Just keep talking to me, can you do that?"

"I'll try..." You struggled to keep your eyes open. "I-I... I smell something burning..."

"Don't worry about that." Leonard said firmly. "Just...tell me about..." He grasped for a topic that wasn't your maimed body or the smell of burning hair. "Tell me about home. What's your family like?" Leonard started to autosuture the laceration.

You ignored his question and tilted your head down to look down at the damage. Bones grabbed your face and forced your eyes up to his. "Don't look at it. Just look at me, okay?"

"Mkay...nice face at least." You smiled weakly.

"Oh?" he got back to his work, but kept talking. "I've always been told I got a face only a mother could love. What's so nice about it?" He asked.

"You have pretty eyes... and..." You lost your train of thought.

"And what darlin'?"

"Huh?"

"I got pretty eyes and what?" he asked, fighting against the knot appearing in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know you, but he'd like to. You were a tough cookie and he respected the hell out of it. He could see it in your eyes. You still had so much to offer the world... the universe. He couldn't let you die like this. He wouldn't let you die like this.

"Oh...I like your...your forehead wrinkles...makes you look distinguished," you attempted another smile.

"Gotta say sweetheart, that might just be the nicest compliment I've ever received." Leonard met your gaze for just a moment before returning to his task.

"Well, I've got more where that came from..." You leaned your head against the wall and looked at the ceiling. "...Might throw up..."

"If you feel like you are, just tell me. Okay darlin'?"

"Mkay..."

You both fell into silence and Leonard labored to think of some way to get you talking again. The autosuture wasn't working fast enough for his liking. He still had about two and a half inches to go. If he didn't work fast enough, you were gonna die.

"...Everything's all fuzzy. Cold." You murmured. A low rumble echoed through the halls as if punctuating your dark statement.

"I bet. You lost a lot of blood, but you'll be okay." Leonard clenched his jaw.

"There are others...gotta help the others McCoy. I'm a lost cause."

"You are no such thing. I'm saving you dammit." He didn't have the heart to tell you the other people in the hallway were already dead. A sudden, sharp jolt shook the ship. Leonard grunted as he tried not to fall into you.

"I'm gonna die... I never even got to ask out that doctor. Never had the guts..." You mumbled, eyes struggling to focus on anything.

"What doctor?" Leonard asked as he continued closing you up.

"Y'know. The grumpy one." You said.

Leonard's expression darkened. He was trying dammit, but not nearly hard enough. You were growing delirious. You didn't even realize what you were admitting to him. Your eyes fluttered closed, but you kept talking.

"I don't really know him, but he saved a friend of mine once... He's uh..." You gathered your thoughts. "He's real smart. So dedicated to his patients. I really admire that... Also got this dry sense of humor, and a really handsome voice. I wouldn't have minded taking him out sometime. Buying him flowers." You hummed.

"He's the kind of guy you bring home to mama, I think...Well...My mama at least." You looked at Leonard, eyes swimming with grief. "I'm not scared. You have to tell her for me. That I wasn't scared...I have people back at home. Can you tell them I love them?" You whispered, just as Leonard finished closing your abdominal wound.

Leonard breathed a sigh of relief as he started wrapping you with a bandage. "You're gonna tell them yourself darlin'. You're gonna make it, you know why? Because you're strong. Resilient as a rubber band." He tied off the bandage and started going to work on your arm. "I'm gonna get you stable and we'll get down to the medbay, then you'll make a swift and miraculous recovery, just in time for you to earn the rank of Lieutenant. How does that sound?"

"..." You didn't respond.

"Y/N?" He asked. Your eyes were closed. Your heartbeat was growing fainter by the second. "No No. Dammit, come on! I'm not giving up on you!" He emptied hypos into your arms and legs. A cocktail of medicines were brewing inside of you, fighting to keep your heart beating. He waited with baited breath for your readings to change on his tricorder.

Eventually, your heartbeat grew stronger and your breathing deeper. Then, to his astonishment, you opened your eyes again.

"Welcome back, you gave me a start there." Leonard flashed a relieved smile.

"Sorry...didn't mean to fall asleep," You smiled back.

Suddenly, the red lights turned off and the hallway lit up in its usual bright white light.

"I know darlin'. You're awake now, that's what matters." He pulled out his communicator. "Nurse Chapel, do they have the bastards detained?... Good. I need a stretcher on deck 15, as well as a recovery team. Prep the protoplaser and the burn chamber for the arrival of ensign Y/L/N." After her confirmation, he hung up and pointed his scanner down the hallway to see if there were any more heartbeats. Nothing.

Bones sighed and hung his head. The bastards were thorough, he had to give them that. He found only one survivor out of how many hallways? He was curious about how the security team managed to take them down, but that would be a conversation for a different time.

"Goddamned bloodthirsty space beasts..." He hissed.

"Tell me about it," you chuckled. "Certainly did a number on me, huh?"

"How are you feeling?" Leonard leaned against the wall beside you.

"Numb all over... I suspect you had something to do with that?" You turned your head to look at him.

"I injected you with a hypo for pain relief right when I found you." He met your eyes.

"Funny. I don't think I remember that."

"You're definitely on the loopy side. Can't tell if it's from the blood loss or an adverse reaction to the medicine, but we'll figure all that out soon."

"You can go now. Someone's coming to get me right?"

"You ain't getting rid of me that easily. I'm staying with you until your stretcher arrives." He crossed his arms.

"But there's got to be others that need help too, right?" You closed your eyes. "I'm fine, you should help them."

"It's against protocol to leave a critical patient alone. I'm not leaving until your ride arrives." Just then, he heard the sound of the hover-stretcher. "Speak of the devil, it's about goddamned time." He stood and addressed the two nurses. He spoke to them in hushed medical lingo. You had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't sound good.

Leonard helped load you onto the stretcher. "I'm passing you off to Nurse Bell and Nurse Valinsky. They're going to take great care of you."

"As opposed to you taking bad care of me?" You smiled tiredly.

"Very funny," He smirked. "I'll catch up with you soon. Don't miss my face too much, you hear?"

"You're asking for the impossible, Dr. McCoy," You joked. The nurses guided you down the hall and around the corner. Leonard stared out at the crowded hallway, hoping his recovery team would arrive soon. Until then, he would just have to look for living patients on his own.

A doctor's work is never done.

~~~

When you awoke, you felt heavy. It was dim in the medbay and all was quiet, save for the occasional beeping of the biobed. You attempted to sit up, but winced the moment you put pressure on your arm. From the shoulder down, your limb was covered in bandages. You felt a deep ache all the way through your body and decided it was best to lay back down.

You tried to remember how you ended up here, but everything after the initial attack was a blur. You remembered the grumpy doctor, you remembered him mentioning your dissertation, he said something about pretty eyes, and you remember being so tired, but trying so hard to focus on him.

You looked around the room, hoping there might be a nurse nearby. Instead you found a room full of people sleeping in biobeds. There was a light on in the office at the end of the room, but you had no way of knowing if there was actually someone inside.

You scanned the controls to your left until you found a call button. Once you pressed it, you heard shuffling in the office. Much to your surprise, Dr. McCoy came shambling out.

"It's about time you woke up," Leonard took a look on your screen to check all your vitals. As you watched him, the events of your last encounter came flooding back. Distinguished forehead wrinkles? Seriously?

"Your heart-rate is kicking up," Bones smirked "Is that because of me?" He joked.

You rolled your eyes, "how long was I out?"

"About forty-eight hours."

"Two days?!"

"Better keep it down darlin'. Don't want to wake the neighbors." He slowly raised the bed into a sitting position and handed you some water.

"Thanks," you said hoarsely, "I didn't even realize I was thirsty."

"That's what I'm here for." He grunted as he copied some data from your biobed to his PADD.

"Bringing me water?"

"Keeping you from dying of dehydration," Bones corrected.

"Aw, and here I thought I had my own personal butler," you smiled and sipped your water. 'He really does have pretty eyes,' you thought while watching him work. Who were you kidding? It wasn't just his eyes that were pretty, it was all of him. You cleared your throat and took another sip. "Anyway, what are you doing here so late? I didn't think you worked gamma shift."

"I normally don't, but there are a lot of reports to file and not a lot of time to do it."

"That bad huh?...How many dead?" You asked softly.

"Fifty-six," Leonard sniffed pulled out his kit.

"Damn... and what about the pirates?"

"In custody back at Yorktown." Leonard administered a hypo into your arm. The soreness melted away almost immediately, but the ache in your chest didn't.

"I would have been one of them if it weren't for you..." You whispered. "You didn't give up... even when you should have."

"Any doctor worth his salt wouldn't give up on the likes of you, not when you were so keen on living. Ain't seen nothing like it in a long time. Your body just kept going long after it should have shut down." Bones explained, "And you kept telling me it was hopeless, but I could tell you were hoping for a miracle."

"So you gave me one," You smiled up at him.

"I told you I would. They don't say I have legendary hands for nothin'," McCoy smirked.

"Still, thank you for not giving up on me," you laughed. "I definitely owe you one."

"Ask out that doctor of yours and we'll call it even," Leonard spoke so casually, you nearly didn't register what it was he just said.

"I-I- my what?" You asked, dumbfounded. Your heart-rate picked up again and Leonard couldn't mask his amusement.

"You should get some rest, Nurse Chapel will be by in a few hours with some food for you. We're putting you on a soft food diet until your internal wounds heal some more. If you need anything before then, you know where the call button is." Bones started back to his office, but stopped just short.

"Oh, and Y/N?"

"Y-Yeah?"

Leonard sent you a smug look. "I like daisies," He said before disappearing behind the door.

You laughed and rested your head on your pillow. 'Daisies huh?' You thought to yourself. You weren't sure how you were gonna pull that off this far from Earth, but if Dr. McCoy could perform miracles, why couldn't you? Of course, the flowers would have to wait until you were released from medical care. You didn't mind too much though, Dr. McCoy was going to be there to take care of you.

And he wasn't giving up on you anytime soon.

....................

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[iznsfw]

The Devil's Telephone

IVE's An Yujin x Male Reader Smut

6969 words

Categories | model!Yujin x photojournalist!you, rough sex

Barely edited. Who cares, I did great.

"Is it true? What they say about you?" 

You're nervous, fidgeting  in the king-sized bed with your arm leaning against the mattress. It feels odd to be in a rich and attractive girl's place without being naked. Not that it's something you've experienced before anyway, but it's like breaking an unspoken law everyone but you was oriented to. But you have your manners, and so does she. Supposedly.

She's still beside you, her expensive clothes hiding not her shapely form. And to think it looks beautiful without the need for oil painting all around it or nakedness. That pretty smile, that also intimidates you a little, is the cherry on top of the cake that is An Yujin.

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?" 

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly. 

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

Yujin lifts herself off her comfortable lounge position on her bed and instead sits on the backsides of her legs. Her hands are on your lap rather than her own. Should've been a sign for you that this is going nowhere but in a downward spiral. 

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?" 

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

-

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I'm not," says Gaeul. "Say that one more time and your career's over. No going back."

The small smile that's an everyday accessory to her features is gone. That tells you that what she says is what there is to her statement. What you hear is what you get. There's no underlying tone to it; she's completely serious, and besides, when has Gaeul ever lied?

Wring the looped lace of your camera over your head and place it and the device that can make or break your career on her desk. "Nope," you say. "I'm not doing it."

"You will," Gaeul says. "Nobody else will do it."

"Can't you get Jiwon to show up there?" It's worth a try, right?

"Like I said, no chance. Rei's with her on vacation. And Yunjin is out of the question."

"God fucking dammit." 

Looks like this day can actually get worse. First, you miss the taxi going to the studio, ending up being about an hour late to your meeting. And then the nervous intern almost spilled coffee all over your camera. Luckily, the scalding liquid only ended up mostly on your pressed shirt. It's like the day is toying with your feelings, trying to see how far you can get without breaking down.

Your eye twitches. The day might see your breaking point after all. 

"Gaeul," you say, "I'm a photojournalist, not a fucking Seattle professional."

"And so are a quarter of the people who go to the fashion week," she counters. Gaeul exhales through her nostrils, then leans forward on her desk, hands folded. "All you have to do is stand in for Chaewon and take the photos for each model. Don't worry about the caption."

"How'll I know what they're wearing?" 

"I can do that for you. I'm quite the fashion enthusiast, if I do say so myself."

You don't see the sense in it, like, at all. "Then why don't you go take the photos?"

"Because I don't want to, newbie," replies Gaeul simply. She swings her legs over the table and places her palms behind her neck. "You can sit here all day whining about I'm-a-photojourn-this and I-can't-do-it-that, but you're still going to go through." 

Gaeul's a rather straightforward girl, yet she can still make her blunt words sound frightening. You have to show that you can hold your own, too, and that you're not going to back up. Ever.

"And why do you think I'll give in so easily?" you challenge. 

She smiles. "Because An Yujin's going to be there, and unless you live under a fucking rock, you'd know she's the main attraction."

-

You aren't dumb. Of course you know her. It’s impossible not to know of her when the magazines all scream her name and the camera flashes crave her presence. It’s hard to navigate life without at least seeing a Yujin standee for one of the brands she sponsors or her face on soju labels. She’s become a household name that, even if you somehow wished it to be the other way, she's become an inescapable force in every Korean’s life. That’s just how it works. It’s been like that for as long as you remember.

She rose up in the industry at a young age. Being her age, you can remember the buzz she creates among your classmates, from head-over-heels, hopeless romantic boys and adoring girls (and a few girls who'd die to be able to touch her, too.) She's on their phone wallpapers, in another cutesie pose, and on the photocards in the back of clear cases. She's here, she's there, she's everything everywhere. 

You're familiar with her, but nothing about her except the usual: she's a model, she's an idol, she's a—

Ah, how should it go?

The girl beside you at the event, who's rather tall and if circumstances were different should be on the runway herself, tells you it goes like this: "She's an international free-use backstabbing slut."

Well, you didn't expect Kazuha to say that so easily (she told you her name earlier just so you had something to call her during the mandatory small talk),  but you know what she's talking about. However, you have no right to say Yujin's a slut when you're dressed… well, dressed like this. Your whole outfit is an embarrassing array of rainbow colors. Even your tie's pulled into passiveness by the colorful dress code. If this is what those high fashion enthusiasts call "fashion," you're glad you're not a part of them. You'll be glad to keep shopping at your local thrift store. 

Hence, "I wouldn't put it that way," you say.

Kazuha smirks. "How would you say it?" she asks. 

Why is she so interested in what you think about her? You suspect Kazuha's one of those girls who's rather jealous of the stick-figure models strutting the runway but would deny it with all her soul. Maybe that's it. She's jealous that she sits there in the audience while perfection after perfection makes themselves known to the public. 

"She's…" You snap a pic of another eighty-pound model walking down the runway. "Uh, promiscuous. That's all."

Kazuha grins. She purses her lips and writes down on her notepad, probably intending to use your statement as a headline pun. "Maybe we should switch jobs," she says. "You can be the devil's advocate journalist, and I can be the white knight photographer." 

Exhale loudly. For fuck's sake, you want to tell her, I'm only here to do the job I didn't want in the first place. Why has she chosen you to play with to fulfill her boredom? Whatever game she's set, you're not joining. 

"Look, what is it about Yujin that you hate?" you ask. 

"She fucked Jang Wonyoung, those MCs she used to partner up with, that actress from the period drama who was on Produce, too… everybody."

"Okay." You look at her pointedly. "Source?" 

Kazuha gestures a rude index to the runway. "Look at her. Look at her and tell me she isn't a slut. I dare you."

You look up from the lens of your camera for once, and as much as you'd like to come to Yujin’s defense, seeing as there’s no evidence to all those allegations and being a public figure with all the criticism must be the deepest ring of hell, you see what Kazuha means. 

You hate to say it, and you’d love to pass no judgment, but the prodding journalist is right. Yujin isn't skin and bones like the other models, nor does she wear light makeup. However, her confident gaze that not once settles on the floor immediately makes you think, wow, now that is a model. She only looks forward, stepping onto the smooth floor in heels that make her much taller than she already is. Her eyes are lined with this sharp, blaring dark that makes her brown contacts stand out and makes her look like a black cat. So much for Jiwon’s nickname.

But that isn’t all. It’s far from done, because it’s not Yujin’s arrogant smile that drips of sultriness that confirms Kazuha's allegations for you, nor is it her makeup. It’s what she’s wearing. Her chest nearly spills out of the oddly-cut neckline of her blouse, and it’s see-through, meaning that even if her busty figure is in some way contained by the clothing, you can still see everything. For example, her tummy lined with her abs and a small tattoo (barely noticeable, but enough to cause a few tabloids to freak out); her wide hips, and of course; the bare flesh of her breasts. The fabric tape does nothing to hide them when her brown nipples beg to be seen through the fabric. Each bounce coerced by her confident strut is out there for all to see, and so are the jiggles of her full thighs. 

Which part of everything do you have to immortalize in a photograph? You don’t know. You just keep taking pictures. There’s plenty enough to create a video of her walk without actually having to record one. 

Seeing your dropped jaw, Kazuha grins satisfactorily. “Told you,” she says.

You aren’t done looking, though. As the press and audience scream her name, (they all know her name—she’s bagged so many brand deals, shot more than enough magazine covers, and performed songs you couldn’t count on two hands just so that any type of audience can recognize her), Yujin steps up to the end of the catwalk. She smiles at all the attention, setting a hand on her waist before blowing several kisses to the audience. 

And, of course, she finishes off her umpteenth walk with another scandal:

Shredding her blouse into pieces. Yujin rips it clean from the seams, letting the lost dangle of fabric finally reveal the whole of her chest. Her skimpy shorts are the only thing remaining complete on herself. 

The viewers gasp, and you do, too. But you're hypocrites, the lot of you, for you remain interested in scanning every bit of her enviable body. Secretly, you all know that some part of you were looking there even before her blouse ripped.

You haven’t seen a model do that before, but then again, she’s not just a model. She’s plenty of things: a singer, an idol, an ambassador—

A slut. A full-on, shameless, lives-up-to-her-name slut.

-

“So.”

“So,” you say, resentfully. Your camera’s in your bag, and Gaeul is on the phone with you. You’re proceeding out of the vicinity like everybody else. It's eight p.m.; someone’s bound to be hungry at this hour, and that someone is you.

You can hear the giggle in her voice as she asks you, “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” you say, flabbergasted. Zip up your satchel bag and walk through the rain. “Gaeul, the girl just ripped her shirt off in front of everyone! This isn’t what I signed up for!”

What should you get tonight? Minute Burger? Maybe McDonald’s or some sushi? You’d take anything—you’re pretty hungry after the long show. If this is how hunger hits after shows, you’re glad you don’t have to go through the whole fashion week. By Saturday, you’d be as dead as everyone was after the stunt Yujin pulled.

“I thought you knew about her, newbie,” replies Gaeul. She’s clearly poking fun at your reaction. What’s also clear is the obvious fact that she picked you out for this job just to see how you’d handle it. Would you go crazy? Treat Yujin as a Victorian man who’d just seen a lady’s ankles would? Oh, she’d love to find out.

“I didn’t know she was…"

"Yeah?"

"B-bold.”

“Oh, please be normal about it. You’re a photojournalist. You handled the dead guy who was stabbed alright, but a woman showing her tits is where you cross the line?”

“It’s not that,” you say tiredly. Your stomach is really growling now. “I guess… I think…”

"Hey."

Your phone drops to the wet cement road. Like a haunting phantom, Yujin appears out of nowhere. It's like she suddenly materialized from the fog of the storm.

You don't know where to look. Yujin's still dressed, (somewhat), in her ruined blouse. The thing is even more transparent as the rain beats down on it. Still, she looks perfect. She is perfect. You know that without having to be a fan of her. 

The light from a camera hidden in a beaten bush makes you flinch. If the crouched man in black taking photos of Yujin isn't there, you'd have accepted your fate to get struck by lightning. Yujin raises her eyebrows questioningly, and you're forced to compose yourself once more.

"Uh, hi," you stammer. Bend down to pick your sodden phone up. Darn it, it's dead. How will you contact Gaeul now?

"You're one of the photographers, right?" asks Yujin. Unlike you, she doesn't care that your phone has met its end, or mind that her boobs are out in the open. 

You mutter something of agreement, but you're still tinkering with your phone. The battery's probably broken, which's a pity when your late mother gifted it to you on the last birthday you had together.

"Damn, must be nice to snap photos of a half-naked chick, huh? You liked seeing me up there?" 

That makes you stop fiddling with your destroyed gadget. "I," you say, cornered into confession but still trying to gather a burst of energy to escape, "I'm not—"

"An Yujin," she says, as if the whole world doesn't scream her name. As if she were just another girl out there who's a little too friendly. She doesn't offer her hand; she grasps yours and shakes it firmly. 

You have no other choice but to be acquainted with her there and then. You tell her your name, albeit nervously, as you slip your phone into your pocket. What is she planning? Why is she out here with you? 

Yujin grins. "Nice to meet you. Want to come to a party at my house? Starts when we get there."

Now you understand what she's planning. What else would you expect from her?

First things first, though: where should you look? Her chest is a dangerous option. To look or not to look? That is the question—you choose the second option. Note the dim stars in the foggy sky. Look down at the road blotted with raindrops. Remark inwardly about the state of your shoes and how they're too expensive to be dragged through a weather like this.

Second, should you go? Gaeul would be looking for you. She'd want the pics immediately so she could put them in the magazine and on your company blog site. But you haven't had fun in years, and for a girl with the wealth and status of Yujin, it might be a new beginning.

Work, however, comes first.

"I'm sorry," you tell her. You really are. Yujin seems like a fun girl outside of her wildness. "I don't think I—"

"Great! Come on, I'll drive you!" 

That's how you end up in a limousine for the first time in your life and learn that An Yujin doesn't take no for an answer. 

The seats are dark and soft, and there's two long aisles of it for thirty pax max to occupy. However, despite the spaciousness, Yujin still chooses to sit snugly beside you. Should you feel flattered? Intimidated? You struggle to choose for this question.

You wonder where you're headed. The infamous Jang Hills where celebrities like singer Son Seungwan and model and humanitarian Jang Wonyoung, who owns the place, reside? The rain is too strong for you to be able to see where the vehicle's headed, but you suspect that's the destination. There's no other. 

"So," says Yujin. She's still sitting comfortably beside you. Her smile dimples her cheeks, and it just doesn't match the boldness of her ripped blouse. When she wears that smile, she looks like a girl who's too cheerful and innocent to be… the way she is. "Would I have to pay you to see my photos?"

"For god's sake, Miss An, put on some clothes before you scare the guy," chuckles the driver, shaking his head. He's a tall, dark man with the typical shades and a rosary on his rearview mirror. You wonder if he prays for Yujin sometimes. 

"But that's no fun," she says, the pout on her face growing wider when her driver tosses her a black fur coat (that still reminds you of her when you note how the chest part is gone) and sleeveless innerwear. Seems like he keeps clothes in his car for situations like these. "Clothes are so big and boring, you know. Totally outdated.

"Anyway, about the photos…?" 

"Oh, you don't have to pay," you tell her. But you know that money isn't a problem with Yujin—she can buy you and your whole life if she chose to. 

"Gimme then." She makes grabby hands, and your camera eventually ends up in them. Her eyes sparkle with narcissistic adoration. "Oh damn, I look hot. Delete this, though. Bad angle."

"I– okay." 

"My tits look amazing, don't you think? Come on, say my tits look fantastic."

"Ms. An," says the driver firmly, albeit his tone holds some of the amusement in it still. "Put on some clothes."

Yujin rolls her eyes, but she does. And you watch as she strips, painfully slow. She pulls the soaked blouse above her wet body, showing her bare, beautiful arms and pits. Even her soft midriff is perfect. And, try as you may (must),  you can't stop looking. Several snaps and pinches would be too weak to pull you back into reality, because there's the goddess that she is to look at. You figure out now why your former classmates were and still are obsessed with her. She may be a wild little thing, but she's got an amazing body, an amazing fashion sense. Everything about her, even her boldness, is enviable. Desirable. Unreachable.

The clothes mold to her beautiful shape. The damp, slightly messy hair only adds to her beauty. You can feel yourself getting warm. 

"We're here," says Yujin cheerfully, oblivious to the way your eyes are raking down her perfect body. "Here's your camera. Wouldn't want it to break like your phone. Pity."

Getting up to open the car door isn't part of a wealthy girl's everyday life. Yujin isn’t an exception—she has her driver to do that plus assist her out of the limo, and when he does, you're welcomed into a whole new world.

The rain has halted. Signs of its earlier presence, however, can be seen on the drops on the maze of bushes. There's statues of Eros, gray and mighty with his strong arms and arrows, perched on pedestals to the entrance of the mansion. Through the gate, you catch sight of a large pool, where heiresses and friends of Yujin laugh and swim. It's no land for lowlives. You are the exception, somehow. 

"This… this is your house?" 

"Yep!” She nods positively. “Daddy gave it to me after he died from a heart attack."

"My condolences," you say. As the guards open the gate to Yujin's mansion, you admire the place. It looks like a temple for cupids. Perhaps it’s Yujin they’re worshiping.  "Did he have heart conditions before that?"

"No." She shakes her head then waves happily to one of her friends at the pool. "He just saw me wearing a bra over my crop top, and he dropped dead."

You snort. Yujin looks at you weirdly. That's how you realize she isn't kidding. 

"You're serious?"

She opens her mouth to say something, but forgets it. It's a long story that doesn't need more sequels. 

-

Just the second drink of the night and you’ve met more celebrities than an average person would see personally in their whole life. As the dazzling disco ball shimmers rainbow colors all over the place, you catch sight of more than plenty of pretty and handsome faces. Over there is Jang Wonyoung, one of the models who walked earlier, and Miyawaki Sakura, a famous CEO of more beauty lines than you can count on ten fingers. Whether their beauties are handcrafted or God-given, they all have something in common: they’re all A-listers—they’re relevant, popular, used to this wild lifestyle. Camera flashes have trained them not to flinch at the gliding lights. This is an everyday routine in their book.

However, you’re used to being behind the camera, not in front of it. You’re overstimulated by the sea of laughing, moving bodies and the loud music. While Yujin happily screams and downs several shots, you stand idly beside her, dizzy and tired. 

“I don’t think I can handle more.”

“Past your bedtime?” asks Yujin, grinning. She waves at Wonyoung and points at you, mouthing something to her, to which the model winks in response. You wonder what kind of exchange the two models had that granted an unusually smug look on Wonyoung’s face. You’re certain it’s about you, but you don’t know what it’s about. You’re not even sure if you want to discover it.

“It’s not that,” you say embarrassedly. “I’m… I’m not a party person. I get lightheaded easily.”

“Wanna take a break? Go to my room?”

Now that’s a red flag. It doesn't even try to hide its true color; it waves proudly in front of you. You’re the bull who went straight for it. 

Yujin’s bedroom is the size of your living room, with a large bed to match. Curtained pillars stand on each end while posters hang off the walls. You suppose that the people on them are the ones Yujin looks up to: IU, known as Lee Jieun whenever she ventures out of singing and into acting; Marilyn Monroe (no explanation needed), and a few other nameless models and actresses. A lot are old posters of seventies’ pornographic films. Lights frame the mirror on the dresser table. 

“You’re a privileged girl, miss An,” you say. It’s the only way you can respectfully say that she’s kind of a spoiled brat. But maybe that’s your jealousy talking.

“I know, right?” replies Yujin, twirling around. “And please, call me Yujin. You can sit on the bed if you want to.”

Your mind toys with the idea of the posters on her wall debating if you’re the hundredth person to have come over or the thousandth. Nevertheless, you want to stay neutral; it’s none of your business anyway. So you take a seat on the edge of the softest mattress you’ve ever felt while Yujin does so, too. She kicks her boots off on the carpeted floor. 

“Hey,” says Yujin, “want to play a game before you doze off?”

Just how many red flags does this girl have? “Er, sure.” You shrug. Maybe it’s just a game, nothing more, like she said. 

“Since we barely know each other, let’s take turns asking each other questions. Dibs on the first question.

“I haven’t seen you in shows before. How did you end up there?”

A safe start. “One of my coworkers was sick,” you explain. “I had to fill in for her. My turn.”

“Hit me.”

“Did you take modeling classes?”

Yujin laughs as if it was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “God, no,” she says. “Classes and workshops are scams. All I had to do was ask my daddy to ask for a spot for me.”

“Must be nice.”

“Right? Did you take classes for photography?”

“I took one of the scams, yeah,” you say, earning a giggle from Yujin. “I’m a journalist first. It’s all I know.”

Meaningful silence fills the air. You remain hooked on your sentence, realizing how true it is. Photojournalism is the only thing you’re good at. It’s sheltered you and brought you so many opportunities at the same time. You don’t know how to find other hobbies to make your forte when you’re stuck in its bubble, and its bubble only. Without your camera, you’re nothing. Without people like Yujin to take photos of, you’re nothing, too. 

You suppose you should break the heavy silence. But you’re unsure if your question should be asked; it might trigger a violent response from her, although she’s been nothing but laid-back with you. And you don’t particularly want a rich girl to ruin your career. You’ve gone so far that the only direction to look at is forward.

But you must learn to take risks.

"Is it true? What they say about you?" 

You're nervous, fidgeting  in the king-sized bed with your arm leaning against the mattress. It feels odd to be in a rich and attractive girl's place without being naked. Not that it's something you've experienced before anyway, but it's like breaking an unspoken law everyone but you was oriented to. But you have your manners, and so does she. Supposedly.

She's still beside you, her expensive clothes hiding not her shapely form. And to think it looks beautiful without the need for oil painting all around it or nakedness. That pretty smile, that also intimidates you a little, is the cherry on top of the cake that is An Yujin.

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?" 

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly. 

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

Yujin lifts herself off her comfortable lounge position on her bed and instead sits on the backsides of her legs. Her hands are on your lap rather than her own. Should've been a sign for you that this is going nowhere but in a downward spiral. 

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?" 

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

You’re flustered. Did Yujin—this tall, alluring model that’s got her whole life ahead of her yet nothing to lose, this irritatingly attractive Yujin—really say that to you? Or was it something lost in the swarms of shouts and music from outside of the room? Maybe you’ve misheard. Maybe you’ll keep playing safe tonight. 

But those are just mere maybes with no connection at all to what’s about to happen.

“Can’t do it yourself, pretty boy? Let me help you.”

Yujin lifts your satchel bag from your shoulders. You find yourself raising your arms to help her. It’s like the what and tension in the air have infected you and made you into this heated, lustful character far from the real you, because if this were truly your own self, you’d say you had a career. You’d say this shouldn’t be happening. You’d leave the room instead of helping her unbuckle your belt. You’d do anything but this.

Perhaps she’s changed you.

Yujin slips a tongue along the path of her luscious lips at the sight of your bare thighs and cock. “Our friend here,” she says, “needs a little help from me, no?”

“Yujin…” you moan, and it’s humiliating, especially when barely anything sexual has happened yet. At least, anything sexually physical. 

Luckily for you, she curls her fist around your dick and gives justification to your breathy sounds. Maybe the rumors about how she likes to get around are true; Yujin knows how to work her way with a cock. Her warm fingers jerk your flesh at just the right timing, letting the hardness build up before doing that too with the pace. She’s looking at you with this wild desire in her eyes that grows bigger when your erection does, too. Oh, and that smile—if looks could kill, An Yujin would already be arrested for your murder.

“Now that’s not so bad, is it?” she remarks. She spits on your cock. Her wet saliva coats your length with just enough to let her smooth palm slide along itself pleasurably. “You like this? Just wait until you feel my pussy. Or maybe my lips would do first? The higher ones, I mean.” 

Yujin’s lips descend onto your shaft, welcoming it into an impossibly soft and wet heaven. Yujin’s little tongue flicks at your base gently, even daring to lick at a little part of your balls before working their way up. It deliciously slides upwards at your veins.

“Fuck, Yujin. Your mouth—fuck, it feels so good.”

“Mmm.” Yujin engages in an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss with your tip. “I know. I’d fuck me, too, if I could, but I have you to do that.”

“Right,” you say breathily, because she is. If she’s sucking your cock this well and her cheek’s painfully stimulating as your cockhead brushes it, how much better would her pussy be? You’re definitely fucking her, even if your experience in this is zero. Yes, that’s also right: you’re a virgin. Zero experience, no bitches.

But, if it means anything, it’s the other way around. It’s Yujin making you her bitch. She may be serving you with the lips and kisses of a good girl, but her eyes tell you that there’s more to it than you think. You’re hers, see, for this night, and that’s all you ever will be. You’re no photojournalist anymore—you’re Yujin’s one night stand, and that’s the only achievement people will ever remember to your name.

“These’re so fucking full,” murmurs Yujin as she admires your heavy balls. Sucking on them lightly before smiling up at you, she adds, “Make sure to blow all of it in my face, ‘kay? Promise me.”

“Think you can handle it, Yujin?” you ask, and it’s another embarrassing moment you’ll relive forever, for your cockiness will never get on the level she has. Your voice shakes too hard and your cock drips too much—it’s clear who owns who at this point.

“I’m a big girl.” Unfazed, she smiles. “I can handle myself.”

“Y-you sure?”

“Oh, don’t play hard to get it, baby,” Yujin coos. She pleases you with one hand and glides her fingers on your thigh with the other. It’s deadly. She’s deadly. “Let your guard down. It’s just me.”

“And you’ve said that to how many people?” you shoot back.

“More than you’re worth,” she quips. She winks at you. “Now cum for me.”

Ouch, but it doesn’t matter when her lips provide a great suction to cool the burn. It’s making your cock feel the heat instead, forming the tightness in your stomach more. Her hands massaging your thighs causes your sensitivity to reach an all-time high. Yujin’s covered your shaft in such an amountful that just one lick sends your toes curling. She licks, she sucks, she laps at your weak spots and delights in the upward push of your hips, but her hands keep your legs down. Can’t have her meal escaping. She wants all of your cum, and when Yujin wants (no, needs) something, she gets it. It’s how she’s navigated life, having everything her heart could ever want brought to her by whim. But if she has to work for your cum, then so be it. Either-which-way, she’s not giving up until she gets it.

She kisses your cock deeply, almost making your lips jealous. She sucks on each sensitive side and your dripping tip. What takes the cake, though, is how she downs the whole thing so suddenly, slipping itself inside her tight throat and letting you fuck it. Gasps can’t be contained by your pursed lips, and their cycle of repetition continues because of her. Because of Yujin, Yujin and her stupidly desirable mouth.

“Fuck,” you whine. When she hears that, she pulls away. Like rain, drops of semen make slick landings on her face. You keep expelling several shots of the thing she so desperately wants, and you realize that, even with your own pleasure being fulfilled, you’re still serving Yujin. You’re still giving her what she wants: your cum on her face. The fact that she’s playing with you remains stoic.

“Ah, this is the best.” Yujin licks her cumstained lips. “I could have swallowed it all like I did with these cherries here, but I can’t let it spoil the main course.”

“W-which is?” you inquire, still panting. Can you handle more? 

You find out through Yujin taking off her black vest. Then, she slips out of her jean skirt. It hugs her lower figure so nicely that it nearly makes you mourn their departure, but you find a better thing to gawk at, and it’s Yujin’s ass and thighs. She may have dressed earlier, but the panties were off. She cares not for modesty, even outside of the modeling industry.  It’s just not who she is. 

For that, you’re glad. If Yujin were modest, you wouldn’t have had the chance to see her fat ass and shaven pussy up close. You wouldn’t get to see her sway her hips side to side, letting you see from behind how her ass ripples and bounces, or let you peer at her dripping thighs. 

"You're weaker than all the others," Yujin notes. "I like it."

Should you be offended? Probably, but you aren't, because there's her approval. There's her saying that she likes how easily you break. There's her on the bed with her pussy spread by her fingers, revealing her tiny hole and needy clit.

There's a lot to look at is what you're saying, and a lot to take in consideration. For example—

"Ohhhh, fuck," moans Yujin. She rubs her core and gets a feel of how wet she is. "I'm so wet, see? I'm so, fuck, wet from blowing you."

Yujin leans against one of the pillars of her bed. What makes the sight of her masturbating hotter is that she's still covered in the face with cum that soon drips down her neck and onto her collarbone. She looks like she's been used incessantly, to the point where no amount of cock or finger can help her reach a good enough high. Although you're still sensitive, you begin to jack yourself off to her.

"Shit. Ohhh." Her head tosses backwards and she shuts her eyes. "This feels so good. Make me feel even better. Use your mouth."

It's all about what she wants, but you find out that you also want to put your mouth on her. Stop jerking off to kneel on the floor and place your hands on her thick thighs. You have no idea how to do this except from porn, but she moans loudly when you flick your tongue upwards, so you must be doing well.

Yujin's so wet that she dribbles on her expensive sheets. The feminine scent of her drives you crazy. Due to that, you pick up the pace of eating Yujin out. She's delicious. Better than any expensive meal you got going out. 

"Oh, fuck," mewls Yujin. She grinds her clit down on the flat of your tongue. "That's it. Eat me out like that."

Next, guide your tongue to her slit, catching the juices she has. Push it inside, make her thighs suddenly clamp around your head. Painful, but worth it, because as useful as her makeshift earmuffs are, you can still make out her heavy moans.

“G-good, god, so good. Don’t you stop, don’t you fucking stop.” 

“I won’t.”

The force of your mouth holds nothing back as it holds Yujin’s nub captive. She pulses in your mouth, and you can sense that she’s close because she’s screaming. She's squirming, she's writhing, she's—

“Stop.”

“But I, I thought you said—” You were having such a good time, too. Why did she have to ruin it?

Yujin giggles. “I wanted to cum on your cock,” she confesses. Sweat rolls down the sides of her face. “Let me?”

She’s subtly assertive like that, asking you first before making you do it anyway. She’s so used to getting her way, so used to letting people bend reality into the form she wants. And you’re becoming one of those people, as you lie down on the bed and let her mount you. You don’t suppose anyone would refuse either—her splayed lips rubbing your tip seems like a good thing to have in exchange for being under her ownership.

“Fuck,” you curse. Maybe this is better, in hindsight. Her hole grasps for you, but she teases it by only letting her clit glide along your cock. “Miss An, ah, Yujin, you’re so—”

“Pretty? Successful? Tight?” She sinks down on your dick with a smirk that differs from your weakened look of bliss. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

They’re all perfect adjectives to describe her, but you weigh in the most on the last. Her soaked slit swallows you without time to properly take it in. She just keeps bouncing on you, a millisecond going unspared, as if she’d die if your cock weren’t ramming in her all times of the day. By her desperate moans, you think you’re right. They’re heavy, hanging onto your mind for too long that it just makes you throb harder inside. 

You reach up to grab her tits. The bra-like innerwear she dons blocks you from experiencing the whole of it, and Yujin takes that into consideration, through which she pulls it up her arms and off herself. Her bust now moves up and down freely, looped in your mind like a constant reminder of how lucky you are to have Yujin fuck you. She may get around a lot, but whoever she fucks is like her: a hell of a catch.

 You lift yourself up to suck on their brown nipples. She moans ferally. Her pushing your head deeper into her tits is how you realize you’ve wanted to do this, to suck and play and slap her chest, ever since you saw them be set free on the runway. It’s funny how two mounds of flesh can hypnotize you just like that. You’re trying to defeat the impulse actions they convince you to do, as if they were spiritual entities on your shoulder each to twist your decisions. But both are devils—even from their source, it’s clear that An Yujin is no angel.

“Yes, so good!” she screams. Her eyes are shut as she rides you with an impulse and speed that surely can’t be human. The pleasure she unleashes onto your cock as her pussy clings and gropes it must be the embodiment of the deadly sin of lust itself. It was written before in holy books, preached as a warning in churches. There’s no explanation for how angrily she impales herself with your cock. “Your cock’s too fucking big, I’m going to cum all over it!”

You spank her ass, and the plentiful skin wiggles right back into your hand. Seeing her face twist up into this pained yet blissful reaction inspires you to continue. That and your cock entering and exiting her hole, plus your kisses following the path of her neck makes Yujin go crazy. 

“Fuck me!” She’s fully unhinged when she cums. Her short yet sharp, alliterate downward thrusts of her core leaves red on your thighs. She’s kissing you with this hunger that’s been fulfilled, in a way, but with which comes gluttony. She can’t have enough. She can’t have enough of your dick. It starts to scare you how she’s like the girls your pastor warned you about in Sunday school—she’s a gluttonous nymphomaniac greedy for things that aren’t good for her. Aren’t good for you.

Having sex with An Yujin makes you debate if you should go back to your religious roots and pray again. You’ve heard about the devil hiding behind human faces, and she completely fits the criteria: charming, deceiving, gorgeous beyond human comprehension. However, her divine body also can be something holy. It’s something that’s more than worth worshiping.

Which is which: evil or good? Angel or demon? A goddess who descended to earth or something far, far more dangerous? 

Whichever, you just busted a load inside exactly that. 

-

“So.”

“Hm?”

“Come on, tell me,” you say. Yujin’s teasing banter piques your curiosity to higher levels. “Did you really fuck all those people, or is it just,” shrug, as if you couldn’t care less when you do, “you know, hearsay?”

Yujin strokes your chest thoughtfully. The aftermath of the rough sex has left her almost invalid, but after a shower, she’s good to go. You followed suit after.

“The devil’s telephone,” she whispers.

“Huh?”

“Here. You know where to call me.”

[killusmoke]

❝I'll be by your side forever, love❞

♡ - Where you get hurt during your volleyball game, Ichigo takes care of you .

ichigo x f!reader

Disclaimer - No powers or anything of the sort in this story, it's modernized .

The volleyball court buzzed with bursts of energy and anticipation as the game reached its peak. The atmosphere was electric, with what seemed like the entire school in attendance, filling the benches with a sea of faces from various places in the campus, some not even attending the same school.

It was your 6th game, the most challenging one yet. The daunting Hakoniwa High School, renowned for their ruthless tactics and years of dominance in the sport, stood as the ultimate rival in winning. Determined to topple their reign, your team had prepared meticulously, ensuring that they are readily prepared for this intense game.

However, today held an even greater significance. It was the first game where all your friends, classmates, and teachers had gathered to witness your skill. Among the crowd were your closest friends Orihime, Mizuiro, Rukia, and most importantly, your loving boyfriend Ichigo.

As the game progressed, you found yourself struggling from time to time, overcome by nerves and the weight of expectations. The pressure intensified as you made errors, causing disappointment to well up within you. Doubt crept into your thoughts, and you sought solace in Ichigo's embrace.

--

"It's okay, (Y/N)," Ichigo's soothing voice whispered, his hand gently stroking your hair. "Mistakes happen, but they don't define your future or your worth as an athlete. I know how hard you've worked, and I'm proud of you, we all are, no matter the outcome."

Sniffles and quiet sobs erupted from your trembling form, tears staining the fabric of Ichigo's black hooded jacket. The weight of your perceived failure bore down heavily, causing your voice to falter as you expressed your frustrations through hiccups and broken words.

"I-I don't deserve to be on this team. I did so h-horribly, Ichigo, you don't understand!" your voice quivered, choked with self-doubt and despair. Desperation drove you to cling tighter to Ichigo, seeking solace in his unwavering presence.

"Don't speak of yourself that way," Ichigo's voice held a quiet strength, his words laced with conviction. "You've poured your heart and soul into this sport, and one bad game doesn't define you. I understand your disappointment, my love, believe me I do."

With a tenderness that melted away the anguish, Ichigo gently lifted your tear-stained face, his eyes filled with empathy. Like a gentle butterfly, his lips pressed against your wet cheeks, leaving a trail of fleeting kisses. Each kiss carried a message of reassurance and love, a reminder that you were not alone in your pain.

Your sobs subsided, replaced by hiccups and sniffles as you continue to clung tightly to his black hooded jacket, finding solace in his words and affection. The love you felt for him deepened in that moment, his support a healing for your wounded confidence.

--

As you regained your composure, memories of the game flooded your mind. It was a nerve-wracking experience from the start, knowing that your playing time was often limited. However, to your surprise, the coach had chosen you as a starter for this crucial match. You internally signed as the weight of responsibility and the fear of disappointing those who had believed in you now weigh heavily on your shoulders.

Now, as the game neared its end, you found yourself panting heavily, hands on knees, catching your breath. The opposing team had called a timeout, allowing your team to regroup and strategize. However, lost in your thoughts, you failed to pay attention to the discussions, instead finding yourself searching for Ichigo's presence in the stands. When your eyes met his, a warm blush colored your cheeks, and he waved at you with a kind smile. It was a small but meaningful gesture that reminded you that you weren't alone in this.

The shrill sound of the referee's whistle broke through your temporary daze, jolting you back to the present. You look to the side as you see your team has already completed their chants are are returning to their original positions.

With a muttered curse, you hurriedly returned to your own position, bending your knees and bracing yourself for the opposing team's serve. Glancing at the scoreboard, your heart raced as it displayed a tense 24-24, proving intensity of the game's final set.

The sharp sound of the referee's whistle cut through the air once again, signaling the resumption of play. Your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation and adrenaline coursing through your veins. Every muscle in your body coiled with energy as you prepared to spring into action.

The ball sailed over the net, hurtling towards your side of the court. As your teammates hit the ball with ease, the ball moved towards your position. Without a moment's hesitation, you leaped, your body soaring through the air. Time seemed to slow as you met the ball with a powerful spike, the impact resonating through your arms.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as the ball soared over the net, evading the desperate attempts of the opposing team to return it. The winning point was yours, a testament to your skill and determination. The gymnasium erupted in joyful celebration, the delight of victory vibrated through the air.

However, amidst the noise of cheers and applause, a sudden, piercing scream tore through the jarring atmosphere. All eyes turned, searching for the source of the anguished cry. It was you, crumpled on the ground, your face contorted in pain as you held onto the base of your ankle

The revelry came to a screeching halt as the crowd's jubilation transformed into concern. Gasps and whispers spread like wildfire, the spectators realizing the severity of your injury. The school nurse, having witnessed the fall from her position on the sidelines, quickly running towards you. She rushed to your side, her face etched with worry and determination.

Meanwhile, the coach, his eyes widening in alarm, hurried towards you, his authoritative presence now fraught with concern. With a commanding voice, he directed the team to clear a path for the nurse and ensure your safety.

Ichigo, who had been swept up in the celebration, froze as his eyes locked onto your fallen form. In an instant, his happiness transformed into a raw mix of worry and fear. Pushing through the crowd, he reached your side, his face etched with distress.

"Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?" His voice trembled with genuine concern as he knelt down beside you, one hand hovering anxiously above your injured ankle, the other stroking your cheek.

Pain seared through your body, but you managed a weak smile, your voice strained. "I think I broke my ankle, Ichigo. But don't worry, I'm okay."

Ichigo's eyes filled with a mix of anguish and determination. Gently, he cradled your head in his hands as the school nurse called the paramedics.

As the paramedics arrived, urgency and efficiency colored their every movement. With great care, they immobilized your injured ankle and gently lifted you onto a stretcher. The pain pulsed through your body, but your focus remained on your boyfriend, who stood by your side, his worry shown deeply in his features.

"I'll be right behind you," Ichigo assured you, his voice filled with determination. "Just hold on, Y/N. I won't leave your side."

With those comforting words lingering in the air, the paramedics swiftly wheeled you out of the gymnasium, the blaring sirens of the ambulance announcing your departure. The crowd watched in silence, a mix of concern and sympathy etched on their faces, as you disappeared from view.

In the aftermath, Ichigo turned to your friends, Mizuiro, Orihime, and Rukia, who had been by your side throughout the game. His eyes, filled with a mixture of worry and determination, met theirs.

"We need to find out what's happening," Ichigo's voice held an unwavering resolve, tinged with an undercurrent of anxiety. "I'll talk to the school staff and find out which hospital they're taking her to. We can't waste any time."

Mizuiro nodded, his usually happy demeanor replaced with concern. "I'll stay here and gather any information I can. We'll do everything we can to support her."

Orihime, her warm eyes filled with empathy, spoke softly. "I'll call her family and let them know what's happened. They'll want to be here for her."

Rukia, her voice steady despite the worry in her eyes, added, "Ichigo, don't forget to take care of yourself too. Y/N needs you to be strong."

With a short nod, Ichigo acknowledged their words of support.

Without further delay, Ichigo rushed to his car, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and worry. The engine roared to life as he sped towards the hospital, definitely breaking a few laws, as every second feeling like an eternity.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Ichigo quickly navigated the corridors, his mind focused solely on reaching your side. Finally, he found himself in the room where you lay, your face etched with pain but your eyes lighting up as he entered.

"Ichigo," you whispered, your voice weak but filled with relief. "I'm so glad you're here."

He rushed to your side, his hand finding yours, intertwining fingers in a gesture of unwavering support. "I'm here, Y/N, don't worry. Tell me what the doctor said."

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the memory of the doctor's words fresh in your mind. "They said it's a pretty nasty break, but not too severe. I'll need to wear a cast for several weeks, maybe even months. They believe I'll make a full recovery though."

Ichigo's eyes softened with a mix of relief and tenderness. "That's good news, Y/N." he says as he kisses the top of your head.

"I'll be by your side forever, love"

p.s lol js felt like writing this idk if I'm gonna continue writing for other characters, ill see!

this is also available on my Wattpad to read! check my bio to see 😊

credits to separators here

[emshiftss]

‧ new year's shifting pick a pile ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

{ i've been meaning to do another collective reading but honestly forgot, but hey it's a new year so... this will just be anything you may need to hear right now. i hope you find what you were looking for, and if i was able to help in any way then i'm glad. and just like any other reading you find, take what resonates and leave what doesn't }

❆ take a deep breath... and choose the pile you're most drawn to...

✿ PILE ONE ⋰˚☆

KEYWORDS/SIGNS: rain, orange slices, pie, hot tea, 777, gloomy weather, allergies, ears ringing, dogs barking/whining, 222, trust, hourglass, boredom, keys, heart ache, homesick, road trips, four leaf clover, golden child, shaking hands

❆ a decision, a choice. is this right? am i making the wrong choice? let’s take a deep breath ok? it seems you are at a crossroads of sorts. perhaps you don’t know what to do with yourself when it comes to your shifting journey. that’s ok! whatever this issue is for you specifically, i believe you already have they answer. let’s slow the roll, take some deep breaths and try to see this clearly. to me it seems you are over consuming information. i suggest you log off of social media for a bit, sit with yourself and look over the information you already have, discard what no longer fits you and keep what works. you know you best! some random person online cannot (unfortunately) fix your supposed problems for you. no matter how much advice you seek, you can only do that. you need to let go of this internal struggle, you are only fighting yourself, creating resistance. if the answers still seem to be foggy to you, perhaps you can meditate and look for the answers there.

❆ it seems your mind might be in the midst of chaos, or perhaps your life is as well. yet when it comes to your shifting journey you may just be on the brink of a spiritual awakening you desire (or need). the clarity is within YOU. it looks like you are walking down this path with a blindfold on, unsure of where you are going, what choices to make. maybe there is something you don’t want to face. but these fears and worries do not need to hold you back. let’s try to use them to your advantage. face what is holding you back and if you just can’t rid it, know that it does not stop you, only shows a different part of yourself.

❆ instead of putting your journey and motivations on others, it’s time to look within. there’s only so much more “new” information you can gain. your journey is yours and yours alone. that doesn’t mean it has to be a lonely one though. trust that you have the answers, and trust that there is still a community for you! having so many different pieces of information and advice forced upon you to try and digest and make use of is not helping you. sit with yourself and ask yourself if there is genuinely anything you still need to learn from others at this point? at what point do you let it all go and just use it to your benefit?

❆ maybe creating some sort of routine will help you as well, setting up some self-discipline. on the flip side you may need to let go of perfectionism as well. you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. shifting is supposed to be fun. maybe reflect on what you can do to make this all the more enjoyable. let go of the process and remember where you started.

SONGS ✧

‧ ₊ escaper - sarah kinsley

“ everything changed

but my mind couldn’t change me ”

‧ ₊ wildflower - beach house

“ need a companion…

a hidden prayer

you know your not losing your mind

what’s left, you make something of it ”

‧ ₊ eye contact - fromis_9

“ When I closed my eyes and felt it, there was a small gap between you and me

I want to see you again, I want you so…

When you look at me, the moment I started believing in eternity

When I look at you, it was possible because of you ”

METHOD SUGGESTION ✧

{ remember you don't need a method! }

‧ ₊ void/pure conscious

‧ ₊ julia method

✿ PILE TWO ⋰˚☆

KEYWORDS/SIGNS: waterfalls, cinnamon, 444, crows, 88, water damage. doubles, holiday, patience, crowns, one of a kind, eye on the prize, chocolate cake, stars

❆ let’s take a moment to give yourself a pat on the back! give yourself space to celebrate your accomplishments, big or small, bright or dim. it’s ok to reflect and give yourself credit for all you’ve done, someone has to, and you deserve it. you are at a place of harmony and balance in your journey. embrace it! know that you already have it, and if necessary take a breather, pause and look around yourself. look at all you’ve achieved! it will still be here for you, even if you take a break from it all. whether it’s here or in your desired reality, you are surrounded by so much love and support. even on your worst days. your vision is clear, if you're ready, know that it is yours, and make that first step. perhaps all you need is a little reassurance, you got this!

❆ you’ve clearly invested a lot into yourself and your journey. your hard work will pay off, you just need to sit back and let it. perhaps you are confused over slow results. yet you should persist, for it is already yours. stay in a mindset of gratefulness, if needed share your feelings with someone, talk it out.

❆ stay steady and clear, you are on the right path. if victory is what you want, victory is what you’ll get. you are just on the verge of making a breakthrough. keep going. embrace all your ideas and write them down. let yourself create your vision, live in that moment. your creativity is your strength. you may be overwhelmed with the excitement, all the possibilities. harness it and let it push you further. it is all up to you.

SONGS ✧

‧ ₊ mariners apartment complex - lana del rey

“ i ain’t no candle in the wind

i’m the board, the lighting, the thunder…

they mistook my kindness for weakness ”

‧ ₊ numb - men i trust

“ please forgive me if i ever did you wrong

i’ll be your candle; burn me upside down ”

‧ ₊ moon song - beabadoobee

“ i’m lying on the moon

my dear, i’ll be there soon

it’s a quiet and starry place

time’s we’re swallowed up

in space we’re a million miles away ”

METHOD SUGGESTION ✧

{ remember you don't need a method! }

‧ ₊ intention

‧ ₊ lucid dreaming

✿ PILE TWO ⋰˚☆

KEYWORDS/SIGNS: love, pairing, 555, daydream, interruptions, cats, heartbreak, lonesome, tears, sleeping in, not sleeping enough, castles, cages, 333, 1212, floating

❆ it has been a long journey for you, a hard one at that. you may have found yourself in many setbacks. perhaps you blame yourself, there’s a lot of sadness and anger here. in this moment you can choose forgiveness, forgive yourself and know that it’s all ok. whatever has happened, there’s no use for guilt. open up to a friend, a stranger, someone. vocalize your feelings and hardships. with mistakes you can learn and grow from them, and ultimately come out stronger in the end. show yourself grace and love, and set your eyes on newer and better things. know that no matter what you can still trust yourself. take small steps and build yourself back up. find the romance and beauty in shifting again, it’ll always be there.

❆ i see that you may be someone shifting for love. keep your partner in mind. despite everything, please remember you are deserving of love and happiness. keep your love close to you. just as you wish to be with them, use it to bring you two together. your emotions are not a flaw, feel them, sit with them, BE them. wherever you are and where you want to be, what are you feeling? are you in your bed? perhaps the arms of your lover. whoever you want to be, FEEL IT, let your compassion drive you forward. there’s no need to be embarrassed over your feelings, they are valid, and so are you.

❆ you need to make the decision. you can’t sit in despair forever, pick yourself up and know that there are better things for you. use it all to your advantage, all the bad just as the good. being interrupted during a meditation? that’s fine, it doesn’t have to stop you forever. Distracted? that’s ok, take a deep breath and know that it doesn’t have to hold you back, unless you let it. you don't have to have the most squeaky clean mindset ever to shift, that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense does it? accept where you are at, and accept where you want to go.

SONGS ✧

‧ ₊ whale - kim sejeong

“ i find you hidden in the dark night sky

when i walk on the purple road among the clouds

Can I face you only at the end of the darkness?…

Where did you disappear

i miss my whale…

time has become today in front of you ”

‧ ₊ high - slow pulp

“ i have to much in my pockets

i wish they were empty…

my limbs are feeling lazy

why won’t they work with me?

and now i can’t seem to focus my eyes

won’t let me see ”

‧ ₊ sweet nothing - taylor swift

“ they said the end is comin’,

everyone’s up to somethin’

i find myself runnin’ home to your sweet nothings…

to you, i can admit that i'm just to soft for all of it ”

METHOD SUGGESTION ✧

{ remember you don't need a method! }

‧ ₊ fives senses

‧ ₊ staircase method

‧ ₊ wake back to bed

[blackmoonoracle]

PICK A CARD - THE PATH AHEAD

PILE ONE

I feel like a lot is being hidden from pile one honestly, like- there are a LOT of blessings coming to you guys. One big blessing may be that you will be entering into some sort of partnership. Likely a business ordeal that is really going to help your reputation. I'm talking a lot of recognition, maybe even being given access to certain resources that are rather hard to ascertain for most people. This partnership could be with a fire sign woman, or some sort of witch. Or YOU could be a fire sign woman or a witch. I'm seeing where something you've been working on for a very long time is going to start paying off. For some it could be a skill, people could be giving you recognition for how thorough you are. It's possible that some people are going to be confused by your success? You could've been struggling with stagnancy for quite some time, and then it's like out of the blue suddenly everything is just paying off all at once. It's like people saw the work you were putting in, and they just sort of figured it was all for nothing maybe? Good on you for not letting the way people talked, viewed, or projected onto you keep you from going after your desires. You may be isolating yourself from family due to some kind of trauma, or perhaps that has already recently happened. It seems like you're already a bit of a loner, or hard for others to read? So this could be you abandoning a family dynamic, or refusing to participate in some sort of cycle any longer for the sake of benefiting an abuser or keeping the peace & happiness of others. You're learning how to prioritize yourself. You are releasing mental and emotional blockages in love, that have kept you from having emotional peace. Learning a new skill, and learning how to move in silence. I feel like you will be taking on a new endeavour and you are not going to be telling ANYONE about this. Keep your passion, don't forget who you are, and if people try to cause drama or fight with you or bring up past grudges don't even put energy into engaging with them. State your piece if need be and keep it moving, these people are only seeking access to your energy because they delude themselves out of admitting their regrets. Trust that the right doors will be opened for you, keep things to yourself for the time being and trust your friends. They're in your corner, they're NOT trying to hurt you. If this pile resonated, and you'd like to book a personal reading based on this particular topic you can message me and tell me your pile number for a 45$ in depth reading on this topic.

PILE TWO A LOT of pentacles came out for this pile, so more than likely Taurus, capricorn, Virgo, and 10th, 6th, and 2nd house energy are present here. I feel like a lot of you are rather self centered at times, there's nothing wrong with knowing when to prioritize yourself, but I do feel like there is a lesson coming up regarding your reputation and your tendency to hoard resources of some kind? It feels like you can be rather argumentative at times, or that alternatively you have a lot of internal conflict regarding your reputation and what success means to you. Even if you are not hoarding a resource of some kind, the common theme here is stubbornness. I see you WANT to be in this King of Pentacles energy, feeling like you have financial security AND luxurious amounts of spending money. Yet, I also feel like sometimes you get caught up in money and materialism. There is more to life than money, and with the 2 of cups on the bottom of the deck this could actually be about romance. The lovers was beneath it. I feel like you are needing to tap in more with your feminine side, maybe spending more time nurturing your ideas and desires. Learning how to back up what you want to create, there is a need for you to develop your space of comfort more. Give yourself more peace, and connect with those you love more frequently. Basically, from what I can tell spirit is asking you to take control and make some changes in the way you are engaging with your loved ones. Be more present, and stop projecting unrealistic expectations onto yourself and others. It can make you pretty crabby at times from what I can tell, and it puts you in a position to where you can be a bit greedy- or just stubborn in general about what you think should be expected from others. Be more accountable for the role you play in your misery & learn to let go of what YOU think is best. The universe is trying to show you an easier path, but you are scared of letting go of what you've created. Things move in seasons. Relax, and let shit happen, it doesn't always need to be to a T. Some of you also need to express your thoughts and feelings more frequently. My throat feels tight, and weird, and like blocked? So definitely work on your communication as well. Keep going, and know that you are in control of your path. If any of you are into energy cleansing, do that more frequently. Sleep more often, stop letting people get to you, or when you fall or fail, just shake it off. Don't let it control or affect you too deeply. sometimes it just is what it is. Lastly, pay attention to signs in the form of butterflies, and listen to more music. Dance, get creative, paint, host a kickback. Do SOMETHING to get your creative juices flowing. If this pile resonated, and you'd like to book a personal reading based on this particular topic you can message me and tell me your pile number for a 45$ in depth reading on this topic.

PILE THREE

I feel like this pile has gone through a lot of trials and tribulations recently, I'm picking up on either a water sign woman or maternal energy doing a lot of manipulative stuff. It feels to me like there is someone in your life that is using their emotions to align you with their desired outcomes. It feels like you are very much in your own idea of what life should be and how you can develop that for yourself. I see where you may have a creative endeavor that you really want to pay off. You may stress and have frequent anxiety about fulfilling this desire due to this energy and the way it engages with you. You're being asked to keep your goals and ideas in mind. By choosing yourself and your truest desires over what this person has decided is best for you you will find true healing and self expression. I feel that this individual has very black & white thinking and a position of authority somehow. Seeing as the Justice card came out. There may be an influence coming in from a passionate, witchy, or fire sign woman who is teaching you some form of manifestation or spell work possibly? This could also be you tapping into your witchy side. I just keep hearing witchy woman. Your outlook on life is being shifted significantly in the coming future in order for your path to your desires to unfold properly. You may be forced to leave things behind, you may have to cut your losses regarding financial support from a family member of some kind and take things into your own hands. I'm seeing where you will be forced to let go of some sort of comfort zone of some kind. Because it is actively blocking you from achieving your goals. It's being shown here where your desires and your current circumstances quite literally cannot develop together. Like it's impossible. You need to learn that sometimes, especially if this is about leaving the house and moving to be on your own- that you have to be willing to take risks. Things are not meant to always be easy, but you are a strong and willing soul who can accomplish whatever your heart desires. Find a new outlook, and really ask yourself if your desires are so unattainable. If this pile resonated, and you'd like to book a personal reading based on this particular topic you can message me and tell me your pile number for a 45$ in depth reading on this topic.