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death---dealer · 2 months ago

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Bitter Sweet. ( Five x Reader Oneshot. )

i have no explanation other than my babies are still alive and that season 4 never happened SEASON 4 NEVER HAPPENED---- Give me snarky, asshole, pragmatic five back before i die. Reblogs/likes/comments all appreciated, thank u.

Title: Bitter Sweet. Fandom: The Umbrella Academy. Pairing: Heavily Implied ! Five x Reader. Rating: T. ( Language, lol. ) Words: 1.2K+ Summary: ( Taking place in an AU after season 4, let me live in my fantasy that's what fanfics are FOR ). You knew how specific Five was about his coffee. You knew he would speak his mind regarding and it was too much fun to let go of.

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Four cubes.

No, no… Five felt his mouth part in astonishment, crystal clear green eyes peering in languid judgment as your plucked another sugar cube from a pristine porcelain bowl and plopped it right into the white coffee cup that was placed in front of you. It sploshed happily, absorbing the coffee and sweetening the deal for you to enjoy, but that was never the point in the grand scheme. You were ardently aware of how irritating it was, one cube after another. The quantity itself was deliberate and you knew… How you were able to feel his stare hell-bending holes into your face. He was unable to see the liquid despite trying with a narrow gaze but he was willing to bargain much of what he owned that it was pale in color, not even teetering towards tan but more towards plain white.

A grimace was noticed by Klaus who bargained a chuckle as he looked towards you, seated beside him with raised eyebrows of acute amusement, “You’re desecrating whatever coffee you had, I think Five is going to lunge across the table and take you by the neck---” “Five can shove it.” The innocence that rode against your face was evident as the Hargreeves man across from you scoffed under his breath at the juxtaposed expression coupled with the aggressive nature of your words. “It’s my cup, not his. We can’t all drink it b---”

“Black like my soul, right?” Five rolled his eyes, shoulders drawing themselves in some minor defense and you were able to see the tightness of which he held himself from the tailored nature of his suit. Five was lanky and skinny, but that didn't seek to say that he was without defined muscles against his sweeping collarbones and it was evident in certain motions that left you reeling back from the hardened words that he responded with.

“Get some original insults, (Name). You’re becoming way too predictable. Boring even---” His voice was incredulous, sticking towards monotonous but still held irate interest in speaking to you, only detectable around the edges and it sang against your ears.

Flirtatious only to you, aggressive and leaned with hatred to others. A game of cat and mouse, though at times, you were unsure of which one you were playing. “I was going to say bitter just like your personality, but you know me. Predictable.” Klaus held a defensive hand up, grasping at his own cup and pretending he was beckoned elsewhere to avoid the confrontation that was inevitable coming in the way that Five cleared his throat, a hand raising and tightening the bundle of fabric where his tie rested against his throat.

He straightened it, you noticed with acute mirth, but there was no need to. It was already perfectly placed, part of the morning ritual you imagined he held close to his chest after spending so long cultivating it. Five was… A creature of habit, to many extents. Needless to say, it was one of those simple actions that you enjoyed seeing none-the-less, fingers twitching in a finite need to deshevel the pin-black tie to further push the boundary of where you and Five so often tightroped. No solace was given to either party as his knuckles rubbed against the underside of his sharpened jaw. There was hostility tangling in with notes of attractive coyness as he snapped at you, “You’re a goddamn monster, you know that? Fuck---” “I’m not the one getting angry over how someone else makes their coffee.” You bit back without reserve and another sickly smile placed towards the brunette as you finally picked up your spoon and allowed it to sink into the cup. It scraped -- Horrid, Five felt a shiver run down his spine at the vibrations he could feel against the oak table from your simple movement. Like nails against a chalkboard.

“Can you even call that coffee?” Five spliced and looked down at his own mug, half-emptied and his saliva still coating and drying where he had last taken a drink against the curve. “Did ya even put any in there? Any beans? Any espresso?” “There’s some in here.” There was a justification with a faux pout which Five remarked as being feverishly unfair. You were good at playing expressions, he was good at playing words. “I think….” You mused and lifted your cup up to your mouth and kissed the rim. Five swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing which was feasted upon by your eyes before you took a long sip. Control rested in your hands as you refused to let him look away from you.

Five sneered, your eyes taking in the delectations of seeing his sharpened canines. “You’re going to lose all your teeth from all the shit you put in that. Creamer and then what? Five sugar cubes? Are you a horse? Want me to feed you them straight from my hand?” There was a rustling sound as Five leaned inwards, his suit jacket pulling up with the motion that was placed as he so graciously plucked a sugar cube from the bowl that had been nearly emptied by you and offered it in the palm of his hand. “C’mon, take it. Be a good little horse.” “”Ha-ha,” You laughed sarcastically, smacking his gesture away which sent the cube flying off to be cleaned up later. “I’ll bite your fingers clean off.” “Not if you don’t have any fucking teeth! I kind of hope you do lose them. Hell, take me to the dentist when you get them pulled, I’ll bring them home and make a necklace for you.”

“You DIY things, Five?” There was another laugh from you as you took a sip of your drink, “Never pegged you to be that crafty.” There was emphasis on the word ‘pegged’, Five catching hold of the implication which garnered you that shit-eating grin that was more than infamous at this point. “Just this once.” He smirked, giving you a dimpled smile of feigned innocence to rival the one you splayed for him earlier. Sitting up in his seat, it scooted against the floor below with a loud bellow and you watched with bated astonishment as he leaned against the table to bring his upper half closer to you. Face only inches apart now, you refused to relent eye contact with him and tried to desperately shove down the connotation that you were able to clearly smell the after-shave that he favored. Pinely in scent, you wanted to grasp at his chin and feel the stubble against your fingers but that wasn’t the point here. The point was to be the cat while Five was forced to be the mouse.

“Just for you, a nice necklace and some earrings. Bracelet, maybe? A matching set. You'd look like such a doll."

“I’ll wear the set to your funeral. Clutch them instead of my pearls as I sob, telling everyone what a wonderful ray of sunshine you were to be around before you so tragically died.”

“Is that a date?”

Five huffed at you as you stood from your seat, his gawk watching the movement with hostility as you craned your body towards him and grasped the base of his tie. Enlightened with curiosity, the disgusting smile of attraction rose along his cheeks, quickly torn to shreds as you pulled the tie downwards, the knot coming undone without reserve.

“With you six feet under? You bet your damn ass it is.”

#the umbrella academy #tua #five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #five x you #five hargreeves imagines #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy imagines

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sugrhigh · 7 days ago

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BOY NEXT DOOR 11 - ( c.s )

part ten

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, starts fluffy (borderline cringe but get over it) and then smurtyyy baby ITS THE FINALE so enjoy

a/n: wow, a chapter coming to a close. you may get an epilogue…you may not…only time will tell. thank you to anyone who has supported me in general and especially on this specific series!! i had such a fun time with this concept and appreciate yall sticking it out with me fr <3

you’re really regretting your promise to chris now. it’s a day later and there’s less than an hour until the game, which is heightening your nerves like nothing else. you smooth your shaky hands over your sweatshirt, continually glancing over at your bed.

his jersey rests there, crisp and clean. it smells like him too; you picked up on the familiar scent when you were holding it in your hands earlier.

he left it in your mailbox, shooting you a vague text before heading up to the arena. though he didn’t tell you what he put in there in his message, you already knew. and you’ve been wrestling with how you want to play this ever since.

you got so comfortable wearing his stuff, especially to games, that it kind of feels weird not to. but you have a feeling that a lot more people know about what happened than you initially expected, which scares the shit out of you.

you suppose you have to get a little uncomfortable, though. it’s been so long since you’ve felt this way, since someone’s excited you, or even hurt you like this.

and it fucking sucked to be so disappointed. but you never ever thought you would bear witness to chris sturniolo saying his first real i love you, especially to you. it was maybe the one thing he could’ve done to convince you, because it was just so unexpected.

you already knew you loved him, so getting that confirmation from him first was huge.

you blow out a breath, still so antsy as you twist around, watching your reflection with a fierce intensity. nothing you’ve tried feels right, and it’s beyond frustrating.

just put it on. what’s the harm?

you’re tearing your hoodie off a moment later, tossing it to the floor as you reach for his jersey. it slips over your head perfectly, wrapping you in subtle hints of his cologne as you adjust it on your shoulders.

you can’t help but smile slightly as you glance in the mirror; if you ignore reality enough, it almost seems like you’re the same person you were a month ago; a blissfully ignorant girl supporting the boy she cared about.

cares about, your brain autocorrects you.

you never really stopped. you wouldn’t have gone over to his house yesterday in the first place if you truly had.

“hey, are you almost—” ramona stops dead in her tracks when she looks up from her feet, seeing you standing in the number 3.

you’re immediately ashamed, for whatever reason, like she caught you doing something wrong. part of it does feel wrong, and you’re about to say so. but then she smiles, like really smiles, and clasps her hands together happily. “finally!”

the reaction shocks you, to say the least, and you know it’s written all over your face. you shake your head a little, trying to find some way to ask her what she possibly means by that.

mona rolls her eyes at you playfully. “what, you thought i wouldn’t support you?”

you shrug, mouth still parted in surprise. you’re kind of smiling though; you’re happy she feels this way, you just weren’t necessarily expecting it.

plus, you didn’t actually tell them how you felt when you gave them the rundown last night after the bars, so neither of them could’ve known what you were experiencing. for the most part you were acting like it was strictly business or something, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

“i don’t know what i thought, to be honest.” you finally say, shifting around on your feet uncomfortably.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

you sigh and mess with your hair a bit. “because it’s not, like, official or anything, and i’m still not even sure i want to wear this to the game. i was just putting it on, i guess.”

she nods, and you’re waiting for her to say more, but she doesn’t. ramona just walks over, pulling you into her arms without another word.

you’re once again stunned, but in a pleasantly unanticipated way. you’re beyond tired of crying, but these tears are different. they’re happy, because you can feel your heart mending, and mona knows that too.

“you took the time, and i think you’re ready to forgive, angel. i can see it every time i look at you, that you’re still thinking of him, and that’s okay. he’s clearly been a fucking wreck, and i honestly believe he loves you because he would never utter those words if he didn’t.” she laughs into your hair slightly, and you can hear the emotion in her voice.

despite everything, you let out a breathy chuckle too. “you’re amazing, you know that? i really lucked the hell out with you.”

she pulls away, still smiling despite her shining eyes. you dab at your own, trying your best not to ruin the makeup you had so carefully applied half an hour earlier.

“i love you forever. cass and i just want to see you happy and i think being with him is what you want. so if it really is, you should wear it.” ramona gives the jersey a little tug.

you know you’re going to now, and you decide you don’t care what anyone else thinks about it. it’s between you and him, and if the people you trust most support you, then nothing else matters.

“i…i will. and thanks, really. you always help clear my head.” you nudge her a little with a grin.

“of course,” she wraps a hand around your arm so she can start pulling you toward the door, “now hurry up, because we’re on the verge of being late and cass is waiting!”

being away from the rink this long makes the lights somehow feel a hundred times brighter. they’re beating down on you as you and your roommates make your way to your seats, the same ones that you’d become accustomed to ever since that first game.

it’s been a while since you’ve felt quite this many eyes on you, and it’s insanely unsettling. you focus on navigating the steps below you, because you know if you don’t you’ll fall and make yourself look even worse.

it’s at least loud, considering they’ve got all the music going for warm ups. you’re glad you can’t hear the crowd of students whispering about how pathetic you are, or how stupid you’re acting.

maybe it’s true, but you’re beyond that now. you’re willing to get hurt again, even though you hope with all of your heart that the day never comes, because you’ll regret it forever if you don’t try.

people make mistakes. but they only get one chance to make it up in your book, and this is chris’s chance.

so you square your shoulders and try to wear the jersey with pride as you guys finally arrive in the front row, even though it’s difficult to act confident.

fake it till you make it, or whatever they say.

your eyes find him skating around almost immediately, like they’re just naturally drawn in his direction. you suppose that it shouldn’t be surprising, at least not after watching so many games.

the way he moves is different; he’s smooth, always one step ahead, like he’s playing an entirely different game. it’s easy to spot, because he’s somehow the most fluid and the most aggressive on the ice.

you watch as chris skates back to the blue line, circling their half of the rink while they all take practice shots. that’s when he looks over at your section, and you can see the relief wash over his face when he spots you.

he nods, and you can see a devilish smile forming on his face as he snaps the puck into the net once again. it makes you uneasy when the rest of the team starts to glance at you as well, only to look toward one another after like some sort of signal.

you try to shake it, pretend like your gut is completely wrong, and for a couple minutes you can. they stretch and do more drills and everything seems normal, or as normal as it can be right now.

until they all slow down, gathering around the bench one by one to create a warped huddle. the opposing team is skating off of the ice now with five minutes left of warmups, and you’ve never been more on edge. mona and cass aren’t paying enough attention, so when you look at them in alarm, they’re purely concerned.

“what? why does your face look like that?” cassidy questions.

before you can even begin to explain the weird feeling that’s settled in your bones, the entire BU team breaks as the lights shut off. you can hear the confused murmuring of the fans over the music, which is fading out slowly now.

each of them line up, getting into position as if they’ve practiced a hundred times, forming a pyramid shape in the middle of the ice. chris stands alone in the front, and there’s a microphone in his hand, and—oh god, fuck.

seconds later the spotlight flares over to shine on him, and even though you know there’s no way he can actually see with it directly in his eyes, it still feels like he’s looking right at you.

you watch him gulp nervously, and you’re just as terrified of whatever is coming next.

“uh—hi everyone. i’m your captain, chris, and i wanted to thank each and everyone one of you for coming out tonight.” he starts off, trying to brush away his fear.

though the crowd is still obviously confused, they’re applauding regardless due to their special recognition. on the other hand remain completely still, trying to avoid panicking so publicly.

“what the fuck is he doing?” mona whisper shouts in your direction, and all you can do is shrug even though you know where he’s going with this.

somehow, you can just feel it in your gut.

“seriously, you guys are beyond amazing. you’re the reason playing here is so incredible,” chris smiles charmingly as the noise dies down, pausing dramatically for a moment before continuing, “but i’m actually standing out here tonight like an idiot because there’s somebody in this crowd that i need to apologize to.”

your stomach falls to your feet, and you can’t do anything besides stare out across the rink at him. he’s looking your way again, brilliant blue gaze still able to pick up on exactly where you are, and you feel a shock course through your veins.

“i did wrong by her, and i’ve been kicking myself every day since. she’s the most radiant and passionate person in every room, and she’s also the only reason i’m even here in this arena today. the truth is that i love her, which is why i think it’s time to turn the tables and embarrass myself a little bit to prove that. plus you guys get a heck of a show in the process.” he jokes, earning some apprehensive chuckles in response.

chris clears his throat, trying not to let his voice crack. despite what you think, he actually can see you through the brightness, which makes his heart leap to his throat. “so to the girl of my dreams, i’m sorry. and i hope this shows you that i meant it when i said i’d never stop fighting.”

every single part of you is screaming in a way you can’t explain; you’re completely entranced, but in the same way that people can’t look away from a car crash.

the audience chatters as the lights go out again, but it doesn’t take long before ain't too proud to beg starts playing to cut them off. you recognize it immediately, and now you can’t help but crack a smile.

this was the song you listened to most when you’d drive around in his car, singing along together with the heat blasting on your way to nowhere in particular. you can’t hear it anymore without thinking about him.

the stadium ignites in a dreamy red glow, and each member of the team begins skating in slow circles, kicking their feet out lightly to the rhythm. chris remains up front, gliding around as if he’s walking on clouds.

he tries not to look at you too much, because this moment is about putting himself on display, but his attention darts to you every couple of seconds. you’re clearly stunned, but he sees the small grin on your lips, and that lights the fire he needs to go all out.

“i know you wanna leave me, but i refuse to let you go,” chris begins, voice surprisingly strong as he glides around, “if i have to beg n’plead for your sympathy, i don’t mind ‘cause you mean that much to me.”

you can hear people starting to sing along, and you amaze yourself by joining in for the chorus as well. cassidy and ramona sway beside you, both shaking you lightly as they try to contain their shrieks of delight.

“ain’t too proud to beg, and you know it, please don’t leave me girl.” he belts out, unable to contain his happiness when he sees your reaction.

his team continues to dance on the rest of the ice, leaving the middle for him as they goof off, each adding their own personal flair to the simple choreography. you laugh when you see connor and ben doing the robot at each other, simply because they look so damn stupid.

“ain’t too proud to plead, baby baby, please don’t leave me girl.” chris holds the mic between both palms, shaking his hands in prayer as he skates backwards suavely.

the beat swells as the jazz blares through the speakers, and they all line up across the center of the ice. there are tears in your eyes as chris joins them, arms all linked over each others shoulders as they begin a rockette kick line.

despite how insanely unsafe it probably is to do on skates, they’re all killing it. the whole stadium is roaring now; laughter, cheers, chanting along, you name it. you’re amazed, eyes flashing along with the glowing atmosphere.

having him serenade you with this song, in front of all of these people, is something you never thought possible.

there’s an exhilarated expression on his face, still completely focused on you as he sings his heart out, and it makes you completely weak. his defined features are as striking as ever, cheeks flushed slightly from the adrenaline of it all.

he’s the same handsome boy you thought you knew, and yet here he is, surprising you again.

you’re bouncing around as the song nears the end, only for chris to come skating forward from the others so he can slide on his knees across the rink, headed your way. it’s so dramatic and so fucking silly that you’ve got a stitch in your side from laughing.

for a moment you just look at each other, separated only by the plexiglass wall, and everything else in your mind quiets. you no longer hear the anxious thoughts, or the crowd, or even your friends screaming beside you.

chris’s chest heaves as he finally relaxes, lowering his outstretched arms so that he can shrug bashfully, as if he’s asking you what you think.

you shrug back, but you’re beaming so hard that your true feelings are on display regardless. you can see his matching teary eyes, and truly for the very first time, neither of you care about anyone else.

he’s fucking whipped, and he’ll tell everyone in the world without a second thought. you’re certain of that now, and so is he.

finally, chris pushes himself up and holds the mic back to his mouth, one arm out as he waves to the sea of people. “thank you everyone! get loud tonight, and as always go terriers!”

they all skate off the ice, and you see his friends embracing him in excitement as they head back to the locker room. chris takes one final look over his shoulder, and you give him a wave of encouragement.

he disappears and your attention finally turns to your friends, their mouths still hanging open from the rather electrifying show.

“i can’t believe…i mean he just…” cassidy tries to form a sentence, but ends up pressing a hand to her lips instead.

“that kid is so fucking in love with you, wow.” ramona giggles to herself.

you’re about to object, but you know she’s right. and after that display, there’s certainly no point in arguing about it, because then you’d just be giving some shitty explanation.

before you can even start babbling, your phone vibrates in your pocket and you freeze again. you know who it is, but your heart is pounding against your ribcage as you check anyways.

chris

we’ll talk after?

it's the first text from him in weeks that you’re going to respond to, the first of many you suppose. that makes you smile as you type out an answer.

y/n

only if you win :)

and he does. he does win. in fact, chris went out there and played probably the best game of his entire career.

a hat trick, which he’s never done in his life, all for you.

the team is electric, and he knows the party will be coming back to his place as they all rage in the locker room after the game. it was incredible, and this moment with them is great, but the only person he wants to see is you.

so he slips into the hallway, already dialing your number as the door finally swings shut to contain some of the noise.

you pick up on the first ring.

“i won.” chris states immediately, and he can hear the grin in his own voice.

“you did.” you respond.

it’s a lame attempt at being coy, and you both know it. he leans his shoulder up against the wall, shaking his head even though you can’t see it.

“three goals was pretty impressive, huh? probably worth talking to me over, at least in my opinion.” chris teases, and your laugh gives him butterflies.

you glance over at your friends, who try to look busy as you all wait for the bus, though it’s very clear that they’re trying to eavesdrop. “i can’t disagree there, captain.”

he snorts before he can help it. “so does that mean you’re coming over?”

it seems like an eternity before you answer, even though it’s maybe five seconds total. “yeah, i’ll see you at home.”

when chris confronts the locker room once more he tries to part ways with everyone graciously, but they can see through him. he can’t get out of there quick enough, and yet everyone is just as excited to watch him leave.

none of them have ever seen him like this. he’s never seen himself like this, and despite being horrified of that in the past, there’s nothing holding him back anymore.

he tries not to get too antsy on the drive home, and you’re buzzing equally as much as you chat with your friends.

chris keeps working himself up even thinking about being close to you, about actually getting to belong to you. he’s missed having you in his hands, in the most innocent and sinful ways possible.

he beats you back by a few minutes, so he hangs around in the front yard like a dog, kicking at the dirt to try and distract himself.

by the time you come walking down the street, laughing along with cassidy and ramona, he feels like his heart is going haywire. your face coming into focus under the street light only makes it worse, because you look so damn perfect.

when you catch sight of him your expression transforms immediately; you’re somehow more visibly timid, but he can also tell that you’re dying to speak.

“‘sup chris?” cassidy nods, arms crossed over her chest as she turns with ramona toward their house.

“pleasure to see you ladies again.” he charms, giving a little two finger salute.

they both giggle and wave him off, whispering amongst themselves as they leave the two of you alone. its just like his first time ever laying eyes on you, because he’s equally as entranced as he was three years ago.

“hey.” he takes a couple steps forward, hands still in his pockets.

you can tell he’s actually a bit reserved, which surprises you. chris has always been good at reading you, at calling you out, and it’s hard to believe that he can’t pick up on the fact that you’re so far beyond gone.

“hi there.” you smile and get a little closer, and he almost falls to his knees.

a few more paces forward and you’d be face to face, so close that his nose would probably brush against yours. so he moves, one foot at a time, just to give you the opportunity to say no.

but you don’t, and you know that you never will, so you ask him the one question on your mind. “do you really want to talk?”

chris blushes for what seems like the millionth time, shaking his head slowly.

“what do you think?”

he’s towering over you a bit now, stopped only a couple inches away to keep some semblance of space. you don’t want it, and he doesn’t either, so you reel him flush against you by the waistband of his sweats.

“i think you should tell me you love me one more time.” you tease, drinking in the intoxicating smell of that goddamn dior.

chris leans in the rest of the way so his mouth is hovering over yours, even though it’s suffocating to do so. “i love you. i’ll say it as many times as ya like, princess.”

your stomach is flipping. you can’t help it anymore.

so you kiss him. you wrap your arm around his torso and you pull him as close as possible and you just fucking kiss him.

he’s already melting into you, hand tangling in your hair instinctively to tug. it’s sloppy, heated, everything you’ve been holding back for weeks. tasting your signature chapstick is enough to get him all bothered, to the point where it’s embarrassing.

it’s the start of something new, all while you’re standing in the same fucking driveway where this really began.

you pull away completely breathless, though you don’t wait to slip your hand into his. chris stumbles slightly over his feet as you pull him along, a little taken aback by the change in pace.

“what, can’t keep up?” you joke as you ascend the porch with him in tow.

he finds his balance quickly, though, hot on your heels now. his palm comes down to slap your ass playfully as you’re headed through the front door and you shriek out a laugh.

“i do just fine, thank you very much.”

he’s quick to reattach himself to you, so quick in fact that you’re barely able to close the door behind you.

it’s honestly hard to even get up to his room because of how much he’s all over you; kissing your neck from behind, running his hands over waist, dragging his fingers up and down every part of your body.

chris has missed you for too long to let any second go to waste. you’re giggling in between tiny little breaths of pleasure, attempting to hold them back some, but he wants to hear more.

you carelessly stagger into his room and he kicks the door shut behind him before breaking away. chris finally takes a moment to pause so that he can turn you around and admire you.

“you know what you do to me in that jersey, seeing you out there wearing my name.” chris growls, sliding his hands underneath the synthetic material to grip your warm skin.

you push your hips to him harder, smirking when you feel his hard-on press against your lower stomach. “mhmm, you gonna do anything about it before everyone gets back?”

his hands travel higher at this, skimming up the sides of your body as it bunches up around your chest. you get the message, so you lift your arms to help him take it off only for him to toss it to the floor a second later.

“fuck ‘em…i wanna take my time with you.” chris brushes your hair over your shoulder gently.

you try not to shiver. the anticipation is killing you as he cups the side of your neck, forcing you to retreat slowly until your legs meet his bed. his chest rises and falls heavily while he looks at you, familiarizing himself with every detail again.

you take the next step and sink down, laying your back against the mattress. your hair is like a halo around you, and chris shakes his head slightly.

his knee comes in between your legs to make room for himself, and you’re turned on just watching him devour you with his eyes.

“y’look like a fuckin’ angel.” he sighs, planting his arms by your shoulders so he can hover above you now.

you tilt your head, daring him to capture your lips again. “you gonna treat me like one?”

“long as you act like one.” he taunts back.

without a second thought you fasten your legs around his waist, pulling him right against your core so you can really feel. those tight little yoga pants don’t hide your warmth, and chris lets out an involuntary groan.

“fine, have it your way.”

he shifts his weight so he can wrap one hand around your throat, and the pressure is so enjoyable that you place your own palm over his to let him know it.

your other one travels to the back of his head, gripping his roots as his mouth connects with your neck harshly.

he’s leaving his mark again, not caring how childish it is to be putting hickies in this spot specifically. chris wants everyone to see them, to know that it’s real this time, and you’re his.

you selfishly don’t care either. neither of you have said the words yet, but you’re together, and it excites you that everyone will be able to look at the proof.

he lingers in every spot, working his way to your collarbone as he rocks against you. you’re a whining mess, his hard bulge rubbing against your center perfectly, and it only gets worse when the fingers around your neck move to squeeze your tits.

the fact that your bra is unlined makes it even more arousing, the lace brushing against your hardened nipple as he pinches one between his pointer and middle.

“missed you so much.” he grumbles, his hot breath fanning across your skin while he drags his lips down further, sliding his body through your legs, “you were driving me insane.”

the kisses he presses against your stomach makes you tense slightly from the sheer amount of butterflies. chris gets closer and closer to the top of your pants, lowering his body far enough to kneel at the side of his bed.

he finally abandons his position briefly so he can look up at you through his lashes. you’ve never seen a prettier goddamn sight.

“tell me you need me, baby.” he challenges, and you’re dying to have him touching you again in any way.

“i need you, chris. so bad, please.” you beg, squirming slightly to try to get closer.

but he keeps you where you are, slowly pulling the silky material down your hips, mouth trailing along every part of you as he goes. you gasp at the sensation, only unhooking your ankles for a second to allow him to fully tug them off.

he doesn’t hesitate before he clutches the outside of both of your legs and tugs you toward his face, keeping them planted around his shoulders as his elbows dig into the mattress.

“that’s what i thought.” chris smirks, leaving more tantalizing kisses up the middle of your thighs.

your breath hitches the closer he gets, his stubble scraping your skin slightly as he ventures on. your fingers tangle in his roots when his lips finally trace along the seam of your panties, which are already humiliatingly damp.

one of his hands reaches further over your hips to shove them to the side, and feeling his fingers brush you even slightly makes you shudder just a bit.

“fucking do something.” you’re the one pleading now, though not as publicly.

chris’s laugh fans across your wetness, and goosebumps crawl their way up your skin.

“been waiting for those words.”

finally, he presses his lips against your core and you mutter a soft incoherent curse. his tongue slips out to glide across the delicate skin, for just long enough that your back arches off of the comforter.

he groans and you feel it vibrating right through you. chris has been craving you for so long, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be in this position again.

he’s already completely pussy-drunk, because his plan was to draw it out, really make you tick. but he can’t hold back; he got a taste and now he’s eating like it’s his last time, nose bumping your sensitive bud as he teases your entrance.

“shit—chris!” you cry out, gripping his hair harder in your knuckles.

he murmurs again in appreciation, because he’s always loved the feeling, and you quiver slightly from the sensation. it’s too much all at once and yet it’s never enough.

your legs instinctively tighten around his head as he works his tongue up and down fully, making sure he hits every tender spot over and over. it’s magic, however he does it.

you can feel the climax brewing in your stomach as your toes curl slightly, and chris notices your body beginning to shake more frequently.

it was gentle at first, but he’s since picked up the pace, forcing you to grind down on his face as he clutches your around his head. his fingers slide over a bit more, applying pressure to your bundle of nerves in consistent circles.

“oh fuck, gonna make me cum baby.” you barely manage to get it out between moans.

hearing you call him baby only spurs him on, his own erection begging to be freed as continues to work your cunt.

the combined pressure has you whimpering in satisfaction, head thrown back which you know is effectively messing up your hair. your eyes are screwed shut now, lips parted because you can’t seem to stop making noise.

“that’s it, sweetheart. you love my mouth so much, huh?” he pauses only for a second to goad, fingers still deliberately switching paces to draw out the ecstasy.

but then he buries his face again, flicking over your clit at the fastest speed of the night. it’s probably the most intense he’s ever been and you gasp, your breath catching in your throat before a loud whine escapes.

the stimulation is finally too much and you can’t hold back, muscles constricting as you reach your high.

chris doesn’t stop for the entire ride down, though his tongue does grow lazier as you finish for the first time of the night. he doesn’t want to let go of you, finally breaking his contact with your core only to press his wet lips against the inside of your thighs once again.

“jesus christ.” you pant, finally releasing his fluffy hair from your grip.

he chuckles slightly, peppering kisses across your legs until he’s content. “m’not done with you yet. strip.”

even though you’re still hazy from the first round, you’re surprisingly quick to follow direction. you arch your back more and unhook your frilly bra, chucking it somewhere behind you.

chris finally stands back up from his spot on the floor, and you make quick work pushing your underwear down your hips and kicking them off as he watches.

“look who’s finally listening.” he jokes with a grin.

you roll your eyes, and then a new impulse takes over; you want him to know who he belongs to now. so you sit up with him in between your legs, which surprises him enough that he’s still for a moment.

you take the opportunity to mess with the hem of his tee, slowly sliding your palms underneath and up his stomach.

“i showed you mine.” you hint, ghosting your lips over his now-exposed torso.

this time chris is the one obeying, pulling his shirt the rest of the way for you. his dick is right up against your chest, clearly straining through his sweats at this point.

you let your hands wander back down his body, nails skimming along his happy trail until you reach the top of his pants. he’s quick, yanking them down with his boxers and shoving both further away on his floor.

“really wanna ride you.” you whisper, palming him just enough.

he groans at the gentleness of your touch; he’s extra sensitive now that he’s completely exposed. precum is already leaking from his tip, so you swipe your thumb across it and his hips buck a bit in response.

you slide the slick across his shaft, pumping slowly because it’s your turn to provoke him.

“i’d literally do anything you asked.” chris can hear how weak his voice is as he caresses your hair, and he’s genuinely concerned that his eyes have permanently become hearts.

you look up at him, craning slightly to rest your cheek in his palm, and he swears he could cum right then until you pull your hand away.

“lay down.” your voice is low, sultry, and he’s hypnotized.

all he can do is move on your command, shifting past you to sprawl out across his bed, erection slapping against his waist. he barely has time to settle on his pillows before you’re crawling his direction, tossing a leg over his lap so that you can straddle him.

chris hisses out a prayer, hands going to your hips as your wetness comes in contact with his. you’re hovering, enticing him even more as you lightly slide against his base.

“quit—aahhh—teasing me.” he hums, grinding his own erection up against you harder to try and help himself out.

“can’t handle it?” you smirk, even though the truth is that neither of you can bear the torment of taking it slow.

“you’re a lot to handle.”

you know he’s messing around, but your palms press against his shoulders nonetheless so you can lift yourself a bit higher, which makes him whine in protest at the loss of contact.

you shake your head slightly, a patronizing grin finding finding its way to your face. “better get used to it, pretty boy.”

then one hand wraps around his pulsating cock, pressing his swollen head against your lips before you sink down onto it in its entirety. chris whimpers out a muddled sentence, and tight swears fumble out of your own throat as he stretches you out.

chris is overwhelmed by the rush of having you wrapped around him. you haven’t even started moving; you’re just letting him take it in, the same way that you are as he floods your senses.

“so goddamn perfect for me, fill me up so good.” you praise, finally starting to rock your hips at a grating speed.

the compliment gets to his head, and he didn’t think it was possible for you to turn him on more than you already do. he’s rutting into you seconds later, matching your pace instinctively just like you knew he would. you’ve never been bare with him like this, and you lean into the thrill as much as possible.

the passionate tempo helps ease you into his size, though you’ll admit you’ve missed the delicious sensation of having to break yourself in.

chris chokes on his breath, his fingers digging into your sides hard enough now to leave a bruise. “holy shit.”

his words spur you on and you start to really bounce, skin slapping skin as you both try to contain the sounds of pure bliss falling past your lips.

you spread your legs even wider, which allows you to feel every bulging inch of him pounding into you. your nails rake down his abdomen, leaving little lines of red in their wake.

he can’t get enough of the way you fold around him, and it finally crosses his mind that there’s nothing protecting you.

“condom.” chris grits through his teeth, not slowing his momentum despite what he just said.

“buy me a plan b after, need you raw.” you reply quickly, voice pinched as your chest heaves.

you’ve never been careless like this, and it definitely won’t happen again. but right now, having nothing standing between the two of you is all you’re craving. he’s relishing it, truly being skin to skin.

his hands travel to clutch the curve of your ass, helping slam you down so he can hit the right spot, and even now it’s still not close enough. he adores you too much; it’ll never be enough, because he’s always going to want more.

he’s gasping at this point, trying to keep his eyes open just so he can watch you in all your glory. it’s dim in his room and you’re perfectly backlit, tits bouncing as your hair flits around your face.

you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

every stroke feels better than the last, and your stomach flips each time he drives himself into that sensitive area. you’re clenching hard now, tugging on his cock rhythmically to the point where he’s twitching inside.

“oh-h my god, fuckin love you. my pretty girl.” chris groans, addicted to the excitement of saying it out loud.

that familiar fire burns in your gut, somehow more fierce than the first. you’re tensing again, trying not to get too careless with your pace as your whimpers grow in intensity.

“m’close—i can’t…” you stutter, brain jumbled with incoherent thoughts.

he props his own legs up slightly, using the last bit of his strength to buck into you. he draws out every last second, because he’d live right here forever if he could.

“give it to me, princess, don’t hold back.” chris prompts breathlessly, his vision blurring as his climax rapidly approaches.

your hips connect sloppily a few more times and it crashes over the both of you at once. the room echos with pants and moans of gratification, a thin layer of sweat painting your skin as you come down from your second orgasm of the night.

you feel him release too, painting your walls in a divine warmth that you’re not used to. you’re so strung out that even the tiniest bits of friction you’re still receiving have you gnawing on the inside of your cheek to control yourself.

finally both of your movements slow to a stop, letting the moment settle for a moment as you catch your breath.

you’re closer that you were before, practically chest to chest with him aside from your hands, so you tilt your forehead to his and give him a gentle peck.

“i’m obsessed.” he mumbles against your mouth before you pull away.

you smile, slowly shifting off of him so you can force yourself into the crook of his arm instead. “you’re just figuring that out now?”

“i always knew, trust me.” chris banters, wrapping his bicep around you to pull you tighter against his side.

you sigh as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “so this is real? we’re actually together?”

“if you’ll have me, but i’m yours either way.”

he’s so open, so quick to admit how he actually feels, and it’s everything you’ve been waiting for.

“good, because i’m kind of in love with you and i’ve never been a sharer.”

he chuckles at this, and it already feels so natural. everything has fallen into place, and you're just glad you’re not wasting any more time not experiencing this.

“but you’re not fully forgiven until you buy me that plan b, seriously.” you poke his side playfully and this time you both laugh.

“i think i can make that happen.” chris responds sarcastically, unable to fight the permanent smile that seems to be taking over his features.

every part of him is so content, and it’s the most alive he’s ever been. you bring him to life.

he’s not sure he’ll ever understand how he got lucky enough to fight his way back into your world, but he’ll never take it for granted.

it’s always been you, the bewitching girl next door.

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waldau-archived · 6 months ago

Note

I cant insert a photo here on your ask but it goes something like

"Do whatever you want!!!" X said out of anger then character Y kissed him gently. "You said do whatever i want, right?"

whatever — choi seungcheol | 1,821 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

this prompt was really cute!!!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is stressed out? and in need of a hug?

you love the sounds that make the house you share with seungcheol your home.

you love hearing the door creak when you open it at that specific angle. you love the sound of the clock ticking in the living room that seungcheol himself picked out. you love the sound of him walking on the wooden floor of your house, the sound of his glass when it clinks against the marble of the kitchen island, the birds chirping in the evening when you take out time to just relax against him and watch the sun set, and the sound of his quiet snores when he insists he wants to watch you watch your favourite shows, only to end up falling asleep.

there’s none of that here, in this moment.

you take off your shoes and kick them to the side, not bothering to open the cabinet to put them inside because the doors make a particularly loud sound when they snap shut, and you don’t want to risk waking seungcheol up again.

it’s been an odd couple of weeks, with you staying out late because of more work and seungcheol staying in because his workload has been relatively less for the beginning of the new year. him being at home would’ve made you happy if you didn’t have to apologize for cancelling and rescheduling dates, or for being left with energy enough only for a bath and a quick dinner, movie plus cuddling sessions replaced by cuddling in your sleep. if you were lucky to get back home in time, that is.

you stop and listen for a few moments. there’s no sound to be heard. the door to your bedroom is shut, which means that seungcheol must have already gone to sleep.

a little pang of hurt stabs your heart. it’s not like you want him to keep late hours for you, but you’re not exactly doing well in these trying times, and you’d really love to have his voice wash out your worries.

a resounding bang from the kitchen startles you. before you can even think of the worst possible scenario that could’ve just transpired, seungcheol walks out of the kitchen, a rolling pin in one hand and some flour on his hair and his rolled up sleeves. the literal definition of a hot mess.

“hey, baby,” he says, eyes widening when he sees you. “i was expecting you to be back in an hour or two.”

so it’s that bad, huh? it’s become normal for him to expect you to come back even later? you focus on the stains on his clothes instead, and the rolling pin that seems so out of place in his hand. “what exactly are you doing?”

“nothing! well, nothing much. yet. maybe you should stay out of here for a while.”

one thing about seungcheol is that he never keeps secrets. he can’t tell you a white lie to save his life, much less a black lie. “cheol,” you say, frowning, “both of us know you don’t even cook. are you baking? and why’s there flour in your hair?”

“sieving accident,” he mumbles, so quiet that you almost don’t catch it.

“should i be afraid?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. you feel like your tears are a short distance away, and you really, really hope he’s done nothing more. something tells you that isn’t it, however.

“not really!” says seungcheol, but you can read him like glass at this point. the little nervous laugh and the way his nose twitches when he tries spinning facts makes you dread what you’re going to find inside. “maybe you should have a nice bath before you sleep? did you have dinner yet?”

you try to move past him into the kitchen but he blocks the entrance with his broad frame. the one time this isn’t sexy.

“cheol, let me in.”

“not until you tell me the password.”

“there’s a password now? what, something like choi seungcheol is the best?”

he giggles. “close.”

you sigh. “cheol, i’m really not in the mood to play games right now. please tell me what’s going on in there?”

he tries pulling that face, the one with the puppy eyes, where he looks at you so pleadingly that you’re generally ready to fold and do whatever he asks of you, but right now it just doesn’t work on you. the more evasive he is, the more worried you get. before he can react, you duck under his outstretched arms and into the kitchen.

rather, into the mess he’s made of the kitchen.

you’ve heard stories about junhui trying to bake. they sounded absolutely hilarious, and you’ve always wondered how he could mess up so bad that he managed to land waffle batter on the ceiling. especially when he didn’t even own a ladder to try and clean it.

it’s not funny when it’s your house that has some batter on the walls. at least it’s not the ceiling, you think, a bit hysterical, until you see flour on the…everywhere. it’s just everywhere. the counter, near the sink, in front of the oven like it’s a modern day trail of breadcrumbs that hansel and gretel would’ve followed. there’s also baking supplies scattered all over, an extremely huge sheet of baking paper lining a tray that’s sitting next to a bunch of bowls.

it’s a mess, to say the least.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol says, gently turning you away from the sight of it. he winces when he sees your face. you don’t even know what your face looks like. all you know is that you’re tired, that you need a break, and that the last thing you would have liked to see today was your boyfriend’s face while he was peacefully asleep, and not…this.

you shake your head but no words come out.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol repeats, setting the rolling pin down on the counter. a comical little cloud of flour rises and settles. what kind of accident even was that? “i was just…trying to bake.”

“cheol, you didn’t even know why we use baking soda till last week!”

“hey!” he says, defensive. “i asked you so i could learn. and i know this isn’t great, but—” his words dry up when he notices where your gaze lies — on the batch of cookies that are burned beyond belief.

you can’t believe your eyes, either. you’re not the biggest baker in the world, but you’ve never burned anything you’ve baked. especially not in your first attempt. maybe you’d have given up the courage to bake again if that had happened, but seungcheol clearly isn’t that bothered by it.

you don’t know if it’s because of how pitiful they look, or how long your day has been, but you feel a lump rise in your throat.

“you never even do this,” you whisper, only focusing on his face and not the mess around you. “why did you think you had to do this today?”

“am i not allowed to try things if i want to?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“it’s not that, cheol,” you say, trying to be as reasonable as possible. “i’d ask you for some help before trying something i’ve never done before. you never, ever do this. only when i ask you to help me. why today?”

“because i wanted to,” he says, almost flippant. “i’ll clean it up before you know it.”

but it’s not about the mess. it’s not about the burnt cookies. it’s not about the way he tried to block you from seeing the state of the kitchen. it’s the finality in his tone. it’s the fact that it’s not a big deal to him because he hasn’t had the day you’ve had.

seungcheol’s eyes widen when he sees your lips tremble. “are you seriously mad at me? for baking?”

“do whatever you want,” you hiss, tired and angry, feeling a single tear slide down your cheek. “i shouldn’t have looked inside.” you turn to walk away before it becomes a full fledged cascade of tears, but you don’t go far because of the hand holding on to your wrist.

“stop,” he says, holding you strong enough that it becomes futile to try and escape.

“let me go, seungcheol,” you say, avoiding his face.

“oh, no,” he breathes out, and the next thing you know is that your face is cradled in his hands and there’s a warm kiss pressed to your forehead. and your nose. and your lips. and it keeps repeating till you push him away, your face in his hands. you can feel the ugly emotions inside you ebbing away slowly, reducing to small embers that prickle the slightest bit.

“what are you doing?” you ask weakly.

“you said do whatever i want, right?” he asks, a smile on his face.

that gets you to break, for some reason. you would’ve forgiven him even if he’d gotten batter on the ceiling, because this — the sight of seungcheol with flour in his otherwise perfect hair, wearing an old shirt and beaming at you even though you’ve snapped at him — kills even those small embers.

you press your face to his chest and let the tears out silently.

seungcheol rubs your back. “hey,” he says softly. “let it out, okay? and i’m sorry about the mess. i meant it when i said i’ll clean—”

“it’s not that,” you whisper. “just…hold me?”

seungcheol complies, and you find yourself swaying in his hold in the silence of your house.

“want to talk to me about it?” he offers when you pull away, feeling slightly better. “i’m—”

“stop apologizing to me, cheol,” you say, laughing a little wetly. “it’s not the kitchen. i’ve just…i’ve been missing you like crazy and i miss just being with you without doing anything. i hate coming home late and seeing you asleep by yourself in our bed. i want…i want things to go back to the way they were.”

“so, a bad week?”

“more than one.”

“but you have me here at the end of every single day, right?” seungcheol says, pushing up the corners of your lips to make you smile. you do smile, but it’s because of the cute grin he has on his face. “we’ll get through it before you know it.”

you sigh. “it sounds good when you say it like that.”

“because i mean it. also, one more thing.”

“yeah?”

“please don’t ever call me by my whole name again.”

“only if you mess up the kitchen that bad again.”

“hey!”

“also, why were you baking in the first place?”

“because i wanted to cheer you up,” he says, sheepish, and you want to do nothing more than hold his face and kiss him silly.

“you’re an idiot, baby,” you say, cradling his face in your hands. “but you’re my idiot. and i love you.”

seungcheol’s blushing face is quite possibly enough to get you through tomorrow.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

#alternative title: everything everywhere flour at once #scoups #scoups fluff #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #fluff #coups #waldau writes #req

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cumikering · 11 months ago

Text

Keegan Russ x reader

3.5k | fluff, second chance, childhood friends

You matched with Keegan on Tinder

@glitterypirateduck’s holiday challenge, inspired by I Don’t Do Drugs by Doja Cat

“No way.” You shook your head. “Not Keegan goddamn Russ.” You chuckled as you stared at his profile.

It had been over 15 years since you saw him last. His teeth might have been straight, bowl cut replaced by a far more fitting fade cut, but his sharp blue eyes and easy smile remained. They were unmistakable.

This dude hadn’t crossed your mind in years, but you were pleasantly surprised to see he’d grown to be a tall and athletic Marine. You hated to admit that he got hot, even that not having a stupid haircut wasn’t a very high bar to begin with.

You zeroed in on his smile again. He was attractive and he knew it. He couldn’t have been there for anything serious.

You laughed to yourself. ��What the hell,” you said and swiped right on him.

At the other end of town, Keegan laid in bed, swiping mindlessly on his phone. Left… Left… Oh!? … Yeah, another left… Until his hand froze when he saw your card.

“Goddamn,” he muttered as he rolled to his side, clutching his phone. Where the hell were you all this time?

He took his time ogling your photos. The first one was a full body picture, your figure on display in your tight jeans. The second was a selfie, your eyes bright, donning a brilliant smile and glossy lips. The last two were group photos. He loved your style – comfortable yet tasteful. Your genuine laughter and the twinkle in your eye as you sat among your friends mesmerised him.

Okay, so you were the life of the party.

Keegan often worried about not having enough to say and preferred chattier dates who’d lead the conversation. Evidently, he didn’t have to worry about that with you… Because you probably wouldn’t even look at him twice. With looks like that, you could have anyone.

He lied on his back and gawked at your selfie again, biting his lip.

“What the hell,” he said to himself and swiped right.

He nearly dropped his phone on his face when it chimed right away. It’s a match! He gasped.

He stared at the empty chat window, fingers drumming on his thigh as he contemplated what to say. He wished he had more game.

After a minute, he settled with a simple Hi, hope you’re doing alright :) are you from the area?

You seemed a little quiet the first day of texting, but he’d expected that, a usual occurrence in his endeavour. Keegan didn’t relent, coming up with discussions, although some he had to admit were rather lame. Soon, you asked him specific questions about himself, allowing the conversation to pour throughout the days. He stopped thinking too hard when replying.

As it turned out, you were from the same hometown. You went to different high schools, but had a few mutual friends, although none he knew anymore. He barely kept in contact with anyone back home safe for the handful of his close high school friends.

Now that he reached for his phone far more often on base, grinning at that, it took no time for people to notice the newfound habit.

“We need to tell command someone’s hardly working.” Ajax nudged Kick, nodding at Keegan at the far end of the rec room. “He keeps looking at that one selfie.”

He chuckled. “If it’s too good to be true, it probably is. Don’t get catfished, bro.”

“Or ghosted.” Ajax roared in laughter. He had no business sounding so proud of his pun.

Keegan’s eyes narrowed at them before looking back down at his phone. He wasn’t going to let his buddies stop him from sending you the What kind of bread are you? quiz.

At night, it’d also become a routine to text. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but it grew to be the highlight of his day. He could unwind and laugh with you without having to wait long to have you text back. His bed felt less empty, a little less cold.

“I’d really like to meet you. You’re wonderful,” he said longingly at his phone.

He knew he wanted to after the third day, but didn’t initiate a date in fear of moving too fast and appalling you. But after over a week, with his next deployment inching closer, he’d grown impatient and a bit mad at himself for overthinking the matter. He didn’t remember asking anyone on a date being that unnerving.

Unprompted, your name flashed across his screen, sending his heart racing. Keegan sat up and cleared his throat before answering.

“Hey,” he said with as much smoothness as he could muster.

“Hi, Keegan.”

He could hear the smile in your voice, and he prayed he had even a fraction of the effect you had on him, on you.

“I was wondering if you’re into soccer?”

His brows furrowed. Hell no, he wasn’t at all.

“You want to watch the World Cup screening with me Saturday night?”

But for you? Well for you, he was the biggest fan in town.

“Sure,” he answered immediately. He couldn’t believe his ears. Was it Christmas already?

“For dinner, there’s a taco truck I like near the sports bar, if you’d like to try.”

He tried not to smile too much, but he was failing miserably. He was two seconds away from puking out the butterflies in his stomach.

“Sounds great,” he breathed. “I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

“Me too.” Your easy voice calmed him.

Kick’s comment crossed his mind. He stilled for a moment and decided he didn’t care what you looked like. The little of you he got to know the past week was enough to get him hooked.

“Well, I only wanted to ask that. I’m going to bed.”

“So soon?”

You let out a small laugh. Oh, he wanted to stay on the phone all night.

“Talk to you again tomorrow, okay? Send me more quizzes.”

After you hung up, he bit down a silly grin as he pulled up your photos again.

The following night, struck with a sudden burst of confidence, Keegan called when you were both in bed. He’d expected the pauses on his end (which was why he always preferred texting), but you didn’t seem to mind. At least he knew you weren’t opposed to talking to him. You stayed on the line for half an hour, your laughter lulled his reeling mind.

Saturday couldn’t have come sooner. He’d shaved that morning and put on some cologne before taking way too long to pick an outfit. He hoped it didn’t look like he was trying too hard.

You declined his offer to pick you up. He didn’t take it personally - he was a patient man after all. But when he’d arrived a little too early, he started to lose his cool the longer he leaned on the streetlamp.

He had to do a double take when he caught sight of you walking towards him. Oh, look at the way you lit up, your smile the same brilliant one like in your photos. You were in those delightful jeans again, your hair bouncing to your steps. He straightened up and met you halfway.

“Hi,” you said when you got to him.

“Hey.” His smile didn’t waver. “You look great.”

You took the words out of his lips, the words that he already had so few of. This was the opposite of catfish because you were far prettier in real life. He needed you to hold his hand because he wasn’t going to look where he was going.

He couldn’t wait to brag to Kick and Ajax.

You looked up at him, eyes bright. “Thank you. You look nice yourself.”

He followed you to join the short queue. He stole a glance as you ordered.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said to the cook, giving your hand a gentle nudge when you tried to pay.

First skin contact. Innocent enough.

But why did it get so warm all of a sudden? He hoped he wasn’t sweating. Fuck, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he shove them in his pockets? How close was the acceptable distance to stand next to you?

Well, he certainly stood close enough for you to catch a faint waft of his cologne.

You meant it when you said he looked good. He wore a light jacket over a black shirt, light washed jeans and sneakers. His jet black hair was styled, a little longer than in his photos. The way he stood with his hands in his pockets accentuated his build, his watch a nice touch.

Sure, curiosity got you at first. It quickly came to light that he didn’t recognise you – granted you used a nickname – but you found it amusing nonetheless. You didn’t even mean it to get that far but after talking to him, you couldn’t help but want more.

Dating was always daunting; putting your heart on the line like that rendered you vulnerable. It wasn’t that he didn’t reciprocate – his company was delightful, but whatever you had between you felt stagnant. You thought your initial assumption was right: he wasn’t looking for anything more. Was this a mistake after all?

You sat on the bench nearby, the drinks between you. You took two bites before you stalled.

Your face twisted. “Why’s this hot?”

“Is it? Mine isn’t at all.”

“It is ridiculously hot.” You blinked the tears away.

“Can’t be. Let me try.”

You handed him the taco, instead he grabbed your wrist and leaned in for a bite.

He gave you an amused smile. “It’s not hot at all. Here, I’ll have yours.”

By now, a few drops of sweat had broken out of your forehead. You didn’t question it when he swapped the paper plates on your thighs and took a huge bite.

It wasn’t supposed to be hot! This was so uncool, at your first meeting at that. Your gaze trained on the ground as you took a small bite of his which actually tasted normal. When you looked up, it was his turn to frown.

“Wait. It is.” He put the taco down. ”It is hot.”

“I told you!”

“Oh God. Oh shit,” he hissed, scrambling for his drink. “Why is it so hot?”

You stifled a giggle. “They must have put the wrong sauce in mine, because yours tastes fine.”

“My tongue had never known such pain. What the hell is in this thing?” He continued gulping down his drink. “Oh no, it’s getting worse.” He sniffled before shoving the last half into his mouth.

“You know you don’t have to eat it, right?” You busted into laughter as he chew with all his might. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

His brows knitted, the agony in his watery eyes as clear as day. You handed him a serviette.

“That’s inhumane, but I’m a man of my word,” he said between hisses, wiping at his forehead. “My mouth is on fire. I need to inhale fire extinguisher.”

You could only offer him your drink which he gladly chugged. Still giggling, you finished your meal before making your way to the bar.

“I’m sorry, that was really embarrassing.” He grimaced through his drying tears, forehead still damp. “But at least you’re laughing. I like it when you laugh.”

You wanted to kiss him right then.

Keegan was the first man to make you willingly lose sleep in a long time, but his inaction didn’t sit right with you. Self-doubt inevitably crept up - maybe you simply weren’t his type, but you were too hooked to not at least shoot your shot despite your mounting fear of rejection. Your heart lodged in your throat when you called him that night.

Oh but his voice was so calm and soothing, and what for? He got you hanging onto every word - some straight up sounded like he was purring. Like now, he had to lean in closer and closer to talk over the noise as the bar continued to fill up. The deep rumble of his laughter so close in your ear got you biting your lip.

You didn’t want to like him so much, but here you were smiling non-stop the past hour. He’d taken his jacket off, his sturdy arms on display as he lied back. Now that was the highlight of his outfit. It didn’t help that he kept looking at you like that either; blue eyes piercing, brows striking with a cool smile.

It was unfair how effortlessly charming he was, like it was simply an unfortunate by product of being Keegan Russ, like he didn’t even mean it.

Well, evidently, Keegan was literally sweating about the humiliating incident. He sincerely hoped you wouldn’t excuse yourself to the bathroom to stand him up, but the smile hadn’t left your pretty face ever since. That was a good sign right?

Halfway into the first half, he extended his arm along the back of your seat, eyes still on the screen pretending to not notice the way your lips curled in amusement. You dragged your chair against his, thighs touching now. His fist clenched when you placed your hand on his knee.

He was secretly glad this was your first date – if he could even call it that. At least there was no pressure to keep making conversation and he could focus on your company, which he thoroughly enjoyed thus far. Was wrapping his arm around your waist an appropriate next move? He itched to be closer.

“How long have you been on Tinder?” You turned to him during halftime.

“A few months now.”

“Any luck?”

He looked away, shaking his head. “I don’t get a lot of matches, and when I do - even after many weeks of talking… Well as it turned out, people just aren’t very interested in dating long distance.”

When his eyes flicked up and met your sympathetic look, he wondered if he shouldn’t have been so honest.

“You? Any luck so far?” he asked quickly.

“I went on a few dates with someone who looked an awful lot like my first crush.” You let out a small laugh. “But that’s all. It didn’t work out.”

A speck of jealousy flickered in his chest. “Tell me about him. Your first crush.”

“Well, I was a late bloomer. It was in high school, he was a sophomore when I was a freshman.”

“Handsome dude?”

“Yes, but I actually never spoke to him.” You tilted your head and smiled. “Well, I did once, kind of. I don’t know what possessed me, but one day I walked up to him and gave him a bar of chocolate. He said thanks, and that was it.”

You looked over him. The crowd had started to move towards the bar

“I’ll get us more drinks before the wait gets too long.” You stood up.

Keegan perked up; he wasn’t going to miss his chance. When you came back, he’d mustered all his courage to tug on your wrist in the direction of his parted thighs. There was a glint in your eye as you indulged and he snaked his arm behind you, hand on his knee. You had a playful smile on your lips when you moved it to your waist and wrapped your arm around his neck.

He leaned onto your shoulder, his chest pressing against your side. He watched the way your eyes transfixed on the screen, how your glass would freeze against your lower lip at times. He couldn’t help smiling when you tensed up whenever someone got close to scoring a goal. His other arm wrapped around your waist.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off you when the bar erupted in cheers. You turned to him with a proud grin. Oh, your lips were just right there. He wasn’t going to survive the night.

Your favourite team won and you left the bar beaming. You were glad he offered to walk you home because you still wanted his presence. Your fingers curled around his forearm.

“I didn’t get to ask about your first crush.”

He chuckled to himself. “We were in fifth grade.”

“You ever told her?”

He shook his head. “She hated me. My friends used to tease her about her weight. I didn’t join in but I hung around anyway. I guess when you’re young you do dumb things to fall in.”

You remembered the raucous boys he hung out with.

“Over the summer, I convinced myself to finally say something, but she’d moved away.”

Had he not looked at where you were going, he’d have seen the shock on your face. Your heart skipped a beat. Is he talking about me?

“What was she like?”

“My memory’s fuzzy now, but she had two other girlfriends they teased too but she always stood up for them. Oh, was sassy too.” He smiled. “I used to stand around to overhear her jokes. If I laughed along, she’d stare me down until I left.”

You laughed, too hard for someone who supposedly wasn’t involved in the story. You remembered that too, the way prepubescent Keegan Russ and his dumb bowl cut scrambled away when you gave him bombastic side eye.

You couldn’t believe it. He had a crush on you?

“I think had I spoken up, we’d have been good friends.” He glanced at you with a smile. “You know, when I heard she’d moved away, I came home crying and my mum smacked me upside the head. Told me not to hang around with the shithead boys anymore.”

You stopped in your tracks and took your hand off his arm. “You really don’t recognise me?”

He turned to you, brows furrowed. “What?”

“You used to paste Superman stickers on my Barbie backpack.”

Keegan’s eyes widened. He turned away, a hand over his face, laughing out of pain. No fucking way. He wanted to disappear.

You chuckled. “A new one whenever I managed to peel the previous one off. Said they were boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I don’t recognise you at all.” He lowered his hand. “But you don’t even have the same name?”

“It’s the internet. You’re the weird one for using your real name.”

His brows rose. “You knew it was me all along?”

“Right away.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” He shook his head. “That’s just mean.”

“Was wondering if you remembered, but we were kids. I’m not surprised you didn’t recognise me or forgot.”

The corner of his lips pulled. “Well, I didn’t forget.” And probably won’t. You haven’t left my mind the past week.

And that voice was back, of course. He definitely knew what he was doing, and still you couldn’t get enough.

“Wait, no. Is this it?” He frowned. “Did you talk to me the entire time- meet me just for this?”

“No! No. I wanted to see you.” The edge in his voice stung more than you expected. “I… I didn’t think you’d even want to, because you didn’t make a move.”

His cold eyes searched yours, making your heart ache. If only he knew how much he made you smile, how many times a day you wished he’d replied when you checked your phone. You never wanted to see that pain in his face again.

“Please don’t lead me on,” he finally said, his gaze softening. “Not when you know you don’t want this.”

You wanted to hold him. “I promise I won’t. I know it’s early to say, but I want to try.”

He took a small step towards you. “Are you sure you like me?”

Suddenly he was once again the young Keegan who couldn’t meet your eyes, asking if you wanted to share the last of his favourite chocolate with him.

“Are you?”

“Positive.” His icy blues were back on you. You saw the wary hopefulness in them.

You closed the gap, arms wrapping around his waist. You let out a small sigh as your head rested on his shoulder.

“May I see you again?” He pulled you closer, his voice lighter now. “I want to go on a date. A real one, with my first crush with the death stare.”

You laughed against his neck.

Keegan hated getting ahead of himself, not knowing how many more times his hopes could be shattered before the shards got to small to meet again. But as he held you, he let his mind drift, just a little further, just this time.

With his eyes closed, he thought that maybe in the future - perhaps soon enough, someone would be waiting at the base to welcome him back with a smile and an embrace just like this.

More Keegan: fake dating, werewolf AU

A/N: I think the song represents the uncertainty in the initial stages of falling, when you keep trying to swallow the hopefulness, cautious of each other’s intentions as to not get hurt. It takes bravery handing your heart over to a stranger, unsure if they’ll just stomp on your feelings or be the best thing ever.

@sofasoap @b1rds3ye @macravishedbymactavish @shadofireshinobi @two-gh0sts

#codholiday2023 #call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #keegan x reader #call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ x you #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod fluff #call of duty fluff #keegan russ fluff #keegan russ #keegan p russ #brian bloom u my fave tuker tambah dong

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under-the-stars-au · 2 months ago

Note

interesting you know of the echo flowers, Isabeau, when did you learn about them

They have been in the Underground for a while now, of course they know about echo flowers x)

___________ This answer took a ridiculous amount of time to make ! But finally it's here, the next ones I planned to answer might take less time to make It may not be ideal to make such long answers, but I like taking time to give some lore and make some funny interactions too

___________ THE DIALOGUES IN CASE YOU CAN'T READ MY HANDWRITING 1 :

Isa : Well, it's kinda obvious, right ? A monster told us 'bout it ! Isa : We were just heading to this place after passing through the wacky skeleton 2 :

Isa : We all agreed when we left the ruins to avoid interactions with monsters as much as possible Isa : We need to protect ourselves and the kid by being as discreet as possible 3 :

Isa : But Sif... doesn't care at all. He just approach them and talk to them like they are buddies ! Isa : We tried to stop him at first, but after a while we just let that slide Isa : So, when we arrived at "Waterfall", he approached a monster and asked them about those weird flowers 4 : Isa : And they answered them with a big smile Isa : They said that those things were called "echo flowers", and that they repeat the last thing they heard on loop 5 : Isa : Talking back to each other until it turns into meaningless mumbles 6 : Bonnie : Eeesh, that's creepy Mirabelle : Oh Change, I'm having chills just looking at it, it's, it's... 7 : Mirabelle : The coolest thing I've even seen in my life ! Isa : He, it reminds you of those books you love huh ? 8 : Siffrin : BONNIE HAS A CRAB FACE 9 : *echo flowers repeat that last line* 10 : Bonnie : GAASP YOU ! Isabeau laugh loudly Mirabelle : Siffrin !! That was so mean ! Odile : Okay, okay kids, it was funny and all but we should get going 11 : Bonnie : ZA DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE CHOPSTICKS ! 12 : *echo flowers repeat again* 13 : Isa : W-Wha ? I didn't even said anything... Bonnie : HA ! Now all the monsters know that you're a big baby Za ! Mirabelle : Both of you STOP IT Odile : You kids clearly have no clue what "being quiet" means. Stop this or we'll die Siffrin (inner dialogue) : No matter how many times you bring him into this mess, it's always funny 14 : Isa : Aaaand that's the tell of our "echo flowers adventure" Mirabelle : Even though talking to monsters can be dangerous since they can take our souls, I really like learning more about them 15 : Odile: Could you tell me why you are answering those questions ? It's not like those flowers can hear you, or even answer back Isa : He, who knows ? Maybe that tiny skeleton guy can actually hear us through those. And I dare you to tell me that it isn't funny to answer to weirdly specific questions coming from a flower Mirabelle : It is really funny. You should try answering too Madame 16 : Siffrin (inner dialogue) : But it does seem like they can hear and answer back. They wouldn't have ask about the flowers if they didn't. Strange... Odile : I WON'T participate in the pranks and games of that "tiny skeleton guy". I am still incredibly annoyed by this monster

Thank you for your patience <3

#art #underthestars #isat #in stars and time #in stars and time crossover #undertale #undertale crossover #undertale au #undertale fandom #undertale ask blog #isat crossover #isat fanart #isat isabeau #isat mirabelle #isat siffrin #isat spoilers #isat bonnie #isat boniface #isat odile

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hellodropbear · 3 months ago

Text

it's time. (III)

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter

part I here and part II here

~~~~~~

The preseason is long. Everybody knows that. When it first starts, everyone is excited. Relaxed, refreshed, ready to start again. By the time it ends, everyone is sick of each other, ready and waiting for the less intensive training schedule that comes with the busy season.

They'd rather play two games a week with minimal training than endure full days of gruelling strength, fitness and technical exercises in the hot Spanish sun.

The nerves and anticipation started to grow around two weeks ago when Jonatan first mentioned some film work and specific analyses of particular players from Valencia, and they had only grown and grown, the excitement and nerves a complicated mix in the dressing room.

Even Isabel had noticed a difference, her mother more nervous than most, wanting to prove herself again to silence the storm that began to rain down on them as her interview with Alexia was released almost two weeks ago.

The responses had been overwhelming and Mapi found herself even more stressed at the prospect of all those eyes on her, trying to decide whether or not she was good enough to be in the selective squad after so much time away.

The centre back had been all over the place and she would find herself in tears as she scrolled and scrolled on twitter, on instagram. On all the platforms that they had explicitly told her not to open, the platforms that would always produce the most hatred.

It was Ingrid who found out about it, knocking on Mapi's door for the third time that week, completely surprised at the tear stained face and red, puffy eyes that greeted her with a weak smile.

Her first thought, a naive one, was that something was wrong with Isabel, unaware that she was perfectly content, tucked away and asleep in her cot.

But it didn't take long for the Norwegian to realise that if it was Isabel, Mapi would have done something, she would be somewhere or the child would be curled up in her mother's arms, crying softly as Ingrid had seen so many times before.

"Mapi, what's wrong?"

Her words were soft, the exact level of softness that the Spaniard had been craving all night.

But, as usual, she refused to admit that the Norwegian was providing her with what she needed. It couldn't be that simple. Ingrid wasn't her girlfriend, she couldn't just rely on her like that.

Instead, she shook her head, turning around and walking away. She left the door open though, so Ingrid knew she could follow her into the messy apartment.

Her heart dropped and her eyes widened as she took in the messy array of clothes, toys and shoes strewn all over the floor, the complete antithesis of what the apartment was when she last visited, only two days ago.

"Sorry for the... mess." Mapi couldn't look her in the eye, too ashamed of how quickly everything had gone downhill.

It meant she didn't see the brunette shaking her head, brushing off the apology.

"Isabel is down for her nap, I just had... a moment of weakness." She chuckled dryly. "I'll gather myself in just a minute."

"Mapi..."

Ingrid's voice was so soft, so full of care and worry that the Spaniard practically recoiled, flinching at the calmness.

She shook her head though, refusing to accept any of the help or care that may have been on offer.

"No, no. Just give me a minute." She stabilised herself on the back of a chair, moving to fill up a glass of water and promptly chugging it, sighing deeply once it was all gone.

Ingrid shook her head, moving into the lounge and picking up some of the toys that she knew to go in the chest on the right, the shoes that lived on the rack and the clothes she could tell were dirty to go in the laundry hamper in the corner of the room.

"You don't have to clean up after me." Mapi stood in the kitchen, staring out at where the Norwegian moved quickly and quietly. "It's my fault I've become a slob."

Ingrid's head whipped up at her words, shaking her head quickly.

"You're not a slob, Mapi. It's just some clothes and some toys. You have a baby daughter, you're allowed to have a mess."

The Spaniard sighed.

"I can't use her as an excuse."

As if on cue, the baby monitor went off, the familiar babbling filling the room. Mapi sighed exhaustedly, switching it off and walking in the direction of the nursery.

"Um... you don't have to clean up, you don't have to stay. It's too early for her to be up so I might be a while trying to get her back to sleep." Mapi knew she wasn't going to be getting her daughter back to sleep until the night fell.

It was another downside of her growing up. She was almost 15 months old, which meant less sleeping in the day and more sleeping at night.

And Mapi didn't know what to do, because those two hour daytime naps gave her the time to sort herself out, to do the chores, to rest, to relax.

Things that weren't possible with an excited toddler rushing around and requiring her full attention.

"Hey my Is." Her voice was weak as she sat down beside the cot, sticking her fingers through the bars as the child giggled and played with them.

"Mami!"

"Aren't you tired, my lion?" She smiled gently at the child who didn't fail to notice the puffiness of her mother's eyes, the tears that had stained her cheeks. She frowned, trying to reach for Mapi's face.

She was incredibly perceptive, for a child so young. She noticed when her mother was sad or anxious and while she couldn't say anything, she would be extra clingy, with hugs and kisses to try and make her feel better.

Maybe it was more intuition than perception, but nonetheless, Mapi was grateful for the little face that lit up her entire world.

"No sleepy, Mami." She reached her arms upwards, prompting her mother to pick her up and take her out of the cot.

Mapi smiled weakly, reluctantly obliging and pulling the girl into her arms before sitting back down in her spot on the floor, holding Isabel close.

"Hello Mami." She giggled, standing in Mapi's lap and wrapping her arms around her neck, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Hello gorgeous girl." She let her daughter rest her small face in her neck, their arms wrapped around each other as Mapi let more tears roll down her face.

Sometimes, Mapi didn't know where all the tears were coming from. She didn't always feel sad enough to cry, but they also weren't happy, like the tears she had cried after her first training. It was the emotion, she realised. There were so many different emotions that sometimes she was just so overcome by them all. The love she had for Isabel, the grief she was still experiencing, the fear that plagued her days, all carried on her shoulders like a bag of bricks.

She didn't know how to release them, so she would carry them with her and experience minor breakdowns like these every once in a while. Usually triggered by something, but the anxieties were almost always softened by the small little face that would beam at her, kissing her on the cheek and hugging her closely.

Because how could Mapi be sad when she had her adorable daughter right there with her?

She let herself cry on the floor of her daughter's room for a bit longer, before wiping her tears away, standing up and going back outside to the lounge room.

She expected to see Ingrid sitting there on the couch waiting, she didn't think she would have left. The room was spotless though, a pile of clean clothes folded neatly on the end of the couch, everything else away and rearranged - exactly how it was before.

What she didn't expect to see was the Norwegian scrolling through twitter on her phone that she had clearly left open on the kitchen table when she left to check on Isabel.

The brunette looked up when she heard the footsteps, her eyes wide and nervous. Twitter was open, the distinctive black screen was easily recognisable, even from her distance.

"You've been reading this stuff?"

Her voice shook, and Mapi shrugged, nodding anxiously.

"But why?"

The Spaniard took a deep breath, relishing in the comfort her child provided.

"It's been a long month. I wanted to see if people actually wanted me to come back or if it was all just for nothing. Turns out they don't really care anymore."

Ingrid thought her heart may have split in two right then at how broken Mapi's voice sounded.

It wasn't true, that they didn't care. So many people did, so many people were so excited for Barcelona to get their defender back, but of course the negative messages were the ones that Mapi would remember, the ones that she would think about as she tried to sleep at night.

"They do care, Mapi." She breathed out lightly. "And if they don't, then who cares? It's your people that matter, not randoms on the internet who don't know the first thing about you."

And, for the third time that night, Mapi had cried.

And Ingrid was right there, holding her as she sank to the floor, a very confused child in her arms.

~~~~~~

It was the first game back. Mapi was terrified.

She was starting, and Jonatan had told her that he would take her off at half time if she needed it, but they all hoped she would be able to play all the way through.

Her daughter was fast asleep, her apartment was completely silent. But she was up, sat at her kitchen table and drinking a coffee having gotten out of bed at 6:30. Alexia was arriving at 7:30, and they would leave the apartment at 7:45 to get on the coach to Valencia.

It was an away game, unfortunately, which meant they had to stay in Valencia overnight after their evening game. It was just another thing adding onto Mapi's long list of nerves, as she had never been away with Isabel and the toddler had never slept in one of the portable cribs that the club had purchased for this specific reason.

It was when she was packing her daughter's bag that she heard the knock on the door, frowning as she looked at her watch and read 7:15. She knew it wouldn't be Alexia, she was almost always exactly on time.

Mapi was not at all surprised when she saw the Norwegian standing outside, a large smile on her face. The antithesis to the Spaniard, really, clearly excited and rearing to go for her first ever game in blaugrana.

"Isabel is still asleep and I want to keep her down for as long as possible because it's going to be a long day." Mapi whispered, allowing Ingrid to pull her into a hug.

It was safe to say the two had grown... closer in the past few weeks, ever since that day Mapi had been found crying in her apartment.

But if Mapi was honest, it was ever since their first walk together that they had become friends, and everyone could see how close they became almost immediately after meeting.

Maybe it was the daily walks with Isabel, maybe it was the carpooling to training or the endless coffee dates that were simply disguised as Mapi showing Ingrid around Barcelona, presenting her with the best places to see and the best coffees to drink.

It was a mere coincidence that she was still saving the best till last, definitely not just so she had a reason to persuade the Norwegian to continue coming on the walks, going to the hole in the wall cafes.

Although, if she really thought about it, Mapi would realise that Ingrid was staying for more than just new knowledge about her new city.

Because she may have come for that, but she didn't need to stay at the coffee shops for so long, she didn't need to go on the long walks every day, playing with the small child for hours on end as she tired herself out.

She didn't need to invite the mother-daughter duo over for dinner under the false pretence that she wanted to improve her Spanish. It was clear to everyone but Mapi that she just wanted to spend more time with the two people she had grown so fond of. It was an added bonus that she could help Mapi out at the same time.

She could sense Mapi's nerves as she stood outside the door, wrapping her arms around her and smiling.

"It's going to go well, today. You have to know it."

She broke the hug and looked the Spaniard up and down.

"It'll be good." It was a confirmation, and despite the lack of credibility, it made Mapi feel a whole lot better.

"Thanks, Ingrid."

They moved away from the door and Ingrid placed her bag on the floor, moving to the kitchen table where the Spaniard had been half way through preparing some breakfast for the toddler to wake up to, as well as a few snacks for throughout the day.

"They said they'd cater for her at meal times but she eats smaller meals and has snacks too. I just thought it was best to be prepared." Mapi seemed anxious as she explained her decision making to Ingrid, and the Norwegian knew how nervous she was about the whole away trip. Both the idea of playing again and also how her daughter would manage the change in environment without her mother right there at all times for the comfort she might need.

"I can finish this up, you go sort yourself out and then you can relax. You seem tired, Mapi, and it's only quarter past seven."

"I'm fine, really. Thank you, Ingrid, thanks so much."

She rolled her eyes, smiling softly.

"Stop thanking me! Now just go, I'm all good in here."

Mapi smiled, blushing furiously and rushing out of the kitchen and into her own room, quickly gathering up the things she needed for the next 24 hours, finding her training gear and having a record fast shower, changing and re-emerging right in time to wake up Isabel.

She opened the door as softly as she could, creeping towards the crib, reaching in and picking up the baby who stirred softly at the sudden movement.

"Hey my lion cub." She tickled her chest lightly, easily waking her up. "Good morning gorgeous."

"Mami?" Still groggy, the baby reached her arms up, grabbing at her mothers skin.

"It's wake up time now, Is."

Slowly waking up, the baby stretched and yawned, settling easily in Mapi's arms, her head resting in her neck.

"She's still tired." Mapi smiled at Ingrid, wandering into the kitchen.

"Her breakfast is all done."

"Thank you, Ingrid. Alexia will be here soon as well. Do you want to carpool with us?"

Ingrid nodded easily.

"That'd be great. Thanks."

She placed her sleepy daughter in the high chair, sitting right beside her as she became more awake and alert. Alexia knocked on the door as she was feeding Isabel, who still hadn't kept her eyes open for long enough to realise that Ingrid was even in their kitchen.

"Morning!" The captain was characteristically chipper, moving quickly to sit beside her best friend and niece, ruffling the curly head of hair on the child and planting a kiss on her head.

"And hello my baby Isabel."

"Ale?" She was still confused, apparently, only realising it was Alexia when her face was directly in her line of vision.

"She's only just woken up." Mapi smiled softly, finishing up with Isabel's bowl of scrambled eggs.

"She'll probably fall straight asleep again as soon as I put her down in her carseat." She rolled her eyes, wiping the mess from Isabel's face and picking her up and out of the chair.

It seemed, however, that the baby had woken up enough to recognise that her mother's arms were not the ones she wanted to be held in, instead reaching out for the midfielder who had disappeared out of her eyesight.

"Ale?"

Rolling her eyes, Mapi wordlessly handed off her child, instead picking up the bags she had left on the floor as her best friend cooed over the tired child.

They were in the car not 5 minutes later and as predicted, Isabel was almost immediately fast asleep with Mapi's hand in her lap, a comforting warmth in the car seat.

She didn't even stir as Mapi carried her from the car to the bus, Isabel's head rested on her shoulder as she gently lowered herself into the seat.

They had about an hour and a half left of the journey when she woke up, shifting uncomfortably in Mapi's dead arms, receiving a kiss on her head before her mother spoke to her.

"Hello there sleepyhead."

"Mami." She whispered quietly, her head poking out from it's place in Mapi's neck and observing her surroundings.

"We're on a bus, Is. We're going to Valencia!"

She sighed sleepily, moving her body so she was sat down on her mother's lap rather than being held up in her arms. It seemed from her new spot she could see more people, instantly recognising the thick head of brown hair only two rows in front.

"Ingrid?"

"She's just over there, sitting with Fridolina!"

Mapi smiled and pointed, but Isabel frowned, not understanding why the Norwegian wasn't with her and her mother like usual.

She stood up in Mapi's lap, stabilised by her mother, and spoke louder to get Ingrid's attention.

"Ingrid!" She tried a bit louder. "Ingrid!"

It was then that the Norwegian whipped her head around, making eye contact with Isabel and giving her a big smile.

"Mami!" She sat back down, proud of herself for completing her mission, smiling at Mapi's soft laughter.

They were both surprised when the midfielder sat down in the spare seat beside them though, Isabel practically throwing herself into Ingrid's arms.

"Hello Isabel!"

Ingrid's smile was infectious, and Mapi couldn't help but beam as her daughter looked up and greeted the Norwegian with a toothy grin on her face.

~~~~~~

"So... what's the deal with you and Ingrid?"

Alexia had followed Mapi into her room, throwing herself on the centre back's bed.

"There's no deal." She shrugged, passing her daughter over to Alexia and trying to figure out how to open the portable crib that had been left in the cupboard for her to use.

Her back was facing the midfielder, so she didn't see the eye roll, nor hear the amused chuckle.

"Is she just a good cook then?"

Mapi was still struggling with the cot, so she didn't really think about Alexia's words before responding.

"No- what?" She was exasperated, it was evident in her voice and in the way she spun around with a frown on her face.

"She just-" Mapi's eyes fell to the floor almost embarrassed as she continued. "She wants to improve her Spanish."

Alexia stopped herself from laughing.

"So you speak Spanish with her when she has you over for dinner?"

The centre back's cheeks flushed red very quickly as she responded.

"Well, not exactly. Sometimes I'll say some Spanish words, but it's easier to communicate in English."

This time, Alexia didn't stop herself from laughing and Mapi glared at the sound.

"No, no. I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh." She gathered herself, only slightly, before continuing. "But Mapi, is it not obvious? She goes on your walks, you've taken her to pretty much every coffee shop in Barcelona. She invites you for dinner and even your daughter loves her."

Mapi looked at her in confusion.

"How do you know all this?"

"Frido talks."

She rolled her eyes, giving up on the cot and sighing, flopping down onto the bed.

"She's a good friend, and it's convenient that she lives just downstairs. But Ale, don't turn this into something it's not, please. I don't have time to be dating, you know this, we've been through this and you even agreed with me!"

Alexia sighed softly, disappointed because it was true. Back when Isabel was 6 months old and Mapi was in the worst spot she'd ever seen her in. They'd been discussing dating and Mapi had confessed that she felt too busy, that she'd feel guilty to Luis if she started putting attention on a girlfriend more than her daughter.

Although certain that wouldn't happen, Alexia had reluctantly agreed, promising that she would support Mapi through any decision she wanted to make, through any situation she had to go through.

Now, though, that reluctant agreement had come back to bite her because Mapi now is so different to that Mapi from eight months ago. This Mapi was like the Mapi from before, only stronger, more emotional. A better person, Alexia would say, but that was just her own opinion.

"That conversation happened months ago, Mapi. It's different now, you're not just rotting on your sofa like before."

The centre back thought briefly about the incident a couple weeks ago, when Ingrid found her in a disgusting apartment, tears in her eyes as she slowly turned into a slob. The thought alone was embarrassing so she banished it from her mind for the time being.

"Alexia, I just... I can't. She's a really nice person, she's gorgeous too but any person with eyes would say that. I need to have my full focus on Isabel and relationships go two ways. Yes, I'd get support from her, but I also would need to support her because she has her own baggage too. She's just moved countries again and doesn't know Spanish, has no friends here other than Frido. I don't have time for it all, I can't lose focus of what's important."

Her eyes brimmed with tears but she used her hand to harshly brush them away.

"I understand and I respect what you're saying, but you need to talk to her, because you can't lead her on. You don't know what she's thinking."

Except she did, everyone did.

Everyone knew Ingrid liked Mapi. Everyone knew Mapi liked Ingrid.

"I will at some point." Mapi reached over and plucked her daughter from Alexia's arms, basking in the comfort that the toddler easily provided her with.

"Good, and I will fix your crib for you because I'm sure it's not that hard." She rolled her eyes, standing up and walking to the crib, propping it up almost immediately.

Mapi scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Adopt her then, if you're so good at it."

~~~~~~

Isabel was with Camila, in a back room with her toys and snacks, easily entertained and distracted from the absence of her mother.

Her mother was in the tunnel, her stomach churning uncontrollably as she lined up for the first time, not ready to run out there once again.

There were so many things that could go right, but all Mapi was concerned about was what could go wrong. How this could go wrong, what the repercussions would be.

But sooner than she would have liked, it was time.

She was walking out, an unfamiliar child's hand in hers. She was lining up, looking out at the crown that was mostly filled with Valencia fans.

She was shaking the hands of all the Valencia players, recognising the shock in some of their faces that she was right there, in the flesh. All fit, returned to play.

She was lining up in the group photo, an anxious smile covering her face.

She was being hugged by Alexia who wished her the most luck in a covered up whisper, reminding her how proud she was of her.

She was in the huddle, words from the captains going in one ear and right out the other as she thought exclusively about all the possible outcomes of the next 90 minutes.

She was jogging over to her starting position, doing a few last minute stretches before she waited for kick off.

She watched the coin toss, she watched as everyone else took their positions.

The game kicked off, and she was running.

She touched the ball for the first time, and it was like magic.

Suddenly, she didn't feel so disconnected from the game, finally focusing in on her technique, the tactics that she knew like the back of her hand.

And just like that, Mapi felt alive. Out there on the field, running around to her heart's content, blocking shots, pulling dangerous slide tackles. Adrenaline pumping through her, only spurred on by the overwhelming cheers from the crowd, she felt like she could do anything.

It was like that first day back at training again, except she felt 100 times better because the weight of nerves that she had been carrying for this day had finally been lifted off her shoulders. She felt like she could finally breathe, she wasn't so trapped inside her own body.

She was proving so many people wrong but more importantly, she was proving herself wrong. She realised that she could do this, that she had done it.

What so many people had said was impossible, something that barely any people had expected to happen. She had returned to her sport, almost two years off. A baby and enough heartbreak for a lifetime later and she was back.

On a high, some may say, all through the first half.

The dressing room was a rave at half time, relieved at the positive score, but thrilled about how well Mapi's return was going.

The energy was high as they ran back out, and their joy was reflected in the dominant scoreline at the end of the match.

Alexia almost bowled Mapi over with the weight of her hug at the final whistle, and Mapi laughed as she was lifted and spun around.

It was a perfect game, a scoreline of 6-0. Mapi had been instrumental in the win and it emphasised just how important she was to this team.

Pride exuded from the captain, having been there throughout the whole journey. Mapi's support, her rock through everything and the centre back felt content, finally, in her embrace.

It was then that they both realised she had done it; she had achieved something that she didn't even consider being a possibility 14 months ago.

The whole team was full of congratulations for the centre back, hugs and back claps, smiles and encouraging words and Mapi was completely and utterly basking in it.

Her mind was full of thoughts, finally in touch with her emotions.

She thought of her daughter, relaxed and happy with Camila.

She thought of Luis, and hoped that he would be proud of her.

She thought of her parents who were watching from Zaragoza, making a mental note to call them when she was alone in her room with Isabel.

She didn't have to think of Alexia, who was practically glued to her side, a giddy smile on her face.

But when she thought of Ingrid, she felt nothing but guilt.

Because Alexia was right, she had been leading her on. The walks, the coffee shops, the dinners. They were dates, there was no other way to define them.

And she couldn't do that to her, she couldn't do that to the person who had become such a huge support in her life.

So when she was hugged by Ingrid, she didn't say much. Listening as the Norwegian congratulated her, smiling in appreciation. She hoped that Ingrid understood how grateful she was.

It took maybe 10 minutes for the centre back to figure out what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it.

In hindsight, she probably should have thought about it longer. She definitely shouldn't have acted on the thoughts that came with her post match high.

Because the look on Ingrid's face as she walked away was something Mapi would never forget, etched in her brain for the rest of time.

"You've been so good to me, Ingrid, and I'm so grateful. But I'm sorry, I can't do this. I can't have a girlfriend."

She had walked away without giving Ingrid the time to speak, leaving her dumbfounded and frozen on the spot.

And Mapi was full of regret, having quickly plummeted from her high as she walked back into the tunnel, Alexia's arm wrapped around her shoulder.

But everything was so much better when she finally got to pick up her daughter, holding her close and smothering her entire head with kisses.

Because everything she does is for Isabel.

Isabel comes first. Always.

~~~~~~

ok i think there will either be one or two more chapters of this story but if you me want to i will write like oneshot type things if i get sent requests or if i get my own inspo

i already have one of the future when isabel is at the olympics (nobody has guessed her sport yet. hint: it's not football or any other team sport) and i have received a few requests that i've started the planning phase for and then they'll be written and edited at some point

but yeah, feel free to send anything, can be in the future or the past or the present. i have a vague idea of how her life will go so i'll adapt requests to suit that but i love hearing from you guys so please don't be shy to send anything in!!!

(please send me requests because I love writing about soft Mapi with a daughter)

thanks for reading and have a good day :)

#mapi leon #ingrid engen #mapi leon x ingrid engen #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fcb femení #woso imagine #alexia putellas

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historicity-was-already-taken · 11 months ago

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I am posting and responding to this ask anonymously as I don't want anyone harassing its sender. This has already been communicated with the person who sent the ask.

I just want to thank you for being a light in the darkness of anti-semitism, especially on this website. I have found I am on this site a lot less ever since it was made clear that other leftists here are more anti-semitic than we ever knew possible, using very specific wording of our own trauma against us (i.e. saying stuff like "colonialism", "genocide/ethnic cleansing", and calling JEWISH PEOPLE Nazis). It feels like, at best, they know Hamas ≠ All or even most Palestinians, but think that they think all JEWS = Bibi; and at worst, agree with Hamas and think of him as some sort of "freedom fighter". So, thank you from one leftist Jew to another, just trying to keep afloat here. ❤️

You are very welcome; it's certainly been overwhelming, and I'm glad this can be a safe space for you.

I do want to push back on some of this ask, though. Specifically in regard to terms such as "colonialism," "apartheid," "genocide," and "ethnic cleansing."

The use of these terms is not inherently anti-Semitic. For a lot of people, these terms are the best ones they have access to describe what they are seeing. I do think such terms as “colonialism” and “apartheid” are overly simple in regard to the last ~3000 years of Jewish history, and that they cast the situation into an alien historical context which dilutes and uncomplicates the all the historical realities at stake, but I truly do not think that all who use these terms do so to cause Jewish people pain.

Further complicating the picture is that terms like "colonialism" aren’t completely wrong. Modern Zionism arose in the context of mid-nineteenth century European large-scale movements towards nationalism (ie, the creation of nation-states) and away from the multi-national empire. Jews—a subject of anti-Semitism and fifth columnist suspicions within those emergent European nations—reacted to all this by joining the nationalism game.

What’s ironic, is that those European Jews who founded contemporary Zionism were reacting to the exclusion and racial hatred with which Gentile Europeans treated them, and then once they had some settlements in Palestine, they deployed similar variants of racial hatred at both the Palestinian Arab population, and Middle Eastern Jewry.

The existence of a distinct people and ethnic group in Palestine before the aliyot were not something the first generation of Zionists were concerned with. Because they were part of the same shitty, white supremacist, pro-imperialistic intellectual European tradition to which they were responding as victimized parties. As time went on and Zionist thought spread across Ashkenazic communities, we can see some variants. Some forms of far-left Zionism in twentieth century Poland, for example, actively built the presence and rights of Palestinian Arabs into their ideology, some of them actively stating that Zionism could not be a success if it necessitated transforming Palestinian Arabs into a group of secondhand citizens and a cheap source of labor in their own home.

Those leftist strands of Zionism tended to be Socialist/Communist in nature, and centered around the idea of life in Eretz Yisrael as one of a series of self-sufficient communes. Thus when the 1930s hit and things start to go bad, the Zionists we see fleeing to Palestine tended to be of the more centrist and far right variants. The left wing, socialist movements, already operating as a collective, had a membership uncomfortable with fleeing to safety while the rest remained behind.

And that same socialist/communal attitude, is why those variants of Zionist thought never made it into the Israeli political mainstream; most of their members and proponents were murdered in the Holocaust in part because they refused to leave their comrades behind. The General Zionists and Zionist Revisionists who rode out the years of the Holocaust in Palestine therefore already had access to the avenues of power which would become important in 1948, when the British Empire shrugged off its responsibilities towards the regions it colonized and destabilized.

Now, as for ethnic cleansing. I can’t sugar-coat this: that’s what the Naqba was. It was ethnic cleansing of Palestinian Arabs from their homes to make way for the Jewish State. The manipulative shit (but still somehow extremely prestigious) youth group I was in taught us that Arabs call it Naqba because they hate Jews and therefore existence of Jews in the Southern Levant was a tragedy, as was the fact that Hitler didn't finish the job.

That’s garbage: it’s called the Naqba because it was ethnic cleansing. And that's not the fault of the Holocaust survivors who made their way to Mandatory Palestine/Israel in the late 1940s--they lacked political power, and were often looked down upon by those who did; the Holocaust as part of Israeli National Mythology wasn't an immediate Thing.

If you spent your formative years around older Jewish folks of A Certain Generation, whose trauma has pretty much placed a permanent block on their ability to see some of what went down in 1948 for what it was, I can’t blame you for having that gut/cognitive dissonance reaction to the use of “ethnic cleansing” in the context of Israel and Palestine. I know those older folks. I loved them. They’re mostly gone now, and I miss them terribly. But their trauma-induced view of everything lives on in the ability of some younger Jews to properly name and understand what it is that happened in 1948.

It was ethnic cleansing.

Further, not only were Palestinian Arabs ethnically cleansed, but the Middle Eastern and North African (MENA) Jews who were forced by their governments to flee their homes of thousands of years and seek refuge in Israel throughout the second half of the twentieth century…the Western and Central European Jews in control of Israel and its institutions treated them like shit too. Hadassah actively stole the babies of Yemeni Jews, told the parents that their children were dead, and rehomed them to Ashkenazic couples. There were death certificates. Members of the Ethiopian Jewish community were forcibly sterilized, and their ongoing treatment by the State is racist and generally atrocious. And this analysis of the relationship between the Israel State, MENA Jewish populations, and different Ashkenazic groups in Israel is horribly short and overly simple.

As for genocide. I honestly don’t know. I do know many people, who are very much not Anti-Semites, who are calling what’s happening in Gaza right now genocide; many of these people are also Jewish. I know many others who refer to the experiences of Palestinians between 1948 and now as a slow genocide. Many of these people are also actively not anti-Semites, and many of them are Jewish.

So these terms, as uncomfortable as they may feel for people within the very specific Jewish generational background I believe we share, are not deployed as anti-Semitic weapons. Nazi comparisons? Yes. Swastikas superimposed over the Star of David? Yes. Very specific hook-nosed Jewish caricatures in relation to Israelis? Yes. Blood libel shit? Yes. These are all anti-Semitic, and are deployed to hurt and retraumatize Jewish people. But the rest are not nearly that simple.

And I didn’t learn this from like, Bad Evil Post-Modern Academics at Columbia University Who Hate Jews; I learned this from doing graduate-level work in the field of Modern Jewish History, and working in Jewish archives; this did not come from outside the building.

Now, as for Hamas as freedom fighters…that’s ignorant at best. Hamas’ charter clearly calls for the global destruction of the Jewish people [ETA: they edited this part out in 2017 for PR purposes], and their actions as rulers are horrifically, violently, homophobic, and seem to be more abut provoking Israel than they are about governing and protecting their people. But as you said, Hamas isn’t all Palestinians, and it’s also not all Palestinians who consider themselves freedom fighters. (A second reader of mine had the following commentary on this paragraph: "Might need a bit more complication around Hamas? I know that's not your area of expertise but it's worth mentioning that they were basically set up to undermine the PLO and what would become the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank. You're right that they aren't representative of all Palestinian thought and resistance, and that they are on some fuck shit.")

So while I’m so glad that blog is a comfort to you, I encourage you to also take a step into some of your discomfort, and ask yourself where it comes from.

No one reading this post has my consent to use it to silence other Jewish people who are in different stages of their journey towards understanding how generational trauma has impacted their ability to grasp all of this. Further, if you choose to attack me for gently calling my people in, you're a piece of shit and I will be mean to you.

#jewish history #israeli history #palestinian history #history of zionism

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itsss4t4n · 8 months ago

Note

Hi!! Could I get some harry hook x male!reader where reader is the eldest child of Anna and Kristoff please? Also maybe reader looks just like his mum but acts like his dad? Thanks and sorry if it's too specific fjdjdjvjs

Always - Harry Hook x male!reader

a/n: I honestly think that reader personaliy is more like anna han kristoff. somehow i really struggled wih that. i lowkey hate this but i still hope you enjoy his <3

warnings: no use of y/n, making out, small fight/angst, ew emotions, I love some good drama, i hate this tbh, not proofread

When Mal decided to open the barrier forever, it was cerainly an adjusment for everyone.

The Vks that came over to auradon were enrolled into auradon prep and all assigned an auradon student to help them settle in and answer any questions they might have.

You weren't the biggest fan of that arrangementt. Not because you didnt like or trust the vks, you were actually quite close with all of the cour four. You just werent a big people person. So having to share your dorm with someone you dont know and most likely having them at your side 24/7? Not ideal for you.

Especially when you heard who you were going to be paired with.

But Mal had basically begged you to help.

"Please. I know you dont like this but he is kind of difficult and i know that you could handle him. I dont know anyone else that could."

So you reluctantly agreed.

Mal was right. Harry Hook was certainly difficult. He was really stuck in ways and refused to change. He refused to follow any rules, he was mean and he hated school. And the worst thing? He was stupidly hot.

Now, you hated school just as much, and you did skip a few lessons here and there but you had respect for your teachers and your peers. And you knew that unfortunately school was important for your future.

Usually you couldnt care less if other people got on trouble but harry was your responsibility now, so everytime he got into trouble, you were getting dragged into it. And you hated it.

So thats how you ended up in fairy godmothers office for the 7th time that week (it was thursday) sitting next to Harry, who just looked bored while you were about to beat him up.

This has been happeneing for almost 3 months at this point.

"This can not keep going on. Harry If you cannot follow the rules and integrate yourself into Auradon then we might be forced to take stronger action."

Back in your dorm Harry threw himself onto his bed.

"Well that a tad overdramatic aye?"

You couldnt hold it in anymore.

"HARRY! THIS IS NOT A GAME! YOU KEEP GETTING IN TROUBLE SIMPLY FOR THE SAKE OF IT AND YOU HURT OTHERS. ARE YOU AWARE OF THE FACT THAT YOU ARE BASICALLY A FEW OFFENSES AWAY FROM EXPULSION?! AND IF THAT HAPPENS YOU BASICALLY HAVE NO CHANCE ANYMORE TO DO ANYTHING! NOT ONLY THAT BUT YOU RUIN MY REPUTATION WITH YOUR BEHAVIOUR AS WELL. JUST THINK ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE THAN YOURSELF FOR ONCE IN YOUR GODDAMN LIFE!"

Without looking at him you stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

The rest of your day was spend ranting to Mal and Evie about Harry. Mal hat texted Uma during your rant, telling her to speak with Harry. He would probably listen to her. She was his best friend after all.

You dreaded going to bed that night. Just being in the same room with him.

Uma left your Room just before you arrived, so when you entered Harry was sitting on his bed, a conflicted expression on his face.

You decided to ignore him, just grabbing a pair of sweatpants and heading to the bathroom to change for bed.

When you exited the beathroom agin harry had also changed into sweatpants. GREY sweatpants.

Fuck. Was he trying to kill you?

His head perked up at the sound of the bathroom door.

"Hey..."

You looked over at him.

"What Hook?"

He looked a little conflicted still, which confused you. Why the sudden change in mood?

"Look... I'm nae good at this but- fuck..." He sighed exxasperated. "I wanted to apologize."

You head snapped to him again In surprise.

"What?"

"I acted like a total dickhead." He started ranting, trying to get it all outbefore he mentally talked himself out of it. " I didnt care how I might hurt ya. And I don't even have a good reason for that. I was just scared. I was scared of being vulnerable. All I have ever known was the Isle. I am used to hiding myself behind a Tough outside and I was scared to change from that."

Harry quickly wiped his eyes of the tears swimming in them, hoping you wouldnt notice. But you did.

You were shocked by his sudden and surprisingly honest outburst. For a few very long seconds you just stared at each other.

"Harry...." You took a slow step towards him. "I'm sorry. I should've realized how hard this would be. And I know it will be difficult, but i promise you that from now on you wont have to hide anymore. You're safe here."

Now, standing right before harry, you layed your hand on his shoulder. Harrys eyes met yours, once again swimming with tears but a small smile gacing his lips.

"Thank ye."

You reached up to wipe the tear that had fallen from his eye, your hand resting on harrys cheek, his head leaning into your touch.

You noticed how close you two had gotten. Your eyes flickering from harrys eyes to his lips for a split second.

"Harry?" Your noses brushed against each other ever so slightly.

"Yea?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"I really hope I'm not reading this wrong," You voice matched his. "but can I kiss you?"

Harry was silent, and for a few excruciating second you truly thought you were wrong. Harry was into guys, you knew that much. He didnt hide that part about himself. But did he like you?

"Yes please."

A small sigh of relief left your mouth as you leaned in, your lips moving against his. Harrys hands moved to your hips, gripping at the exposed skin, thanks to your lack of shirt. In turn your hands wrapped around his neck, your fingers gripping onto his hair.

When you parted for air, you kept your eyes closed, your foreheads leaning against each other.

For a few seconds all you could hear was you heavy breathing and your own heartbeat, loud in your ears, before Harry leaned in and kissed you again. His hands pulling you flush against his bare chest by your hips.

Once again you pulled back, this time a little more, looking into each others eyes.

"Thank ye, darlin"

"Always."

#writing #reader insert #fanfic #descendants x reader #fluff #harry hook x reader #male reader #harry hook x male reader #harry hook #descendants x male reader

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sigh-tofm · 2 months ago

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if you’re a gym rat… (some 18+)

… price

- gets back into it. has always had a certain level of physique he’s had to keep up being in the army, but he isn’t the young sergeant he once was anymore. still, he usually jogs twice a week and lifts some weights when time allows.

- that is, until you start pulling him along. early morning leg sessions with the sunrise and lighthearted planking contests during the footie halftime. equally enjoys getting back into the workout game, spending time with you and getting to look at your body in the tight gym wear. especially loves the the soft pudge at the bottom of your stomach and the way all of you jiggle when you do burpees.

- showers with you after the fact. long, steamy showers in each other’s arms. no sex in there (you’re both sore and the floor is slippery), but it’s not necessary. you’re content with the hot water massaging your spent muscles and the feeling of your solid lover around you.

… kyle

- hypes you up. already spends more time in the gym than you do, so he knows every exercise and machine in and out. eagerly teaches you everything and anything you ask him about. never lets anyone else spot you, always does it himself. especially likes spotting your squats.

- follows your pace, whether that means exhausting himself for you or slowing down for you. will join you on hill sprints and long distance runs, but is thankful he gets to hold the stop watch and blow the whistle when you do beep tests.

- thinks the act of exercising together can be as intimate as sex itself. getting to observe and explore each other bodies, each other’s strengths and weaknesses. half of it is a mental game and not too unlike kink, he thinks, as you groan and contort your face while pushing your feet into to ground, tensing your muscles into the belt to help with the deadlift. he nods approvingly when you straighten your back and breath out at the top of the lift. ‘one more for me, baby.’

… johnny

- eggs you on. like kyle, always helps you go harder, faster, longer, but does it by way of teasing. ‘that all, then? come oan, ye had more in ye last night.’ always toes the line between encouraging and infuriating, but to his credit he also tricks you into lifting the bar one more time instead of putting it down.

- jogs become races and walks become dogwalks. johnny is restless even if you’re both coming straight from an intense hiit-session. if you’ve decided on a leisurely pace, johnny will run ahead and circle back, take detours to look at interesting buildings and natural features, and constantly weave left and right on the path ahead or behind you, like a border collie.

- does not mind the sweat after a session. will eat you out in the parking lot until the car windows fog up. eventually pulls your panties back up and pat your belly over them, only to drive back home and do it all over again in the shower.

… ghost

- never leaves you. you’d think he keeps up a pretty strict routine with that pure strength he possesses, but he will drop anything if you suggest going hiking or practice a specific form. nothing is too boring, basic or easy if he’s doing it with you. that includes yoga, where you are actually leagues ahead of him in balance and flexibility. the only thing he has going for him is his sniper’s patience.

- effortlessly lifts the bar up when spotting your bench presses and you hit failure. leans down over the bar to kiss your nose while you catch your breath. ‘look at tha’. i’ll take ten kilos off, let’s end this on a high note.’ won’t hear your protests about how that’s not how it’s done, and make you do another rep with less weight, to keep the muscle memory of perfect form.

- ends each session with you practicing grip, which is something you both need to work on, you’ll hang face to face on the power rack and simultaneously try not to laugh while also gripping the bar for as long as you can. having an excuse to look you dead in the eyes is simon’s favourite part of each session.

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toxicanonymity · 1 year ago

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At the table.

2.2k, DARK!Joel x f!reader, then dark!Tommy

Joel master list

A/N: One shot, follows Caught, can read alone. Throwaway Joel encore by popular demand 🚬🤡

SUMMARY: Joel brings you back to his apartment and makes you suck him off then cockwarm him while he and the boys play cards. Tommy tucks you in but not before getting off.

WARNINGS: Very dark, mean, dubious consent (captivity & ongoing abuse), humiliation, degradation, manhandling, injury (intentional burns), shackles, blow job, P in V, cockwarming, stretching, fisting-adjacent fingering

He caught you. You knew he would. You never should have tried. It was too easy and you’re beginning to realize he probably left you unlocked on purpose. For the chase, the thrill of the hunt, and the punishment. The humiliation.

On the walk home, Joel screws open his canteen and asks if you’re thirsty. You nod and he forces you to your knees and tells you to open your mouth. He takes a swig of water, swallows it, then spits it in your mouth. Then he takes another sip and doesn’t swallow it. He squats down, firmly takes your jaw in his hand, and lets it dribble from his mouth to yours.

“Now get up.”

You struggle to your feet and he yanks you up by the elbow. His apartment isn’t too far, because you didn’t make it far when you ran.

On the way up the stairs, he groans with the effort. “Too fuckin tired,” he complains. “I should get Tommy to fuck some sense into ya.”

You’re quiet.

“Bet ya’d like that, huh?”

“No,” you reply.

“‘an’ why’s that?”

“Only want yours.” If he knew any different, he probably wouldn’t let Tommy speak to you much less touch you.

“Cause i ruined ya, didn’t i? Ruined all your holes.”

“I dunno”

“Got ya too stretched to even feel Tommy’s, right?” He sighs and musses your hair. “Ruined. Now you’re just for me. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“That cunt’s never gonna please another man now.” He chuckles darkly. “But hell, might as well try, darlin’.”

You don’t say anything else.

“I ain’t gonna stop ya.” He’s passed you around enough that you don’t doubt it, but he always keeps you to himself in the end. It’s almost like a game of dominance. Like he’ll let the men get a taste, then yank you away and laugh that they can’t have the rest.

Joel gets you back to his apartment and you’re briefly relieved when he doesn’t take you straight to the dim room with your bed and chains. But he does shove you up against the door with his hand around your throat. “Don’t you ever pull that shit again.”

You nod a tearful acknowledgement. He lets go of you and softens his tone. “Such a pretty girl,” before adding, “Fuckin’ act like it.” You nod again.

“Boys are comin’ over,” he says. “You’re gonna sit on my cock and you’re not gonna fuckin’ move.”

—--

Your clit twitches. The sitting-on-his cock part, that doesn’t sound half bad. But you’re afraid of what else he might do. You’re also afraid of what’s becoming of you. Part of you (a specific part of you) is more excited than fearful at the thought of him hurting you, humiliating you. It’s pavlovian - he’s forced you to cum so many times in fucked up situations, your body can’t help itself.

They’re coming over to play poker. They sit in the kitchen. First, Joel puts you under the table at his feet. “Do a good job, and I might let ya stay there.” You palm the warm bulge over his jeans, then straddle his boot as you unbuckle his belt. You slowly feel him getting bigger and harder. When he’s fully stiff and his hips begin to rock into your hand, you dig your knuckles into his belly as you unbutton his jeans then unzip him. You massage him through his boxers before unbuttoning the flap and taking out his hard cock. You wrap your hands around it as you sit up more to bring your head to his crotch as Tommy deals the cards. Joel moves an ashtray from the table to a shelf behind him.

As your head approaches his groin, you get a strong whiff of his musk and it makes you throb. You take his tip into his mouth and don’t go slow. He doesn’t like it when you ‘tease’ him. You suck with your whole mouth and throat, bobbing your head, getting him really slobbery, his girth stretching the corners of your mouth. Your suction extracts his salty precum and a drop trickles down your throat. Joel plays a hand of poker and growls from his chest. The sound makes you twitch and your crotch presses into his shin for relief.

“Lil slut’s already humpin’ my leg.”

They laugh. Tommy asks, “dibs on next?”

Joel scoffs. Not today, apparently. “Fuck off, man,” he grumbles, then peeks under the table at you. “Take your clothes off, baby.” You get his dick really wet, then take off your pants and underwear, preparing to climb into his lap. “Everything,” Joel says. You take off your shirt, too. You don’t own any bras right now. "C'mere." He puts down his cards and rests his hands face up on his knees for you to grab onto. You begin to hover over his lap, biting your lip. He sticks two dirty fingers between your legs and slides them through your folds. He laughs at how wet you are. "Thirsty bitch. Turn around."

Your thighs shake as he makes you face the rest of the guys. He holds his cock with one hand and guides you by your hip with another. The men stare. As soon as his slobbery tip hits your cunt, he impales you on his cock. You gasp as he bruises your cervix and your body tries to catch up with him, giving you more moisture. Then he roughly gropes your breast and pulls you back against his chest on full display for all of them. He massages both your breasts with a groan.

"Your hand, buddy," Joel says to the man across from him. The men compose themselves to keep playing.

He rocks you on his cock, massaging your breasts in a circular motion with your nipples between his middle and ring fingers. His thick cock moving deep inside makes you feel good. Nothing hurts at the moment, except your nipples which are so hard they're on the verge of pain. He moves one hand to your clit and begins to rub you with abandon, still massaging your other breast. Tommy lights a cigarette.

By the time it's Joel's turn to play, you're about to cum. You look up at the ceiling and he bounces you on his cock in short quick pulses. The tension bursts and you whimper as he moves his hand from your clit to the back of your neck. "Look at me, baby." When you turn your head to the side, he slams you down on the table. Your hard nipples are swallowed up by your breasts with the impact and you're still coming. He holds you down and you whine as your walls choke his cock.

Your hips rock with your climax and he commands "stay fuckin' still." You whine and gush on his lap as he holds you down on the table.

"Good God," he grumbles. "You're gonna wash'em"

You finish coming and Joel keeps holding you still. You know better than to try to move. He picks up his cards and holds them between your naked shoulder blades as he plays his hand. Then he puts them face down on your back to light a cigarette. He picks up his hand of cards again and sits back in his chair.

The men continue their game, talking like you're not there, but you can feel their eyes on you. Your breasts are sweating against the slick wood table. Your eyes are growing bloodshot with the smoke of their cigarettes. Joel's cock occasionally twitches inside you, thick and stiff.

Tommy finishes his cigarette and hands it to Joel, nodding at the ashtray behind him. You flinch and your ass clenches as he brings it to your shoulder, close to a cluster of scars. He presses the smoldering end to your skin and you tense with the white hot burn, making your cunt choke his cock. You twitch with pleasure as the burn fades. His cock moves.

"Oof," his hips shift under you. "Easy baby." He's close to finishing his own cigarette. They continue playing. When Joel finishes his own cigarette he sits back and brings the cigarette butt to your lower back.

He lifts his hips as he presses the butt of it into your skin and your eyes pinch shut. Your body erupts in goose bumps and as you clench around him, he begins to erupt with a long sigh. He pulses warmly against your cervix. Lifting his hips and sighing as the other men watch. Your eyes briefly flutter open to see Tommy palming himself and you lock eyes with him. Your mouth falls open, you pinch your eyes shut, and you moan as another climax overtakes you.

Joel finishes dumping his load in you and you're a whimpering mess as you finish coming. He leaves you on his softening cock for the rest of the game, and you begin to drift off, then one of the men wants to talk about their drug supplier. Joel sighs.

“She asleep?” Tommy asks.

Joel leans to one side as he digs into his pocket and hands Tommy a key to your chain. “Put her to bed.”

—---

Tommy clears his throat then adjusts himself, then nudges you. “Hey, ready for bed?”

“For Christ’s sake, just take her, Tommy.” Joel lifts his hips and holds you up against the table by your sides. You wobble as you begin to stand on your feet.

“Clothes?” Tommy asks.

“Nah,” Joel says.

Tommy swallows and takes you by the elbow. His grip is firm but nothing like Joel’s. He takes you down the basement, catching you when you wobble on the stairs. Then he gently shoves you down on the bed like it’s a chore. “Why’d ya run?”

“I was hungry.”

“I’ll getcha somethin’ if you’re good.” He probably would. He was the one who got you a blanket.

“Thanks.”

Tommy palms himself over his jeans as he watches you turn on your side and reach for the dirty blanket. He shakes his head. “Not yet, sugar,” and you drop the blanket. He kneels on the bed. “Open those pretty legs and lemme see the damage.” You turn onto your back and spread your thighs.

Tommy bends your knees for you then spreads your thighs wider.

He watches Joels cum leak out of your fucked-out cunt and gives a low whistle. “Really did a number on ya tonight, didn’t he? Kept ya on it forever”

Tommy sits on the bed and reaches for your pussy. He runs his fingers through your slick and inserts two, then three of his thick digits within seconds. “God damn,” he mutters. "Does it hurt?"

You shake your head no.

You squirm with tension building as he finger fucks you. You watch him watch his middle three fingers go in and out of your cunt. He then he adds his pinky, stretching you even wider. You gasp at the strain. "Fuck," he says. He thumbs your clit and slowly moves his fingers inside you in small pulses. Your body adjusts and gets wetter again. "You wanna cum again? Cum in my hand like a good little slut?"

You nod.

"Gonna let me fuck ya first though."

You swallow. "Okay."

Tommy takes his soaking wet hand away. He unzips his pants and takes out his hard cock, stroking it with his dripping hand as he gets between your knees. His cock looks painfully stiff.

He braces one hand on the bed near your navel and slides his cock right into you. "Shit," he mutters, disappointed rather than pleased. "Shoulda done this first," he laughs. "Could prolly fit two of me in here right now, huh?" His cock wasn't small, either. He thrusts a few times and pulls you toward him by your thighs. You try to squeeze him with your walls and he chuckles. “‘s good effort, sweetheart.” After thrusting a few more times, he speeds up. He slams his hips into you and your back arches. You whimper on the verge of coming.

“Really?” Tommy asks? “I’m hittin' somethin'? You can feel it?"

You nod with a whimper.

“Alright,” he pants, “I'll let ya have it.” He rails you hard and fast for a minute then you whine as a climax overwhelms you. Your walls contract around him and he says, “Yeah, there we go,” and keeps fucking you. "There it is." He fucks you through it. “Ready or not,” he mutters, then slams his hips into you and begins to dump his load. He sighs as his spend fills you and mixes with Joel’s. Then he pulls out and smiles darkly as some trickles out of you. He gathers it with his fingers and pushes it back inside.

"Gettin' real good at takin' all this," he whispers, then squeezes your thigh affectionately. He reaches for the floor and grabs the blanket. "you're a good girl, ya know." He cuffs you to the bed and spreads the blanket over you. "you know better than runnin’.”

You nod. Tommy squeezes your thigh as he stands up, then he goes across the basement and returns with some jerky. “I’ll talk to him ‘bout the food”

“No don’t”

“Why not”

“I’ll get in trouble”

“Not gonna say you said it.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

He walks upstairs leaving you alone.

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Thank you so much for reading and engaging 🖤🤟

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For a different dark Joel who's more complex, read raider Joel ⛓️🖤 read the latest if you haven't for his POV.

For a different dark Tommy, see Birds of prey (raider Tommy)

For another under table bj that leads to Tommy, see Tommy's hard day. 🗼

#dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dark!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#ultradark ☠️#tw dubcon #tw dv

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