#or if i break it down into 8 hour days....14 days

[bluefuecoco]

my friend was making fun of me for having 807 hours in stardew valley on steam, and it’s like damn.....at least i dont have 920 hours and only half the achievements, like my other friend. leave me alone

[80yearoldmanmoodboard]

My ADHD riddled ass who hasn’t finished a real book since 5th grade somehow managed to sit down and read The Autobiography of Special Agent Dale Cooper: My Life In Tapes in its entirety yesterday and in my completion of it I’d like to share excerpts of the Sleep Experiment Cooper did on himself in College:

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

prompt 8 and 14 (shy readers first time) and moms bsf wanda

You Were Red and You Liked Me Because I Was Blue

Mom's bsf!Wanda Maximoff x shy!innocent!Romanoff!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, age gap relationship (W=35, R=20) W calls herself Mommy, use of pet names, W fingers R

A/N: I worked on this all day while I didn't feel good and I have a killer headache at the moment so if I missed any warning I'm sorry. I can't think anymore.

The air was cold, without snow falling to distract you it felt unbearable to be waiting for your ride back home for break. Unfortunately you mom was off on a work trip until 3 days before Christmas so instead her best friend, Wanda would be picking you up.

Normally Wanda would have also been preoccupied this time of year, but since her and Vision finalized their divorce and custody of the boys, Vision would be getting them Christmas break first.

You couldn't imagine what that must be like for Wanda. Suddenly after 10 years of family tradition she was alone again and Wanda being alone was never a good thing. You'd known Wanda for a long time. After Natasha helped take down the red room she'd taken you, the youngest widow on the ship under her wing. The day you gained Natasha as a mom, you also gained an aunt Yelena. You had always heard stories of the famous Black Widow that got away and you'd seen Yelena training with others the greatest child assassin the world has ever known. Though you know her now as Auntie Lena who eats Mac and cheese straight out of the pot.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you see the familiar red subaru ascent. Wanda pulled up with a smile as you opened up the trunk to set your luggage in before quickly getting in the passenger seat with a shiver. Wanda pulled you into her arms, your body instantly heating from her contact.

“Hi sweetheart. How was the flight in?” She asked near your ear, making your heart skip a beat as you pulled back, trying to calm your body down.

“It was fine. Better than having you drive five hours to come grab me.” You told her as you put on your seat belt.

“I wouldn't have minded a 5 hour road trip with you sweet girl.” You bit the inside of your cheek at her words, choosing to stare out the window as she pulled away from the airport.

With Wanda's help you brought your luggage into the house and headed to your room to finally lie down and stretch out. The flight was only an hour and a half and the car ride back was about a half hour. You had barley acknowledged Wanda when she said about her starting on dinner instead choosing to go shower and clean yourself up.

You'd been told that even though you're an adult your mom wanted Wanda there with you. She said it was so you could keep an eye on the other. For Wanda it was so you'd stay out of trouble and for you it was to keep Wanda company. Natasha knew what it was like for Wanda to be alone.

What you and Natasha didn't know though was Wanda had fawned over you since she met you. When Natasha first introduced you and Yelena you always hid away. A little mouse making little to no noise as you moved. Even your thoughts were quiet to Wanda. It was something she found solace in around you. She knew what had happened to you and the other widows. Though you were next step of perfecting what Drekovy wanted out of the widows, total control they had perfected and for you, the only survivor of your age group, an enhanced super soldier serum. It gave you all the same enhancements as Steve and Bucky, but you stayed small, unassuming so no one ever saw you coming.

“Y/N! Dinner's ready sweet girl!” Wanda called up as you looked over yourself in the mirror, the scars lining your arms, shoulders, chest. They were everywhere.

You took the stairs two at a time, hair still damp, but Wanda's cooking smelt too good to keep her waiting. She looked up from moving things from the counter to the dining table. Natasha always used to have these ‘family meals’ where her parents, Yelena, Wanda, Vision, and the boys would come over. They stopped happening when Wanda and Vision decided to get the divorce. A smile was on Wanda's face,

“I made your favorite. Help me move it over to the table.” You happily helped out so the two of you could eat dinner together.

As Wanda was cleaning up and insisting that you go relax on the couch and get a movie ready you watched her from the couch, forgoing a movie and putting on The Office instead. You needed the background noise because to you your thoughts felt so loud that Wanda must be able to hear you if you didn't have something distracting her.

As she finished up and sat next to you she gave no indication of hearing your thoughts which she often did to those around her. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against her as if you were two magnets. You bit the corner of your lips trying to watch the show.

You knew Wanda was experienced obviously, she has twins. You on the other hand haven't even gotten the opportunity to kiss a girl or a boy or anyone because from the day you met Wanda all you ever wanted was her. You'd never tell her that though.

She was with Vision when you met her nearly 13 years ago. With everything that happened after that with Thanos and then defeating him without the loss of half the population you could just live life normally for the first time.

Wanda's hand found your thigh, rubbing gently as she watched the show, one the two of you have watched multiple times over the years. You enjoyed sitcoms like she did along with being introduced to reality TV which is just a guilty pleasure really.

“W-Wands…” your voice was barely a whisper and Wanda pretended not to hear you. Not even when you started squirming under her touch as her hand grew closer to your hot center. Her hand squeezed you as you let out a little whimper. “Wands…” you tried again, trying to be louder, but you couldn't. Once again your plea goes unacknowledged as her pinky brushes against your clit, your hands fly down to her wrist. She finally looks at you. You don't dare look at her.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She asks so innocently as if she has no idea what she's doing.

“W-Wands…I…you…” you fumble with your words. Her other hand reaches your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“What about us sweet girl?” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. She pulls you onto her lap, her hands resting on your hips. “Just watch the show sweet girl. Let Mommy play.” You felt like fireworks went off in your stomach. Sure you'd heard the boys call Wanda Mommy and yeah you'd heard her call herself Mommy over the years, but never in the tone she just used and never directed at you.

You felt like everything on you was burning except for Wanda's hands that were always cold and clad in rings. You did as told keeping your eyes on the screen until you felt her hand push past your waistband. Your hands once again grabbing her wrist, not because you didn't want her to, you really wanted her too. You were nervous.

“W-Wands…I've never…” Wanda moved forward, tilting her head to look at you.

“Not ever at college?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“N-not even a kiss…” you admitted. Wanda's hand leaving your shorts and moving to your face.

“These precious lips haven't kissed anyone else?” You shook your head, “So I'll be your first?” She asked pulling you closer. All you could manage as your heart pounded was a soft ‘mhmm’ before her lips touched yours.

As her lips meet yours, it's a gentle yet electrifying sensation, sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Wanda's touch is tender, guiding you through this unfamiliar territory with ease and patience. With each fleeting moment, you feel yourself melting into her embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

When Wanda pulls back, there's a brief moment of hesitation, as if time itself is holding its breath. You find yourself lost in her gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling within you – anticipation, vulnerability, and a newfound courage. Slowly, a soft smile tugs at the corners of Wanda's lips, her eyes sparkling with tenderness.

With a gentle brush of her fingers against your cheek, Wanda whispers words of reassurance, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. And as you lean into her touch, a sense of peace settles within you.

The night carried on without Wanda trying to slip past your shorts instead she kept stealing kisses late into the night before deciding it was time for bed. It was when you moved you could feel just how wet you'd before and you freeze, your thighs smacking tightly together. Wanda stopped, a tug on your hand.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She looked back at you, confusion etched on her face.

“It…its..icky…” you squirmed and Wanda smirked, taking two steps towards you.

“Don't worry my sweet girl,” she tilted your head up, “Mommy is going to take good care of you.” Her breath against your lip, her voice sweet and thick with her accent, the one you heard all those years ago. Your legs want to turn to jelly.

Wanda wasn't expecting you to stay quiet once her fingers slipped past your wet folds, but you did. Little breathy moans, small whimpers, tiny pleas fell past your lips as your face burned and your eyes screwed shut.

“Don't close your eyes Detka. Look at me.” You could only obey with her voice sounding the way it did. You looked at her, she smiled at you and only picked up her pace.

You squirmed and felt like you were going to burst as you whimpered and tried to get away, but she held you there. You tried closing your legs, but she held them open.

“Open your legs Detka. I wanna see you.” Her nails dug into your thigh.

“F-feels weird…” you squeaked out.

“You're gonna cum for Mommy it'll make you feel better. Go on. Let it happen.” As if your body was waiting on her word, that coil inside of you snapped. Your back arched as your eyes rolled back. “That's a good girl…Mommy’s good girl.” Her fingers slowed down before leaving you. Your eyes closed but soon enough Wanda was helping you sit up.

“Water sweet girl. Take a few sips.” You did as told, knowing Wanda always knew best. When she felt you had enough she tapped your cheek and you let go.

She helped you clean yourself up, the cool towel feeling nice against your hot skin and then into pajamas which only consisted of an old band t-shirt of Wanda's and a pair of your panties. As she got the two of you settled into your bed, holding you against her chest. Her fingers moved through your hair as your eyes began to flutter she spoke,

“We're going to have a lot of fun until your mom comes home.” You smiled against her skin. You almost hoped she wouldn't be home for Christmas if it meant more time playing like this with Wanda.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, mention of Sirus' family but no talk of abuse, some talk of traumatic injury

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Sirius hates the cold. It makes him look ill, his nose always runs, and he does not have a head made for hats. 

The walk to the rink yesterday was bad, with the chill and the early hour and the dark mood that seemed to permeate him like it infused his very blood, but you made it better by being yourself. He suspects you might have even been going out of your way to be sweeter than usual, given that you knew it was the anniversary of the day Sirius ran away from his family’s home. You’d tried to cheer him up. Still, yesterday was bad.

Today is worse. 

You’re silent as you stalk down the sidewalk, one boy on either side of you. You said hello to both him and Remus as you stepped out the door of your apartment, and then that was it. If it were Sirius it might make sense, but you always have an unnatural amount of energy in the mornings. Obviously you’re not speaking to him. And Sirius is still upset about the addition of the death spiral to your routine, so he’s not speaking to Remus. And Remus is hardly one to spark up conversation during an uncomfortable silence, so that just makes the three of you a very sullen, very silent procession to your early fucking morning practice. 

Except when you arrive, the rink is already bustling. You take one step inside before going back out the door, forcing both boys back outside with you.

“What the fuck?” Remus tries to peer inside. For once, Sirius agrees with him. “Who’s taken our slot?”

“I don’t know,” you say, but you’re still standing in front of the door like you’re barring their entry. “I’m going to go find out. You guys stay here.” 

“Why?” Sirius asks.

Even when you look at him you’re not really looking at him, your eyes distant. If you’re trying to make him feel like shit, it’s working. “Because I don’t need either of you going in there to bite someone’s head off. I’ve got it.” 

With that, you slip inside, not giving either of them a chance to argue. Sirius supposes he could go after you anyway, but you seem like you’d bite his head off, and he’s hurting enough from the cold without that extra ailment to contend with. He pulls out a cigarette instead. 

“You really shouldn’t do that,” Remus hums, but when Sirius looks over the other boy is lighting up too, a cig dangling from the corner of his mouth. When he sees Sirius struggling with his lighter, his fingers frozen and clumsy, he rolls his eyes and steps closer. 

Sirius goes still as Remus cups a hand around his cigarette, lithe fingers an inch from his mouth. The lighter rasps once, and the warmth next to Sirius’ face is a welcome sensation. When Remus steps away Sirius straightens his shoulders, expression carefully impassive as he inhales. He doesn’t thank him. 

“She’ll have your ass for doing it, too,” he says. 

Remus lifts a brow, blowing smoke out one corner of his mouth. “Why? I don’t need my lungs for anything.” 

Sirius shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. She thinks she should be in charge of the whole world.” 

A soft chuckle. Remus looks out to where the sun will rise in a few hours, the sky still a sweet blue. “Maybe she should be.” 

Sirius can’t help a little smile at that. He takes comfort only in knowing Remus doesn’t see. “Don’t let her hear you say that.” 

They lapse into a brief silence, easier and more contented than Sirius would have thought possible between the two of them. It breaks only when you come bustling back out the doors. 

“Okay, so apparently—” You stop, looking between them both. “Guys. Seriously?” 

“What?” Remus asks, but Sirius knows better, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out. 

Your gaze flicks over him, almost approving but still a far cry from friendly. He swears your mouth wants to smile at him, only you’re not letting it. 

“Those are so bad for you,” you tell Remus. 

He levels you with a dry look, the brave bastard. “What does it matter? I’m not an athlete.” 

You wince but don’t back down. “Athletes aren’t the only ones with reason to live past fifty.” You give him a hard look. It takes a while, but eventually Remus relents, dropping his cigarette as Sirius had. You nod, crouching to pick up both dog-ends and taking them to a bin. “Each one shortens your life by eleven minutes, you know.” 

Remus meets Sirius’ eyes, incredulous. “She comes prepared with statistics?” he asks in a hushed voice. 

Sirius nods. “Told you so.” 

You brush your hands off on your pants. “Okay. Anyway, hockey practice got moved up.” 

“You’re joking,” says Remus. 

“Nope. And, someone else got wind of it before us, because the slot they had at nine has already been filled. We can’t practice today.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “Bullshit. Why did hockey get moved?” 

You shrug, hugging your middle so your hands can burrow under your arms for warmth. “Management said they didn’t know, only that someone on the team asked for a different slot just for today. Seems like they were sweet-talked into it.” 

Your eyes meet Sirius’ for half a second, and he takes out his phone, frigid thumbs anger-typing away. 

“So that’s it then?” Remus asks. He looks like he’d really like his cigarette back. “We’ve just woken up before dawn and we’re not going to practice?” 

You sigh. “Seems that way. We can come back during open skate, but you know how that is.” 

Sirius scowls, and Remus’ expression twinges with distaste. “Yeah,” says Remus, “let’s wait until tomorrow.” 

You all break where you usually do, though hours ahead of schedule, Remus going off towards his place and Sirius walking you in the direction of yours. 

“Fancy a coffee?” he asks you, voice intentionally light. 

It has the expected effect. You bristle at his easy tone, keeping your eyes ahead. “No, thanks.” 

“Fair enough.” Sirius would really like something to warm his hands, but he suspects he needs to pick his battles with you today. “Fancy telling me when we’re going to be friends again?” 

You blow out a harsh breath. It crystalizes in front of you, and you walk right through. “Don’t be daft. We’re always friends. It’s because I’m your friend that I’m so pissed off with you.” 

He nods slowly. “I don’t follow.” 

You shake your head, anger quickening your pace so that Sirius is nearly jogging to keep up with you. “Why can’t you ever stay out of your own way?” you ask him. “I know yesterday was hard for you, but you can’t be an asshole to everyone just because you’re having a bad day.” 

“Hey now, that’s not fair.” Sirius knows joking probably isn’t the best tactic with you right now, but he can’t help himself. “I wasn’t an asshole to you, was I?” 

“That’s what I mean!” You stop so hard he nearly plows into you, but you don’t so much as flinch at the possibility. Your stare is fierce. “You can’t keep trying to scare him off. It’s not going to work, and we need him. Can’t you see how much better he’s made us already? I know you didn’t want a coach, but Remus is good for us. So you can stop being so difficult.” 

“I am not being difficult,” says Sirius, though he often is. You stick your tongue in your cheek, annoyed, and he fights the urge to take your face in his hands. He hates having you cross with him, but at least you’re talking. “And you don’t know what we would be like if he weren’t here. We might’ve been fine.” 

You sigh, looking suddenly tired. And so, so disappointed. “That’s not the point anyways. You know what you said to him yesterday was wrong.” 

Sirius feels a dull stab in his gut. He knows. He does. He knew it the second it came flying out of his mouth, and he has no idea why Remus doesn’t seem as livid with him as you are. Remus, with his even voice and his exasperated, knowing looks and that stern little wrinkle between his brows, who seems able to wind Sirius up better than anyone else. A match to his short fuse. 

“How would you feel?” you ask. Some of the anger has fallen away from your voice, leaving it soft and sad. “What if we went to competition in a few weeks, and you injured yourself so that you knew you could never skate again. And then someone used it to mock you.” 

“He’s risking us doing that,” Sirius says, stubbornly, though he can hear the plea in his own voice, “by asking us to change the routine.” 

“He’s trying to help us,” you reply firmly. But your shoulders droop, and you sigh. “I know you feel bad about it. I’m done being mad at you now. It’s exhausting.” 

Sirius feels too hollowed out to revel much in the victory, but your arm linking through his does help some. “Some could say that was my plan all along,” he jokes weakly. 

You make a halfhearted attempt at a chuckle. “Good thing I know better. If your hands are in danger of falling off, you could stop at mine, make yourself a coffee.” 

“When I asked you for coffee five minutes ago you said no.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t done punishing you yet.” 

[slightlysaltysometimes]

latest jay post got me thinking: i went on these one depression meds and theyre the only ones who worked and i started eating more cus i felt well enough too but put on weight and immediately dropped them. or like im so busy working in the medical field and with adhd i just often dont have time, so imagine moving in with jay and he cooks for you and makes sure you now have a good eating diet instead of few snacks and ton of caffiene for the day so naturally you put on weight and he just is FROTHING at the mouth.

this ask has me frothing at the mouth. i’m going to marry you anon

reader starting to gain weight bc jay cooking for them…

(content warnings for weight gain, AFAB body but no pronouns or gender mentioned, dress used as a plot point, swearing, 2nd person POV, very suggestive near the end, pet names used: ma, sweetheart, baby)

Starting to live with Jason is a dream.

You thought he was a near perfect boyfriend before (well, at least perfect for you), but now?

He’s a househusband. You mean it in the most affectionate, positive way possible, but he genuinely insists on cooking and cleaning entirely by himself. You compromised with him by agreeing that you’ll put away clean laundry when it’s done, but he doesn’t allow you to finish any more domestic labor with your work keeping you so busy.

It’s been a long shift, being on your feet and working for almost 14 hours. So, getting home at 8:39 PM, you expected Jason to have just ordered some takeout or pizza for dinner due to your absence.

Your keys jingle as you unlock the front door to your shared apartment, yawning as you step inside and toe off your shoes. “Jayce, I’m home!” You call out, hanging up your keys and setting down your bag.

But he doesn’t come out of his office our your shared bedroom. He’s in the kitchen, an apron around his waist and a grin on his lips.

“Hey, ma.” He murmurs as you drape yourself over his back and nuzzle between his shoulderblades. “Long day?”

“You have no idea.” You grumble, pressing the smallest of kisses to his spine. “You’re cooking? You could’ve just ordered takeout earlier, you didn’t need to wait up for me.”

“I wanted to.” He replies, almost scoffing. “I’m not gonna let you eat a granola bar and call it dinner.”

You can nearly feel your heart melting in your chest.

“You really didn’t have to.” You reiterate. “But thank you.”

You two haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet, but you’re incredibly tempted. Jason is so easily spooked by love. So you show him with your actions, instead. The gentle kisses and caresses, the gentle nights and even softer mornings.

And by the way he cooks you your favorite foods after long shifts and hard days, you’d wager he’s doing the same.

Recently, you’ve noticed a small trend in your clothing.

Some of the smaller items you have are a little too tight lately. Plus, you can’t wear your bra on the tightest setting anymore, and your usual hole on your belt is a little too restrictive when you fasten it.

Jason is helping you clip your bra when he notices.

“Don’t you wear it on the other hook?” He murmurs, clipping it on the second. “I know I’ve helped you with this before.”

You hum, turning around and pecking his lips as a thanks for the assistance. “Yeah. I might be gaining some weight recently, it might be the new medication I’m on. Might need to do more cardio or something.”

Jason frowns. “You’re already doing more than you should. You are not gonna try and push yourself even more.”

You roll your eyes, huffing. “Whatever. I probably won’t gain much more weight, anyway.”

You were such a fool.

Over the next several months living with Jason, you’ve had to go up a clothing size, up a bra band size, and up a half-size in your shoes.

But every time you bring it up with Jason, he brushes it off, just reassuring you that it’s normal for hormones to cause weight fluctuations and that you’re perfect the way you are.

Finally, you’re trying on an old dress when you can’t quite fit into it, and you break. You can’t just let him ignore it anymore.

“Jason.” You sigh, calling him into your bedroom. “Come here.”

Jason is there in just a few seconds, grinning when he sees you in the dress. “Hey, baby. Feeling nostalgic or somethin’?”

You roll your eyes. “Try and zip it up.”

He quirks an eyebrow, but he does. And it doesn’t get any further than your mid-back.

“This fit me fine a few months ago.” You say, sounding equal parts confused and annoyed. “Loosely, even.”

The rest of your words fade into the foggy background as Jason’s mind runs wild.

You only notice when his hands move and he starts to unzip the dress, then slipping his hands into it and caressing your sides.

“You’re so beautiful.” He mutters, voice thick with… Something. “Look at you. You were so thin before, remember? You didn’t even eat two full meals a day. Maybe 1000 calories on a good day.”

“That’s an exaggeration.” You scoff.

Jason noses against your neck, mouthing at the soft, sensitive skin. “Barely. Fuck, you’re so pretty. Stunning. I love cookin’ for ya, you’re actually eatin’ right now. Your body is catching up. Your metabolism is slower ‘cause of your diet before, and now you’re actually getting the shit you need.”

You sigh, realizing he’s right. “Damn it.”

He frowns, biting gently at your shoulder. “This isn’t a ‘damn it’ moment, baby. Look at you.”

His hands start to wander. One caresses your stomach as the other wanders up to your chest. “Fuck. Sweetheart, haven’t you noticed? Your bra’s too small.”

You frown. “No it’s not, I just got a new one.”

He smirks, thumb ghosting over where your chest almost spills from the cups. “Yeah, it is. You went up a cup size.”

After that day, every time you tried to start a diet or new workout routine, he would vehemently disagree until you gave in.

This morning, though, he’s staring.

You’re in just your underwear, and he’s staring as you stretch and dig through your wardrobe for something to wear.

“You’re off today, right?” He asks, voice rough from sleep.

You don’t even hear him until he’s right behind you, his large hands on your hips.

“Yeah, I’m off.” You respond, suspiciously eyeing him when you turn around.

He’s shameless in his ogling, not even bothering to warn you before he picks you up effortlessly.

“Wha- Jason!” You exclaim, holding tight to his shoulders. “Put me down!”

He smiles wickedly, plopping you down on the bed and pulling you flush to him as he leans down and captures your lips with his.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, biting your bottom lip and making you gasp. “You’re so *soft*. You know how hard it is to stop myself from practically groping you all the damn time? Your hips, your thighs, your stomach….”

You don’t even have the opportunity to think before he’s squeezing your hips and pulling back to look at you properly. “Can I have you, ma? Please? I’m hungry, baby, and I really want those pretty fuckin’ thighs around my head.”

These changes to your body are new, but maybe not as bad as you thought.

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 22

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x dealer!Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, angst, cursing, grief, sadness

I woke up in the late afternoon hours after a restless night of crying. My eyes were swollen and heavy, my body weak and exhausted. I hadn’t eaten since the news broke, and even the thought of food made me feel sick. My stomach growled in protest, but I didn’t care. Hunger was the least of my worries.

I had kept myself locked in my room all night, ignoring the calls and messages that had poured in. Willow had left several voicemails, her voice cracking as she begged me to let her in. I couldn't face her, or anyone, for that matter. I didn’t want comfort or questions. I didn’t want to feel anything at all.

But as the afternoon became the evening, I knew I had to eat. My body felt too weak to keep ignoring its needs, no matter how hollow I felt inside. Something quick and easy, I thought. Just enough to at least one of the aches in my body.

Dragging myself out of bed, clutching Ralph tightly in my arms. The house was eerily quiet as I shuffled down the hallway toward the kitchen, every step heavier than the last.

When I opened the kitchen door, my eyes immediately landed on the chicken sitting on the counter. It was still there, untouched since I abandoned it the moment I thought Nate was dead. 

The sight of it, something so simple, sent me spiraling all over again.

My knees buckled, and I gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself. Tears streamed down my face as the memories of that night flooded back. Chris teasing me about the chicken. The kiss he gave me before he left. The stupid little flick of the fairy lights that had made me smile.

And now he was gone.

I clutched Ralph tighter, holding him against my chest as if he could somehow shield me from the pain. My sobs came hard and fast, shaking my whole body. The room spun, and I sank to the cold tile floor, my back pressed against the cabinets.

I cried until I couldn’t anymore, my tears leaving streaks on my face and my throat raw from the effort. The chicken sat there, mocking me, a reminder of what could’ve been.

I don’t know how long I sat there on the floor, staring at nothing. Time seemed irrelevant, just like everything else.

I pulled my knees to my chest, burying my face in Ralph’s fur. “Why, Chris?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Why did you leave me?”

The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of my shallow breaths.

I didn’t know how to keep going. How to live with this empty ache where Chris used to be.

All I wanted was to see his face again, so I pulled my phone from my pocket, my fingers trembling as I unlocked the screen. My thumb hovered over the camera roll before I finally opened it. Scrolling through the photos, I stopped on one I’d taken of Chris just days ago.

He was holding Ralph, with that playful grin on his face. The image felt so vivid, so full of life, it made my heart ache. I stared at it, my eyes tracing every detail, the curve of his smile, the sparkle in his eyes, the way his hair fell perfectly without him even trying. How could someone so alive be gone?

Tears blurred my vision, but I wiped them away, determined not to spiral again. I needed to do something, anything, to distract myself.

An idea came to me, something simple but meaningful. I decided to make a little setup in my room for Chris, a small space just for him.

I walked to the office next to the dining room, where we kept the printer and all the other little odds and ends my mom liked to hoard. Connecting my phone to the printer, I selected the photo of Chris and Ralph. The printer whirred to life, and within moments, the picture slid out, warm and vivid.

I picked it up carefully, holding it as though it were something fragile. The photo felt so real, like I could reach out and touch him through it.

Mom loved having photos around the house, so I knew there were bound to be some spare frames tucked away somewhere. I rummaged through a drawer in the office and found a small, simple silver frame. It wasn’t fancy, but it would do.

I slipped the photo into the frame, smoothing it out to make sure it sat perfectly. Staring at it again, I felt a bittersweet pang in my chest. “Perfect” I whispered, my voice breaking just slightly.

With the frame in hand, I walked back to my room. I placed it on my bedside table, positioning it so I could see it the moment I woke up. Ralph sat beside it, a silent reminder of one of the last happy moments Chris and I shared.

It wasn’t much, but it felt like a piece of him was here with me, even if just in spirit. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the photo for what felt like hours, lost in the memory of the man who had somehow managed to leave such a deep imprint on my heart.

The space was nice, but it still felt like it needed more life. The framed photo of Chris and Ralph on my bedside table was sweet, but the area seemed too plain, too empty for something that meant so much. My eyes flicked to the wall behind it, and an idea crossed my mind.

Fairy lights.

I immediately thought about the ones hanging in the treehouse, how Chris always flicked them on and off in that odd little pattern of his. They would look perfect here, draped on the wall behind the photo and Ralph, giving the space a warm, comforting glow.

But as quickly as the idea came, I shook my head. I didn’t want to touch those lights. That was how Chris left them, his little quirk preserved exactly the way he’d done it. Moving them felt wrong, like I’d be erasing a piece of him.

I sat on the edge of my bed, conflicted, staring at the framed photo as though it would offer me an answer.

“No” I whispered to myself. “The lights stay where they are.”

It felt silly, but those lights in the treehouse meant more to me now than they ever had before. They weren’t just decorations, they were a memory, a connection to Chris and the moments we shared.

Instead, I decided I’d find another way to make the space feel more alive. Maybe I could add a small plant or a candle, something soft and comforting. For now, though, I let the simplicity of the photo and Ralph keep me company. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

And that was enough effort from me today. I crawled back into bed, my room once again cloaked in darkness. The weather outside had taken a turn, with heavy rain and howling winds rattling the windows. The eerie atmosphere should have unsettled me, but oddly, it was a little comforting. Maybe a distraction was what I needed.

I grabbed my phone and opened Netflix, scrolling until I landed on Gilmore Girls. It was familiar and safe, exactly what I needed to escape my thoughts. Two episodes passed in a blur, but my mind still refused to quiet. Desperate for more distraction, I switched over to YouTube, hoping an ASMR video might help me fall asleep.

I prefer listening to ASMR with headphones, so I reluctantly got out of bed, trying to feel my way through the pitch black room. The wind outside battered the windows, and a chill seeped through the cracks, sending shivers down my spine.

Then it happened.

That familiar glow on, off, on, off flickered through my window again. My breath hitched as I froze in place. It wasn’t possible. My heart pounded in my chest as I turned toward the faint light. 

“No” I whispered, shaking my head as my pulse quickened. “Not again.”

I froze, staring at the flicker of light. My chest tightened as my mind spun in circles, refusing to make sense of it.

“All I wanted was a distraction” I muttered, my voice trembling. “And all I’m getting is reminders,” 

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes as frustration and sorrow consumed me. “I need to take the batteries out” I muttered, my voice shaky. “I can’t keep torturing myself like this.”

Grabbing my phone for light, I stumbled toward the balcony door, my heart pounding with every step. I shoved it open, and the icy rain instantly soaked through my clothes. The wind whipped against me as I stepped outside, teeth chattering from more than just the cold.

And then I saw him.

Chris.

Standing in the treehouse, drenched from the rain, illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of the fairy lights. His hands gripped the railing, his face shadowed but unmistakably his.

The world stopped.

My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the wet balcony floor, unable to breathe. My phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the ground as I stared, my vision blurred by tears.

“Chris?” I whispered, the word barely escaping my trembling lips.

He didn’t move, but his eyes, those familiar eyes, locked onto mine. They were haunted, filled with something unspoken that only made my heart ache more.

“This isn’t real” I choked out, my voice raw. “You’re not real.”

Chris climbed over the balcony, his movements careful but swift, like he was racing against my spiraling emotions. The moment his feet hit the floor, he was in front of me, dropping to his knees and pull me into his arms before I could think to protest. His warmth engulfed me, the familiar scent of him cutting through the storm in my chest. I froze in his embrace, my mind screaming to pull away, but my body betraying me, leaning into the solace I’d craved for what felt like an eternity.

Realistically, I didn’t know whether to feel relief or anger. My heart raced, caught in a brutal tug of war between the two. Relief because he was here, alive, standing in front of me when I thought I’d lost him forever. Anger because he let me believe otherwise, let me break into pieces and drown in the darkest depths of grief.

My hands shook as I tried to steady myself, gripping the edge of the balcony for support to get myself back to my feet. The storm raged around us, lightning cracking in the distance, illuminating his soaked figure in brief, harsh flashes. He looked like a ghost, haunted, tired, but undeniably alive.

“You..” My voice cracked as I tried to speak, but it came out as a whisper. “You’re alive?”

Chris nodded slowly, taking a cautious step forward, his hands raised slightly as if approaching a wounded animal.

“I can explain.” he said, his voice low but steady, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil within.

I stumbled to my feet, my body swaying as a fresh wave of disbelief hit me. “Explain?” I shouted, the storm swallowing my words as I stared at him, my chest heaving. “Explain what, Chris? That you let me think you were dead? That you-”

My voice broke, and I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms as I tried to hold myself together.

“Please, Y/n” Chris begged, his voice low and steady, though the weight of his plea made my chest tighten. “We can explain.”

“We?” I asked sharply, my voice cutting through the sound of the storm outside.

Chris turned his head in the direction of the front of my house, his eyes narrowing slightly as if searching for the right words. My heart raced, sensing something I wasn’t going to like.

“Yeah” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. He shifted his gaze to the driveway below.

I followed his line of sight, and my breath caught in my throat. Standing there, drenched from the rain, was Nate. He was standing in front of his car, hands in pockets, staring directly at us with an expression that was impossible to read.

My mind reeled as the pieces began to fall into place. 

He was in on this too?

a/n: sorry for any tears that were shed

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[doberbutts]

hello jaz, i'd like your opinion on something. i'm seeing a lot of dog trainers online go on about the benefits of crating in regards to making sure dogs are getting enough sleep and to always crate them when asleep. the numbers i see thrown around are 12-14 but more commonly 16-18. i have certainly seen a lot of improvement when i make sure my adolescent is getting enough sleep, but she is not crate trained (its really rare where im from) a lot of the advice on making sure the dog is settling is to isolate the dog, cover the crate in a different room and avoid coming anywhere near it, basically pretend they dont exist. im finding it really hard to justify locking up a social animal for 16-18 hours a day without any interraction. i specifically got a dog after years of having a cat (he was really sweet and loved companionship but it didnt hit the same spot as having a dog), as i like how engaged they are with you and seek interraction, it just feels unfair. am i antropomorphizing? is it not that big of a deal if they're properly enriched and excercised? what are your thoughts on this as a dog trainer and someone who had a dog with medical issues related to excessive crating?

Oh oh oh oh I had a very long conversation with a few good friends who are dog trainers about this one.

Now before I start, I do have to say that I do support crate training and in fact have crate trained the majority of my dogs, with Fenris being the sole exception and even he is, hmm, half crate trained at this point and we're working on the rest.

First of all 18 hours is an astronomical number, personally I think 12 hours is excessive. Life shoved in a small box for literally half the day is sort of miserable. I now work 10 hour shifts with an hour commute and so my dogs *are* left home for 12 hours at a time- however I have made a lot of changes to the way I contain them to prevent this exact scenario. Sushi is loose, the chihuahuas are crated together in something that is roughly the size of a typical x-pen or they're left loose in my bathroom (where it is easier to clean up Tater's incontinence), and Fenris is also sectioned off in my foyer again a space the size of a typical x-pen. Sometimes I leave Sushi in there with him because he seems comforted by her presence and ability to play with him if he's bored, other times she seems kind of done managing his energy on her own so I give her the run of the house to give her a bit of a break.

And, I will say, based on the camera I have looking in at them, the dogs mostly sleep the whole day. The last two days most of the peeks in during a motion alert have revealed someone getting up for a drink of water and then plopping back down on their bed. Or getting a toy or chew to bring back to their bed. Or getting up to stretch and laying back down. So, while I feel bad that I leave them alone for that long, it's also not like they're doing much in my absence.

However to me it is less about the crate and more about the ability to perform natural behaviors. As said, the dogs get up and have a drink of water, stretch, maybe wrestle if they're sectioned off two-by-two, or grab a toy or chew (or blanket to suck in the case of Fenwen), which are all things they could do in a large enough crate. It is also why, once my dogs are house trained, I keep them in crates far bigger than recommended so they can have a bit more space to move around. This is, of course, easier with the chihuahuas who weigh a combined 8lbs than with the 100lb mountain dog. Or they can be loose if they're nondestructive and won't soil my floors.

However I also think that it becomes really difficult when we talk about how dogs are social creatures. Like it or not, by leaving them alone for 8+ hours every day, we are dooming single dog households to a lifetime of solitary confinement. Whether the dogs are in a crate or not, we are leaving a social creature alone for the majority of our waking hours. So I think it is important, if you don't have multiple dogs or rotating work schedules with all the humans in the house, to make sure and fill the gaps as much as possible. I think if you are home your dog should be out of confinement and also hanging out with you. I think you should deliberately try to interact with your dog while you are home, whether that's just petting as you do something else or taking them for a walk or whatever.

I mentioned that Fenris is not fully crate trained despite being nearly a year and a half. This is because he can open just about anything that doesn't require thumbs, including crate doors. And he has broken himself out of 3 separate crates, and broke 2 teeth in the process the last time he broke out. I have been slowly re-introducing the crate ever since, and now he is calm and quiet in a jumbo sized Great Dane crate (read: two sizes up from what is recommended for him) with a bed, a sucky blanket, a toy, a chew, and his EDM music box for about 4ish hours at a time. This is a big win for us because he used to not even tolerate a few minutes despite me following all of the same rules and advice I have followed for all of my other successfully crate trained dogs.

I noticed fairly early on that he is happiest when contained in a larger area with a friend. So my foyer and Sushi became the sacrifice until I either can convince him to tolerate longer than half days or can trust him left loose in my house. He did figure out how to open the gate a few weeks ago and promptly murdered my 32 year old snake plant (and destroyed a tupperware container left on my counter, and shredded my mail also from my counter, and pulled a book off my bookshelf to shred, and chewed on my camera but it does still work at least), so clearly he is not trustworthy as of just yet. I have added a locking mechanism that requires thumbs, he fiddled with it the first day I installed it and has left it alone since.

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (14)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, post break-up, daddy Dean

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (13)

“Fuck, get off,” you curse under your breath. Hours after you leave Mary’s house you try to get the engagement ring off your finger. It doesn’t move. Almost as if the golden band wants to mock you or force you to keep it on. “Get off!!”

“Y/N, is everything alright?” Dean calls from outside the bathroom at his place. He offered you his guestroom for the night. You were too tired and emotionally drained to find a hotel room. “Do you need anything? I can go and buy whatever you forgot.”

“It won’t get off!” You huff and slam your hands onto the sink. “It’s stuck. I can’t get it off.” Choking out a sob you stare at your reflection in the mirror. So many years of independence and peace down the drain because the cocky asshole outside the bathroom couldn’t stay away from you.

“What? Wait! I’m coming!” Dean exclaims before opening the door. He covers his eyes and stumbles inside the room. “What did you say? Do you need help? Is your toe stuck in the faucet?”

You half laugh, half snort. “What? Why do you think my toe got stuck in the faucet? I didn’t take a bath, and would never stick my toe inside the faucet.”

Dean nervously chuckles. He rubs the back of his neck as he finally looks at you. “Well, accidents happen, sweetheart. A faucet can be damn dangerous.”

You snicker. “Your toe got stuck in the faucet, right? How did you do it, Dean?” He pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Well, at least your dick didn’t get stuck inside the faucet.” You grin from ear to ear. Teasing Dean is fun.

“Y/N!” He gapes at you. “I’m not some pervert putting his dick into the faucet!” Dean narrows his eyes to give you the stinky eye. “You know that my dick would never fit into a faucet.”

“You only didn’t put it inside because it would not fit,” you accuse, earning a huff. “I wasn’t talking about my toe, Dean.” You finally lift your hand to show him the ring. “It won’t get off.”

Dean hums. He steps closer to grab your hand to look at the ring. “Then, don’t take it off. It’s right where it belongs.”

You breathe his name and shake your head. “You know I can’t keep it. The ring never belonged to me, Dean. Whatever we had back then is long gone. We can’t just go back in time and make things right. I raised our son on my own and started a new life without you.”

Dean drops his gaze. He nods because there is no denying that he fucked things up. Even though Mary played a huge part in your breakup, it was his fault that he didn’t stay with you that day. Dean knows there is nothing he can do to make things up to you.

“Stay—” He murmurs, eyes searching yours. “Back then, I was a fool. I was selfish and scared of commitment. But I know now how it feels to live without you, and I’d rather have you and Michael in my life.” Dean raises his hand to stop you from replying. “Don’t answer right now. I know I have no right to beg you to stay, but I do.”

“Dean, I—” Your voice cracks. Right now, you’re not able to respond or even think straight. The past came crashing back into your life, and you cannot handle anything but focus on getting that damn ring off your finger.

He turns to leave the room but glances over his shoulder. “I’ll get some olive oil,” Dean says and points at your hand. “For the ring.”

You watch him leave, feeling bad for him. Dean broke your heart, but you know now, that it wasn’t all his fault. Maybe you should’ve stayed that night. If you hadn’t run away like an angry child, you could’ve talked things out and ruined Mary’s plans.

Dean darts his tongue out, focused on rubbing more olive oil into your skin. He gently massages your finger and tries to move the ring. “Almost there, sweetheart.”

You nod and watch him slowly slide the ring off your finger. It feels good that it’s gone, but at the same time, you feel a sadness you haven’t experienced in years. “Thank you.”

“I’ll put it away,” he says, sounding as sad as you feel. “In case you ever want it back.” Dean gives you a sad smile before walking out of the room. You sigh and grab one of the paper towels to clean your hand.

“Do you want to order takeout?” Dean calls from outside the room. “Michael is still at Sammy’s place, but we could eat together.”

“Sounds good,” you answer. “You can choose. You need to eat something after you refused to eat more of my mince pie.”

“That was not nice of you, Y/N. You know about my weakness for pie and ordered this monstrosity,” Dean huffs as he enters the living room. “A low blow.”

“It was payback for all the times I had to eat fatty burgers or pizza,” you shoot back. “You never invited me to a nice restaurant, Winchester.”

“Sweetheart, that’s a lie! What about the little Italian restaurant,” he bites back. “You almost inhaled their food.”

You purse your lips. Dean is not wrong. Their food was delicious. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Dean.”

He smirks. “How about I order takeout from them, and you can tell me again that I never invited you for dinner to a nice restaurant.”

“Your house is not a restaurant, Winchester,” you argue. “Do not cheat! Ordering takeout is not taking me out on a date.”

“Okay. Let’s go on a date right now,” he hastily says, smirking as you look at him with wide eyes.

“What? That’s not what I meant…I mean…” Stammering you look at Dean, unable to come up with an excuse. You said what you said and now it’s too late.

Part 15

Tags in reblog.

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 10

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Jason woke with a start as someone gently shook his shoulder, one of his notes from the previous night sticking to his face as he shot up. He heard a soft giggle from next to him and looked up, and up at Jasmine Nightingale, Queen Regent, standing there with a plate of food and looking regal as ever in her teal toga dress.

"You missed breakfast, but it looks like you were pretty busy. What are you working on?" she asked, setting a plate of French toast on the table and taking a seat, careful to not look at the notes without permission. Still, he was thankful he had written all his notes in code.

He shuffled the papers together and stuffed them into his journal before pulling the plate closer. "Just research about this place, there's so many different places here. Where are your favorite places to visit when you get a day off?" He took a bite of the food and noticed a cinnamon flavored syrup.

"I don't really go anywhere on my days off, I usually just hang out in the library or in my room all day. Sometimes I'll go visit Lady Pandora and have sandwiches and spar with her, but I haven't had much of a chance to get out of the castle for a while now." She frowned to herself as if just now realizing. "I mean, I do sometimes for meetings and whatnot, but I haven't had a chance to explore much of the Realms."

"Is there anywhere you'd want to go visit?" Jason asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

She held a finger to her chin and looked upwards as she thought. "I'd like to go to the Boardwalk at Eternal Shores and ride the coaster there." She remembered more places she wanted to go in the Realms from when she first started learning about them. "I want to hike up Soul's Peak. I want to sail in the Mirror Sea, that's so crystal clear you can see the bottom and all the fantastical and weird corals and fish. I want to ride my bike down Highway 6-66 and go to Beelzebub's Waffle House and stay at Hestia's Bed and Breakfast." She clenched her fists as she hid her face with a curtain of her hair. "I want to go to the Second Globe Theatre to watch the plays that Shakespeare has released since his death." She whispered to herself.

Jason reached for her forearm and patted it in comfort, bringing her out of her thoughts. He smiled encouragingly at her.

"Sorry, I guess I needed to let that out." She sighed and blew her hair out of her face. "I really do need a day out."

"Sounds like it. Maybe you can let any advisors you have know you need some time away? Surely they can last one day without you?" He asked and finished his plate.

"Maybe, I'll talk to Frostbite about it when we go see him. It's gonna take us a little while to get there because the Far Frozen is about a two hour drive by Specter Speeder. You should go get ready, we're heading out in about an hour. We keep cold weather clothes in the Speeder." She stood up and wiped her hands on her dress, then snapped her fingers for a skeleton to appear and take away the dish.

"What dress code should I dress for today?" Jason asked and she froze.

"Dress code?" She asked, eyes wide.

"Well, I want to match the vibe of the day, I'd feel weird to wear modern street fashion if the others in my party were wearing more formal clothes." I want to match you, he thought.

"Oh, well." She played with her skirt. "I guess since I'm appearing in public, I should dress accordingly. I'm still going more casual today since I don't have to do any public speaking. If you want to match?" She blushed. "Then I guess casual royal court? I know we don't know each other very well yet, but I'd like to be your friend if you'd accept?" She held out her hand to shake.

He gently took her hand and, though he felt electricity shoot from his fingertips, he kept his face calm and he shook it once, then let go. "I'd be more than happy to be your friend." He said with a smile.

Jazz seemed frozen for a moment before she held her hand to her chest and turned away. "I'll meet you at the split in the hallways in an hour." She said as she fled the room. Jason let out a huff of a laugh.

An hour later has Jason dressed in a poet's shirt with a pair of black leather pants, still paired with his combat boots, standing and waiting for Jazz.

"Boo." He hears and startles as Danny fades into existence, floating upside down next to him. Somehow, his clothes did not obey gravity and clung to him as if he were upright. Today he was just in the same outfit Jason had met him in.

"Christ kid, you're gonna kill me again I swear." Jason grumbles.

"Leather pants? Really? I know I said she likes the biker look, but leather pants?" Danny looked him up and down. " And what's with the flowy shirt anyway? Not very biker there."

Jason rolled his eyes and sighed, crossing his arms. "I wanted to match your sister." He stated.

"Oh boy, does this mean you're gonna be dressing like dudes on romance novel covers?" Danny scrunched his nose. "I mean, I have seen Jazz read some of those I guess, and hey, if it works, then go for it I guess." Danny fell backwards so he was floating on his back. "I'm coming with you guys to visit the Yeti's today by the way. Jazz still gets lost getting there sometimes, and the GZPS has been on the fritz since the last time Technus was here, so I gotta guide you."

"Hey, I'm getting better at it!" Jazz said as she approached the pair. "Come on, let's head over." They made their way to the training grounds where what appeared to be a hover-submarine in gleaming chrome floated with it's side hatch wide open.

Once inside, Jason took the passenger's seat and Jazz took the pilot's seat and began take off. It was a bit weird to get used to the motion, but soon they were gliding through the green and purple sky.

"So, Shakespeare's released new plays since he died? Have you had the chance to read some?" Jason asked, and with that question, Jazz just began talking with passion. He looked softly at her as she rambled for the next hour about 'Love's Labour's Won', the play thought to have been lost to time, but that Shakespeare was able to pen again once he had his haunt established and had a full cast of ghosts willing to spend eternity performing.

"What about you? I noticed you were reading Austen's first post-mortem book. How are you liking 'Satisfaction'? I read it a few years ago when I first explored the library." It was now Jason's turn to start rambling about a topic as he praised it and compared it to some of her other books.

"We're getting close!" Danny yelled from outside the Speeder. Jason looked up to see a floating glacier rapidly approaching them.

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 19

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15

Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19 I Chapter 20

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Gabby and Glen take a quiet stroll through a nearly empty park, enjoying the rare freedom to hold hands and show affection without the looming threat of paparazzi or fans. As they bask in the peacefulness of the moment, their conversation turns to the potential challenges of their relationship becoming public.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None

A/N: Please continue to let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs! Also if you'd like to be tagged please let me know, and I will get you added to the tag list!

Gabby stretched lazily, her arm draped across Glen's chest, her fingertips absentmindedly tracing patterns against his skin. The soft glow of the afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden warmth over the two of them as they lay tangled together on her bed. Every now and then, Glen’s hand would find its way to her back, his fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles that made her sigh in contentment.

“You know,” Glen said, breaking the comfortable silence, “we only have thirty-two hours left together.” His voice was soft, but there was a teasing edge to it, and Gabby could feel his gaze on her. “We can’t spend all of it in your apartment.”

Her grip on him tightened immediately, and she nestled her face against his chest. “Why not?” she mumbled, her voice muffled but playful. “This seems like the perfect way to spend thirty-two hours.”

Glen chuckled a deep sound that rumbled beneath her cheek. “As tempting as that sounds, you’ve gotta eat at some point, Gab.”

She finally tilted her head up to look at him, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. Her hand drifted down the length of his chest, slow and deliberate. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice dipping with a hint of mischief. “It sounds like a pretty great plan to me.”

Glen laughed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” she teased, her fingers stopping just above the waistband of his boxers, her eyes sparkling with challenge.

With a dramatic groan, Glen sat up, scooping her up along with him. She let out a playful squeal of protest, but he was quick to shift her off him and onto the mattress beside him. “Alright, no more distractions,” he declared, standing up and grabbing a shirt from the edge of the bed.

Gabby flopped back against the pillows with an exaggerated pout. “You’re no fun.”

He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “You’ll thank me later,” he said with a grin, already tugging his shirt over his head. “Now, get up and get dressed. We’re not spending the rest of the day trapped in this apartment.”

She groaned dramatically, burying her face in the pillow. “You’re ruining my perfectly good plan, you know that?”

“You’ll survive.” He tossed a playful wink over his shoulder.

With a resigned sigh, Gabby finally swung her legs over the side of the bed, watching as Glen crossed the room to grab his shoes. She couldn’t help but admire the easy confidence in his movements, the way he seemed so at home in her space. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t entirely opposed to leaving the apartment if it meant spending the day with him.

Gabby stood in front of her mirror, running a brush through her hair and pouting slightly as Glen walked up behind her, already ready and looking far too pleased with himself. His reflection grinned at her, his hands finding their way to her shoulders as he leaned down, his chin brushing against her head.

“You know,” he said with mock seriousness, “I thought you looked perfectly fine before. We could’ve left twenty minutes ago if you didn’t insist on looking this gorgeous.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips curved into a smile despite herself. “Oh, please. Twenty minutes is nothing compared to how long I could have taken. You should’ve seen the preparations that went into our first date.”

“You can tell me about it on the way. Now come on, let’s go, babe. There’s a whole world out there waiting for us.

Gabby chuckled, tossing her brush onto the dresser and following him out of the apartment. 

As they descended they stepped off the elevator and stepped outside, the warm early  afternoon breeze hit her cheeks, making her glad she decided not to bring her lightweight jacket. The streets were surprisingly quiet for a Saturday, the usual buzz of the city softened by the fading light. They chatted as they walked, their laughter echoing off the brick facades of the buildings. Gabby felt a little lighter with every step, her earlier reluctance to leave the apartment melting away as she soaked in the crisp air and Glen’s easy presence beside her.

When they turned the corner onto the park’s pathway, she couldn’t help but smile. The small, tree-lined space was one of her favorite spots in the neighborhood, and today it felt like they had it all to themselves. A lone jogger passed by, earbuds in and oblivious to anything but her rhythm, but otherwise, the park was silent.

“It’s perfect,” Glen said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as they stepped off the main sidewalk and onto the path.

Gabby nodded, her gaze sweeping across the empty benches and the small fountain in the center of the park. It really was perfect—just the two of them and the peaceful hum of the city in the distance.

Glen’s fingers laced through hers as they strolled along the quiet park path, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand absentmindedly. It was such a simple thing—holding hands—but something about the moment felt special. No cameras, no fans, no whispered speculation. Just them.

“It’s nice,” Glen said, his voice low but filled with contentment. “Being able to do this without worrying about anything.”

Gabby smirked, glancing up at him. “Don’t jinx it. You know as soon as you say something, a crowd of fans or paparazzi will magically appear out of nowhere.”

Glen chuckled. “Let them. What are they going to do, take a picture of me holding hands with my girlfriend? Big scandal.”

Her heart skipped at the word girlfriend, but she kept her tone light. “You say that now, but it’d be a headache for you if pictures of you holding hands with some mystery woman made the front page of People Magazine.”

He stopped walking for a moment, turning to look at her, his brow raised. “Mystery woman?” he repeated, his voice warm with affection. “You’re not just some mystery woman, Gabby.”

Her cheeks flushed at his sincerity, and her smile faltered slightly as a more serious thought crept in. “But… what would you do? If someone did see us together?”

Glen tilted his head, studying her expression for a moment. “I’d do whatever you wanted me to do,” he said finally, his voice steady. “If you wanted me to brush it off, I’d say it was a casual date. People go on dates all the time—doesn’t have to mean anything serious.”

Gabby’s face scrunched in confusion, a flicker of hurt crossing her features. “You’d… lie about it?”

Glen’s hand tightened around hers as he immediately shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t lie,” he said quickly. “I’d just keep it vague. Not confirm or deny anything. But…” He hesitated, his eyes softening as he met her gaze. “If you wanted me to, or if you were okay with it, I could say I’m in a relationship during an interview or something. I’d never throw your name or identity out there—you don’t deserve to be thrown into the trenches of publicity. But I wouldn’t deny us. Not really.”

She looked up at him, her chest tightening at the weight of his words. It wasn’t just what he was saying—it was the way he said it, with such calm certainty, as if the world could throw whatever it wanted at him and he’d still be there, holding her hand.

“You’d really let me decide?”

“Of course.” Glen shrugged. “It’s not just my life that would change if people found out. I’d never force that on you. But if you wanted me to confirm it, my PR team or manager would type something up, post it, or write a script for me to say in an interview.”

Gabby blinked again, the reality of his words sinking in. Of course, Glen wasn’t just Glen. He was a brand, with an entire team of people behind the scenes carefully curating his image. It wasn’t something she thought about often, but now it loomed in the back of her mind.

She glanced at him as they walked, her fingers still loosely intertwined with his. He looked so at ease—messy hair, jeans that were slightly frayed at the cuffs, and a soft T-shirt that clung to his frame in just the right way. To her, this was her Glen. The one who made bad jokes over burnt toast, who sang off-key to her favorite songs, who pressed sleepy kisses to her temple in the early hours of the morning.

It was so easy to forget sometimes. Easy to forget that the same Glen she was walking hand-in-hand with had people waiting to tell him what to say, how to pose, and where to be. Easy to forget that there were strangers out there dissecting his every move, waiting for a glimpse into his life.

She had grown so used to the quiet version of him—the one who left his fame at the door when he was with her—that it rarely crossed her mind how big the “other” side of him was. The side that wasn’t just Glen, but Glen the actor, the rising star whose face was splashed across magazines and who had fans screaming his name at premieres.

Gabby frowned, a small crease forming between her brows. The idea of someone else deciding what Glen would say or how he would address their relationship made her uneasy. Not because she doubted him—she didn’t—but because it was a stark reminder that he didn’t fully control his own narrative. And by extension, neither would she if they went public.

It was a lot to take in, and for a moment, she felt a wave of doubt ripple through her. Not about him, but about whether she was ready for what being with him might mean in the long run. Did she want to risk losing this quiet, beautiful version of them to the noise and chaos of public scrutiny?

“Hey,” Glen’s voice softened as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, pulling her from her thoughts. “You’ve gone quiet on me. What’s spinning around in that head of yours?”

Gabby glanced up at him, offering a small smile, but the slight tension in her features gave her away. She shook her head, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing. Just… thinking.”

“Uh-huh,” Glen said, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. “And you’re thinking hard, too. I can tell.” He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His hands slid to her hips, grounding her as his dark eyes searched hers. “Talk to me, Gab.”

She hesitated, glancing down at the grass beneath their feet. “I guess I’m just… wrapping my head around what it would mean if people found out about us.”

His expression softened, and he tilted his head slightly, waiting for her to go on.

“I mean, I know this is your life. The cameras, the fans, the press… it’s part of the package. And I’ve always known that. But it’s different when it’s us, you know?” Her voice faltered for a moment before she looked back up at him. “What if it changes things? What if all the noise ruins this?”

Glen’s thumbs brushed gently over her hips, a soothing motion that eased some of the tension coiled in her chest. “Gabby,” he said quietly, “it’s just you and me right now. No cameras, no questions, no pressure. And that’s how I want it to stay—for as long as we can keep it that way.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the steadiness in his tone.

“Look, I’m not saying it’ll never come up,” he continued. “Maybe one day we’ll have to make a call on how to handle things. But that doesn’t have to be today, or tomorrow, or anytime soon. Right now, we’ve got this—just us. And I don’t want you worrying about something that might not happen for awhile.”

Gabby’s shoulders relaxed slightly as his words sank in. She studied his face, the way his brows knit together in concern and the sincerity etched in every line of his expression. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is.” He grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’m crazy about you, Gab. I don’t care what the world thinks, or if they even know. I care about what you think. What you want.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re really good at this whole comforting thing, you know that?”

“Years of practice,” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest remained. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Okay. You’re right. Let’s just… focus on what we have right now.”

“Atta girl.” He gave her hips a gentle squeeze before slipping his hand back into hers. “Now, can we enjoy this walk without you spiraling into another existential crisis?”

Gabby laughed, the sound light and genuine this time. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask.” Glen grinned, leading her back onto the path.

They continued their leisurely walk, the sound of their footsteps blending harmoniously with the stillness around them. Gabby tilted her face toward the sun, basking in its warmth as Glen watched her out of the corner of his eye, his chest tightening at the sight.

“Thanks for this,” she said after a moment, her voice soft.

“For what?”

“For just... being here. For making time.” She glanced up at him, her expression tender.

He stopped walking, pulling her to a halt with him. Turning to face her, he cupped her cheek with his free hand, his gaze steady and sincere. “Gabby, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

She leaned into his touch, her heart swelling as the world around them seemed to fade. It was just them, and nothing else mattered.

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Promptcation. two fills in one day wooooo that's how much i hate my job lolol]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) 24: imperfect (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

The silence that greets John as he walks up the seventeen steps, bags of groceries in hand, is perfectly ominous. He's only been gone two hours, for God's sake.

… but he's kidding himself if he thinks Rosie & Sherlock can't do a significant amount of damage in twenty minutes, let alone two hours.

He resigns himself to a huge repair bill and/or an angry Mrs Hudson, and opens the door.

Sherlock is stood in front of the sitting room table, holding a squirmy Rosie. 'Hello, John.'

'Hi Daddyyyyy.'

John raises an eyebrow. 'She's very excited about something.'

Sherlock clears his throat and looks down momentarily. 'Yes. Well. We may have had an exciting…incident.'

John sets the bags down on the kitchen table then walks back to face them. He runs his eyes over his daughter, but doesn't see any obvious damage. 'Any blood?' 

'Absolutely not,' Sherlock says immediately.

'On either of you?' John amends.

Sherlock shifts Rosie in his arms. 'Not important.'

'Alright, I'll bite. What is important, then?'

'Well, first we need to apologise, because we may have--'

'Broke bowl,' Rosie interrupts him firmly.

John shakes his head. 'We break bowls all the time, I don't--'

Sherlock moves aside, and John sees what's on the sitting room desk behind him.

'Oh,' he says shortly, his heart plummeting somewhere into his belly. On the table sits a sad pile of ceramic shards where once a handmade bowl had stood.

His eyes start to sting. John has very little left of his mum, and she'd been especially proud of that bowl. He can feel his heart rate increase as anger begins singing through him.

'I'm so sorry, John.' Sherlock's voice is low, and John's gaze snaps to him. His cool eyes are muddled with worry, and that's enough to jolt John into action.

'Need a minute, thanks,' he says, enunciating clearly, and Sherlock doesn't hesitate to nod, then reaches for a toy with which to distract Rosie.

John closes his eyes and doesn't count to ten; instead he forces air into his lungs, pictures his baby girl, and begins to count her toes and fingers. This he does, over and over and over again, until he can breathe, until he feels the anger slip and slide on its way, transforming into resignation and maybe even a glimmer of acceptance.

It is what it is.

He opens his eyes and breathes out. His body feels loose, almost depleted, but the red haze is gone. 'What happened?' he asks, throat a bit rough, as he approaches the table. Part of the bowl is actually intact, though there are a few small cracks running along it like wrinkles.

'We were playing aeroplane,' Sherlock explains, 'and her feet made an unexpected landing, one could say.'

John's lips twitch. 'And you're all right? You didn't try to heroically save the shards and end up slicing your hand open?'

Sherlock's face-- John's not sure what to make of it, exactly, but he has the feeling that as soon as they've settled in for the night he's going to have the living daylights kissed out of him. He is very much on board.

'It's just a little cut,' Sherlock says. 'And I already have a plaster on it.' He shifts Rosie and holds up the wounded finger in evidence.

It's a Sesame Street plaster, and that for some reason breaks John. He feels laughter shake through his limbs. 'Oh, Christ,' he says, wiping his eyes and looking up at Sherlock. A final chuckle escapes him, then he nods. 'You know what we're going to do?'

'What are we going to do?'

'We're going to declare that what was once a bowl is now an ashtray. In its final form, like.'

Sherlock lets out a surprised huff of laughter. 'An ashtray, you say?'

Rosie is not to be left out. 'What's ash tray?'

John and Sherlock exchange a look, but Sherlock speaks first. 'Something that will sit on our shelf, right here--' He walks over to the bookshelf by the fireplace. '--right next to the one that we s--'

John clears his throat.

'--acquired from the Palace.'

Rosie perks up, no longer interested in the ashtrays one little bit. 'Palace?'

Sherlock realises he's landed into some Prince & Princess Time a split second too late to do anything about it. 'Yes, palace,' he ad libs. 'In the sky!'

Rosie's eyes go wide, and the corner of John's mouth turns up. 'Well done.' He walks over to where they're standing and kisses them both. 'I'm going to put away the groceries and see about tea, all right?'

Sherlock leans in and kisses him again before he can move away. 'Thank you,' he says quietly while shifting Rosie to his other side. 'I know that's difficult for you.'

John nods in acknowledgement, and picks up the newly-christened ashtray one more time. 'Looks a little… rough, but should work fine.'

'It has character,' Sherlock replies.

'Personality.'

'An origin story.'

'A palace!' Rosie interjects, throwing her hands up in the air.

John's grin matches Sherlock's smirk. 'Close enough.'

[ <3 ]

And we get a little further from perfection Each year on the road / I think that's called 'character'; I think that's Just the way it goes

[inspired by 'Imperfectly' by Ani Difranco, from the album Imperfectly, which I have been listening to obsessively bc of this, and it's been a marvellous, self-indulgent time.]

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.21

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Smut! Short chapter my b.

IM NOT DEAD!!! woooo! Sorry there's been such a big break from my posting but I'm going to get back into finishing up this story and getting our precious pip back to her pack. Don't worry! And thanks to everyone sending messages and commenting you make my day and really help me stay encouraged to write. So thank you!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, gazing at the somewhat hollow figure of yourself. 

The monstrous silver collar weighed heavily on your spirit and collarbones. 

You traced your fingers over the indents where you had used a butter knife in a futile attempt to pry it off. Stolen from the mess, of course—it had been confiscated immediately. (Imperials are no fun.)

This followed the explosive outburst after that dreadful meeting in Tarkin’s office. 

The fight you put up required multiple troopers to pin you down, with the help of Crosshair to calm you as they forced this constricting collar onto you. Your screams had echoed throughout the entire base like the roar of a Zillo beast.

That was two days ago.

You didn’t even have the strength to get out of bed. It was so dehumanizing to be reduced to this… breeding stock? 

You didn’t know. 

You couldn’t think about it without feeling sick to your stomach. It made you itch with rage. The fantasies of murdering Tarkin were becoming more gruesome by the hour.

The 104th tried to visit, but you just curled up in bed, trying not to cry. Their voices and concern only reminded you of the 501st. You did your best to stifle your grief. They left with forlorn expressions and a curt shrug from Crosshair when they asked when you’d come out again.

Crosshair tried to nudge you out of bed, but you just burrowed deeper into the blankets, determined to remain in solitude. He sighed and left you be, feeling your despair through the bond.

Now, here you stood in your apartment bathroom, wearing Crosshair’s clothing, poking at the reminder of your purpose here. 

Your neck was raw from tugging at the collar; Crosshair had smeared bacta on the open sores that morning, and you looked at the red healing lines. 

You were suddenly overcome with the need for your other alphas. You craved the security they provided. Even when you were on the run, doing strange jobs for Cid, you felt secure with them. 

You missed their warmth, their hands, their pleasure… your home. You just wanted to scent them again, curl up in your nest, and never leave.

You looked back in the mirror and ran your fingers over the Aurebesh engraved in the metal:

“Property of CT-9904.”

You stared into your own empty eyes and decided enough was enough. The Imperials were winning if they could break you.

Fascist fucks. 

You took a deep breath and steadied yourself, willing your spirit to lift. 

Enough moping. 

It’s time to fight.

Grabbing the leather tie belt from the counter, you wrapped it around the large shirt, tying it at the waist to resemble Jedi robes. Then you pushed yourself away from the sink and turned toward the main living space. You grabbed a pair of slippers, hit the door lock, and stepped out into the hallway, making your way to the training center.

Crosshair had been ordered to track down your pack and had to pretend nothing was different. His new team of stormtroopers were inexperienced and desperately needed Crosshair’s knowledge if they were going after the Bad Batch. He had been working with them for the past few days, preparing them for this high-risk mission.

It wasn’t long before the security detail filed in behind you, following Tarkin’s orders. Two 104th infantry men flanked both sides, keeping a respectful distance but serving as a reminder that you couldn’t run far without being caught. You chose to ignore that last detail, but whatever.

Omegas and Alphas pressed themselves against the walls to let you pass. This was the one change you noticed drastically since your little show in the cafeteria and your grand escape from the facility. You were not an omega to be trifled with. You noticed the other omegas didn’t dare meet your gaze. Good. Stay away.

You had a reputation to uphold.

Descending the metal stairs, you floated down the corridor to the training rooms. Inside were endless rows of workout equipment for the regs, but more importantly, the open training mat where Crosshair was running drills with his new squadron. He sensed you immediately and gave you a discerning glance before turning his attention back to his men. However, you scented the alpha you were looking for. On the viewing platform, Wolffe sat watching Crosshair in silence. You filed in next to him, sitting down in acknowledgment.

“It’s good you’re up,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

You sighed. “Can’t let them win. Not even the small things.”

He nodded. “You’re right.”

You nodded in return. “Did it work?” he asked.

You nodded again. “Light turned green. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Good.” He smirked. “I heard all about it from my men.”

You stifled a laugh.

“You would have made a remarkable Republic spy,” Wolffe joked. “Missed opportunity.”

You hummed.

“So, you really had a thing with a reg?” Wolffe asked, turning to face you and leaning back on the bench.

“It was a long time ago,” you said, giving him a sidelong glance.

“Didn’t think regs were your type,” he gestured toward Crosshair with his chin.

“It wasn’t a relationship. Just an… understanding,” you explained.

“I get it.” Wolffe smirked, clearly remembering something fondly. “We may be clones, but we’re still men. Alphas at that… The Republic had a pretty big budget for bunker bunnies.”

You whipped your head around, wide-eyed.

“What?” he laughed. “Your boys didn’t tell you?”

You gawked. “No!”

He snorted. “Yeah, every permanent base, and sometimes they’d bring in a ship for extended encampments.”

You were floored. You had no idea. Then you looked at Crosshair, trying to picture shiny Cross, Hunter, Wrek, Tech, and Echo experiencing that for the first time. You giggled, knowing there was probably some trauma related to that topic.

“What?” Wolffe was amused with your musing. 

“I’m just thinking about my pack. Oh god. I can’t believe all of the 501st was getting down like that and I had no idea.” You buried your face in your hands and laughed. 

Wolffe laughed too, “You really didn’t know?” 

“No!” You shook your head, “I thought quarterlies was like random people!” 

Wolffe snorted, “No darling, there was a special sector just for the girls back in Coruscant. They had the whole floor to themselves. Hundreds of omegas.” 

You squealed, “Oh my god.” 

“Ya know, I recall seeing Echo and Crosshair there a lot now that I think about it. Even your Sergeant a few times I think.” 

If your jaw could hit the floor it would. 

“Yeah. They liked to pop the shinys early. Get them accustomed to being around omegas at an early stage. Nothing worse than the first rut ya know?” 

“And Kamino?” You scrunched your brows. 

“Yeah thats where the first ruts happen.” Wolffe said like it was obvious. 

“Maker.” You shook your head. Images of your pack loosing their virginity flooded your mind. You felt Crosshair’s curiosity spike the bond. He was probably wondering what had you feeling like that. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room.

“Is that not common for nat borns?” He asked curiously. 

“No Commander, it’s not.” You shook your head, “You usually just have it happen naturally, most go through the first heat alone. Then when you’re an adult you might find a partner.” 

“Hmm.” He pondered. 

You were overcome with images of a young Tech trying to understand his alpha instincts. Probably fumbling around confused… poor baby. You shook your head. 

Oh god… Hunter… poor thing with his hyperdrive senses. That must have been so overwhelming the first few times. 

Then you thought of Crosshair. There was no way young Crosshair was ever awkward. He probably knew exactly what to do from the start… that man was too cocky to be anything else. 

You knew he was a whore from the get go… you giggled to yourself.

You’ll never forget that time on one of your first missions with the batch, you saw the way he finessed an omega into banging in a bar bathroom with such ease. It had your mind reeling for days after that. 

You remembered having to rub one out in the marauder fresher to take the edge off after imagining him with that omega for hours. He had come back looking throughly fucked. His hair was mused, his skin glowing from sweat, and the strong alpha scent radiating off of him made the whole ship reek of Crosshair. The others carried on with dinner as usual but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. That’s when your thoughts about your squad had started, actually. 

The thought made your body suddenly warm. 

Wolffe must have sensed your smell change as he peered at you softly. 

“Excuse me.” You said standing and walking towards the mat directly at your mate. Your guards stayed behind with their Commander while Crosshair ordered his squad to keep practicing their drills while he tailed after you. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked as you lead him over between a row of punching bags. 

You just grabbed this hand and slapped the door panel dragging him into the nearest supply closet and shutting the door behind you. 

The lights fluttered on as he peered down at you, confused by your sudden behavior. 

You felt your heart quicken seeing him in his all matte black imperial amor. It felt so wrong to be turned on by it but, damn did he look good. So tall, so masculine. So… Alpha. 

“What, omega?” His voice dropped an octave sensing your becoming flustered through the bond.

You looked up at him meeting his steely gaze. You felt your core pulse, “Echo said you all had developed feelings for me when I first transferred, but I never told you when it happened for me.” You felt your chest starting to heave trying to keep up with your sudden rush of arousal. 

His smell was crowding you in a delicious way, like a warm embrace. 

He narrowed his eyes at you and backed you slowly into the near by shelves feeling your pulsing through the bond. He could feel your desperation to cum. He could almost smell it. 

He raised a brow playfully. 

“Remember when we were on Nal Hutta picking up that weapons supply from that shady dealer?” You recounted feeling the steel shelving pressing up against your spine. 

“And you had tripped and fell into the baby sarlac hole?” His memory clearly differs from yours. 

You nodded, “My shoe had been chewed up and the others left you and me in that bar while they hunted down a pair of new boots for me?” 

“Always loosing your shoes huh ad’ika?” He smirked and joked.

“You picked up that omega at the bar.” 

He narrowed his eyes not sure where this was going but listened regardless. 

You panted feeling the heat radiating through the bond and the wetness growing in your panties, “When you finally found your way back to the marauder, I had finished up dinner with the others… You smelled so good and you looked so different. And after knowing what you were doing…”  You remembered the rush of heat that had flooded your cheeks that night. 

Crosshair ran a finger lightly along your jaw making you shudder against the shelves. 

“What about it, omega?” He trailed his fingers to your cheek where he rubbed your skin softly. He could feel the heat in your cheeks now. It made his trousers tighten. 

“Something had changed. I couldn’t get your scent out of my mind. I had to finger myself in the fresher just to get to sleep.” You admitted with a whisper. 

He flashed you his teeth in a wicked smile, “That wasn’t even two weeks after you transferred.” 

“I know.” You sighed as his hands ran down your sides spreading their strong warmth making you purr and flex into his touch. 

“You’ve been imagining me fucking you for all that time?” He asked reaching around to squeeze your bum. You mewled and reached for his breast plate. He slotted his leg between yours pinning your hips to the shelf. 

You nodded. 

“Poor thing.” He whispered. 

“I didn’t ever take advantage of quarterlies because I didn’t want anyone else.” You sighed into his lips. 

“You already knew you belonged to us ad’ika.” He claimed. 

You nodded pathetically. 

“Every mission. Every time you’d come back covered in mud or blaster residue.” You whimpered grinding yourself down onto his leg, “I felt bad hoping you’d need me to patch you up. I just liked being able to scent you.” 

He guided your hips up and down his thigh. You bit your bottom lip holding back your moans. 

“Why did you tell me this now?” He asked adding more pressure to your core watching your face scrunch up as the pleasure was bleeding into your system. 

“I just remembered.” You whimpered, “Then it made me horny again.” 

He chuckled, “It’s your heat coming love.” 

You groaned as a particularly nice ridge rubbed up against you, “Fuck.” Your head slumped against his shoulder. He used a hand to grab your hip helping to guide you along his thigh. 

“Why do you have to look so good in that?” You mumbled. 

“In what, love?” 

“The armor.” You whimpered leaning up to look at him with bleary eyes. 

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you. You moaned deepening the kiss desperately feeling your orgasm starting to approach. 

“You like it, huh?” He smirked pressing kisses to your forehead while he pushed your hips down harder against him. He loved the way you twitched and squirmed under his hands.

You nodded suddenly feel the crest of your orgasm. 

Then it all stopped. You whined as Crosshair pulled away only for a moment before flipping you around harshly and bending you over a stack of near by shipping crates. You gripped onto the cool steel as he flipped up the bottom of his shirt you were wearing and yanked your panties to the side before shoving his joggers down and pulling out his leaking cock. 

You bucked up against him feeling his tip rub through your folds. You let out a pathetic whimper as he continued to gather your slick… too slow for your liking. 

“Alp-“ you were cut off as he surged forwards filling you to the absolute brim. 

You both sighed feeling each other so closely and you tried your best to grind back against him but he continued on pinning you to the crates to create a steady rhythm with his hips. 

“You were always such a good little medic, cyar’ika.” He praised, “I also would be a little reckless sometimes just so I could feel your hands on me.” He ran his hand up your spine to your neck where he fisted the hair at your nape, “We all did.” 

He chuckled thrusting a little harder making you yelp, “Our little omega.” 

“Cross.” You whined pushing back against him. The need to come was all consuming and he, like the good alpha he is, could seem to feel it through the bond. He reached down between your legs and starting making circles against your clit making you jump from the pleasure. 

“Fuck.” You moaned barking down feeling the crest approaching. You also felt Crosshair start to tense up letting you know he was close. His energy was thrumming through the bond intensifying your own sensations making it nearly unbearable. 

Then finally, with a pinched yelp, you bit your lip harshly as you came. 

“Good girl.” He praised into your ear. 

You slumped against the shelves, letting him hold you up as you regained your footing. With the urge to mate now abated, you began to return to normal.

“It’s coming soon,” you said, looking up at Crosshair with worried eyes.

“I’d be lying if I said I wished we had more time,” he sighed, nuzzling your head. “My brothers will need enough time to make a plan.”

“They can do it, though, right?” You wondered, suddenly feeling skeptical.

“They can do it,” he said confidently. “I just don’t know how we can be ready.”

You nodded, understanding his concern. It was frustrating being on the inside and having no idea what was going on.

A ping broke the silence, making both you and Crosshair look down at his com.

“Nala Se wants you in her lab,” Crosshair said, sounding resigned.

You took a deep breath. This couldn’t be good.

“Try not to fight her,” Crosshair sighed, petting your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

“You’re not coming?” you asked, suddenly filled with anxiety.

“Only if you want me to.”

“I do.”

He nodded and then tilted his head toward the door.

You exited first, grabbing onto Crosshair’s arm as he walked the two of you to the lab. Fortunately, the walk was quick and short. Nala Se’s office was just inside the infirmary, where a few regs were getting their check-ups. A couple of mating bites were being cleaned and treated, while others had come in for deep scratches down their backs. Clearly, the regs had been busy.

It didn’t escape your notice that every single one of them turned to look as you passed by. Crosshair’s presence was intimidating enough, but they couldn’t help but be curious about his mate. You could smell their scents spike as you walked past, clearly intrigued by your unique smell. Some even tipped their noses up to get a better whiff.

Crosshair approached the private lab and opened the door, allowing you to step inside and leave the room of wandering eyes behind you.

“Y/N,” Nala Se’s floating voice made you tense.

You stared at her, keeping your grip on Crosshair.

Crosshair looked down at you before addressing Nala Se. “What did you need my mate for?”

“She’s been ordered to have her remaining birth control dissolved in anticipation of her upcoming heat.”

You couldn’t help but lean a little closer to your mate, feeling your anxiety increase.

“Shouldn’t it just dissolve on its own?” Crosshair questioned. “I’d like to avoid putting her through more stress than she’s already had.”

“While I would normally agree, these orders have come from the Admiral,” Nala Se explained. “He wants to be certain she’s fertile.”

Crosshair looked down at you again. Knowing you both had to go through with this, he gently nudged you forward, and you climbed up onto the exam table. Crosshair stayed close, while Nala Se prepared the injector.

You nuzzled into Crosshair’s chest, and he soothed you with gentle back rubs. You felt Nala Se approach and press the injector to the implant site. With a quick jab, the dissolver was administered, and you felt the cooling medication spread under your skin. You flinched slightly when she pulled away, and Crosshair quickly nuzzled your cheek to keep you still. A small badge was applied, and then you were effectively dismissed.

“Once her heat begins, we will need to be informed,” Nala Se reminded you as you practically yanked Crosshair out of the lab.

In mere seconds, your scenting abilities came to life. Everything around you seemed to brighten. Crosshair’s heady scent enveloped you, followed by the unmistakable smell of regs. It was overstimulating.

You winced as you entered the infirmary. Crosshair noticed and knelt down to get a good look at your wild eyes, sensing your panic through the bond.

“Is it happening?” he asked, looking worried.

You shook your head. “No, no. I just… I can smell everything.”

“Let’s get you back,” Crosshair said, standing.

“Actually, I require your mate for one other test,” Nala Se said, appearing with her holo pad.

“It can’t wait?” Crosshair snarled.

You patted him gently on the shoulder, reminding him to stay calm and that you were okay.

You followed the long-necked alien back into her office, letting Crosshair remain at the door like a glorified bodyguard.

“I require a sample of your DNA,” Nala Se explained, leaving you to stand in the middle of the sterile white office.

“Blood?” you asked.

“Yes,” she blinked before grabbing her tool.

You held out your hand, letting her draw blood from your palm.

“Why are you doing this, Nala Se?” you questioned, watching her take your sample and not the sequencer. “Why would you help these people?”

“The Empire destroyed my home, and they’re threatening my loved ones,” she deadpanned. “I’m not here of my own volition.”

You were shocked she answered at all. You had always thought she agreed to help because of the money promised to the Kaminoans by the Republic. You had no idea they had destroyed everything. You didn’t know she was a prisoner herself.

You nodded. “Then that makes two of us.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Sorry this chapter is so short. I'm getting back into the swing of writing with my schedule, and according to my outline this was going to be a short/filler chapter anyways. Buttttt don't worry I'll be posting more regularly again.

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

@sxftiebee

@booksandtitts-blog

@subbing-for-clones

[mrchiipchrome]

Once In A Lifetime

W.C.- 3 k

prompt 103. -I won't let you down.

prompt 107. -I haven’t seen you in a long time.

---------------------

June 17th 2011, a date that was etched in your brain forever, for it was the day you met your soulmate. In a large town situated in the northeast of Australia, a shy Swedish girl met an outgoing Aussie girl, roughly her age.

It was hard not to notice the gorgeous girl, and even harder for your 7 year old self not to stare at her. The way her movements were so gracious made you slightly envious, the ball at her feet moving smoothly as she kicked it back and forth. 

The ball smacking you right in the face breaks you out of the trance the girl with the pretty eyes had put you in, the sudden momentum brings you down to the ground. Your parents, like always, weren’t paying you any attention, they wanted you to be ‘independent’.

“I’m so sorry! I was just trying to kick the ball at the goal but it went over, and I’m sorry.” The pretty girl was kneeling beside you, her eyes locked on yours. Dora had taught you a lot, but not how to decipher quickly strung together sentences of pretty girls with Australian accents.

“It is…no problem?” The nameless girl helps you into a sitting position, her eyebrows knitting together at the strange dialect that came with your words. It was foreign, that much she knew.

“I’m Mary” She sticks out a hand towards you eagerly, nearly thrusting it in your face. You grasp her warm hand in yours tentatively, sweaty palm meeting hers.

“My name is Y/n.” You reply, face red hot from the heat of the new country and from the girl in front of you.

“So, Y/n , do you want to play football with me?” She flashes you her pearly whites in a full face smile. Mary points down at the ball laying haphazardly beside you, picking it up and throwing it between her fingertips.

She smiles again when your head moves up and down frantically, pulling you back up on your feet as she leads you onto the pitch. 

“Okay, you go in the goal!” She points at the goal of the small pitch, barely letting you get between the posts before she sends a ball towards you.

The sky turns dark after a couple of hours of throwing yourself on the ground to prevent the ball from rolling into the goal. You had improved greatly in the last few hours, that much Mary could admit.

“Hey Y/n, come here tomorrow at 12!” She calls out to your retreating form, seeing your thumb pointing upwards in agreement. 

And in between the goalposts she found you the day after, t-shirt and shorts letting the rough pitch scratch at your arms and legs as you threw yourself left and right.

“Where are you from?” She asks one day, sitting beside you on that pitch you’d first met each other only months before. Your English has greatly improved, with the help of the pretty girl beside you of course.

“Sweden” Short and curt, there were days where you just couldn’t find it in you to string together more than a few words.

“Can you teach me Swedish?!” Mary asks excitedly, the now 8 year old you smiling up at the slightly taller girl. She throws her arms around your shoulders when you nod, your back hitting the ground with a soft thud.

You wrap your arms around the older girl, albeit reluctantly. Affectionate touch isn’t something you were used to.

Days, weeks, months and eventually, years passed. Mary and you stayed best friends all throughout the phases of growing up. The chemistry you had on and off the pitch confused most people, they’d see you with your arms around each other, lips pressed to the other’s hairline or cheek. There was barely anything platonic there left, and everyone except you two seemed to know.

The once innocent 7 and 8 year old girls were now two deeply (and secretly) in love 13 and 14 year olds. The two of you were peas in a pod, never able to find one without the other, well until that dreadful October night.

Four knocks in rapid succession wakes the sleeping girl, the firm taps to her window differing from the soft patter of the rain against her roof.

She rubs her eyes sleepily, turning her desk lamp on as she makes her way over to the window. The blinds cover your devastated expression, although not for very long as she pulls them back, revealing your tearstained face.

The window opens with a creak, Mary grabbing the back of your hoodie to drag you in through the small opening. You hit the floor with a loud thud, groaning as your shoulder smashes into the hard ground.

Sitting up, you lean back against the corner of her soft bed, the soft bed you’d slept in so many times before. You refuse to meet the forward’s gaze, tears welling up in your eyes at the mere thought of telling her.

She throws herself down next to you, Mary’s arm pulling your body into her own. The simple touch releases the floodgates, sobs echoing around the room, her hand moving up and down your arm soothingly. 

“What’s happening, huh? Why are you so upset?” Mary’s heart broke at seeing you so sad, so devastated. 

“I’m fucking moving” The words are hardly audible, mumbled into her shoulder through sobs. Tears slip down your face, colouring the Australian’s sleep shirt a darker shade of blue.

“What?! No, this is some joke. Where?” Her hand stills for a few seconds before she continues her ministrations. 

“Back to Sweden. They got a ‘better job’ there, they never think of how I’m going to react, they just say yes to anything.” You cry to the older girl, who clutches you that much tighter, her head laying on top of yours.

“When do you go?” She whispers into the damp October air, lips moving to the sound of her own voice. Sniffling fills the tense silence, moving your hand up wipe away the salty tears painting tracks down your face. It comes down to land on her knee, gripping it with all your might.

“Umm…two weeks or something.” She brings one of your hands up to her lips, pressing them to the back of it. Neither of you were ready to live without the other, you were dependent upon each other. 

“Well then lovely, we’ll just have to make these next two weeks the best ever possible.” Her body pulls away from yours, starring you right in the eyes. 

Neither you nor Mary anticipate it. It just happens naturally, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that has fireworks exploding in your stomach. The delicate embrace is a confession of love, a promise to love each other forever, even if it’s from afar.

It’s simple, the love you share. It’s deeper than an ‘I love you’, deeper than the deepest point of the earth. And yet the simplicity didn’t explain why, how, when, or anything really. It was just there, underlying.

The two weeks are spent sharing kisses with your best friend under the sheets of her bed. Thankfully, Mary’s parents had basically unofficially adopted you, so they had no problem with you staying with them until you had to move. 

Your parents barely even noticed your absence, too caught up in work to even think of you.

With everything you had to leave in Australia, you left part of your heart. The people around you, your family, and most importantly, Mary.

“Promise me you’ll go all the way beautiful. That you’ll become the best.” You whisper in her ear, about to go through security. The resentment you held for your parents had quadrupled the last few weeks, your home wasn’t in Sweden anymore, it was in Australia. It was in the form of a brown eyed beauty that had captured both your heart and soul.

“I promise lovely, I won’t let you down.” She looks around, your parents as always were preoccupied with their phones, and hers? They looked away as soon as she shot them a look.

Your person takes hold of your face and places one last kiss to your lips, taking her time to make sure you feel all her love in the kiss.

“Hey, beautiful! You’ll always be my person!” She turns around, flashing you one of her signature smiles, tears streaming down her face like they were down yours.

With one last wave, the best chapter of your life closes. 

“Kom igen Y/n, det är tid att åka hem.” Your ‘mother’ tries to give you a reassuring smile, her bony hand laying on your shoulder.

It falls with a swift movement from you, tearing your shoulder away from her.

“Sverige är inte mitt hem längre M/n, Australien är.” You mutter angrily, your mother’s firm glare locked on you.

“Y/n Y/l/n, jag vet att det inte är den bästa situationen för dig just nu, men vi är dina föräldrar och vi bestämmer.” The man who dared to call himself your father told you sternly.

“Mycket till föräldrar har ni ju inte varit, en sten hade gjort ett bättre jobb än er två.” The two strangers in front of you look at each other, not caring enough to reprimand you. They didn’t know you either.

Hugging the blanket Mary had given you the night before closer to your chest, you could feel the love radiating off it.

———

A few years in Sweden and you were back home, back in Australia. 

As soon as you turned 18 you moved out, changing your last name to one of your grandmother's maiden name, your so called parents had nothing to do with your footballing success. After all, you had signed your first professional contract at the age of 16.

And apparently you had a worthy enough season with your team that you were called up for the World Cup.

Of course you had your emotional support blanket with you, the old thing had lost all of her scent long ago and yet it was still there with you as a good luck charm.

“Y/n how are you not falling asleep right now?” Nathalie Björn questions you, seemingly amazed by your ability to stay awake for hours upon end.

“BabyBjörn have you forgotten that I’ve done this so many times before?” She looks at you astonished, maybe you had forgotten to tell them after all…

“Did I forget to tell you all that I lived in Australia for nearly seven years?” You ask, scratching your head in confusion.

“WHAT” “NÄE DET GJORDE DU JU INTE” and more expressions of surprise cling out through the plane. 

“I have pictures to back me up, wait a sec and I’ll pull them up.” Your computer holds all your old memories, all the pictures flooding from the folder you had them in.

The interested parties crowd around your seat, pushing and shoving each other for a better view.

“Right so this is at the airport, basically the only picture my biological parents took. I think I was seven there.”

You continue to click through the photos, narrating as you go along. When you eventually reach the last one, the questions start flooding in.

“Who’s that girl in all the pictures?” One of them asks, you turning to look at your captain in confusion.

“Me?”

“No, the other girl” She slaps the back of your head lightly.

“Oh, she’s the best person I’ve ever met, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.” The soft smile that paints your lips at the thought of her made your teammates smile too.

“You were in love?” Another one of the yellow clad players asks, them all having seen the pure love in your eyes as you looked at the pictures of the girl.

“Am” The team decided to leave you alone after that, you deciding to look at the pictures in the folder once again.

“Is it just me or did that girl look like Mary Fowler?” Filippa asks Björn, the two of them agreeing silently. 

—————

Getting knocked out in the semifinal hurt. You were nearly there, in the final. But now you had no choice but to settle for the bronze medal match.

Like usual, you were starting on the bench. You couldn’t even be mad at the decision, Zesse had been playing magnificently all tournament long.

As the first goal came along you were screaming and jumping up from your seat, causing complete ruckus. One step closer to victory. 

At halftime the elation can be felt all throughout the locker room, many slapping Zesse’s  back for her incredible saves so far. The tactics and pep talk reinforces the spirit of the team before the second half begins.

In the 47th minute the host country gets a corner, a corner that results in your goalie laying on the pitch, clutching her head.

The medics are out quick, your coach looking at you. 

“Y/n, go stretch, you’re going on.” The coach tells you, the bright bib being pulled off hastily. The substitution board goes up, showing off your number to be subbed in.

You feel the eyes of thousands on you, maybe the most people you’d ever had look at you, and yet her eyes are the ones you want to look at you the most.

The eyes that captured your soul all those years ago, the eyes you ultimately met when you walked past her and onto the pitch. The eyes that didn’t quite seem to recognize you fully, the eyes that scanned your tall frame.

Under the watchful eyes of thousands of Australians, you had what might’ve been the best game of your lifetime, leading your team to victory over the hosting nation.

Loud cheers in Swedish follow the three loud beeps of the whistle, the bronze medal finally yours. You run towards your friends, capturing them in big bear hugs and spinning them around.

But when you look at the Australians, more specifically Mary, you don’t have it in you to celebrate anymore. Instead you approach a few of them who are standing up, conversing quietly with tentative steps.

You speak up quietly, telling them that they did amazingly and even getting a few compliments in return. But the women could see that your eyes were drifting away from them every few seconds and towards one of their teammates. Excusing yourself politely, you make your way over to her sitting form.

You plop yourself down beside her, arms over your knees as your fingers pick at the grass. You can feel her eyes studying you, looking at your side profile. 

“I’m sorry for not keeping in touch with you beautiful, it was pretty hard when you didn’t have a phone.” Your eyes are fixated on a ball in the distance.

Her sniffles remind you of when you told her you were moving, only this time it’s you who pulls her crying form into your now taller body.

 It’s only when you look into her eyes properly that she seems to recognise you fully.

“Y/n?!” Reminiscent of all those times when you were younger, the older girl throws herself into your arms, yours wrapping around her protectively. Her tears wets the skin between your shoulder and neck, the two of you laying on a pitch like you always had been.

“I know pretty girl, we haven’t seen each other in a long time.” She smiles up at you, rolling off your body and onto the floor. 

Holding hands, the two of you can’t help but catch up. It had been a few years since you’d talked after all.

“I’m proud of you and the person you’ve turned out to be, Y/n.” The tear that falls down your cheek is wiped away by the girl, hands warm as ever.

“I’m proud of you too, Mary.” 

“Can I get your shirt?” She asks timidly, hands fiddling with her own.

“Of course love” Taking it off and handing it to her, you’re standing in only the usual sports bra, waiting for her to give you the Australian jersey that sits upon her shoulders. Instead you see her eyes shifting to the left, mischievous spark lighting them up.

In a millisecond, she takes off running with your shirt still in her hand. Chasing after her, you’re not nearly as fast as the forward and still you chase her, yearning for the usual laughter that follows it.

The freeing feeling of running around the pitch catches up to you, Mary’s laughter echoing in your ears. It makes you laugh too, in the end you’re both laying on the ground laughing like maniacs.

“Can I get your jersey now, beautiful?” You ask when the laughter has died down, her hands moving to peel her jersey from her body. When it’s off she hands it to you, putting yours on.

“You look good in Swedish colours, beautiful.” You kiss her hand softly, twirling her around so that you can see her from all angles. 

“And you’d look even better in Aussie ones, love.” You hummed in response, looking around at your teammates who had looked on in confusion.

“I think we might need to tell them all why we’re hugging and laughing” Her hands clutch onto your arm as you lead her over to your team.

"Tjejer, det här är flickan från bilderna.” You tell them, the girl beside you waving timidly in your goalkeeper kit.

“Hej!” She says, the other women around you lighting up at her use of the Swedish greeting.

As everyone else is talking with your girl, you can’t take your eyes off her. But you do see the satisfied expression on Angeldahl’s face as she nods to Björn. Those two were always up to something…

-----------

Translations;

Kom igen Y/n, det är tid att åka hem - Come on Y/n, it's time to go home.

Sverige är inte mitt hem längre M/n, Australien är - Sweden's not my home anymore M/n, Australia is

Y/n Y/l/n, jag vet att det inte är den bästa situationen för dig just nu, men vi är dina föräldrar och vi bestämmer - Y/n Y/l/n, I know that this situation isn't ideal for you, bur we're your parents and we decide what's best.

Mycket till föräldrar har ni ju inte varit, en sten hade gjort ett bättre jobb än er två. - You two are barely my parents, a rock could've done a better job at raising me than you two.

BabyBjörn - a type of baby carrier from sweden

NÄE DET GJORDE DU JU INTE - NO YOU DIDN'T

Hej - Hi

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 771: A new gear!!

Pag 1

1: This is the fight's gong!!

Pag 2

1: Ohuruaaaagh!!

Pag 3

1: Buooooogh

2: The lead is here, two people!!

3: Sohoku and Hakogaku!!

So the ones who are aiming for the sprint line on the first day of the Inter High…. Those two…

4: are the same two people from last year!!

5: Huh waa

There are still almost 3km until the sprint line, but …

Pag 4

1: They're accelerating like they're right before the sprint line!!

Ruaaagh

Oooooogh

2: They're so fast!

How many kilometers per hours are they going at!?

A bike can go at that speed!?

3: But those two….

Was it my imagination?

Pag 5

1: They were smiling!!

2: Hahaha, not bad, San-na!!

You're keeping up with my acceleration!!

Keeping up!? With your acceleration!?

Buah!!

Oi oi, that's-

Pag 6

1: My line!! Orange!!

Honestly, I'm surprised!!

2: I'm number 4, the ace climber, and I'm a Hakogaku third year

Honestly, during the last year both my power and my acceleration 

3: have increased by several steps!!

4: Is that so!!

5: There are practically no sprinters within the club who can keep up with me!!

6: But you did

You didn't just stick to me from behind, you lined up!!

What does it mean!! It makes the corners of my mouth turn up!!

Pag 7

1: Hahaha that's because

2: He's shooting ahead!!

3: I'm a genius!!

5: Nice acceleration!!

Pag 8

1: Orange!!

2: The speed of your attack, your acceleration power and the lack of hesitation when taking the curve!!

Hahaha

Pag 9

1: It's really like you said, you definitely powered up!!

You got stronger since last year!!

4: Even while taking a curve in an unsteady position, with my shoulder hitting against yours.......

5: What's wrong, San-na, what's this

6: Are you about to say something secret you can't let the spectators hear?

Pag 10

1: you counter it firmly with the trunk of your body!!

2: Didn't they just make contact with each other while taking the curve!?

Waaaa

Sohoku's number 4 pushed back that huge guy from Hakogaku with his hips!!

3: Buah!!

You're the only one

4: You're the only one who can make me shake like this!!

Pag 11

2: They hit each other again!! It's a super close combat!!

So what’s the deal with all your banging around since earlier, then?

Ah, that?

3: Is this a request?

You mean you want me to show you

Pag 12

1: the true essence of my special explosive acceleration!?

Okay then, watch closely!!

4: His movements are so fast!!

5: This my Special Highstone

Pag 13

1: Hyper acceleration!!

Pag 14

1: He left me before my own eyes!!

Is this guy for real!?

Dammit!!

2: This is fun!!

3: Are you surprised, San-na? Hahaha

Until last year, I accelerated with the image

4: of a gear going into place

Get in

Get in

Get in

Pag 15

1: But now I've come to the point that I can freely make it go into place matching my own timing!!

4: The number of gears I've prepared is

5: “Number”!?

6: The first one is “white”

7: The second one is “shironeri*”

8: The third one is “pale yellow”

9: The fourth one is “gamboge*”

The fifth one is “orange”

(*NdT.: all the names are colors, these ones are Japanese traditional colors)

Pag 16

1: All together there are six levels!!

This year I divided my acceleration in six stages!!

2: Six stages!!

Seriously!?

Pag 17

1: And by the way, my acceleration from earlier was “unbleached silk” the second stage

2: Did it feel fast!?

3: Naturally, once we get before the sprint line I'll use

4: the sixth one, “golden yellow”!!

Pag 18

3: Dammit

4: So there's also things like this in the Inter High

Seriously?

5: Now I understand the reason for our hard practice and for the harshness of training camp

Without that I wouldn't have been able to fight on this stage

Pag 19

1: Issa and Doubashi..... just when I thought the sprint fight was narrowed down to those two.....

2: Another person comes chasing!!

3: Did he break away from the pack behind and got here!? He wasn't there with us earlier!!

In such a short time he shook everyone off and chased us!?

4: Even though I've been pedaling at full throttle since earlier, he keeps getting closer!!

5: So there's also things like this!? At the Inter High!!

Pag 20

1: It's filled with monsters!!

Hayaaaa

2: But that's fine by me

I thought my part was over....

But there's still work left to do!! I won't let this guy get to the lead!!

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 15

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 3,084

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

Read on Ao3

[this chapter is explicit]

You awaken the next morning with a pounding headache, tossing and turning for an hour or two before finally accepting the fact that you’re not going to fall back to sleep.

You haul yourself out of bed, head spinning and stomach gurgling unpleasantly. Pulling on your robe, you step out of the bedroom, the sunlight pouring through the main chamber’s windows offensive to your squinting eyes.

Thinking back on the events of last night, you recall Gwaine kissing you, the memory sending a pleasant jolt through your body. Having no appetite for breakfast just now, you decide to see how Gwaine is fairing. Returning to your bedroom, you splash your face with water from the basin, get dressed and run the brush through your hair, which is still holding some curl from last night, so you leave it uncovered.

You knock upon arrival at Gwaine’s chamber door, hearing a shuffling from within before he answers, wearing just a loose shirt and trousers, his feet bare and hair slightly dishevelled.

“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon,” He steps aside so you may enter.

“I feel terrible. My head…” You sigh as you step inside, pressing your fingers against your temples. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright, just tired really. These days it takes a lot for me to get a hangover,” He grins.

You shuffle to the table and take a seat, Gwaine following your lead and sitting opposite you.

“Have you had anything to eat?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I don’t have much of an appetite,”

“It may not feel like it now, but eating can actually help you feel better. I’ll fetch us something from the kitchens,”

“You don’t have to do that,” You protest.

“Well, I don’t really feel like cooking, do you?”

You shake your head with a smile.

“And besides,” Gwaine continues. “I’m getting hungry. See you soon,”

You stay seated at the table for the first few minutes, but soon grow uncomfortable on the hard chair, so you cross the room to Gwaine’s bed. Your body aches, presumably from the dancing last night, so you lie down, just until Gwaine returns.

You wake up, confused at first as to where you are, until you turn your head to see Gwaine looking at you from the table. You quickly sit up, embarrassed.

“Sorry, I was just trying to get comfortable until you got back. I didn’t plan on falling asleep,” You notice the empty plate in front of him, and the full plate across the table. “How long ago did you return?”

“About half an hour ago,”

You groan as you stand up and head for the table, sitting across from Gwaine and pulling your plate towards you.

“Why didn’t you wake me? Surely the food’s gone cold,” You poke at the rashers of bacon before taking a bite of buttered toast.

“You clearly needed the rest, and besides,” Gwaine smirks. “I liked the way you looked in my bed,”

You cease chewing and look at him, feeling the hot flush coming over your cheeks. He stares back, expression blank apart from a twinkle in his eyes, before breaking into a grin. You shake your head with a smile, taking a bite from a crispy slice of apple.

“Cheeky,” You mutter.

“Only because I like to make you blush,”

“It’s not fair to tease me today, I’m an invalid,” You take another bite of toast.

“Very well, I’ll save it for tomorrow,”

You look up. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I want to take you on another picnic, to the other spot I showed you last time,”

“By the stream?”

“That’s the one. What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect,”

~

After breakfast the next morning, you visit the market to restock on groceries. Once returning to your chambers and putting your shopping away, it isn’t long before Gwaine arrives. You go with him to the stables, where there are three horses ready and waiting, just like last time. He helps you to mount, mounts his own horse and you’re on your way.

Once out of the city walls, you ride along a path that skirts the woods. Since it’s the same path you took on your last outing with Gwaine, you should feel at ease, but you can’t shake the tense weight that has formed in your chest, finding yourself gripping the reins extra tight, your knuckles white. Any rustle or crack from the direction of the woods has you frantically scanning the tree line, searching for any figures, any danger. Your mouth dries up, jaw clenches, and you urge yourself to calm down, to enjoy the day, but your heart thrums in your chest.

A dark shape darts through the trees and you let out a frightened shout, startling your horse, who rears its head and frets. It’s happening again. Your stomach twists as you wait for rough hands to grab you, and you squeeze your eyelids shut, breathing rapidly.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

You hear Gwaine’s concerned voice and open your eyes. He’s turned his horse to face you, his brow furrowed as he looks you over. Your heart thumps so hard, you’re surprised he can’t hear it, and you feel as if you can’t get enough air in your lungs.

“I can’t,” You pant. “I can’t do this,”

You feel too high up, too exposed. You fumble in the saddle, swinging a leg over to dismount clumsily. Gwaine dismounts from his horse, his movement much more practiced, and rushes toward you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong? Talk to me,”

You glance to the tree line, but stay silent.

“(Y/N),” Gwaine cups your cheek and presses his forehead against yours. “Please tell me what’s wrong,”

You try to steady your breathing, but your voice remains shaky. “Some… someone could be hiding in the trees. I thought I saw… I don’t know… I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gwaine,”

Your voice cracks and Gwaine envelops you in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his shoulder as he strokes your back gently.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t think,”

You hold him tight, just letting your tears soak into his shirt for a few moments, before he pulls back, holding your face in his hands as he looks you in the eye.

“I promise you, there are no bandits in these woods. They wouldn’t dare come this close to Camelot. In all my patrols, I’ve never seen any bandits hiding out around here. The only things moving about in there are animals. Birds, squirrels… no one is going to hurt you,”

He embraces you again, a hand stroking your hair gently.

“I’m sorry, Gwaine,” You whisper.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,”

He holds you until your breathing slows and your grip on him loosens, when he pulls back and takes your hands in his.

“Do you want to turn back?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I want to keep going,”

“I don’t want you to just say what you think I want to hear. I don’t mind if we turn around. I won’t be disappointed of anything like that. So, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t want this to spoil our day out. I want to ride on, just…” Your eyes dart to the tree line.

“Would it help if you rode with me?”

“I… I think perhaps it would,”

“Alright,” He takes your horses reins, tying them to his, as he did with the pack horse. He leads you to his horse and gives you a leg-up. Once you’re settled in the saddle, he climbs on in front of you. Slipping your arms around his waist, you rest your cheek against his back and he urges the horse forward.

Riding with Gwaine makes you feel much less vulnerable, proving a comfort to have him so close. While your gaze still wanders to the edge of the woods, his words repeat in your mind: They wouldn’t dare come this close to Camelot.

After a while of gentle riding, you arrive at the clearing by the stream, the area even more beautiful than the last time you saw it due to the changing colours of the leaves. Gwaine brings the horse to a halt and dismounts, offering his hand to aid you in doing the same. You help him to remove the saddlebags from the pack horse and lay out the blankets, Gwaine setting out the plates and food. You notice some of the same items as last time, along with some new additions, such as fruit and custard buns, and the same pies you brought to the indoor picnic in Gwaine’s chambers.

“This looks lovely,” You say as you sit on the corner of one of the blankets, legs tucked under you.

He sits down beside you. “You may have noticed that it isn’t all from the palace kitchens this time,”

“I did notice,” You reach for one of the fruit and custard buns. “From our first meal together,” You hold up the bun with a smile.

“Yes, I think that fact has made me even more fond of them now,”

You think back to your first picnic, and how you quashed the urge to kiss him then. Swallowing your last mouthful of the bun, you lean toward Gwaine, pressing your lips gently onto his.

“You know,” You say as you pull away. “I wanted to do that the first time you brought me out,”

“Really?” Gwaine quirks a brow in astonishment.

“Yes, really,” You chuckle, loading up your plate with a bit of everything.

Once you’ve both had your fill, you put your plate aside and lie back on the blanket, looking through the forest’s canopy to the cloudy sky above. Gwaine shortly joins you, arms folded behind his head.

“It’s so peaceful here,” You remark, taking note of the gentle breeze through the leaves, some of which fall from their branches and slowly flutter to the forest floor.

You shuffle closer to Gwaine, your body pressed against his side, and rest your head on his chest, wrapping an arm around him.

You sigh. “This is much better without your armour on,”

He slips an arm behind your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. You feel complete bliss, as if you’ve never been so comfortable in your life and could stay like this forever. Gwaine lightly traces circles with his finger on the bare skin of your shoulder, just above the neckline of your blouse, your skin sensitive to his touch. The only skin-on-skin contact you’ve had with him, apart from recent kisses, has been your hands in one another’s. His gentle touches now have you wanting more.

You shuffle up, propping yourself on one elbow, your face now level with Gwaine’s, and kiss him, tenderly but passionately. You pull back and look him over, giving him a sly smile, before kissing him again, on his neck, swiftly sweeping your tongue over the skin, as you slip a hand underneath the neckline of his shirt, against the skin of his bare chest. He nudges you onto your back, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the skin of your inner wrist. You watch intently as he plants delicate kisses up your arm, making you wish your sleeves weren’t a barrier between your skin and his lips, until at last he reaches your shoulder, past the neckline of your blouse, and kisses the bare skin along your collarbone. He moves up your neck, every kiss like a pleasurable little spark.

He kisses the curve of your jaw, just under your ear, and you turn your head as he pulls back, lips parted. He lowers again, his lips meeting yours, softly at first, but then deepening the kiss, flicking his tongue over your bottom lip. You reach out, combing your fingers through his hair, as he strokes his fingers down to the hollow of your neck, gliding down until reaching your bodice lacing. He breaks the kiss, pulling back, searching your face for permission. You reach for your bodice, untying the knot and unlacing the first few eyelets. Gwaine takes over, hooking a finger under each crossed lace and pulling it through until reaching the bottom. As he removes the last section of lacing, your bodice falls open, revealing the shape of your breasts under your blouse. Gwaine casts the lacing aside and puts a hand around your waist, feeling the curve of it through the fabric, before moving up and cupping your breasts. You reach for the top of your blouse and untie the drawstring, the neckline loosening around your shoulders and chest. Gwaine hooks his fingers around the edge of the fabric and pulls it down, exposing your breasts. He stops to admire them, his eyes dark with arousal, before taking one in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nipple while gently squeezing with his hands. He moves to the other and does the same, before shifting his position and sliding a hand under your skirt and up your leg, his body pressed against your other thigh, where you can feel his hardness against you. A warmth pools between your folds, his evident desire for you fanning the flames of your own.

His fingers brush against the soft skin of your inner thigh, creeping their way up until brushing along the crease where your leg meets your body. He pulls his head back to look at you, his pupils large with desire.

“With your permission, my lady?” His mouth is set in a devilish smile, though he has become completely still, awaiting your response.

You nod. He moves his fingers over your core, feeling the shape of you, then slips a finger between your folds, your slickness immediately evident. He looks up, brows raised.

“Don’t act so surprised,” You laugh. “When you’ve taken your time threatening to make love to me,”

He grins and moves up to kiss you, his hand staying between your legs as he starts to rub small circles over your sensitive bud. He sucks on your bottom lip and slightly pulls back, allowing your sigh of pleasure to escape, before kissing you again, nipping your lip with his teeth. He gives a mischievous smile as he moves back, hitching your skirt up over your knees and lowering his head down between your legs, his hot tongue flicking across your clit. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“You don’t have to do that,”

He looks up. “Do you not want me to?”

“No, I mean, I like it, just… what about you? Don’t you want anything?”

He chuckles. “This here is exactly what I want,”

You feel your face become hot.

“There are those rosy cheeks I love so much,” He grins, before ducking his head down and continuing, tongue flicking and swirling.

In your building pleasure, you tip your head back, losing yourself in the sky. He teases around your entrance with a finger before slipping it inside you, your breath hitching as he slowly pumps in and out, stroking the place inside which teases the bliss to come.

He works for a time with one finger, while his tongue continues pleasuring you, before adding a second finger, gradually getting faster, his tongue working to keep up. Pleasure builds in your core, and you can feel yourself nearing your crescendo. Propping yourself up again, you watch Gwaine as he works, his dark hair curtaining his face.

He hooks his arms around your thighs, grasping them firmly. Reaching down, you run your hands through his hair, tilting your hips upwards, desperate for release as the sight of him pleasuring you magnifies your sensations. Sensing the crescendo approaching, you hold your breath and brace your body, fist clenched around his dark locks, your core tightening around his fingers until you reach your climax, your entire body releasing, panting moans bursting from you as your core pulses.

Gwaine shifts up and kisses you, the taste of you still on his lips, his fingers still inside you as your pleasure pools around them. Wrapping your arms around him, you hold him close as you ride out the remainder of your pleasure, chest heaving, until at last it calms, your breathing slowing, though your heart still hammers within your chest.

Gwaine gently removes his fingers and rolls over to lie next to you. You nuzzle into his shoulder, resting a palm on his chest.

“Any good?” He asks.

You look up to see him smirking at you.

“What if I said no?”

“I’d say that judging by those sounds you were making, you’d be lying,”

“Then don’t ask silly questions,” You grin.

Slowly tracing down his body with your fingertips, you reach under the hem of his shirt, rubbing your palm along his bare skin, slipping your hand under the waistband of his trousers.

“Your turn now?”

He sighs. “I’m afraid not,” He takes your hand in his, planting a kiss on your fingers as he turns on his side to face you. “I need to head back for training,”

“Training? Should you really be doing that yet?”

“Gaius gave me the all-clear, so long as I slowly work up to things,”

“Might you… skip it, just this once?”

He grins. “I would love to, but I figure, if I don’t show up to training, Arthur will punish me, and he’ll have me polishing boots or scrubbing floors in my free time. But if I just go to training, like the well-behaved knight that I am,” He gives you a sly look. “Then I’ll have the rest of my time free to do whatever I please,”

“That is sound reasoning,” You reply. “So, what about after training?”

Gwaine chuckles, but shakes his head. “I said I’d have dinner with Merlin. I wanted to thank him for all his help these last few weeks. He’s been a good friend,”

Your disappointed must be evident on your face, as Gwaine strokes your cheek with the back of his finger.

“But perhaps I could put it off?”

“No, I don’t want you to put me before your friends,” You reply. “And I’m sure Merlin has been looking forward to spending time with you,”

He smiles and kisses your forehead.

“Since you’re having dinner with Merlin tonight, perhaps you would like to have dinner with me tomorrow? Just me and you, in my chambers?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,”

[likeadevils]

if you had to guess purely on vibes, what order do you think the ttpd and anthology songs were written?

i know you said just based on vibes but i wanted all of my opinions to be researched and defensible so this has taken me hours to write. most of these are still opinions though!!

2022/Early 2023: i'm guessing she was mostly working with aaron on new stuff this year, while her and jack were building instrumental tracks and stems, so they could streamline writing while she was on tour if she wanted to. i'm also guessing she did 1989 tv early in 2022 and speak now tv that winter, but that's mostly based on vibes.

UNKNOWN: Clara Bow, Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus (i could see this being recorded later in spring 2023, but it just sounds so 2022 to me), I Hate It Here, I Look in People's Windows (could easily be a post mh breakup song, but this is my list), Cassandra Dec 2022: Instrumentals for Fresh Out The Slammer, Florida!!!, and Guilty As Sin are recorded in New Orleans (FOTS and Florida were confirmed to have their vocals recorded in New York) Apr 12, 2023: Taylor is photographed at Electric Lady, then Aaron shows up to all three of her eras dates in Tampa (Apr 14-16). The songs credited to both Jack and Aaron are But Daddy I Love Him. (implausible given how she and Matty were not publically dating at the time, this would be three days after her and joe announced their breakup) and thanK you aIMee (more plausible imo but still unlikely). If I had to guess I would say Taylor was recording Who's Afraid, but idk she could've not recorded anything and just have been in the studio to be in the studio, yknow

MAY: matty month. i'm guessing she was mostly working with jack, but theres nothing stopping her from working with aaron (until he leaves for tour on may 28 and is gone the rest of the month). i'm also guessing she was planning on recording a taylor's version this month, because fresh out the slammer, guilty as sin, and the alchemy all have christopher rowe credits, who is taylor's main tv collaborator.

UNKNOWN: But Daddy I Love Him, Fresh Out The Slammer (i could also see this being what i call a "wrap up song", which is a song written late in the process about emotions felt earlier in the process, in order to fill listeners in about some crucial detail(s) she hadn't covered in a song. think like, style being the last song written for 1989, or fortnight almost definitely being written in october), Guilty as Sin? (this might've been written earlier, but i doubt it was recorded before late april), Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?, The Alchemy (i'm a "it was originally about matty healy but it fit so well for travis that she decided to retroactively transform it into a travis song" truther, but that can obviously be totally wrong) May 7, 2023: The Albatross (mostly based on taylor and aaron both being in nashville and her officially getting together with matty, but i could see this also being a wrap up song) May 24, 2023: Florida!!! May 31, 2023: The Tortured Poets Department (two photos of her from this day are labeled as "the tortured poets department" and "ttpd" are on her and jacks insta)

JUNE: reports that taylor and matty broke up hit early june. jack leaves for europe in july and gets married in august, so i'm guessing he wasn't super available again until september (she also isnt photographed at electric lady between Jun 28-Sep 5). so i'm guessing the more intense jack stuff was written in june (aaron was def still around though)

UNKNOWN: My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys, I Can Do It With A Broken Heart, imgonnagetyouback (just based on when GUTS was released, i'm guessing this wasn't written after september 8) Jun 22, 2023: The Black Dog Jun 29, 2023: Down Bad

JULY: seems like aaron time! jack is seemingly in europe, aaron wasn't touring, and he showed up to two eras dates this month

UNKNOWN: So Long London, The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived, How Did It End? (this might've been written in april, but personally i would need a couple months to be able to process and express this), The Prophecy, Peter

AUGUST: a weird month! aaron is touring (though he is in nashville on the 15th), and Jack gets married on the 19th so i imagine he was busy. taylor was photgraphed in a studio in LA on the 2nd that, as far as i can tell, was not credited on TTPD (i don't have the anthology credits though).

SEPTEMBER-DECEMBER: wrap up time! i'm guessing theres probably a ton more down here, but i erred on the side of songs being written in the moment-- but i don't think she was writing multiple songs a week while on tour from may-july

UNKNOWN: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) (i guess it could technically have been written earlier but it feels too playful to me to have been written pre-september. also the christopher rowe credit makes me think she was recording another tv late in the year), loml (it feels like a june/july song to me but it has a christopher rowe credit and that throws me off) So High School (for obvious reasons) Early Oct, 2023: Fortnight Nov 13, 2023: Us (taylor also played bdilh for gracie that night, so we know it was written by november)

WHO KNOWS: i could see all of these being written in 2022 or 2023

UNKNOWN: thanK you aIMee, The Bolter, Robin, The Manuscript