#this is such a different look from what we usually see!

[chipped-chimera]

Okay psych nerd here who is not going to bloat this with a tag explanation and instead just write the thing:

The answer is two things -

Dehumanization / Distancing from Humanity

Moral Psychology

Here's an example in action. So I'm sure everyone knows about the Trolley Problem - you are standing near a train track at the track switch, an out of control train barrelling down the rails. On one of the tracks, are a group of men working on the rails (or tied to the rails if you prefer the image version). If you do nothing, it will collide with the group of people and kill them. On the other hand, if you use the switch and change the track, it'll instead kill just one person. This one people can reasonably complete, the usual choice being kill one to save five or whatever.

But here is another version. The Fat Man Trolley Problem (not my wording). In this version of the Trolley Problem, you are standing on a bridge overpass of a traintrack. Next to you is a very large man. Below you, are the five workmen. The train is out of control, but you realise if you push the fat man off the bridge and onto the track, his mass will be enough to stop the train and save the five people on the track. What do you do?

Naturally, this one prompted visceral reactions from people it was pitched to in studies - which begs the question, how is this version different from the switch problem? In both problems, you have the choice to sacrifice one to save many, but the mere thought of having to physically push another person onto the tracks crosses a line.

That's because a switch distances you from the situation, in a sense, you are removed from the humanity in the decision making and it's pure logic. Harm is a side-effect of flicking the switch, in a way you are less involved. Having to push the man, however, is forcing you to confront the human-ness of the situation, to look someone in the face and make that decision.

A lot of the problems in the world, and their respective government entities who are supposed to be fixing them, often have zero experience in the very thing they're supposed to be solving. They're sitting in an office, far, far away looking at a bunch of numbers spat out by a consulting agency while there are homeless in the streets. The switch they pull is so far away they can't even see the people their decisions affect. And if they think less of the people they are making decisions over, like the very, very, very obviously misplaced idea that homelessness is somehow caused by moral failing - that will distance them from the humanity of the situation even further.

I think back to an article I read about someone who had lost their husband to suicide after many, many, many years struggling, went to a conference regarding mental health. The participants of this conference would be the ones making major decisions that would affect the health and outcomes of other people. She confronts one of them, and asks them - have you ever been affected by depression? have you ever had someone in your family been affected?

He seemed shocked and startled. But he answered no.

That should say everything. Anyway this is why I think it should be mandatory for anyone forming country-wide, dramatically-impactful policies in government, especially regarding minorities and poverty - should have a MANDATORY amount of hours they have to spend per year with said people who will be affected by their decisions. And none of this distanced hand shaking for the cameras, I mean living that experience as closely as possible.

It's not that humanity is dead. It's not that we get up with the intention of causing harm every day. It's just a fact of psychological distancing that causes us to lose our connection with it. This can be unintentional, but sometimes it is intentional. It's often a tactic in war propaganda, to cast the enemy in such an evil light that the idea of killing many to protect or save your people - even if it's women and children, and disabled and elderly people, and civilians - is somehow justified.

So the next time you vote or support a cause or whatever in your life that may end up influencing the situation of people, outside of your known experience - stop for a moment, and have a think about what it is like for those individuals. If you had to physically go to them, and look them in the eyes - would you make the same decisions?

Also vote for people with lived experience into those positions to make the decisions when you can!

It confuses me how normalized it is to be so anti human. The fact that two countries voted no to food being a human right. The fact so many people are against universal healthcare. The fact that it’s normal to believe some people don’t deserve housing because they’re poor, addicts, mentally ill, or any combination of the above. I find it so hard to comprehend that humans who have experienced hunger, thirst, cold, and illness would wish these things upon others, or at the very least not care. It frustrates me beyond belief.

These are the exact values we’re taught as children, to believe all humans are equal in worth and needs, and yet at some point you’re expected to grow out of that illusion. You’re expected to accept that this is what life’s like, that the world is unfair, and attempting to fix it makes you weak and childish.

[coqhee]

LOSE MY BREATH

✷ enhypen's reaction to wearing what you wore on your first date

day 24 of melodies to memories ― ot7 x f!r fluff ⨯ petnames skinship kissing ⨯ 1607

em's note ★ not really an advent anymore is it but that's ok!! i refuse to abandon this since we're really just 2 fics off (one now!!)

─── ♡

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung would be coming home from work ready to go out on your date then WOW

tries to play it cool at first, giving you his usual charming smile, but you can see the way his gaze lingers

quickly tries to recompose his cocky-sweet persona, and makes sure you know how perfect you are

“hi bab- woah” he’d say as he looks up after putting his bag down.

“hm?” you pretend to mindlessly hum as if you didn’t plan it, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if it was just another one of those expensive dresses he’d buy you.

“you look prettier than the first time i saw you in this” heeseung grinned, looking you up and down.

“oh, please,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flush at his words.

he smirks knowingly, stepping closer and tilting his head slightly. “no wonder why you asked to go to that shitty diner again,” he snapped, the pieces all falling into place.

“mmhm,” you hum again, this time a bit smug as you shrug. 

“c'mon let’s go get food poisoning or something,” he leans in close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking your hand in his and leading you out to the car. 

more under the cut!

─── ♡

PARK JONGSEONG

comes home with roses then BOOM jaw on the floor

it’s not even that he recognizes that you’re wearing what you wore on your first date he just thinks you look absolutely stunning

being the gentleman he is, when he does realize, he’s sending compliments your way the whooole night

“you look amazing, sweetheart,” jay quickly regained his composure with a smile on his face after seeing you in the same stunning dress.

“notice anyyything different?” you asked, drawing out the words teasingly.

he narrows his eyes playfully, stepping closer to you with a hand rubbing his chin in mock thought. “hmm, let’s see… is it the shoes? no, wait—it’s the way you’re absolutely glowing right now.”

“mm mm” you hum out loud while he takes one long look and realizes.

“no way,” he breathes, his smile growing impossibly wider as he steps even closer, his hands gently resting on your waist, reality clicking in “you actually kept it all this time?”

you nod and grin, pleased with his reaction.

─── ♡

SIM JAEYUN

poor bro doesn’t even realize cause he’s just so in love with everything you wear

as soon as you tell him though he’s running back to his room to find that dorky striped shirt he was wearing

he’s trying to recreate EVERYTHING from that first date

“you really don’t recognize what i'm wearing?” you sigh feeling a little disappointed, yet incredibly understandable from jake’s perspective. you have way too many outfits for your own good.

“i seriously don’t know angel, im so sorry,” he pleads, scratching his head desperately trying to figure it out.

“it’s what i wore on our first date,” 

"no way." jake’s voice drops to a whisper, as if he’s just uncovered the biggest secret of the century.

you nod, your grin growing wider as you cross your arms. "way."

his face drops to a look of shock and runs to his room. a minute later, he emerges, proudly wearing the very green and white long-sleeved shirt he had donned on your first date. the one that was a little too big on him back then, and still is now, though it somehow manages to look even cuter.

“ta-da!” he exclaims, throwing his arms out with a grin, though it falters slightly when he notices the faint ketchup stain still adorning the hem.

“oh my god, jake,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands. “you kept that?”

"of course i did," he says, feigning offense as he spins in place to show off the shirt. "this bad boy is iconic. and now, we match." as he extends his hand to help you up from the couch, pulling you into his arms for an embrace while smiling into your neck.

─── ♡

PARK SUNGHOON

immediately notices since he bought it for you so you could accompany him to some charity gala his parents asked him to bring a date to

he’s fully in the moment asking you to do a spin for him, again and again

he don’t gaf about the date anymore

“i think you made it prettier than it was already,” he smiles warmly

you can’t help the heat rising to your cheeks at his words, his warm gaze making you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

“oh, stop,” you mumble, swatting lightly at his chest, though the smile pulling at your lips betrays your feigned humbleness.

“what?” he teases, catching your hand mid-swat and holding it on his own. “i’m just being honest. you make everything look better—always have.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart is beating just a little faster. “you really don’t have to lay it on so thick, hoon. it’s just an outfit.”

“just an outfit?” he repeats, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “baby, this is the outfit. the one that made me think, ‘wow, i’ve got to do everything i can to make sure i get a second date with her.’”

you laugh, shaking your head. “you’re so dramatic.”

─── ♡

KIM SUNOO

of course he’d remember that outfit cause you chose to match on your first date as if you were already a couple

though actually, you didn’t even remember what you wore and he’s the one to call you out

he’d fake pout and be dramatic about how you don’t love him

“you realize what you’re wearing right?” sunoo asked with a crinkle of his nose from smiling seeing you in it.

“huh? is something wrong? i know it’s a little small on me now, but i haven’t worn it in a while,” you say worried, checking yourself out in the mirror feeling a slight bit of self doubt.

“what? no it looks great sunshine, don’t worry. you look amazing as always” he reassured, stepping closer, his hands brushing against your waist as if to emphasize his point. “it’s just… that’s what you wore on our first date. is it some special occasion?”

“oh it is! no wonder i haven’t worn it in a while,” you saw his face shift immediately into a pout.

“you really don’t remember? are you sure you even love me?” he asked, fake wiping a tear from his cheek.

you couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic tone, rolling your eyes. “oh, stop it. of course i love you, you big baby.”

─── ♡

YANG JUNGWON

another bf that remembers for SURE!!

you two weren’t even going out anywhere but he thought he’d clean out your closet for you as a favor since it was a mess and the second he laid his eyes on it he wanted you to wear it again

jaw dropped eyes bulging yet hyping you up at the same time saying you should live in that outfit. 

“baby c'mere,” jungwon called out from your room.

“yeah?”

“put this on,” he’d hold out a lump of clothes and you quickly took the pile and changed in the bathroom.

you stepped out of the bathroom, the clothes now on you, and he looked up from his phone, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“you look—" he paused, clearly taking in your appearance with a pleased expression, "absolutely perfect. this is what i was imagining the whole time.”

you raised an eyebrow, a bit of confusion flickering in your mind. “seriously won? it’s just a hoodie and jeans.”

“yeah but it’s the hoodie and jeans you wore on out first date, and you look amazing.” you rolled your eyes at his praise

“mmkay loverboy,” you giggled pulling him in for a small kiss before heading back out to the kitchen.

─── ♡

NISHIMURA RIKI

surprise surprise, your first date outfit was his hoodie cause you spilled on your shirt 5 minutes in

of course he likes seeing you in his hoodie and he can’t help but wanna giggle on the inside but he’s gotta keep the nonchalant act up

complain about you taking specifically that hoodie but it basically became yours the second you put it on

“i swear, do you only like the hoodie cause i gave it to you on our first date?” riki asked with mock annoyance when he saw you in it, waiting for you to get ready faster.

“mayybe maybe not, either way im still gonna wear it,” you smirked running past him to the door to put your shoes on. 

“hey, no fair!” he called after you, his voice light and teasing. “you can’t just run away from me like that, especially when you know how much i love seeing you in that hoodie.”

you shot him a playful glance over your shoulder, pausing for just a second before continuing to slip on your shoes. “oh, i’m just giving you a little taste of what it was like back then. you remember how i looked when i first wore it, right?” you teased.

he brought his nose down to sniff the clothing scrunching his nose. “now it smells all like you,” he sighed, joking with no actual complaint in sight. “guess i have to get myself a new one,”

“oh shut up, you like when i wear this hoodie so stop whining and lets go,” you rolled your eyes as you turned around to look at him smiling at the tall man, admiring the way his eyes gleamed in adoration.

─── ♡

melodies to memories tl (open!): @wonziz @hhmnya @ourhees @lovuegi @letmein2urheart @firstclassjaylee @ancnymcnzjy

@ coqhee 2025. all rights reserved

[becertainlust]

doctor!law who always maintains his stoic professionalism with every patient—except when it comes to you. He insists it’s “just routine” that he visits you so frequently, ensuring your health is progressing as it should.

Morning rounds start with him pulling up a chair beside your bed, his amber eyes scanning your chart with precision. But even as his hands work with practiced ease, the way his thumb lingers on the edge of the clipboard suggests something more. His voice is low but gentle, asking how you slept, what you ate, and how you’re feeling, as though he’s committing every detail to memory.

At night, long after visiting hours have ended, his familiar silhouette appears in the doorway of your hospital room. He claims he’s just finishing his notes or double-checking the evening staff’s updates. Yet, somehow, he always ends up seated beside you, shoulders relaxing as you talk about your day. You notice the faint smirk tugging at his lips when you tease him about working too hard.

The truth is, Law tells himself he’s just being thorough. That it’s his job to ensure his patients feel cared for. But deep down, he knows no one else has ever drawn him in quite like you—no other voice has ever made him want to stay so desperately beyond his hours.

doctor!law who doesn’t do sentiment. At least, that’s what he claims, his sharp gaze and sharper tongue scaring off most patients from ever trying to get too familiar. But when it comes to you, it’s different—not that he’d ever admit it.

“You’ve been sitting around too much,” he says one afternoon, his voice cutting through the soft hum of your hospital room. “Come on.”

Before you can protest, he’s helping you to your feet with that infuriating air of calm authority. You don’t miss the way his hand lingers a moment longer than necessary, steadying you like he’s worried you might topple over.

“I didn’t ask for a walk,” you mutter as he leads you down the hall.

He doesn’t even look at you, his pace deliberate but not rushed. “And I didn’t ask for a stubborn patient, but here we are.”

The courtyard is quiet, bathed in golden afternoon light. Law doesn’t bother making small talk as you stroll—he’s never been one for unnecessary chatter. But his sharp eyes track every step you take, scanning you for even the slightest sign of discomfort.

“Stop pushing yourself,” he orders when you quicken your pace, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You’re such a control freak,” you tease, trying to coax a reaction out of him.

His lips twitch, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through his usual scowl. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

Despite his gruff demeanor, there’s a strange comfort in his presence. He doesn’t fill the silence with platitudes or false cheer—he just is, his calm steadiness grounding you in a way nothing else can.

When the walk ends, and he’s escorting you back to your room, he slows, his voice softer now. “If you feel worse later, tell me. Don’t wait until morning rounds.”

“Do you always go this far for your patients?” you ask, half-joking.

He gives you a sidelong glance, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “No,” he says simply. “I don’t.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving you wondering if you imagined the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he walked away.

doctor!law who doesn’t entertain nonsense. That’s the image he maintains in the hospital’s halls and the workers’ lounge. The moment someone brings up the whispers about him and his favorite patient, he scoffs, eyes narrowing as if the very idea irritates him.

“Ridiculous,” he mutters, flipping a page in the medical journal he’s not really reading.

But when no one’s looking, his ears strain to catch the next part of the conversation.

“Did you see how he was walking with them in the courtyard yesterday? They looked so comfortable together,” one nurse says, voice filled with barely contained glee.

Another one chimes in, “Right? And the way he always stays late in their room? If that’s not a crush, I don’t know what is.”

Law’s fingers tighten around the edges of his book, his lips pressing into a thin line. Anyone watching would think he’s annoyed—but the faint flush creeping up his neck tells a different story.

“I’m sure they’re just being professional,” someone offers cautiously, only for another nurse to laugh. “Oh, please. That man has never gone out of his way for anyone like he does for them. He practically lives in their room.”

Law clears his throat loudly, snapping the room’s attention back to him. “If you have time to gossip, you have time to work,” he says, his tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

The nurses scatter, muttering apologies, and he goes back to pretending to read. But later, when he’s alone, he catches himself smirking faintly, replaying the words in his head.

He tells himself it’s absurd, that people are just reading too much into things. Yet, when he sees you later that evening and you joke about the “rumors,” he doesn’t deny them outright.

Instead, he leans against the doorframe of your room, arms crossed, a teasing glint in his amber eyes. “Apparently, I’m the topic of the day in the lounge. Care to explain why everyone thinks I’m obsessed with you?”

You raise a brow, smirking. “Maybe because you kind of are?”

He scoffs, though the tips of his ears turn red. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. If I’m here, it’s because you’re clearly a magnet for trouble. Someone has to keep you in check.”

But when he catches a glimpse of your smile and hears your laughter, he thinks, Maybe they’re not entirely wrong.

[sky-cow0]

I was just in the shower trying to figure out this idea, but coming from a different angle I couldn’t express what the other side looked like. This will be rambling until I tie it in.

I keep thinking by how much the privilege discussion has loss all power in enacting positive change. Someone who has housing and is white and has a good job can be struggling because their mom just died of cancer and their basement flooded while they were at the funeral. And then someone comes along and says they don’t have any real struggles because they are housed and white. Of course they will be upset when someone tells them they are privileged and racist and need to change because they have no real issues in their life because 1) it belittles their lived experience and 2) it challenges their belief that they are a good person which they are feeling strongly after remembering what their mother taught them.

People won’t change if they are attacked. And when you are already asking people to change their worldview about an issue, you can’t also come after their view about themself. People can usually only rebuild one paradigm and still be a functional human being. You have to come about it from a different perspective that looks like being nice to your “oppressor” (which is definitely an overused term and will lose its meaning if it continues).

You can’t call them racist. Calling their action racist is a thin ice action that is better for people who you have a relationship of trust with. The best thing is to explain how what they said/did would feel like if it happened to them in a way they don’t realize what it is about until the end when they already know the action is bad. It is babying them and it takes energy and it isn’t something you can do all the time.

Obviously internally it is great to look at your actions and evaluate them to see if the results correspond with your values. Was this act harmful or hurtful? Obviously when you have a relationship of trust you can tell someone their actions are racist or anti-racist for whatever groups.

It’s just that we have to move away from making moral judgements about people for things they don’t personally deal with or think about on a day to day basis. They are continuing the systems of oppression, but not consciously (for the most part). Compassion is what is needed, not judgement.

I feel like I still haven’t connected the two ideas, but I’m posting it anyway. It’s a thought in progress.

Hi, I'm genuinely looking for an explanation here and not looking for an argument /srs

Can you explain how calling a transfem a TERF for spreading ideology that I genuinely assumed was included in the definition of TERFism is othering ? Not to be that guy, but I'm autistic and I'm having a very hard time connecting the points you're making, and I genuinely want to learn and understand what you're saying /gen

Again, I do hope this doesn't come off as hostile, I am genuinely trying to learn and understand better, and I want to be able to fix misconceptions about what a TERF is in my own mind, and I haven't seen anyone bring this point up before /gen

You absolutely do not have to answer this, but I hope you have a fabulous rest of your day, and I do apologize for what I said, as it wasn't necessary for me to comment on the situation.

Yeah totally! Okay, I got a lot of this from Ibram X. Kendi's "How to be Antiracist"* where he talks about describing "racist" as an identity means that hardly anyone is going to ever "identify" with it, even if they are a racist. It's much more helpful to talk about actions being racist or anti-racist. Someone committing racist acts speaks far more to the vulnerability of anyone to cause harm, rather than it being something ONLY reserved for someone with the identity of "racist". For example, Clarence Thomas, a black man, has done untold amounts of harm to the black population in the US. If we subscribe to the "oh, (X) can't be racist, they are (a minority)" train of thought, it means people are less likely to understand that Clarence Thomas commits racist acts. In the same way, describing yourself as an anti-racist is not enough, as it can let people be comfortable with racist actions because they think "oh, I'm an anti-racist, I can't commit acts of racial harm." That's why it's more helpful to describe acts as racist and anti-racist rather than framing them as identities.

In a similar way, describing someone as the label of "TERF" can have a similar effect. Because it's specifically a label centered around being anti-trans, transgender people of all kinds will easily assume they cannot be transphobic, because the label of TERF is ideologically opposed to their existence. It invites ridicule rather than introspection. By saying actions can be transphobic, I think it helps a lot more because it's easier to understand that trans people can be transphobic. For example, Blaire White is right there. Despite being a trans woman, she is actively doing transphobic acts. By calling out an action as transphobic rather than describing someone as a "TERF", it helps fight back against the idea that being trans means you cannot be transphobic. For a super duper simple example, I can step on my dogs tail, but it doesn't mean I hate dogs, it means I committed an act of harm against my dog. Describing me as a dog-hater when I LOVE dogs would invite ridicule more than it would a tendency to watch my step when my dog is in the house. I hope this makes sense!

*I'm not trying to say the Black and Trans experience is exactly the same, just that like any oppressed group, there is a lot of overlap in tactics and thinking, especially for people who are Black and Trans. Reading about other groups can really give you a ton of helpful insight on how to work within your own identity!

[kiwriteswords]

Drabble request—trying to explain to Hotch posting him on Instagram/making it Instagram official!

The Hard Launch [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Drabble]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 600

TW: Age gap, social media use, non-BAU reader, Aaron Hotchner POV

Aaron Hotchner had never been one for social media. Not one bit.

To him, the value of a private life far exceeded the lure of likes and comments. 

However, as he sat across from you in the soft glow of your living room, he couldn’t help but notice the way your fingers danced with nervous energy over your phone screen. 

Penelope, who lived next door to you, had been the architect of your meeting. Her intuition had proved impeccable, as usual. Despite the age gap of twenty years between you and Hotch, the connection was undeniable. It was your youthfulness that breathed new life into his structured world, and in turn, he offered a grounding stability you cherished.

Although, in this moment, he felt from an entirely different generation.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hotch's voice was laced with caution as he watched you meticulously select a photo from your gallery.

You nodded, biting your lip in concentration. "Yes, but it has to be perfect. This isn’t just any post, Aaron. It’s us...going public. Officially."

Hotch’s brow furrowed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in thought. "And this is important because…?" His tone wasn’t dismissive, merely inquisitive. He genuinely sought to understand this slice of your world.

You paused, the selected photo of the two of you from Dave's retirement party displayed on your screen—both of you caught mid-laughter, a snapshot of genuine happiness. "It's about crafting the narrative we want to share. This," you gestured to the photo, "tells a story of joy. Of us. It’s not just for my friends but for anyone who comes across it. I want them to see the happiness we share, not just the age difference."

Hotch took the phone from your hands, studying the image. He had always been protective of his private life, especially after the tragedy with Haley and the constant threats that came with his job. But looking at the photo, the happiness evident in his usually reserved expression, he felt a rare surge of pride.

"You make a compelling argument," Hotch admitted, handing back the phone. "So, how do you make it ‘perfect’ then?"

You smiled, a sparkle of excitement in your eyes. "It’s about the caption too. It sets the tone." You started typing, your thumbs moving swiftly. "'A new chapter begins with endless possibilities,'" you read aloud, then looked up at him for approval.

"Poetic," he commented dryly, but his small, affectionate smile betrayed his appreciation. "You really think this is necessary?"

"It’s like marking a milestone," you explained, your gaze softening. "It's telling the world that this is my choice, our choice, and we’re happy. It's setting boundaries too, declaring that what matters is the narrative we choose to share and nothing else."

Understanding dawned on him then. It was a declaration, a way to control the story before others had the chance to define it for you. In his line of work, control was everything, yet here he was, learning a different kind of control—over personal perceptions and societal narratives.

"Okay, post it," Hotch said finally, the protective instinct giving way to support for your happiness. You looked at him, a mixture of relief and love washing over you, before pressing the share button.

As you set your phone aside, Hotch reached for your hand, a silent acknowledgment of the new step you both were taking. "How long until the world knows?"

You chuckled, "Give it a few minutes. Penelope probably already has the notifications on."

True to your words, within minutes your phone buzzed with Penelope’s enthusiastic approval and a stream of comments that followed. Hotch couldn’t help but feel a sense of rightness about it all. Maybe, just maybe, this social media thing had its merits, especially if it meant the world would know how proud he was to have you by his side.

[pitchsidestories]

ex's and snow II Leah Williamson x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 3583

summary: a snow-covered hut in the Swiss Alps with a few good friends and ex-girlfriend Leah Williamson. Can the former lovers find each other again before the snow melts, or are they simply not meant to be together?

author's note: our first fanfic of 2025, we took our time and tried to make it a bit longer than usual and hope you like it.🥰🥰

The laughter got stuck in your throat when you saw your ex-girlfriend in the corridor.

Just seconds before, you were talking to Mariona and Ana Maria about a funny moment in the dressing room when you were all still playing for Barcelona. The short walk from the car to the cozy looking cottage had felt to you like a scene from the Last Christmas music video where good friends were having a good time together in a snow-capped cottage like this one was.

The magic of the enchanting setting was gone when you looked into the blue eyes of your former lover.

“Leah.”, you muttered in utter shock.

The looks she was sending you across the room were cold as the ice: ”You.”

Behind your back Mariona, Lia and Ana Maria stood silently as they watched the drama unfold in front of their eyes.

Both of your heads turned around to shot deadly glances at your mutual friend. “Keira Fae Walsh!”

“I didn’t do anything.”, she clarified, raising her hands innocently.

Slowly you shook your head: “No, you didn’t tell me she was going to be the surprise guest.”

“If I had known she would be here, I wouldn’t have come.”, Leah said spitefully.

The midfielder rolled her eyes in annoyance: “Stop whining, you both wanted to be included so I invited you both. You’ll survive.”

Knowing that there would only be three bedrooms and a sofa in the cabin plus two couples you turned hopeful to your former Barcelona teammate:” Ana we will share a room, right?”

“Sorry, you'll have to share.”, Ana Maria explained, destroying your hope for some peace in the night and nodding in the direction where your ex-girlfriend was sitting with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“What, no way!”, you protested.

A mischievous smile played on the Swiss woman’s lip: “Oh come on, you’ll survive. Keira and Lucy are exes and get along too.”

“That’s different.”, you told her. Their breakup has been smooth with no hard edges unlike yours with the England national team captain.

She quickly commented:” Yeah, they’ve a dog together.”

“Luckily, we never got a dog.”, you countered brusquely. Even though you were aware that ever since Lucy and Keira adopted the West Highland Terrier Narla the two of you dreamed of a dog yourself.

With an amused smile on her face Lia had followed your verbal duel until asking everyone cheerfully: “Before someone murders her ex-girlfriend and turns this into a cozy mystery, would anyone like a hot chocolate?”

“I do.”, Laura announced smiling, holding hands with the Barcelona midfielder. While Keira’s head rested on the older woman’s shoulder.

“Amor, I’d like one as well.”, Mariona beamed at her Swiss girlfriend.

Grinning, Lia kissed the Spaniard on the cheek:” Of course, I’ll make you one.”

Seeing the four being this in love with each other, showed through those simple gestures, was equally heartwarming to you as well as a bit painful, reminding you of your own singleness.

You tried to cover up your own feelings with a half-joke: “I think I’ll need something stronger than that to survive this weekend.”

Without missing a beat, Laura send you a smirk from across the room: “You can put something stronger into your hot chocolate. We came prepared.”

She got up from her seat next to Keira and opened a cabinet, revealing a surprisingly large collection of liquor bottles. Grabbing a bottle of Irish Cream, she came back and poured a generous amount into your hot chocolate.

You didn’t protest. You just smiled mischievously at her: “You’re the best.”

“It’s not my first winter vacation in a cabin.”, she winked back while pouring some alcohol into her own mug.

“I can tell. It’s quite cozy actually, except for that pouting blonde sitting next to your girlfriend.” You nodded towards Keira who had changed seats to sit next to Leah and was now whispering quietly to her.

Laura only raised a knowing eyebrow at you and grinned: “Don’t worry we can spike her drink too.”

“Oh, she’s horrible when she’s drunk. You should have seen her after the Euros final.”, you laughed, thinking back to the summer of 2022.

“Really?”

You nodded: “Yes, I think I’ve never deleted that video of her in our hotel room.”

Pulling out your phone to show Laura the video, you tried to fight back a fond smile. Everything had felt easier and lighter back then, not just because you won the tournament. Now, looking at the footage of a younger, more relaxed Leah pirouetting around the room, your heart started to ache again.

“Oh, that’s hilarious.”, Laura smiled as she watched your phone screen where Leah drunkenly fell over and pulled the curtains of the hotel room down with her. You both had had a few too many celebratory drinks that night and you really thought it was the funniest thing you had ever seen.

“She refused to fall sleep after that. No one slept for more than two hours that night.”, you continued to explain, the memories filling you with a nostalgic kind of happiness.

Laura laughed politely: “I heard some of those stories from Kei. It sounded like you all had a good time back then.”

“We did but then she changed so much… You know, the fame. Everything happened so fast afterwards.”

Your break-up had been like a tornado. It came suddenly and without warnings. All you knew back then was that Leah was busy with fashion stuff and advertisements and suddenly, she wasn’t your Leah anymore.

Lauras face turned serious, her eyebrows knotting together: “Wait, that was the reason you two broke up?”

“Yes.”

“I heard it was super messy.”, Mariona contributed to your conversation, sliding closer to you and away from the rest of the group.

“You can say that again.”, you sighed.

On the other side of the room, Keira and Leah had their own conversation.

“Kei, I’ll never forgive you.”, Leah hissed at her best friend.

“It’s not that bad, Leah.”

The defender rolled her eyes: “Sure, maybe for you.”

Keira groaned with frustration: “You’re so dramatic!”

Suddenly Leah decided: “I’ll lay down before dinner.”

“What about your hot chocolate?”, the midfielder frowned.

She had barely spoken the words when Lia handed the blonde a steaming cup that smelled deliciously of chocolate.

“Oh, thank you, Wally.”, she mumbled gratefully before sipping the hot drink.

With a warm smile the brunette promised: “Drink it, you’ll feel better afterwards.”

“Does she magically go away after I finished drinking this too?”, Leah wanted to know from her in a hopeful tone.

Hearing that question Lia chuckled:” No.”

“Sad.”, she pouted, closing her eyes for dramatic effect, wishing you’d somehow disappear like you did in the past.

No complaining about her change since you were gone, no one saying that the fame did change her character not for the better, but for the worse.

Wasn’t the England captain so much happier now? Or did the ACL injury made her slow down again to be in the here and now, forcing her to be more selective of the time she had. If you had stayed with her longer, you’d have witnessed it firsthand. The only thing Leah was certain of was that you were the reason her thoughts were running wild.

Clearing her throat the Arsenal midfielder innocently suggested:” Maybe just try to be open for the situation.”

“I hate you both so much.”, the defender growled.

Still smiling Lia stated: “No you don’t.”

“What are we eating?”, Leah swiftly changed the topic.

Amused the Swiss woman lifted an eyebrow:” Why? Are you hangry?”

“Yes, I’m indeed very hangry.”, she confirmed.

Her Arsenal teammate couldn’t help but to start laughing about her dramatics: “Typical.”

Leah knew she wasn’t known for her cooking skills, so the blonde offered:” I’ll do the cleaning who’s going to cook?”

“I can cook.”, Mariona volunteered.

“I’ll help you with that, Mario.”, you responded, squeezing her shoulder slightly.  Back in Barcelona the two of you often cooked for your teammates, it was a passion you both shared and over the years you became a good team in the kitchen.

“And Leah and I’ll clean.”, Keira threw in.

As always, when the cooked food was on the table, it was eaten up far too quickly, at least you could see from the satisfied smiles on the faces of your friends that they had enjoyed it and the sight of it was what made you incredibly happy.

When the chatting and laughing was over, you all went to bed. As you closed the door behind you, you realized that you had to share the bedroom with none other than your ex-girlfriend, and to avoid her for a while longer, you stayed in the small bathroom for an extra-long time. 

You took a few deep breaths to brace yourself, watching yourself in the mirror as you did. You then changed into a pair of pyjama pants and an oversized shirt before exiting the bathroom.

Leah was already lying on her side of the bed, one hand on her flat stomach: “God, I’m so full.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes: “You never know when to stop.”

“It was too delicious.”, Leah shrugged, unbothered by the judgemental tone in your voice.

You didn’t feel like discussing with her so you just sighed: “I’m going to bed now.”

Leah watched as you climbed into your side of the kingsize bed and turned off the lights.

“Night.”

Sleep came surprisingly easy as soon as you were cozied up under the warm blanket. That was until someone gently shook you awake a few hours later. You didn’t open your eyes, you only managed to groan and bury yourself deeper into the sheets.

“Hey, I think the heater broke down… It’s s-so cold.”, Leah whispered, her teeth chattering with every other word.

“What?”, you yawned, too sleepy to understand anything she said.

“Can I get under your blanket? It’s freezing?”

Still half asleep, you lifted your blanket to let Leah crawl in. “Fine.”

”Thanks.”

Her shivering body pressed against your side, the two blankets laying in a big pile on top of the two of you. Leah felt so cold next to you that you had to pull her in, willingly sharing your body heat with her. “Come closer.”

The defender wrapped her arms around you, her skin icy against yours: “How is your body so hot?”

“Don’t know. You tell me.”, you grinned with your eyes closed.

Leah snorted about that before turning serious again: “No, really. You’re not getting a cold, are you?”

“Not with you warming me.”, you continued to joke.

“Good because Arsenal needs their captain.”

Finally you turned to your side, directly facing her: “Oh, so you should survive and I can freeze to death?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Just that we both can’t get sick right now.”

You nodded slightly: ”Okay, that’s fair.”

The winter break would end soon and neither of you wanted to miss out on training.

You both went quiet for a short moment.

“I saw that… you played a great Champions League campaign so far.”, Leah suddenly admitted quietly into the dark.

You took those words in, unsure what to do with them.

“Are you saying you still watch my games?”

“Sometimes I do.”, she confessed quietly. But the blonde didn't add, because of Keira or Ellie, so you wondered if that included you.

However, you were too afraid to ask her about it and instead teased her about her beloved club: “ I couldn’t get myself to watch Arsenal this season, the beginning of their WSL campaign was so depressing.”

“Excuse me?”, she huffed, her figure looming over you.

Amused, you stifle a smile, it was very easy to wind her up: “Yeah, okay, Keira told me it got better after your female coach took over.”

“Yes, it did.”, Leah confirmed matter-of-factly.  

Even though you could feel her intense gaze on you, you began to feel sleepy: “That’s great for you, you must be very happy right now.”

“Sure, believe that.”, the defender smiled sadly, which you didn’t see anymore because your eyes were already closed.

You slipped softly into sleep.

The next morning, Ana tugged gently on her friend's upper arm:” Come on, Kei. We shouldn't wake them up yet, they look so cosy.”

“Look at how tight Leah is holding on to her. She was totally lying about having no feelings for her anymore.”, the midfielder observed.

Her girlfriend continued:” And the one who’s laying in her arms hasn’t let go off their shared past either otherwise she wouldn’t keep videos with Leah on her phone.”  

“Let them sleep. Let’s go and make breakfast.”, Lia spoke up.

Glancing at the Swiss Woman Mariona’s face lit up while she talked: “I could really need a coffee or two to be fair.”

“Me too.”, Keira replied.

The Spaniard cheerfully concluded: “Time to get the coffee machine going then.”

“On it.”, Lia answered in a good mood.

The smell of ground coffee beans and the golden rays of the sun touching your face and hers woke you both up.

“It smells of coffee.”, you mumbled happily.

Leah shook her head in amusement: “I hope they made some tea as well.”

“Ugh, I’ll never understand how anyone can hate coffee.”, you remarked.

She immediately countered:” And I will never fall victim to the coffee addiction that you all obviously suffer from.”

The two of you made their way to the open kitchen, where your friends were already there. Their faces were illuminated by the morning light, an open window was letting in some fresh mountain air while they were almost done with preparing the breakfast for an adventurous day ahead.

“Good morning, girls.”, the Arsenal captain greeted them smiling, hugging Lia from behind.

The brunette returned her grin:” Morning. I guess that means no coffee for you?”

“Oh, yes is that tea for me?”, she hummed delighted.

“Yes.”, Mariona confirmed as she pushed the steaming mug towards the blonde defender.

Leah took a deep breath, taking in the smell of the tea before she wrapped her hands around it: “Amazing.”

“You’re welcome.”

After taking a sip from her steaming hot drink, Leah looked at the group in front of her: “So what are we doing on our first full day here?”

“Skiing!”, Laura beamed at her.

You saw Keiras eyes widen nervously in the background, and you had to stop yourself from laughing.

“Yes, it’ll be so fun. For the ones who don’t know how to do that we have sledges.”, Lia explained patiently.

You knew exactly what that meant. Laura, Lia and Ana would enjoy their time on the ski slopes while the rest of you were stuck with sledges.

Leah didn’t seem too excited about that plan: “Just great.”

To lighten the mood and to spite Leah, you asked the group: “Sledge race anyone?”

“I’m in!”, Mariona nodded quickly.

Leah rolled her eyes which usually would have offended you if it weren’t for the way the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile: “Such children.”

Mariona and you got up from the table, ready to get dressed for a day in the snow.

In the meantime, Lia leaned over to her teammate and whispered: “You should talk with one of those children later if you ask me.”

“Shut it, Lia.”, the defender replied.

“No, deep down you know I’m right.”

“No.”

“Yes.”, Keira finally said, raising on eyebrow at her best friend.

“Guys.”, Leah sighed with a pleading tone which was deliberately ignored by her friends.

“Just trust us, Lee.”

“No.”

This time it was Keira who sighed with frustration: “I wish you two weren’t as stubborn.”

“We’re not.”, Leah said cooly and got up from the table, ending the conversation abruptly.

No one said anything about it for the rest of the day. You were too busy playing in the snow. The sledge racing quickly turned into a snowball fight which then turned into you all trying to build a snowman together until the sun set.

Your face and hands still felt frozen when you returned to your bedroom in the cabin. With a tired but satisfied sigh, you let yourself fall onto the bed.

“You look pretty done.”, Leah smirked as she pulled her cold, wet sweater off of her body.

You tried your best not to look so you stared at the ceiling: “In my defense, it was a long day and my manager just called to tell me that I have to leave early tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving again?”

You frowned. Was there actually a slight hint of disappointment in your exes’ voice?

You must have imagined that.

“Yeah… I have to go.”, you confirmed.

“Oh.”, she sounded disappointed.

You suspected with a heavy heart: “I bet you’ll be happy to have one day without me.”

Much to your both surprise the blonde revealed: “Actually I was just getting used to you.”

“Used to me?”, you repeated, puzzled.

The England captain shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly:” Yeah. You’re less annoying than I remember.”

“Excuse me? You’re way more annoying than me.”, you quickly corrected her. In a serious tone you reminded your former girlfriend:” You were the one who had to attend every event, take each interview, miss out on date nights and our friends’ parties.”

As she listened to your accusations, Leah wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “Because I had to, not because I wanted to.”, the defender clarified earnestly.

You remembered loudly, the memories of your breakup returning to you in waves:” You didn’t even cry when I left.”

“What would that have changed?”, your ex-girlfriend asked.

Your voice trembled with both anger and sadness: “It would have shown that you cared about us!”  

“I did care!”, Leah hissed back.

You snorted in disbelief: “Sure, Leah.”

“Okay, fine. Believe whatever you want, you’re gone tomorrow anyway.”, she waved it off.

“You were serious.”, you realized.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips: “Of course I was.”

“Do you think we were together at the wrong time and place?”, you questioned cautiously.

The Arsenal player took the time to think thoroughly about your question before replying: “Maybe we were.”

“Who knows, right?”

“Not us. If we could just go back in time.”, Leah begun with a longing expression on her face.

You promptly interrupted her:” But we can’t. It’s impossible until time travel is possible.”

“Obviously.”, she said annoyed.

“Don’t eye roll at me, Leah Catherine.”, you warned her with a half-crooked smile on your lips.

The defender cheekily raised an eyebrow: “Or what?”

“Or I’m afraid I’ll have to shut you up somehow.”, you explained.

Leah nervously ran her hand through her loose hair, which shone silvery in the moonlight. “Somehow? You used to do that by..”, the blonde reminisced.

“Kissing you, yes.”, you ended the sentence for her. The air was full of anticipation.

She moistened her dry lips: “You’re not trying to do that, right?”

“What if I did?”, you boldly posed.

“But what about tomorrow?”, the defender pointed out.

You returned her gaze with the same intensity: “I told you I’ll leave.”

“We shouldn’t waste more time then.”, Leah decided, her face only centimetres from yours.

Before you could reply, her lips were on yours. Your heart skipped a beat and for a moment it almost felt like nothing had changed since the last time she had kissed you like that. Your brain went to autopilot, your body took over. Wrapping your arms around her neck, you pulled her closer. Your kisses grew hungrier, more impatient. Despite the knowledge that she was your ex, your body ached for her. You wanted her right then and there.

Apparently, Leah felt the same way when she pushed you back on your shared better, her lips never leaving yours. It was almost muscle memory how your hands slid under her sweater, caressing the body that you knew so well. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it.

The next morning, you stayed in bed as long as possible, sneaking kisses and holding hands on your way downstairs for breakfast. Before you entered the kitchen, you kissed Leah one last time on bottom step. Unbeknownst to you, you were being watched through the ajar kitchen door.

“Girls, look!”, Ana said from her seat on the kitchen table.

“What?”, Lia asked as she appeared in the open door, leaving the scrambled eggs unattended on the stove.

Keira pushed the other midfielder aside so she could see what was going on: “Didn’t she want to leave already?”

“I heard her call her management this morning to tell them we were still snowed in.”, Mariona explained, smiling knowingly into her coffee.

This caused a few gasps in the kitchen.

Only then you realized that you were being watched. You didn’t mind, you already knew that this was their plan all along.

Nobody said anything when you sat down at the table, they were trying their best to act casual and went on to prepare breakfast. You subtly reached for Leahs hand under the table. She smiled at you but your attention was directed towards the snowflakes drifting past the window.

A big part of you was hoping that your lie turned into reality, that the snowfall would be getting worse and you would have a few more days here.

But for now, you were comforted by the thought that you had your Leah back.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/tracksuitlesbian/769781520922755072?source=share

[h-sleepingirl]

You Are A Wizard, So Pour Over The Tomes

Hypnosis is magic. It is not just “the closest we can get to magic.” Trance practices in all kinds of forms have served as the basis for mysticism across cultures and human history -- thousands of years. It is not new. It is not western. It did not start with Franz Mesmer or James Braid or Milton Erickson or Wiseguy.

Modern hypnosis stems from a rich human history of fascination and spiritual veneration of the mind’s power. We are practitioners of a comparably new discipline where we can literally change the way that other people experience the world. Their innermost selves are as leverage to us -- putty to us, when we know what we are doing. We can transform others freely. We can give pleasure or pain. We can facilitate experiences that seem to defy reality.

People talk a big game about respecting that power. What they usually mean by that is respecting EACH OTHER. That’s crucial, obviously -- not manipulating, not harming, being a good person.

But what about respecting the discipline itself?

It’s tempting to see what we do as disconnected from the “historical” and “outdated” methods of hypnosis. But we are a part of that history. We are likely hilariously wrong about a lot of things related to trance, hypnosis, the human mind -- what will hypnosis and psychology look like in 100 years? And even as we innovate, we are always building on the techniques and ideas that came before us -- in ways we are often not even aware of. We reinvent; we use ideas from the past unknowingly.

We have a right -- and a responsibility -- to OWN our magic. I am not here to gatekeep and say that this magic is not yours. It IS yours; it’s unequivocally yours. But as a whole we could do more to respect it.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” And hypnosis is not even a technology that we UNDERSTAND. The only real reason we DON’T see ourselves as wizards is because there is a huge motivation to legitimize hypnosis as a scientific discipline -- and non-rationalist perspectives are looked down upon in our culture. I’m not anti-science (maybe a little -- tongue in cheek) but I do think that labeling hypnosis as “just psychology” is dishonest about how much we actually objectively know about it -- and does a disservice to the phenomenon itself.

I’m not saying hypnosis is literally metaphysical. But I am saying we practice something very powerful without knowing its nature. There are secrets we have tried to suss out about this magic through history that we have written down -- past and present. We actually have tomes of knowledge, records of past experiments and modern inventors.

In the last couple of years, I’ve started teaching/facilitating “text studies” -- classes where we sit down with an excerpt from a hypnosis book and parse through it as a collaborative group. I desperately want to show people that there is value in just critically reading the resources available to us. The clinical texts -- especially older ones -- are hard to read, like they are almost in a different language. But it is amazing the insights we have come to by tackling them together.

These old texts are not pure truths -- there is a lot we’ve improved on over time. But we can learn a lot by learning what hypnosis was like historically. The entire discipline of hypnosis is extremely susceptible to change -- it is defined SO MUCH by how we view it culturally. I just recently was amazed at re-reading some Erickson where he talks about making his subjects daydream autonomously -- as a primary mode and result of inducing hypnosis. Contrast that with today, where if someone’s mind wanders for even a moment, they feel like they’ve failed. There’s something really important here -- a technique from 50 years ago that tells us something we’ve lost in modern practice.

And there are countless examples of this, of people losing and reinventing methods over and over. As I’ve watched our kinky niche grow over just the past 13 years, I’ve watched ideas phase in, out, and in again -- there is both growth and regression of our collective body of knowledge. That’s the nature of things, especially when we operate partially disconnected from the resources that are available to us.

We CAN be connected to the rich human history of trying to unravel the secrets about our minds, and about this thing that gives us enormous transformative powers -- powers that we take for granted.

You are a wizard -- so pour over the tomes.

Read a book. Read an article. Set aside some time and view yourself with the respect of being someone who can study and suss out a magical text. Take notes, look up words and concepts you don’t know. Or just absorb what you can on a first pass and go back later. Read a chapter or just master a single page. Romanticize the aesthetic of sitting with the scent of paper, or as the technomancer with words appearing on a screen.

Read. Own this art. And bring that respect of this art to the people you share it with. I promise you can do things with hypnosis that you have never thought possible.

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

This is a little motivational piece (for you and me!) as I gear up to teach "Analyzing Erickson" at Charmed. It's something I feel really passionately about, and I wanted to share it.

Permanently linked/free on Patreon.

[themultifanshipper]

You decided, on a random Thursday in december, that you were going to give each of the 2025 rookies a visit, to congratulate them on getting into F1. 

Warnings: this is kinda wild but not very explicit, it's more about the dynamics than the actual smut, I'm trying to set stuff up for the 2025 season, biting kink, gym sex, kitchen sex, oral sex, anal sex, very bad flirting, half of this was written while blackout drunk

Part 10, and epilogue to One of the Boys

It was also to show them a little of what they would be fighting for next year, along with the trophies. 

You went to see Ollie first, him being the one you knew best. 

He'd done 3 races in 2024 and you'd gotten to know him a bit when you two would chat during weekends where he wasn't driving. 

You'd sent him a text, you were staying in Italy for a few days and you should hang out sometime. 

He readily agreed. 

You showed up at his house one sunny afternoon, and he answered the doorbell with his usual grin. 

He was also shirtless, wearing gray sweats, and his hair was dripping wet. 

“I just had a shower” he said apologetically. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I can see that”  

“Come on in!” he ushered you inside with enthusiasm “Don't mind the mess, it's laundry day” 

You giggled at his nervous disposition. He was fidgeting with his hands. 

“I don't care Ollie, I'm not here to comment on your tidiness” 

His nervous grin turned into a genuine smile and he visibly relaxed a bit. 

“Right, yeah of course. Uh do you want a drink?” 

It was your turn to grin at him. 

“Would love one! What have you got?” 

“I've got like… loads of fruit juice.”  

You frowned curiously. “What do you mean loads?” 

You ended up staring at all the bottles lined up in his fridge door. The tension was palpable, you hadn't said a word in a whole minute as you read all the different labels. 

“Like… seven or… eight… maybe nine different kinds?” 

“Is this weird? I feel like it's weird” he finally piped up sheepishly. 

You picked up the bottle of passion fruit juice and stared at it, before turning towards him with a barely concealed smirk. 

“I didn't know you were so… passionate about fruit juice” 

He looked at you in disbelief and you dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“Simple orange will do me fine thank you, Ollie” you wiped your tears of laughter away while he rolled his eyes. 

“I can't believe I just bared my soul to you and you're making puns about it” he scoffed, but he was smiling as he took a couple of glasses out of the cupboard and filled them. 

“Well, you are the bare- man” 

“Oh my god” he groaned “I hate you” 

You laughed and the tension seeped out of the room as you bantered back and forth like you always did. 

“So-” he eventually asked, eyeing you suspiciously  “What actually brings you to Italy?” 

You were sat on top of the kitchen table, next to Ollie who was sat on a chair. 

“What? Can't I come and visit my friends?” 

“Friends…Plural?” he asked teasingly. 

“Yeah, you're actually the first on my little trip, I'm also going to see Kimi and Gabriel in the next couple of days…” 

He raised an eyebrow and hummed in surprise. 

“Are you, now?” the sarcasm was dripping from his tone and he held back a laugh as he took another sip from his juice. 

You frowned suspiciously at him. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

He put his glass down, considering his next words carefully. 

“You know… Franco has told me a few things…” his eyes bore into yours and you shivered under his intense gaze, gesturing for him to continue. 

 “…about the private party in Monaco” 

“Colapinto…” you tutted “One of these days that mouth of his is going to get him in trouble” 

You put your own glass down before adding “I'll be having a word with him. And you'd better not share whatever he told you with anyone else” 

He smirked, finishing his glass before standing up to put it in the sink. 

“Of course not…” he muttered as he turned around and stalked towards you “We wouldn't want my mouth getting me into any trouble, would we?” 

He stopped inches away from you, hands leaning on the table either side of you, effectively caging you in.  

“Or can I get into a little bit of trouble every now and then?” 

You weren't sure where his brazenness had come from, but his lazy smirk was getting you hot all over. You glanced at his lips, and he caught the movement. 

“Little Oliver Bearman?” you goaded him “he would never get into any trouble! He's an angel…”  

Your breaths mingled as he leaned in, painfully slowly, his pupils dilating as he closed the gap. 

“We'll see about that”  his lips lightly brushed yours, and you could feel him smiling, tempting, daring you to make a move. 

You did, you crumbled, leaning forwards and joining your lips heatedly. 

He tasted like oranges and sugar, and when you deepened the kiss he closed the space between your bodies, leaving absolutely no room for Jesus as he immediately started rocking his hips against yours, and you realised he definitely wasn't wearing any underwear. 

He took you right there on the kitchen table. 

He ate you out first, proving to you that his mouth was, in fact, trouble. 

Then he worshipped you with his hands while he reduced you to a puddle of goo on his cock. 

After, he asked if you wanted to stay the night, hang out, watch a movie or something. 

You agreed without hesitation.  

… 

You secretly, desperately hoped the Haas wasn't going to be a glorified wheelbarrow next season. 

Next on your list was Gabriel, and if his response to your message was anything to go by, he had definitely been briefed by Fernando beforehand. 

It took all of ten minutes of you crossing the threshold of his apartment, before he had you on your knees for him, swallowing around him as he looked down at your tear stained cheeks with nothing but hunger in his eyes. 

“Meu deus-” he groaned “Fernando was right, you do have a mouth worth fighting for” 

You hummed and took him deeper, sucking him down as far as you could, and it didn't take long for him to come with a shout down your throat. 

Once again you stayed the night, and in the morning he very kindly repaid you with three orgasms.  

One with you sitting on his face, one with his fingers dragging you to the edge of ecstasy with insane precision, and the last one with him bucking up into you while you held onto him for dear life. 

He was a lot of fun, that was undeniable. 

… 

But unfortunately for both of you, their really wasn't  much hope for the Sauber. 

Your tour of Italy ended in Kimi's apartment. 

And he had obviously not been briefed. 

He didn't seem like he had any inkling whatsoever about why you were there. 

When he opened the door he had his airpods in and he was sweating buckets. 

He was in the middle of a workout, and had lost track of time. 

“I am so sorry” he panted as he let you in “I didn't realise it was already time” 

You laughed at his panicked expression. 

“It s fine, Kimi. Just finish your workout I'm not in a rush.” 

He didn't seem to pick up on the way your hands lingered on his body when you hugged. 

So you watched him do the last part of his routine: weights. 

It was hard not to salivate. He'd rolled up his sleeves so that his arms were on full display, and you swore you saw a little smirk appear when he did. 

His biceps were objectively quite shocking in their size compared to the rest of him, and your gaze wandered over his body as it flexed. 

You couldn't help notice him repeatedly having to unstick his shirt from his body while grimacing at the feeling, so you took a gamble. 

“Kimi, if your shirt is bothering you, you can take it off” 

This time he definitely smirked at you. 

“Are you sure?” he grabbed the hem of his shirt “I don't want to make you uncomfortable” 

You bit the inside of your cheek at his tone, he was definitely trying to tease you. 

“Of course.” You giggled “Don't worry, I don't bite”  

Something in his gaze darkened and he muttered “that's a shame” before grabbing the back of the shirt and pulling it over his head. 

You could honestly say you definitely didn’t moan at the sight of his insane physique. 

Whatever went through your head in that moment was between you, and God. 

But Kimi could see the look on your face, jaw slack, dark eyes fixed on his sweaty muscles. 

You were no better than a man. You licked your lips and he laughed. 

“You sure you don't want a bite?” he teased, subtly flexing his arms. 

“Why don't you come here and find out?” you tried to sound confident but even to you it wasn't very convincing. 

That day, Kimi found out you loved to bite.  

And you found out he fucking loved to be bitten… everywhere. 

He fucked you on the workout bench. Then on the exercise mat on the floor, and by the end of it he was covered in teeth marks. 

His biceps, his neck, his tits, his thighs… 

He was going to have trouble explaining those to his physio. 

And everything he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm and endurance. 

Two to go… 

You were at it for so long the sun had set and you were both pretty hungry so you decided to order take-out before going to bed.  

Isack was a bit shy at first, not really knowing what to expect when you showed up at his front door. 

You decided to do Paris first, that way you could circle back to Monaco afterwards to see Jack, and then spend a couple of days with Oscar and Lando, like you'd promised. 

You sat next to him on the sofa, telling him about your… reward system. 

He was hesitant with his touch, hand softly caressing the skin of your thigh as you spoke, but he quickly got into the spirit when you straddled his lap and pulled him in for a kiss. 

As soon as your top was off he made sure to give your tits all the attention they deserved with his hands and most of all, his mouth. 

It was heavenly when it trailed along your collarbones, nipping and sucking at your skin while his hands made quick work of your clothing. 

And once he was inside you, it was his turn to be in heaven. 

He was mesmerized by the way his cock disappeared inside you every time you bounced in his lap, his hands tightening around your hips to help you along. 

“Putain…” you could tell he was getting close by the strain in his voice as he uttered curses against your skin. 

“Can I… inside?” he whined, looking up at you with a pout, those beautiful brown eyes staring into your soul, and you bit your lip at the sight. 

“Go on then Isack, fill me up” 

He groaned and his hips slammed up to meet yours, letting himself go completely. 

… 

He then played with your clit lazily, eyes on yours the whole time as he studied your reactions, and he made you come just like that, seated on his softening cock while he made you writhe on top of him. 

Monaco was just as sunny as Italy, but there was a slight chill in the air as you knocked on Jack's door. 

He opened it seconds later with a massive smirk adorning his features. 

“I was wondering if I'd be getting a visit from you during the break” 

He winked and let you in, offering you a drink as you made yourself comfortable. 

“Seems like word travels fast, then” you blushed as you sipped your drink. 

You were already feeling tingly because of the couple of drinks you'd had on the plane, so you didn't hesitate to put your legs up on his lap. 

“You have no idea” he chuckled, one of his hands going to stroke your thigh. “I've had quite a few interesting conversations about you” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve heard that a few times now… I need to teach my boys to be a bit more discreet if they want me to come to the races next year”  

He raised an eyebrow, looking at the way his hand was making goosebumps appear on your skin in its wake. 

“I'm sure I could do something to convince you” 

You put your glass down to disguise the way your heart was racing at the look he was giving you. 

“I'm sure you could. But where's the fun in that? They're the ones that have been running their mouths” 

He grinned, leaning closer to you. 

“If you'll let me take you upstairs, I could show you how I could be running my mouth” 

His gaze dropped to your lips, his pupils growing by the second. 

“You've given this some thought, haven't you?” you teased, rubbing your calf over where you could feel him, already half hard in his shorts. 

“I've had quite a bit of time to think about what I want to do to you” he growled, hands going to hold your hips. 

“By all means, then. Take me to bed Jack” 

He sprung into action, lifting your body easily and carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom. 

Once inside, he stripped you of your clothes and manhandled you onto your front. 

“Hips up, whore” he ordered, landing a light smack against your thigh and you gasped at the unexpected show of dominance. 

You did as he asked without hesitation, and he chuckled. “Already wet for me and I haven't even touched you” 

His resolve crumbled relatively quickly though, and he crawled up behind you to eat you out like a man starved. 

But as you trembled in his hold, his attention slowly moved upwards. 

Well it was rare that anyone ate your ass, but he was doing so with so much gusto you couldn't help but moan into the pillow you were gripping onto for dear life. 

A bottle of lube and a few fingers later, you were spread out under him, your legs having given out embarrassingly early in process. 

He was inside you, rocking his hips against yours while your wetness spilled onto the sheets uselessly. 

You begged and begged, but no use. 

He wasn't usually a selfish lover by any means, there was just something about you that made him want to see you squirming and desperate. 

“Whores don't get to have their cunts filled” he said with a mean lilt to his voice. “But I am feeling merciful, so you can come if you can be bothered to do it yourself” 

You obeyed without question, reaching down under your body to help yourself along. 

He felt you come around him before he heard the high pitched moan come out of your mouth. 

Well, you had your work cut out for you with these rookies, and getting to play with them all season long was going to be so much fun, you could feel it. 

You clenched so tight around him he had no choice but to finish inside you, rocking against you until you both shuddered in overstimulation. 

You stayed the night at Jack's, shooting Oscar and Lando a quick text to let them know you were back in Monaco, and that they would soon be able to collect their Championship prize, just as promised. 

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Too Much (Dean’s POV)

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

The OG story is here; it’s the same story, just from Dean’s perspective with a scene of his added in

Things were different now. Dean knew it, but he wasn’t willing to face it.

Ever since Sam had died in his arms, Dean couldn’t look at the world the same way. It was bigger, it was darker, it was scarier—and he was no longer certain he could protect his siblings.

He couldn’t let his nerves affect his relationship with Sam; Sam would call him out on it in a second. But he couldn’t help his sudden overprotectiveness of you.

He didn’t think you’d notice the little things, like bringing you with him any time he left, or going with you any time you left, or generally doing whatever he could to stay as close to you as possible.

“What’s with the shadowing? You’re like a magnet,” was the first thing you said about Dean’s behavior, but he brushed it off with a halfhearted quip about keeping you out of trouble.

He knew he was pushing it when he ignored the usual sleeping arrangements and shared a bed with you, despite it being Sam’s turn, but he couldn’t help it. He found he couldn’t sleep without the sound of your breathing right there, without knowing he could protect you if anything came after you.

But he really took it too far at the store.

He hadn’t meant to freak out on you and run around the store like an idiot the minute he couldn’t see you, but losing sight of you had scared him more than he’d ever admit. He’d turned his back for just a second to grab some pie, and you’d disappeared. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he ran down the aisles searching for you, and even when he found you it didn’t calm down—not until after he knew you were safe.

“Where were you?” He snapped, checking you over carefully; you were, of course, fine.

“I…went to find the bread.” Your face was scrunched up in that concerned look that Dean hated so much.

“You can’t just wander off!” Dean took your shoulders in his hands and shook you, as if to knock some sense into you. “I didn’t know where you were! You can’t do that, understand?”

“Dean—“ you didn’t understand, but Dean needed you to agree.

“Understand?”

“I understand!”

Dean forced himself to let go of you, telling himself that this was nuts, that he was nuts, that you were safe and he needed to stop acting crazy.

“Ok,” Dean breathed, willing himself to calm down. He grabbed the bread from your hands and tossed it in his basket.

“Dean—“

Dean refused to let you start lecturing, or worrying about him.

“Come on, we should go.”

He was glad you didn’t argue as you let him lead you out of the store.

…

It was the first hunt after Sam died. Sam seemed ready for it, but Dean wasn’t. Not just because he didn’t want to take his little brother into danger again, but also because he hated leaving you behind. Anything could happen to you while you were alone in the motel room, and Dean wouldn’t be able to do anything.

You caught Dean staring, and he quickly looked away—he couldn’t meet your eye, you’d read him too easily.

Sam packed his bag of weapons all too quickly, beating Dean out the door. Dean stayed in the doorway, still unwilling to leave you here alone.

“Don’t open the door for anyone,” he said to you. “And just…” what was he supposed to say? He’d done this a hundred times before, so why was it so hard now? “Be safe.”

…

All the breath in Dean’s body left him the moment he laid eyes on the shifter.

It can’t be…

“Y/N?” Dean’s grip on his knife faltered, and for a moment he was frozen.

“Dean, it’s the shifter!” Sam’s voice from behind him spurred Dean into action, but too late. You—no, the shifter—were running at Sam, and Dean had a split-second decision to make.

“No!” Dean jumped in front of his little brother, driving his knife into the shifter’s chest.

It’s a shifter, just a shifter…

That may have been true, but that didn’t change the fact that it was your body that shuttered in pain, your voice that cried out, and your eyes that fogged over and began to shut.

“No no no no…” Dean groaned, dropping to his knees as your body gave out. Dean held your form in his arms, and all he could do was watch as your blood pooled in his hands and your breathing slowed to a crawl.

“De…” Sam’s hand gripped his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not her.”

It’s not her. You know it’s not her.

But knowing it didn’t change anything. Dean still couldn’t find it in himself to abandon the dying creature in his arms that looked up at him with your eyes. He couldn’t help the fear that gripped his heart as he watched those eyes close, and stay closed. He watched your body give one last, shuddering breath, and then stay eerily still.

“Dean.” Sam shook Dean’s shoulder. “Dean c’mon. It’s not her.”

That reminder shook something loose in Dean’s head.

“It saw her.” Dean gulped. “If-if it looked like her, it had to have seen her. What if it—“

“We just saw her, she’s fine,” Sam assured him, but Dean wasn’t listening anymore. He laid your body down gently on the ground before jumping to his feet.

“We need to get to her.” Dean left no room for argument as he rushed for the Impala, trying to ignore the blood soaking his hands and the memory of your life draining out in his arms.

…

Dean broke every speed limit getting back to the motel, and when he reached the room he slammed the door open so hard he was sure it would dent the wall. But he didn’t care.

You had jumped up when the door opened, and now you were standing in the middle of the room—safe. Dean went straight for you, ignoring whatever question you were asking him as he pulled you into his arms and held onto you like a lifeline. The hug wasn’t enough—he felt like he needed to hide you from the world. Dean lifted you into his arms, sitting down on his bed and cradling you against him like he used to do when you were little. He started to rock back and forth, focusing on nothing but your heart beating against him.

Sam was trying to talk to him, but Dean didn’t hear anything until Sam started talking about the shifter.

“Somehow, it must’ve seen you, because it…it looked like…Dean had to—“

The image of your dead body flashed in Dean’s mind, and he tightened his hold on you, resting his chin on your head and lifting his hand to the back of your neck.

He barely heard you assuring Sam that you were ok, that nothing had happened, and soon enough Sam left to shower.

“Dean?” Your voice sounded strained; worried.

“Just don’t go away,” Dean whispered. You couldn’t leave him—he couldn’t take it.

“Dean, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, I’m ok.”

Your words didn’t seem to get through Dean’s fogged mind; not when he still had your blood on his hands.

“I stabbed you through the heart. You—you died in my arms.” Dean tried to ignore the tears pricking at his eyes. You weren’t dead, you weren’t—it was just a shifter, and you were reminding Dean of that just now, though he was barely listening.

“You can’t go away. You can’t do that to me, understand?” Dean pulled you even closer—it was like he couldn’t get you close enough, or safe enough. “I-I can’t lose you the way I lost Sammy. I can’t watch you die, I won’t.”

“That’s what all this was about?” Dean knew you were finally piecing together all his clingy behavior, but when he felt you trying to escape his hold he tensed.

“Don’t go,” he begged. He couldn’t lose you tonight, not again.

“Ok, ok I’m right here, I’m staying. But…but is that why you won’t let me go anywhere alone? You think I’ll…I’ll die like Sammy?”

Dean’s heart caught in his throat. Why did you have to see right through him?

“No, you won’t,” he promised. “Because I won’t let you.”

“Dean, you can’t…you can’t be around me all the time. It’s too much, it’s not healthy.”

Dean’s mind was working overtime. What would he do if you tried to get more space from him? If you didn’t let him protect you? He’d go crazy if he couldn’t protect you.

“You can’t leave. You can’t.” You can’t die like Sammy.

“Dean.” You were moving around now, trying to escape Dean’s grip.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. Why were you so determined to not let him help? He felt like if he let you go now, he’d lose you forever.

“Please, don’t go, please.”

You can’t leave me, you can’t leave me…

“Dean, we can’t live like this. You’re gonna make yourself sick with worry, and I’m gonna go nuts if you don’t give me some space.”

Dean swallowed, trying to let your words sink in. You were right, he knew it, he’d known it ever since he started to feel this way, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

“Dean?” You prodded. “Are you hearing me?”

He knew what he had to do. But he couldn’t do it; not tonight.

“Yeah. Ok, I hear you, and I’ll try to do better, but…but can I have tonight?”

“What?”

“Just…” Dean took a deep breath, trying to force his thoughts into words. “Just let me do this tonight, ok? I saw you did, and I-I can’t…”

“Ok.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he felt you finally relax into him. He twisted around, laying down so the two of you could get some sleep, but never releasing his hold.

He knew he would have to back off—it was what was right for the both of you.

But for tonight, he couldn’t bear to do anything but listen to your steady heartbeat and feel you breathing in his arms. He needed to know you were safe, and there wasn’t a safer place he could think of than right here in his arms.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[theunsinkableship1]

The Italian Egnima

👆You see that GIF? I’m looking for the original video with audio, it exists, but for some reason, it seems impossible to find these days 👀. If anyone has it, I’d be incredibly grateful!.

⚠️This is a Lukolaship safe zone. Do not read if you do not ship.

What exactly happened in Italy? It feels like a puzzle wrapped in laughter, innuendo, and shared glances that tell a story no one else can fully decode. From the palpable tension to the playful interviews, some answers that sounded different than usual and way too personal, and moments of pointed humor, there was an unshakable energy in the air, a dynamic that seemed to transcend mere promotion.

It wasn’t just the typical camaraderie of co-stars on a press tour; it was something more nuanced, more layered. The way they interacted left us with more questions than answers.

Here's a quick recap if you haven't seen it👇

Let's just stop at this particular interview where they seemed to have resolved "the issue of the day"👇

Some points I wanted to highlight:

1-Mixed Messages

Nicola’s reaction excitedly flipping between “love” and “friendzone” before delivering a pointed comment and tapping Luke with the paddle could suggest this was an inside joke between the two of them. The pointed look at Luke and her playful scolding may imply she’s referencing something specific in their dynamic or past interactions, perhaps teasing him about mixed signals he’s given in the past. Luke’s awkward laugh and downward glance could indicate he knows exactly what she’s referring to but chooses not to elaborate.The way Nicola emphasizes "mixed messages" while directly looking at Luke could hint at real-life ambiguity in their relationship. The concept of mixed signals especially in the context of love versus friendship could resonate with them on a personal level. Her exasperated look at the camera might even be a subtle acknowledgment of the ongoing fan speculation, as if to say, "See what I have to deal with?" On a deeper level, Nicola’s pointed reaction might hint at some real frustration about their dynamic being misinterpreted or perhaps not being clear even between them. Her air of exasperation could signify a sense of “we should be past this” or “why is this still unclear?” It’s possible she’s venting, albeit playfully, about something only they understand.

2-Best Friend

Luke’s pointed and sarcastic emphasis on "best friend," combined with his earlier gesture, suggests he might be addressing an unspoken tension between himself and Nicola. By explicitly stating that a best friend talking about someone they’re interested in doesn’t mean anything deeper, he might be playfully pushing back against the narrative that their interactions are anything more than platonic. His sarcasm, the direct look at Nicola, and her seemingly caught-off-guard reaction could also indicate that there’s an underlying complexity to their relationship. Nicola’s playful recovery by mouthing “I’m in love with you” adds a layer of ambiguity was she deflecting, teasing, or leaning into the tension for comedic effect?Luke’s interruption and sarcastic tone could be seen as him taking control of the narrative in that moment, possibly out of a desire to clarify or intentionally muddy their dynamic. Nicola’s momentary surprise and subsequent joking response might reflect an attempt to recalibrate and keep the tone light.The mutual awkwardness afterward, with neither of them meeting the camera, suggests they’re both aware of how their exchange could be interpreted.

3-Don't call me BRO, MATE OR PAL.

Nicola’s strong and emphatic reaction, paired with the direct look at Luke, feels personal rather than hypothetical. Her statement, "If you're trying to kiss me on the mouth, don't call me bro," delivered so firmly, comes across as more than just a general rule it feels pointed. The way she shakes the paddle, as though driving home the message specifically to Luke, adds to this impression. If we consider their dynamic, this might not be just a random joke. It could hint at an inside joke or even a moment of past awkwardness between them, where casual language clashed with deeper undertones in their relationship. Luke’s nervous laughter and "guilty" expression speak volumes. It’s almost as if he’s recalling a specific instance perhaps a time when he did call her something like "mate" or "bro" in a moment that didn’t align with the undertones of their connection. His reaction feels less like he’s laughing at the general idea and more like he’s laughing at himself, as though Nicola’s comment struck a nerve.His concluding “You’ve been warned” adds a playful acknowledgment that he understands the gravity of her rule but also feels like a lighthearted way to deflect any lingering tension. Nicola’s firm delivery and Luke’s laughter suggest a familiarity with the scenario she’s describing, possibly drawn from their real-life rapport. If their dynamic has ever ventured into the ambiguous territory of platonic vs. something more, this could be a subtle nod to the complexities of that relationship.

There is so much in those interviews...

What are your interpretations? I'm curious.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 15

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I've made some cute headers for the thing!!! What do you guys think??

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

• ··········· • ············ •

It was fascinating how quickly he realized that, for hextech to go astray, one of them had to die. There was no doubt in his mind that if his tech had been deviated to another path, one of its creators had to disappear.

“That’s a complicated question to answer.” looked back at him, smiling sadly. “If it helps us keep the tech away from her, I need to know.” “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you…It’s just that complicated… The answer is both, neither, and I don’t know.”

He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his hair, frustration written on his handsome features. 

“Maybe… if we could try the rune in a safe environment…” Viktor made his way back towards you, placing his tray on the table you had placed yours on, and sat down. “...we can figure out what it is.”

The taller man gently placed a plate on the piano bench next to your thigh. It contained two of the same creamy strawberry pastries he had given you before. You looked at him and smiled as he mentioned them to you with a tilt of his head.

Jayce immediately grabbed the mug with coffee and took a swig. Viktor, however, had a mug filled with something that was topped with heavy cream and what looked like chocolate powder. If it tasted like it looked, it must just be a sugary bomb to his palate. He grabbed a spoon and took a small piece of cream, bringing it to his mouth, closing his eyes as the sweetness hit his tongue.

It was strange watching him bring any food to his lips since his counterpart almost had to be force-fed. It was even stranger when he actually made a little approval sound of whatever he was eating.

“Councilor Tallis.” A familiar voice came from the entrance, and the clicking of heels followed it.

Jayce immediately looked back at Mel’s approach, straightening up and pushing a hand through his hair, trying to comb it back in place.

The beautiful woman walked towards the piano, the golden lines on her skin shimmering and reflecting light. You had to admit, Mel Medarda was perfection. Add that to her cunning and her smarts, and it shouldn't surprise anyone that she became a sorceress herself. 

“Ah, the troupe is all here.” She said, jokingly, her smile not reaching her eyes but seemingly honest nonetheless. She looked at you and extended a hand. “I don’t believe we have been formally introduced. Mel Medarda, Head Councilor.”

You got up from your seat at the piano and shook her hand, wanting to add “universe hopper” at the end but deciding not to.

“That was quite the first impression.” She kept smiling at you, placing a hand on Jayce’s shoulder, and the inventor smiled up at her.  “Not my usual MO, but unfortunately it couldn't be helped.” You answered, smiling back at her, sitting back down. “I look forward to speaking with you in the future. I do need to steal Councilor Tallis away for a moment. Governing body business and all that.” She rolled her eyes as she squeezed Jayce’s shoulders, and the man stood up.

If you had to hazard a guess, the 'governing body business' involved Jayce recounting what had happened in the lab with her mother and Salo on their little impromptu inspection.

“No need for stealing council Medarda,” Viktor said, not looking up at her from his sugary delight. “We gladly offer him over…”

Jayce looked back at his partner with an unamused expression.

“We’ll finish this later.” He looked at Viktor and then back at you.

As they both walked away, you resumed your playing, your fingers drifting over the keys spontaneously. You saw Viktor’s head snap up as he scooped the last drop of cream into his mug, leaving only a beige-looking liquid in it. 

“I take it you don’t know how to play.” You looked back at the keys, gently swaying with the melody. “I write numbers on a blackboard, and I tinker with things that more often than not explode in my face. Much like writing music, playing music escapes me.” He pointed the spoon to the keys. “Wanna try?”

You suggestively raised your eyebrows and tilted your head to the keys, enticing the poor scientist. Sliding over to one side of the bench, you patted the space, taking the small pink pastry and eating it in one bite. He looked confused at first, but his curiosity got the better of him. The need to know things and try things were always qualities that didn't seem to waver in any iteration of Viktor—the passion for learning never ceasing or decreasing.

He sat next to you, adjusting his leg and leaning his cane on the side of the piano. Viktor cleaned his palms on his pant legs and cleared his throat. You heard the barista groan.

“Oh Gods. Not the scientist at the piano...” he mumbled loud enough for both of you to hear. “I do believe our friend Loriel is not happy about this turn of events…” Viktor announced just as loudly as the bartender, and Loriel took a very deep breath. “He is going to love what comes next then.” You added turning back to the ivories.  “Maybe the Academy's cafe isn’t exactly the best place for piano lessons.” Viktor whispered, turning his back to the bar, some doubts in his voice. “Then they shouldn’t have placed the piano in the cafe.” “Why is the piano in here anyway?”

Viktor looked back at Loriel, who shrugged and mouthed something to the tune of 'to torment me.' You laughed, and Viktor followed with a snicker. He straightened up, as best as he could, squared his shoulders, and placed his hands on the keys. You mimicked his stance and realized that all of your right side was touching all of his left. From shoulder to knee, and yet there were no feelings of panic bubbling in your stomach.

“Why are we so stiff?” You whispered to him, moving your head slightly to look at him. “Is this not how professional piano players play?” “Not unless they want to look like a douchebag.” You shook your shoulders a bit and relaxed; he did the same. “May I?” You pointed to his hand, asking permission to touch and move them. He nodded, and you placed his two index fingers on two specific keys. “Now you do this.”

(Chopstick piano)

You placed your own index fingers on the ivories, slightly away from his, and moved them in sync, both fingers reflecting what the other was doing. The melody was simple and repetitive, and the movements were pretty mechanical. Easy to learn.

Viktor caught on quickly, the movements coming out slowly and clumsily at first but becoming familiar with every try.

“Please play something else!” Loriel half shouted exasperatedly, and you looked back at him, about to give him an angry look but noticing he was half joking.

“Remember when I told you magic is just like music?” You whispered to him, and he nodded, excitedly looking at you. His golden eyes were bright and joyful. “Yes, once you’ve played a note the first time, the next time it becomes easier.” “And what we did in the closet.” You looked down onto your side of the keys, missing the red tint that appeared on his cheeks. 

Nudging his knee gently, you made a gesture for him to start playing his little tune. At some point, you started to add another melody, a rhythmic thumping that intertwined with the simple notes he was playing. You heard rather than saw Viktor's little gasp of excitement.

“Thank goodness.” You heard Loriel say. “Now keep moving along the playlist.”

When you ended the music, he followed your lead and stopped his actions but did not take his fingers from the keys. 

“You know what? Let’s switch it up.” You slid from your side of the bench and nudged his shoulders to the side where you sat, him clumsily going and readjusting his leg.

You sat where he had been before and showed him the repetitious keystrokes you had added previously to his beginner lesson. His long fingers easily managed to touch the keys as you started to tap your foot on a steady tempo. Slowly but surely, the scientist managed to accompany your foot-tapping with his playing.

Letting him go over the chords a couple of times, you jumped in. First doing the same simple two-finger melody and then jumping to a more complicated part, completely changing the melody.

You felt Viktor slowly swinging to the melody, his shoulder bumping into yours as he enjoyed the music. You followed his movements, and the two of you went on playing. He would stop whenever you played a more complicated part, a little laugh coming out of him,

With a final pressing of the keys, the song ended, and you smiled triumphantly at the scientist beside you. He looked down at you; it was noticeable that his cheeks were becoming a pretty shade of red, while his eyes looked at his fingers and then shifted back to you.

Even though you had noticed how you had been closed before, now it dawned on you just how close you two were. You could see the brown flecks in his eyes, the small scar he had on his forehead from the goggles digging into his skin, and his pulse quickly beating on his neck.

You felt a small touch on your little finger and glanced at it, surprised at the sudden contact. His hands had moved, and he was brushing your pinky with his, slowly as if not to scare you. You felt your heart quicken and turned back to face him, eyes wide.

“Should I have asked?” He mumbled slowly, tilting his head down, his brown hair falling from behind his ear. “About?” you let out in a breathy whisper, doing the best you could to keep your eyes from wandering around his face.

He moved his finger to interlock with yours, the corners of his lips tilting up.

 “It’s fine…” And it was. There was no panic or anxiety. There were no urgent or nightmarish visions of hexangels.

Gently he pulled your little fingers towards his hand, adding your ring finger to the weave of hands. You managed to breathe and blink, your eyes unfocusing on his face, waiting for anything to happen. When it didn't, you went back to those golden pools of his.

Viktor looked at you waiting for a protest, but you said nothing. No constructs, no golden enemies. In a moment of boldness, you moved your hand under his and turned your palm up, him giving you the space you needed to do it. When you were comfortable, you slotted your fingers in his. You didn’t squeeze or grab his hand, just letting the weight of him become familiar. 

Much like in your universe, his hands were long and bony, with callouses from using every tool at his disposal. They had a tepid warmth to it, the playing of the piano letting the blood flow to his extremities. 

“My hands are always cold.” He noted, scratching the back of his neck, and you looked at his long fingers on yours. “Should wear some gloves.” You joked, nudging him and squeezing his hand tentatively. “I like this better.” He raised an eyebrow smugly, and you snorted, looking away in fake annoyance. You felt his hand squeeze back and looked back at him. The expression on his face was far from embarrassed; if anything, he knew exactly what he was doing, a loopy side smile plastered on his face. You shook your head, a smile on your own face. “You’re a sneaky one…” “Heh…I do hail from the Undercity." He joked, and you laughed out loud, placing your forehead on his shoulder, feeling him laugh too.

“Viktor!!!” A smooth, hurried voice came from the corridor, and a bouncy Sky Young walked into the cafeteria.  “Miss Young!” He half-shouted back, making his assistant's head snap to him.

He moved your still intertwined hands away from the keys and in between both your bodies. He gave you one last squeeze before letting go.

“Oh…I have been looking for you.”  “I have been here for the last two hours,” he said, stretching in front of you, reaching for his cane. “Sorry. Jayce is with Councillor Medarda, and the door is locked, and Councillor Salo took my key from me and…” She looked at you, her exasperated ramble coming to a halt. “Oh. Hello. Sky Young, a pleasure to meet you!”  “Hello.” You told the younger woman, smiling, and answered with your name. “I thought you two knew each other…” Viktor said, getting up carefully and moving to stand next to his assistant. “I said I’ve seen her around…I never said we had been introduced.” You quickly retorted. “Also, do I need to reschedule the appointment for this morning?” “Ye—” she started, but Viktor interrupted. “No need; we can do it now.” “But their name is on the morning slot.” Young noted, grabbing a small planner. “It’s not their fault we had an inspection on their fault. If anything, the council should be the one to schedule their appointments.” He said with finality and turned around. “Come now, you two. Time to get to work.”

You and Young stared at each other and both shrugged, smiling at each other.

“Thank you, Loriel.” You shouted and waved back at the barista as you walked away from the cafe. “You’re welcome! Come back any time... Seriously!”

• ············ •

“So, you can now combine runes?” Viktor asked, sitting at his table at the lab, writing furiously in his little notebook. “And I’m also starting to…not need to push them out…like…physically.”

The scientist looked at you. You've been sitting here for 40 minutes; 20 of those had been Viktor trying to shoo Sky out of the room.

“Example,” he prompted, and you nodded.

You faced him, the big front doors behind you. You cleared your throat and drew the known string of runes in front of you. Waiting for a second, with your hands by your side, you blinked, and the runes disappeared. The door behind you whooshed open.

“That’s new.” Viktor’s eyebrows shot up. “Can you reverse it?” “I can close the door, but not lock it.”

His eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched. He started to go back through the notebook, getting to the pages where you were both annotating the runes and suffixes.

You walked towards him and leaned into his table, looking at the notebook. You had feared that after the little moment at the piano, the rest of the evening would be awkward, but no. He hadn’t mentioned it, but he wasn’t tiptoeing around you. It was just good old Viktor.

“You’ve never shown me this rune.” He pointed to the mend rune with his pencil and looked up at you. “Technically, you've seen it. But I can show you again. May I?” 

You pointed to his purple-colored pencil, and he gave it to you with a doubtful expression. With a bit of force, you snapped the pencil in two, and he groaned.

“Please do not break my writing utensils. I really don’t want to explain to the council why I need to buy more colored pencils…It’s already a hassle as it is.” He swiveled the stool to turn to the table where you placed the pencil. “They apparently don’t understand the concept of color coding.”

You snorted while drawing the rune. The small tendrils that came out of it searched the pencil for where it was broken and joined it, making it whole again. The only trace of something happening was the shimmering blue vein where it was snapped.

“Fascinating…” He grabbed the pencil and inspected it from every angle. “Have you tried this with a bone?”

Blinking slowly at him, you squinted your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows, the doubt he had previously now written on your face. 

“What?” “A bone.” He shook his arm to demonstrate.  “You want to break some for me to try?” You retorted sarcastically, but the thoughtful look on his face made you shake your head. “No…I have not tried it in a bone. I haven't encountered a broken bone to try it on, and you will not provide me with some.” “Oh no…not mine.” He made a few swirls with the pencil on the notebook, finding out it worked just like before.  “Whose bones are you gonna break, stick bug? You’re all length and sharp corners…” 

You crossed your arms, raised one eyebrow, and leaned into the table with your hip, your face bearing a mask of doubt. His expression shifted to unamused, his lip pinched and his eyebrows knotted. 

“First of all…stick bug?” He spat the word out comically, and you laughed, nodding. “Second of all, some bones can be easily broken by applying pressure in certain key points. No need for brute strength.”

“Yeah? And how many bones have you broken, Mr. Applied Pressure… you joked, shifting to sit on the table. “Several, actually…” “Yours don’t count…”

Viktor opened his mouth to argue but closed it with a humph, turning away from you. You snorted at his spoiled expression.

“How many have you broken? all talk, I bet..." He mumbled, turning the stool fully towards the table. “Several, actually... and not mine either.”

You thought of those last few hours on your timeline, grunting and fighting. Violet had given you some sort of lesson on what she called ‘blocking with your face’ that somehow involved not just that but also punching, kicking, and general shit talk. 

You missed Vi. The one that chuckled when you talked back to her. The Vi that had looked at you weirdly when you asked her to punch you because you needed to know how it felt and not be scared of it. The undercity fighter, who looked impressed when you managed to punch her after dodging a blow.

“The music schools where you come from are very competitive…” Viktor’s voice snapped you back to the lab. He frowned when he looked at you, his expression shifting from annoyance to concern. “Are you alright?” “Yes… Sorry…” You cleared your throat. “If we find someone with a broken bone and willing, we’ll try it on them.” “I guess we can do that…” He flipped the book back to the page where he had taken notes. “You should use that rune to lock the door.” “The lock is not broken, though.”  “True…but I think we may need to go in a more…symbolic route. The pencil, after you mended it, reverted to its original form. In if core, that’s what the mend rune does when spoken.” “So I'd be reverting the unlocked door back to its original state." You mused, and he nodded. He patted your knee and pointed to the door, encouraging you to try it.

Still sitting on the desk, you spoke the runes: wind, coda, mend, unlock. In a second the door drifted closed, the door locking with a click. 

You looked at Viktor, who had a winning smile on his face.

“This stick bug seems to be pretty good at this magic thing.” He swiveled his stool back around to turn to write his findings.

With a swish of your finger, his little wheeled bench rolled back away from its original location, while he made a squeaky surprised sound with his throat.

“That is not fair.” He said, pushing the stool back with his feet. "I thought you hailed from the Undercity." You joked, getting up from your sitting place and going behind him to gently push back to the table. "Yes, I do." He said proudly.

You squeezed his shoulders and turned to walk away, unlocking the door with a flick of your finger.

“Where are you going?” He inquired, turning to watch you walk away. “Mother is expecting me.” You walked backward, looking at him and smiling. “Some sort of dinner celebration, event…I don’t know…I just know that I am now obliged to be there, but here…”

With another flick of the wrist, the ceiling above his head became filled with little shimmering stars.

“To keep you company…” You finished with a wink and walked out the door.

You didn’t hear the happy sigh Viktor gave as he looked up at the soft, shimmering lights. And you didn’t see him placing his notebook on the table, walking to the couch, and just staring contently at the little starlight you manifested in the ceiling while gently stroking his palm, remembering how it felt against yours.

• ············ •

The smile on your face as you made your way to the elevator was cut short when the thing pinged open.

Rictus stood, eyebrow raised, staring at you from inside the empty elevator.

• ············ • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies

[haveihitanerve]

Batboys centric in which they come to the realization that Bruce is pretty (not romantically, the kind of pretty when you look at your mom's wedding photos and see her in an amazing dress).

Bruce isn't used to people seeing him as pretty, but her Brucie Wayne persona because that's the whole point of it.

ohohoho i have a hunch this is you and also this is sooooo interesting... lemme see what i got-

“Do you want to come to the tavern with me?” 

The words caught Dick off guard. Both because he hadn’t heard anyone say “tavern” in years, and because Bruce had said it.

“Um?” He glanced up from where he was sprawled over the couch, looking away from his phone. “Yeah? Sure?”

Bruce hummed, reaching up a hand as though to run it through his hair, then thought better of it, and dropped it again. For good reason too.

Dick tripped as he stood, eyes glued to his father, blown wide. Bruce frowned, glancing down at himself.

“What's wrong?” He asked, concerned.

Dick’s cheeks burned and he ducked under Bruce’s arm, heading up the stairs. “Nothing, nothing, I’m just gonna get changed.” He muttered, hurrying up the stairs and ducking behind the corner.

Because what the fuck.

Dick peeked back out, daring a glance back down the stairs at his Dad.

Bruce was wearing a loose fitted light pink tank top, tucked half heartedly into deep navy slacks, hair styled away from his face in a way that clearly revealed his age.

It wasn’t to say that Dick had never seen his Dad in different versions of undressed. Quite the contrary. Their line of work required levels of nudity, whether while dressing an injury, showering, or working their secret identity personas.

But this… Dick shook his head, heading to his room to grab some clothes to change into.

Bruce was… pretty. 

The next time it happened, Dick had witnesses. Jason and Tim were sitting in the den with him, pretending to watch a movie.

Truly, only Jason was actually focused on the story, as it was a movie that had come out when he’d been dead, but Tim would look up on occasion, usually only to draw Jason into a quick debate before dropping his attention back to his phone.

Dick himself was listening to the movie like an audiobook, a real book propped up halfheartedly on his stomach.

“Tim, could you help me quickly?” Bruce called, a moment before he entered the den.

Tim dropped his phone, eager for an excuse to have some work to do, faltering only for a second when he realized the task wasn't case work. No, instead it was much much worse.

Dick lifted his book, cheeks burning, as Jason stared, eyes wide, jaw dropped.

Tim, however, seemed completely unbothered, hands moving quickly and effortlessly to help Bruce out before he dropped back into the seat.

Bruce ruffled his hair with a light smile, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thanks Timmy. Boys.” He nodded at his eldest and exited again.

“Tim.” Jason hissed the second he was out of hearing, and Dick dropped his book.

Tim, who had returned to his phone, completely unruffled, glanced up, frowning when he spotted their gagged expressions. “What?” He asked, puzzled.

“You just-” Jason floundered.

“You just helped lace Bruce up in a corset.” Dick hissed. Tim blinked, mind whirring.

“Yes?” He finally agreed, still perplexed. “And this is important because…??”

“He’s pretty.” Jason scowled.

Tim laughed. “Guys, you do realize that our Dad is Bruce Wayne right??? The guy who wins every fashion contest? The guy our classmates call hotter than Superman?? The one person where guys go “i’m not gay but…” and girls go “i’m not straight but…” That Bruce Wayne, yeah?”

Dick scowled. “Yes. We’re aware. I’ve had to deal with those comments about him for much longer than you ever have.” He shot petulantly.

Tim raised his hands, brows furrowed. “Then what's the big deal???”

“We know he’s hot.” Jason snapped. “But he’s… he’s just.” He looked at Dick for help.

“He’s never been pretty.” Dick supplied. “Hot, yeah sure, handsome, okay, sexy, ugh, fine. But- but pretty??? He can’t leave the house like that. My ears will never recover.”

Jason nodded his agreement, looking like a grim military general at war and not a child discussing his fathers attraction level.

Tim looked at both of them, laughed, and propped his feet up on the table, picking up his phone again, chuckling like a supervillain.

“Oh man. And y’all haven't even seen him in a dress yet.” 

um. so.. okay. Firstly, I'm so sorry for the long wait, I just uh have been really busy and unmotivated and yeah im so sorry 😭- secondly, this is not like, even close to what you asked... and i also apologize for that, but i figured better late than never? and its like... kind of in line with what you asked so... yay? anyway sorry and here and hope you like it even tho its not what you asked :)

[petersparkerrs]

baby fever

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

- pairing: husband!andrew garfield x fem!reader

- summary: seeing andrew with your friend's child and on screen with a daughter gave you a massive case of baby fever.

- warnings: unprotected sex, pregnancy mentioned, smutty as hell, nipple play/sucking, established relationship, rough sex

- word count: 3.1k

- author’s note: second fic on here omg i'm so excited! thank u for all the likes and reblogs or wtv they are called, i'm still trying to figure out this app lol.

—————————————୨ৎ

You’ve seen all of your husband’s films, and they didn’t usually get to you too bad. It’s perfectly fine for him in your mind to have an on-screen relationship or even sex with another woman for a film because it's all scripted, but his latest was truly different. 

Andrew’s newest work – We Live in Time – obviously both broke and softened your heart and made you sob an uncontrollable amount. Despite the somber nature of the film, the rest of it was utterly heartwarming and just so domestic.

Not just the relationship and marriage aspect, but seeing him as a father. A girl dad, if anything. 

The sight of him and Florence playing with and carrying around their adorable on-screen daughter did things to both your head and your body. Ever since watching the film at it’s first screening, you couldn’t possibly get the thought out of your head:

Andrew giving you a child, helping you grow life; Andrew being the most wonderful father to the beautiful little boy or girl that you hypothetically birthed. 

The baby fever tugged at your mind for a bit, but died down in the months following the film’s release. You thought it was gone for good, but it crashed down on you ten times harder than originally at the simple sight of your husband playing with your friend’s little girl.

Your ovaries were practically screaming at you in seconds, your body begging you to let him put a child in you. Nothing sounded better to you right now than being all pregnant and swollen because you knew you’d be carrying his child. 

Getting home from your friends, after seeing him be so gentle and caring with your friend’s child, you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. The two of you showered and got cozy for bed, and of course Andrew noticed the lingering sense of distraction or thought on your face.

“You okay?” He checked, taking off his Omega watch and setting it on the nightstand while sat on the edge of your bed, giving you a borderline concerned look.

“Mm-hm.” You nodded simply, turned over away from him on your side. The scent of his fresh cedar shampoo and that amber cologne he sprayed on after the shower filled the air, helping you sense him just as he began to slide into bed and cuddle up behind you.

A pair of strong, familiar arms slid around your waist from behind, his scruffy chin coming to rest on your exposed shoulder with a quiet sigh. 

“I know you too well, baby. You can’t fool me tonight,” He whispered and peppered a few gentle kisses to the cold skin in an attempt to get you opened up, his slender fingers moving under your tank top and tracing the skin of your stomach ever so gently. “You’re all distracted since we got there earlier.”

He was too engrossed in the scent of your hair and cold, soft skin to see what exactly it is you’re distracted by now.

It isn’t until he notices your phone screen that he realizes what your mind is so preoccupied with. He was about to speak and ask again but the second his mouth opened, he heard the quiet giggling of an adorable baby coming from your phone.

The open-mouthed expression crossing his face instantly morphs into an amused grin when he puts it together and sees what’s going on. He buries his face deeper into your neck, chuckling softly and mumbling just under your ear. 

“Sweetheart.” He starts, trying not to laugh. This isn’t the first time this has happened – he’s dealt with your extreme swings of baby fever from time to time – just not anytime recently. “What’s that? You lookin’ at baby videos again or just happen to be shopping for onesies?”

His comment earned a quiet snicker from you, getting all giggly and shy when he points it out and finally notices. You scroll to the next video, acting like nothing’s up, as if your entire feed isn’t strictly baby after baby.

“Just scrolling. It’s nothing.” You cheese to yourself, reaching down to take his hand off your stomach. You lift it up to your mouth, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles for that usual bedtime comfort. 

Andrew does nothing but sit there and laugh, letting you take his fingers and do whatever it is you want with them. 

“Uh huh. Just scrolling, I’m sure. Just a coincidence, then?” He sneers into your hair, inhaling deeply to get as much of your beautiful scent as he can. Even if his nostrils seem to have built up a resistance against it from smelling it so often. 

The baby videos catch his eye as well, he just can’t help it. Anyone would get a little soft upon seeing a video of the most adorable baby girl giggling away in a onesie. Plus, it’s crossed his mind recently, and he doesn’t entirely hate the idea of thinking about a baby soon.

You simply nod and keep quiet, immersed in the little world in your head where the cute baby on the screen is yours, and you and Andrew are taking perfect care of it. 

“Come on, I can practically hear the cogs in your mind turning. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” He lightly grazes his cold nose against your ear, a shiver shooting down your spine at the proximity of his voice into your ear.

In a moment of hesitation, your body flips over to face him, the two of you becoming a tangled mess of limbs in no time. His hands instinctively wrap around your waist, resting on the warm skin of your lower back to tug you closer while he murmurs sweetly against your forehead.

“Looks like your baby fever is back, sweetheart. Written all over your face.”

He’s right on point with that, but you’re not ready to admit it just yet. The idea of having a baby with him is so highly anticipated in your mind but the conversation leading up to that decision wasn’t as simple.

“...Yeah.” You reluctantly agree, voice a soft whisper against his neck while his chin comes to rest on top of your head. 

You’re almost overwhelmed by the upcoming conversation but the feeling of one hand stroking down the back of your hair and the other tugging on your thigh to hike your leg up over his body soothed those nerves. Nothing ever has to be that serious with Andrew, he’s always able to calm you down and make even the most serious of discussions so tender.

“Yeah? Is this just, like, a quick baby fever phase, or something you’ve actually been considering? You’ve gotta talk to me, y’know.” He tried to be as gentle as possible to coax the not-so-easy answers out of you and figure out what you’re thinking.

You sigh and give him a soft smile, feigning annoyance and rolling your eyes at the question. But the mock annoyance doesn’t last long, as your head buries right up into his neck to inhale his intoxicating scent and try to calm down.

“I don’t know. I’m ovulating, I can’t believe anything my mind is trying to tell me about a baby.” You chuckle quietly, your nose ghosting against his jaw ever so softly. “I kind of… maybe want one.”

He sighs back, scratching gently at the base of your neck with his long fingers. “If it’s any help, I think you’ll be a great mom. The world needs more of your genes, too.”

The soft words and the tiny kisses you feel beginning to press against your hair send you in a complete 180. The hesitance was gone at the slightest touch of his fingers – possibly because of that previously mentioned ovulation – but also from the overwhelming urge to let him just fill you up and get you so pregnant.

“Yeah? You’d be the greatest daddy. It was all I could think about earlier when I saw you with those kids today.” You admit in a rushed whisper, letting go of all the shame and worries you had regarding the idea of a baby. “Seeing you with a little girl made me want you to fill me up so badly.” 

Andrew thought there would be a bit more of a serious discussion before this, but you seem to be jumping right into the fun part. The way your quiet voice and fresh breath ghosts over his throat causes a quiet groan to choke up in his throat, freezing him in place so he has to take a moment to collect himself.

“Hm. Can’t say I hate anything related to burying myself inside of you. Especially if it means not using any prophylactics.” He responds in equal fervor, the tiniest concern still bugging him so he just has to ask. 

“You sure, though, sweetheart? This is a huge decision to be making, we haven’t even talked.” He asks, voice getting quieter and shakier while you’re already tugging at his t-shirt. “Baby…”

His shirt is off in seconds and you’re on top of him before he even has a chance to breathe, your lips making heated contact with the skin on his collarbone. Absolutely no time is wasted before your own tiny tank top is off at the hands of Andrew, exposing your soft skin. Your nipples harden under his touch and the brisk air of the bedroom, earning a groan from the man underneath you.

“We can figure it out tomorrow morning if we regret it, I don’t care.” You gasp and try to inch closer, lips landing wherever they can while his hands work earnestly over the skin on your pretty breasts. “Want a baby in me. Just.. at least need to feel you finish. I’m craving it so bad, Andy.”

The previous gentle whispers and grazes are replaced with gasps and firm grasps at each other’s skin and clothing, getting everything off without a second thought. It’s like something possessed the two of you, the baby fever turning you into captivated messes for each other.

“I can do that.” Andrew chortled, pulling the sweatpants from your hips to leave you in the pretty pair of black panties that he loved so much on you. 

The weight of the shared decision hung in the air. Not necessarily heavy, but more grounding, like a reminder of the extraordinary journey you chose to step into with him. 

Once his boxers were off and discarded without a care across the room, your lips met in a fervent, sloppy kiss. In only a moment your tongue was stuck deep into his mouth, not just kissing him but sucking on his tongue in the lewdest, most vulgar possible way.

The eager and sincere sucking got a groan out from deep in his throat, pulling you back into the reality of the moment. Your tongue left his, moving to trail down his neck carefully while your hand moved down to pull your panties off. You couldn’t even handle having them on for another moment.

Andrew sighed at the feeling of your wet cunt rested on his stomach, his hazy eyes opening to take a nice gaze down at your body while you straddled his waist. The simple sight of the wet patch forming on his lower belly from how you were already dripping made him need you now.

Normally, he’d think to ask if you were okay first, check on you a million times to make sure you felt good, and take his time to let you adjust. But tonight something primal overtook both of you, not wasting any time at all. 

“Please. Need your cock. Inside. Now.” You gasped against his neck when his thumb came in contact with your aching clit, bucking against his hand like the needy mess you were. 

“So needy for me. Can you say that again for me, baby?” He groaned, grabbing your hips with no effort to be careful, lifting you up and sitting you on top of his already throbbing cock. Precum dripped out from the tip but was gone soon enough at a simple swipe of your finger along the tip.

You sat on top of his cock, but the absence of it actually inside of you made you whine.

“Andrew. M’not joking, please.” You whined again in utter desperation for the feeling of his warm length to fill you so right and stretch you out, but his hands kept you in place for the moment. He kept quiet, biting his lip in focus while he took his cock and gently brushed it against your slick.

Feeble moans slipped from both of your mouths at the slight contact on just the tip against you, making you need more. More, more, more. Andrew did love to tease you, but he knew now wasn’t the time to mess around and rub against you like that. You’d pounce any moment now to get him to put it inside.

You knew it was finally time when his hands moved from the sides of your waist and down to give your hips a loving tap. You know what that means: to lift up. He only suspended you for a moment before absolutely slamming you back down onto him, your hips meeting and his cock being buried inside you without warning or giving you any time to adjust. 

“Andr-” You started to groan in slight pain from the initial contact, but the feeling was replaced in seconds with the overwhelming pleasure he took his time to give you. His hips pushed up to meet yours passionately and desperately, squeezing you so hard and pushing you down to get the perfect angle in the depths of your pussy.

“Shh, baby. Giving you what you asked for. Just-” His voice was huskier than normal during sex. He’s normally so gentle and slow with you, but the visceral need to fill you up with a baby right now couldn’t handle that slow of a speed. He just wanted to cum as quickly as possible. “Just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah? Let me make myself a daddy.”

You didn’t protest one bit, shutting up at his command and sitting back while he guided your body down onto his, pushing harder than he maybe ever has during sex. Initially, you thought the erotic words spilling from his mouth would be the hottest thing of the night. But his mouth made contact with your right breast, swaying that opinion with no room for argument.

“Oh, Andy.” You whimpered, body arching and writhing every way to try to feel his pulsing cock as deep as humanly possible inside your wet cunt. His mouth sucked at your tit, teeth gently grazing the nipple and feeling it harden under his attention.

“Can’t wait to see these full of milk.” He mewled, letting his mouth come off of the right breast with a loud pop, switching to the other side. 

You never really thought of it that way, but the idea of pregnancy with Andrew was unbelievably hot. Normally it didn’t sound like such a sexy thing – swollen feet, morning sickness – but he made everything better. The thoughts of morning sex while he held and caressed your big belly, taking perfect care of you and the upcoming baby, were overpowering and all you could manage to focus on in the same moment he was balls deep inside of you.

Andrew, again, wasn’t being a gentleman. He’s fucking you dumb at this point, getting as deep as possible and hitting your favorite spot with each rough stroke. Whimpers spilled from your throat uncontrollably while the only noises heard from Andrew were the muffled groans against the skin of your tits in his mouth.

Just like he was rooting for, he felt the familiar stirring and tensing up in his gut.

“Baby, baby. Mmph- m’gonna cum soon.” He groaned and gave up on your breasts because he could hardly focus, wrapping his arms entirely around your body so you could be chest to chest during the last moments. “You sure about this? I can finish in you, right?”

You didn’t even allow yourself to listen to or process his words, nodding mindlessly like you were entirely drunk on pure lust. But he didn’t complain, obviously – it made his job a lot easier.

“Love you. Gonna- oh. Gonna make you the prettiest mommy, give you the most beautiful baby.” Groans escaped from his throat uncontrollably, his heading falling limply back while his hands squeezed at your hands with no remorse. There’ll for sure be some bruising tomorrow. 

As much as you wanted to, to make the moment more special, you couldn’t get out a single word. He’s got you completely numb and dumb in his arms while you look pretty and take him deep.

“There. Right there.” He growled into your ear, the most genuine of moans you’ve ever heard from him accompanying the filthy words while his release filled you up entirely and coated the inside of your pussy.

He rode it out slowly but pulled out to not overstimulate you, only now realizing how carried away he got that he didn’t bother checking on you or anything. It took a few moments for both of you to even catch your breath enough to breathe but he went right back to classic Andrew once he could speak. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Are you okay? I didn’t go too rough, did I?” He began worrying far too quickly, knocking you out of that gorgeous aftershock of the sex and making you snort. The moment was ruined, to an extent, but in an arguably beautiful way. 

“No, baby.” You whisper and fall down limp against him, head finding the familiar spot in his now sweaty neck to catch a break after the intense sex that you certainly are in no way used to. It wasn’t his typical well mannered self, but there was absolutely no issue in that – it may have been the hottest sex you’ve ever shared. “Okay, maybe a little. But it was fantastic.”

Both of you managed to calm down after a bit, the realization of what you’ve done finally hitting you in the afterglow.

“Oh.” He whispered, holding you as close as possible so you feel your intense heartbeats against one another. “I might be a daddy. Oh.”

[erinwantstowrite]

Erin i saw one of your posts talking about how spider-sense in lof isn’t “magical” and it’s just all peter’s heighten senses

How does that work is my question and does that mean peter is not connected to the totam? Since if i remember correctly the spider-sense came from the spider totem which every spider-people are connected to the web of life and destiny

And idk what issue it was but i THINK ( don’t quote me on that) peter talk about how the spider that bit him was scientifically made but it origins are magical 

yeah i went in a more scientific direction because the totam thing felt,,, boring. i guess a part of it could still be him connected to that in some way but i much prefer peter having more scientific and man-made origin story because his story is about the feeling of humanity and how grief affects people, etc etc. usually i like a good magical origin story thing but just not for LoF peter.

his spider-senses are just literal spider senses. i imagine it like: we all percieve our surroundings, right? but we aren't consciously thinking of every little detail, unless we're far too aware of it or pushed into it via a panic attack or smth. often when our senses are too high, we freak out. processing all that information all at once would make someone sick. consider where you are right now. you might have a fan going that you know is making noise, but you're used to it so you don't pay attention to it. after some time, you might forget that you can feel a blanket on you until you move again. (hoping these examples make sense.) peter's senses are like that all the time now. he hears practically everything around him in a far greater distance than a regular human. he sees more minute details than our eyes can pick up. he processes time differently in some cases, because when he's focusing on all of that or he's doing something fast, it feels like the world has slowed down around him (in the way that bugs can be so fast and we look so slow to them). he might have become part spider but he's still got a human brain and many other human aspects of himself. so he has this mental block around those senses to prevent his human brain from getting scrambled by all the noise, sights, smells, feelings, all that jazz. he got used to it and blocks it out like we do. his subconscious picks up on these things and that's where that little "voice" comes in. often when there's a direction/ anticipation of an action/ knows where something is, it's because the little spider hairs all over his body have felt the movement. a "danger" sense is peter picking up something around him with one or more senses that he's just not aware of yet. when he picks up on someone's mood, it's not that his spider-sense is telling him what they're feeling, he's just picking up on the tiny details of how their eyes might have dilated or their breathing is shallow. or he's picked up on a smell from them, which is definitely not as aware of. he's kind of like a dog in that sense, he'd probably know if someone was having a medical episode. which is why i joke that he'd be subconsciously aware that tim has a missing spleen and he'd get worried/sense danger for him around some things

[scorpioriesling]

GIRLIE i have been reading 4th wing and holy hell, why havent we got an azriel x fourth wing yettt? like just imagine, that man is literally perfect for ANY book crossover, I would pay good money to see Az beat the frick out of jack (ew)

Our Worlds Collided

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Pairing(s): Azriel x reader

Warning(s): Violence... I mean, read the ask. Lol.

Summary: Living in a different place than your boyfriend is hard, and the moments you can be together, you don't want to waste. But, being in school, there are still obligations and tasks you must complete -- even if it means spending time with your man in a less-than-ideal place.

SR’s Note: This ask was *chef's kiss*. I've been doing so much lately with smut + the Invisible String series (which is finished btw, go read it if you haven't yet) that I haven't really got to write a cute little short story in a while. I hope this is what you wanted -- I'm happy with how it turned out!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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"I'm so glad you made it!"

You threw your arms around your boyfriend, his tall but strong frame engulfing you as he held you close. Grateful for the familiar scent of pine and mint, you inhaled deeply.

"You missed me that much?" The low timbre of his voice was like a caress against your very soul.

Nodding wordlessly, he pulled back, only a bit to look into your eyes. His shadows danced around him in a joyful parade, signaling his inner happiness he so rarely showed on the outside.

"I missed you too, Y/N." He leaned down, pressing a kiss against your lips and smiling when you tugged him close for more. He slid his rough hands along your waist, settling on your hips while his lips moved against yours.

The moment, one you'd been desperate for for weeks now, was harshly interrupted by the mid-afternoon bell, signaling the end of classes for the day. You pulled back, watching your boyfriend grimace at the sound.

"Don't tell me you've never heard a schoolbell before, Azriel," you chuckled. His ears perked up at the sound, and only when it finally ended did he resume his usual, unassuming posture.

"I'll have to get used to the sounds here again." He says. It was true -- where he was from, Prythian, sounds were much softer as the fae hearing had adapted that way. But, in Basgiath, for your kind; it was quite the opposite.

"Yes... and the dragons." You'd taken his hand, making way for your dorm as he sighed.

"Ahh, yes. Almost forgot about those."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He truly could not have come to visit at a worse time; not to sound ungrateful, you loved seeing your boyfriend and all, but between all the training, challenges, and courses you were balancing -- well, there were many hours of the day that you had to leave him to attend those duties.

But, you couldn't complain. Spending every evening, curled up with Azriel, your back to his chest as you got the best sleep of your life? You were counting down the days to graduation.

"So... a first year... that's when we met," Azriel says slowly, flipping through one of your library books. He'd chosen Basgiath's War College History, and was all the more quizzical.

"Yes," you confirmed. "That was when I took Ramir to... well, Prythian." You shrugged. "Accidental, of course, but, look what it got me."

He glanced up, chuckling as you threw him a wink. It was an unusually rainy Friday, and though you'd rather be exploring the town with Azriel, Emetterio had other plans.

"But, how were you even able to leave the college with your dragon?" He asks, frowning at the next. You wrap a few more strands of your braid, reflecting on the distant memory.

"Oh, I got in trouble all right." General Sorrengail had been furious with you upon your return, having clearly stated that dragon riding was for Basgiath-grounds only. "But, like I said -- at least I met you."

He doesn't look up this time, flipping the page and reading more of the text intently.

"So, now that you're a third-year," he starts, his attention only faltering for a moment when you sit down on the mattress beside him. "You can go anywhere you want?"

You nod in confirmation. "Yup. That's right -- Ramir doesn't particularly like long-distance flying, but he does just fine going to Prythian and back."

Azriel looks sidelong at you, and in the dim afternoon light, you can count every freckle on his face. His hazel eyes gaze at you, flickering between your eyes and lips. You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as his hands slide along your upper thigh.

Your alarm buzzes from your phone, causing Azriel to pull back and cover his ears with his palms. You scramble to turn it off, leaning across your boyfriend to reach the night stand in the process.

"Sorry! I'm sorry," you apologize. Your movement to sit back down is halted; his large hands pulling you to straddle him.

He smirks at you, appreciating your cute giggle as you sit on his lap. His hands run up and down the sides of your waist, and in an instant his lips are on yours again.

"Hmm, quite handsy today, are we?" You mumble, eliciting a chuckle from him against your mouth. He enforces his feelings as his left hand lightly pats your behind, and you squeak.

"I wonder why you've got all this on, anyway?" He mutters suggestively. You peer down at him with a scolding expression.

"Though I'd love to have it all off," you punctuate. "I have to be in the training room in 10 minutes." His smile falters a bit, and you realize too late that you slipped up.

"Training room? For what?"

Realization hits you, and you hastily hop off his lap to grab your phone and boots.

"Uh, we have, umm..." You fumble, quickly yanking your boots on and tying the laces. "Training. Tonight."

He looks at you, unimpressed. "Really. Training, at 5 in the afternoon? On a Friday?" He raises an eyebrow.

You huff, standing as you adjust your leathers. "Y-yes."

He continues his blank stare, clearly not buying it.

"Don't worry, I won't be long -- I promise, I'll be quick." You reach for the doorhandle, making up for the time you you'd spent on your boyfriend's lap.

"And, safe." He calls, just as the door shuts.

As you jogged through the corridors, you felt anything but safe. Azriel hated when you got hurt, and of course, before the long weekend, Professor Emetterio was holding challenges. It made sense to choose tonight so injured riders could rest up before classes resumed Tuesday -- but given your situation, it really, really sucked.

Especially because of who had chellanged you; none other than Jack Barlowe.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Girl, you're lucky Emetterio is running behind," Violet says, shaking her head as you finally make it to the training ring. Rhiannon places a light hand on your shoulder, making sure you're okay, but you only nod to her in thanks.

"I.... I lost, track... of time," you say between pants. Rhiannon nods in sympathy, but your silver-haired friend only smirks.

"Mhm, I'm sure you did. Too caught up with the Shadowsinger?" She teases. Rhiannon gasps.

"I didn't know Azriel was in town!" She beams. You roll your eyes at Violet.

"Oh, like you've never been late before," you grin wickedly. "Too busy playing with shadows, and such." Rhiannon claps a hand over her mouth, giggling at the insinuation.

Violet can't help but laugh too. "Oh please -- we know you love your boyfriends little playmates just as much."

Just then, the training room door swings open as Professor Emetterio walks through. He walks straight to the center of the room, clipboard in hand.

"Students!" He bellows, and the entire room hushes. "I have the list here of challenges for this evening -- now, I want to remind you all, the goal of these scheduled fights is not to kill, but rather build your own strength as a rider against an opponent."

Your eyes flicker to that familiar head of blonde hair across the room. Bile rises in your throat as he snickers, whispering something to his friends before meeting you with a menacing stare.

You look away.

"...we'll try to make this quick, as I do understand it is a long weekend and most of you have plans." He clears his throat, adjusting his glasses on his nose and squinting down at the first names.

"Ridoc and Merlin -- please step onto the training mat!"

Everyone clears off the mat, instead lining the outer edges to get a view of the impending battle before them. You stay close to your friends, your attention interrupted by Violet's voice in your ear.

"We've always kind of had the same type, haven't we?"

Rhiannon giggles again from her other side, and you loose a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"We do not -- for example, I would've never dated a guy like Dain." You quip. Violet groans, stratching her forehead.

"Okay, that was definately one mistake," she says. Rhiannon glances between the two of you, counting the similarities on one hand.

"Hmm, tall, tan, brooding shadow masters? Yeah, I'd say your type is the same." You blush, thinking of the handsome male waiting for you in your dorm room.

Violet chimes in. "Don't forget about the tattoos."

Rhiannon nods, holding up another finger. "Right, right -- definitely can't forget the tattoos."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Three more pairs are called after the first fight, and you're so caught up in conversation with your friends that you almost miss your name being called.

"Y/N and Jack -- please take the mat!"

Violet looks to you in horror, as Rhiannon gasps.

"Y/N! Why didn't you tell me you had to fight-"

"It wouldn't have changed anything." You glare ahead, watching Jack's pompous, blonde head part through the crowd of onlookers.

It was true, your friends couldn't have done anything to change the fact that Jack had challenged you. In a twisted way, you kind of wanted the opportunity to punch him in the face -- but, the niggling fear of him punishing you to the near brink of death had you mostly thinking otherwise.

Taking the mat, you watched as Jack sized you up, smirking and rolling his lip between his teeth before taking his beginning stance. You mirrored him, fists raised, though they shook.

"Begin."

Jack wastes no time, slowly stepping around the ring as he continues to look at you menacingly. You move in opposition, trying to keep as much distance as you can.

"Awww," he coos mockingly. "Not so tough now that were in the training ring, are we?" He smirks.

You glare at him. "I've always been tougher than you, Jack."

He chuckles, lunging forward and clicking his teeth together in front of your face. You step back, your boot stepping onto the cold concrete floor outside the training ring. Emettario clears his throat, before breathing out a sigh.

"Y/N, please. Step back onto the mat."

You take a half step onto the mat, it's surface not much more forgiving than the concrete it sat on. Jack snickers, backing up to allow you an inch of room.

"Y'look scared to me, Y/N." He moves, slow and stealthy. "Almost as scared as Baide when I-"

"Shut the Hell up." You grit out, glaring hard at him. Reflecting back to the moment that caused all this to begin with, your blood boils. Finding Jack out late that night last week, all of those weapons, how he had mistreated his own dragon-

"Ooooh, hot are we?" He sneers, ignoring the fearful faces of your friends standing just outside the ring behind him. "That's the difference between dragons and us -- they are easier to control."

Rage bubbles over the surface, your own words drifting into the back of your mind. They're no different than we are, you'd tried to convince him that night. They deserve our respect.

You lunge at him, respect be damned for the asshole before you. Adrenaline pumps through your veins at the silent victory; your fist had hit him exactly where you wanted it to. He staggers back, clutching his face with one hand as he gasps, his other hand raised before him.

"Fuck, you!" He growls, making to grab you but you're too fast. You snake to his side, kicking your boot against his stomach. He doubles over, falling to his knees in pain.

The memory of Violet in this position from your first year sends you reeling, remembering the horror of watching your best friend beaten and bruised so badly that Xaden had to come finish her challenge for her.

You grap him around the neck, flexing your arm at a 45 degree angle in an attempt to put him in a headlock. He'd never hurt anyone again; not you, not your friends, not any dragon, whether it be someone else's or his own-

His hands grip your arm, pulling you over his back and slamming you straight onto your back before him. You let out a cough as the wind was knocked out of you, your vision blurring as you tried to refocus on the ceiling above you.

"Shouldn't have fucked with me, Y/N!" He shouts, scrambling to his feet, only to land a harsh kick to your ribcage. You cried out in pain, grabbing your side as you felt his boot shoving against your ribs, and fingers, again.

"I do what I want with my dragon," he grunts, ramming his shoe into your side over and over again. Pain explodes across your body, your fingers cracking beneath his repeated blows.

Black spots begin to fill your vision, the overhead lights blinking out as the last sounds feel your ears. You're blacking out. You're surely blacking out.

You try again to rise, weakly as your arms shake beneath you. It's no use -- his foot connects with your hipbone, sending you right back to the floor. The shouts of your friends, Emetterio's calling, the world around you; it all begins winking out.

Curled onto your side, you heave one last final breath, waiting for the final hit to send you into darkness.

But, it never comes.

You crane your neck, confused as the shouting around you grows louder. Wincing in pain, you make it onto your back, only having to turn your head to watch as the horrific scene unfolds from the other side of the mat.

Tall and terrifying, you watch those familiar scarred hands throw the blonde to the ground, his body literally bouncing in recoil at the impact. Large, tanned muscles yank Jack back up; only to twist his arms behind his back, the angle unnatural.

Your enemy cries out, writing in pain as the wispy black shadows hurl punches of their own at the bastard. Dark, large wings flare behind the male; the talons enough to send anyone away screaming.

"Please... you don't have to do this, I-"

Azriel punches him clean in the jaw, Jack's head jerking as he falls limply to the ground. The growing crowd around the mat erupts, their screams so loud it felt deafening.

You now understood why Azriel hated the sounds here so much.

The black dots clouding your vision increase, your heart rate slowing before you finally black out -- the last thing you see are his familiar leather boots stalking toward you.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"She's going to be just fine."

The light from the overhead bulbs is blinding as you squint your eyes open, muffled voices and beeps becoming more distinguishable. You blink a few times before everything comes into clear view -- the white operating bed, the heart rate monitor beside you...

...the brooding, winged male in the chair across from you.

"I... what..." you look side to side, taking in the mender watching over you. He begins to grab his things, preparing to leave.

"Your challenge with Mr. Barlowe left you with a few... injuries," he settles on the word lightly. You don't miss his quick glance to Azriel before he continues. "But, not as many as he recieved himself."

You swear there is a hint of a smile behind his words.

"I'll leave you two for a moment."

No sooner than the door shuts behind him, Azriel is on his feet and approaching your bedside, opting to sit next to you on it as he looks down at you. Concern etches his features, underneath the unassuming mask he puts on; then, the memories of what happened start coming back to you.

"Why would you step in like that?" You say angrily, and Azriel huffs.

"Seriously, Y/N? Why would I step in?" He raises his eyebrows. "Maybe because I wasn't comfortable watching the shit get beat out of my girlfriend, that's why." He takes your wrapped hand in his, though his brows still knit on his forehead. "Why didn't you tell me about the fight beforehand?"

You relax your features a little, your heart softening as he rubs small circles against the back of your palm with his thumb. "I didn't think you'd particularly like it, or understand-"

"You're damn right I don't like it." He says, giving your hand a small squeeze. "What would have happened had I not been there?"

His hazel eyes stare right into yours, and you bite your bottom lip. Truly, what would have happened?

"I-I don't know, I guess, Emetterio would have-"

"He wasn't doing shit, Y/N." He sighs, leaning on his elbow to cocoon you in an embrace. He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, and you find yourself relaxing a bit more against his warmth.

"I don't like that you have to go through these things." He says after a moment of silence. His voice is softer now, his hand lightly running along your bandaged side. "I don't like to see you hurt-"

"I have to do this though, Az. It's part of training." You turn to face him, wincing in pain as the fresh bandages do little to ease you. "And, I'm much tougher than you think."

A ghost of a smile graces his lips, his rough fingers reaching out to brush a piece of hair out of your eyes.

"I know you are. I just... I don't want anything to happen to you. I love you too much for that."

Your heart practically bursts out of your chest at the sentiment, and in that moment, you snuggle closer to his chest.

"Good thing I have a big, strong male that I love to protect me then."

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Protected/Unprotected Sex, Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

SMUT!

Jungkook, Jimin, and Tae all stood around you as you held a small mason jar that was filled to the brim of jelly in your hands. You had spent all evening following your grandmother's recipe carefully. You had read through it so many times that you probably had it memorized before you even started cooking, but you were still careful and followed it step by step. You watch as each man smeared some red jam on a piece of your freshly baked bread that you made that morning. Chewing carefully, they looked thoughtful as they took in the flavors. They looked at each other. It was like they were having a silent conversation with their eyes that they only understood. You'll take it as a good sign.

“It's good,” Jimin said with a little awe in his voice.

“It's really good,” Jungkook said as he put more on his slice of bread and shoved it in his mouth.

“This is exactly what I was looking for, Y/N. How many different flavors do you think you can do?” Tae asked.

“I'm not sure,” you say. “Her stack of recipes is quite large.”

“Uh oh,” Jimin whispered, and all your eyes shot to look at him. “Yoongi's only member and president of his fan club is here.”

“I bet he's happy,” Tae says sarcastically.

You turn around, peeking around the corner, and see a pretty woman at the front of The Tannie Farms tent. She was playing with a strand of her hair as she leaned toward Yoongi, who was trying to be nice earlier and offered to watch the front so the guys could try your jam. You can feel your stomach drop while watching them. He didn't look interested, but that didn't stop the jealousy from kicking in.

You and Yoongi have done a good job at avoiding each other since the bathroom incident. He was still cordial and gave you a slight head nod if you ran into each other, but that was about it. Neither one of you actually attempted to start a conversation or let your looks linger very long. You can feel the heat start to creep up into your cheeks, remembering how you pressed yourself against him. You certainly remember it at night when you're alone in bed that still rests on the floor.

“I know what happened?” Jimin whispered in your ear, knocking you back into reality. He handed you a piece of paper that looked like a test page from a printer. “Maybe you can return the favor and help him out. I think his girlfriend needs him to sign this.”

“What? No, she's flirting with him. I don't want to get in the way,” you hissed.

“He doesn't like her,” Tae says. “She is a teacher at the middle school. We talked with her class about greenhouses, and she's been drooling after him since. He usually runs and hides when he sees her.”

Jimin makes a shoo-ing motion with his hand as he turns back to his friends and continues to eat. You sigh and take a deep breath. You were never a good actress, and you think that she will probably see right through you.

One…two…three.

“Yoongs, babe, we really need you to sign this,” you tell him as you press yourself into his side and hand him the paper. Yoongi looks down at you with wide eyes, confusion swirling in his dark brown orbs. You swear you hear laughing from behind the tent. Have you mentioned that you need different friends? “Yoongi, sign…please.”

Yoongi looks at the paper and then back at you. You smile at him innocently and blink your eyes with a purpose. You think it finally clicks as he grabs the pen from behind his ear and puts his signature sloppily on the white paper. You turn your attention to the woman glaring daggers at you. You notice that she definitely undid a couple of buttons from her top.

“Hi, I'm Y/N. You are?” You ask her with a pleasant smile on your face.

“Sana, I'm a friend of Yoongi's,” she tells you with a smirk. Oh, she was that type of woman. Game on, baby.

“No, you're not,” he said, handing the paper back to you. Sana's smirk falters a little bit. You wrap your arms around his waist, and you feel him stiffen.

“Oh, well, this is awkward. I'm his girlfriend,” you tell her as you stroke your hand across his chest, making her smirk finally drop. “I've never heard of you before… strange. I need to get back, but you have a wonderful day.”

You look at Yoongi, pursuing your lips. You want to see if he was willing to play along. He didn't move. Moving your finger to your lips, you tap them with your finger, indicating what you wanted. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. Your arms go around his neck, and his hand comes up to rest on your hips. You're not surprised to find that his lips were a little chapped as you always saw him licking at them…not that you ever paid that close of attention to him. You pull away when you hear Sana clear her throat. You smile at her as she glares harder at you.

“It was nice to meet you,” you tell her and walk away.

Your three friends start clapping when you get back to them. Your eyes zero in on the mason jar and see they finished off the jam. You shake your head at them as you continue to look at your empty jar, and they just shrug their shoulders.

“We're growing boys,” Jungkook said, handing the small glass container back to you.

"You're all grown men,” you correct him and take it from his hand. “How did you eat it so fast?”

“You three get back out there,” Yoongi tells them, and they scatter fast. “What was that?” he asks you.

“They told me to do it,” you defend yourself. “They ate all the jam and bread. I wanted you to try it.”

“Don't change the subject,” he tells you, crossing his arms.

“They said you didn't like her. Consider it me owing you one after…you know …. nakedness.” You say quietly.

“Don't worry about it. I didn't see anything,” he mumbled, turning red.

“Maybe, you can stop by tonight? I can rectify this whole thing,” you say as you play with the empty jar. Yoongi gives you a double take. It takes him a few seconds before he nods his head dumbly at you in agreement. “Great, I'll be waiting.”

You didn't actually expect Yoongi to show up. You were finishing up a bigger batch of the strawberry, raspberry combo jelly for next weekend when there was a knock at your kitchen door. You give Yoongi a small smile and wave him in. You noticed that he had changed since that morning. Gone were the baggier jeans and flannel shirt. He changed into more fitted jeans and a white tee-shirt that fit perfectly on him. His hair looked like it might be slightly damp as if he just got out of the shower. He looked good, he looked…confused?

“What?” You ask him as you transfer the steaming pot to a cooling rack.

“You made jam?” he really was confused. “I, I thought,” he can't seem to finish his thought. “I'm such an idiot. I’m just gonna go.”

“Wait, don't go,” you say hurriedly. “ I wanted you to try this, and I also wanted to apologize for what happened on Sunday for real. I mean, even though you were the one to barge into my bathroom. “

“You were screaming,” he defended himself. “How was I supposed to know you were naked laying in the tub?”

“So you did look. You liar,” you said, pointing your finger at him.

“You jumped on me,” he yelled, stepping closer to you. “How could I have missed it.”

“You could have closed your eyes,” you step to him. You are so close to him that you're almost touching him. “You probably got off on it.”

His eyes turned to slits. A heated gaze burns its way through you as Yoongi bends down. Your faces are level, and you suddenly start to breathe a little heavier. Yoongi's stare drops to your lips as he runs his tongue over his own. You follow its movement with wide eyes and swallow hard.

“What if I did?” he whispers, tilting his head to the side. Your heart stops, wondering if you had heard him correctly.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name, but you think it may have come out as a whimper.

His gaze darkens, and a smirk crosses his face. Yoongi leans in the rest of the way and grazes his lips against your own. He's giving you a chance to pull away. To tell him to stop and you think that you should, but you don’t…you can't. His eyes meet yours again before he claims your lips fully. Lips press firmly against your own as his hands pull your body completely against him. His hold on your hips is tight and needy. His tongue sneaks out and licks your bottom lip, asking for you to open for him. You do, your tongues crashing together like you were fighting for dominance. His hand lightly twists in your hair, tilting your head back, giving him all the access that he needs to plunder your mouth with his talented tongue rolling against yours. You let him have control.

“I haven't stopped thinking about you,” he growls into your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, causing it to turn slightly pink after he pulls away from your swollen lips. “The feeling of you pressed against me all wet. The way your hands grabbed on to me. I can't get it out of my head.”

You push him away, and he stumbles back in shock. He has to grab your kitchen chair to stop from tripping over and falling onto his ass. You snatch the bottom of your shirt, hastily pull it over your head, and chuck it at him. He catches it, rubbing the material between his fingers as his gaze roams your newly exposed skin. Dropping the shirt onto the floor, he grabs the back of your head, bringing you to him once again. He doesn't waste any time kissing you and pulling your cotton shorts down your thighs, letting them drop to the floor. You kick them away with your foot and reach around to unhook your bra, pulling it off yourself.

“Fuck,” he groans, appreciating the newly exposed skin. Yoongi lifts you by grabbing the back of your thighs and sitting you on the counter. It's cold and you squeal at the sudden temperature change. “Sorry,” he grunts, tearing his own shirt off over his head. “I'll warm you up in a minute.”

His hands work quickly to remove his belt. His eyes never leave your panting figure as you sit and wait for him. You press your legs together as he finally drops his pants and steps out of them. He leaves his underwear on. You're slightly disappointed, but you guess it's only fair. You have yours on, too. Yoongi steps to you and grabs the back of your knees as he pulls your bottom to the edge of the counter. Your legs spread open around his hips, and he steps in between them. Tongues meet again as his hands roam every inch or your naked skin, attempting to take the chill away from your body. Yoongi drops his kisses down across your jaw and lowers his head, kissing a wet path further down until he takes your nipple in his mouth. Teeth lightly bite down, making your arch your back. Your breasts press further in his face, and it has him moaning into them. Yoongi's hand slides over the side of your neck and to your breast, cupping the fullness. His fingers plucking at your hardened nipple on your neglected breast have your hips rolling against his flat stomach, seeking that delicious friction. One of your hands goes into his hair, moving his hair off his face, and your other grabs the cabinet handle as you try to keep yourself upright.

You shiver noticeably as goosebumps break out over your skin as he teeth graze your other nipple. Standing straight, he pulls you flush against him, sharing his body heat. Your tits are smashed against his chest as he wraps his arms securely around you. His breathing has seemed to pick up just as much as yours has. He stares into your eyes for a moment like he’s checking for an answer to an unasked question. Whatever it was, he seemed satisfied as he picked you up from the counter. Yoongi turns and lays you gently on your wobbly kitchen table, pulling you so your ass is at the edge. You ignore the cold shock this time as you reach between your legs and grab the waistband of his underwear, tugging at them

“Is that what you want?” he chuckles, and you nod your head rapidly. “You have to say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want it,” you tell him and tilts his head to the side studying you. He smirks and laughs at you.

“I don't know what ‘it’ is,” he teases you. His hands run slowly up your thighs, fingers hooking into your very damp panties as he pulls them down your legs. He throws them over his shoulder and spreads your legs open wide. He licks his first two fingers and runs them back and forth over your sensitive clit gently making you hiss between your teeth. “Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you moan, your hips start to move against his fingers. You wish he would put more pressure on your excited bundle of nerves. “Yoongi, I want your cock.”

That one seemed to do it for him. He spreads your burning core open with his opposite hand, his fingers slowly entering your wet entrance. You sigh at the sensation, but it's not enough. You spread your knees as far as you can,trying to get him deeper. He huffs out a laugh and swiftly bends his head down licking your clit only once before moving his head away. Your hips jump on their own and your hands delve into his hair trying to keep him there. His tongue traces an invisible line on your thigh and pumps his fingers into you faster.

“I knew you would like this. Listen to how wet you are,” he smirks against the soft skin of your inner thigh as watches his own fingers fuck you.

He was right. You were dripping wet. The wet, squelching noises sounded so loud in your quiet kitchen as he worked his magic. It sounded so obscene. You moan. It's been so long since you felt like this. The wanting, neediness of the lust and desire that you have lacked for years. In fact, you’re not even sure that you have ever felt like this. You have yearned for this, and you couldn't believe that Yoongi was the one to give it to you.

“Please, please, lick it again,” you beg wantingly, hips squirming around. Changkyun never did this. He never did a lot of things.

Yoongi doesn't hesitate and dives in. His tongue is unrelenting on your clit, flicking it back and forth with rapid strokes. He pulls his fingers out of you so he can push your legs back by the back of your thighs. It leaves you completely open and utterly exposed to his feasting. His insistent tongue changes pace as he draws achingly slow circles around you. The teasing has you squirming to get closer to his mouth. He takes pity on you and he rests your legs on his shoulders. His skillful tongue works its way into you. This is a whole new spine tingling sensation that you have never felt before. You reach down, taking his hands into your own. Slowly you bring them up to your body so he can grab your breasts. He groans into your pussy as his hands squeeze your tits. Your legs start to shake around his head. Your insides start to tingle and tighten until it suddenly stops.

Pulling back, Yoongi places one more kiss on your clit. You're mad. You were so close and he took that away from you. You were about to voice your displeasure until you watched him lean down and grab his pants. Reaching into his pocket, you see him produce a square foil packet. Yanking down his own underwear, you watch as his hardened cock slaps his stomach as it springs free. He rips open the condom and watches you laid out before him as he slides it on. Leaning over your body he kisses you once more on the mouth,

“How old is this table?” He asks seriously.

“Old,” you tell him, and he nods his head like he expected that answer.

Pulling you off the table, he guides you back to the counter. He presses your front against the granite. Grabbing your hips he pulls them back and he presses his hard cock against your ass, grinding it against you. You roll your hips back further making him groan in pleasure. Yoongi gently places kisses across the naked skin of your shoulder and the back of your neck. Trailing his tongue up the side of your neck, he bites your ear lobe.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks softly in your ear.

“Yes,” your voice was breathy.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay.”

Yoongi bends you further forward, making your ass pop up more as you are forced to stand on your tippy toes. Reaching between the two of you, Yoongi runs his cock along your pussy before he slowly starts to enter you. You can hear him let out a shuddering breath. He holds still and grips your hips tightly.

“Did he ever fuck you?” he asked you, his voice tight. You nod your head yes and he laughs lightly. “Didn't do a fucking good job then.”

With a quick thrust, Yoongi was buried all the way in you. You moan loud as your hand reaches up and grabs that cabinet handle again, holding on for dear life. Looking over your shoulder, you see Yoongi swipe at his forehead. He must be just as affected as you were. You push your ass back onto him, and his eyes fly to you. Biting your bottom lip, you smile at him and nod. Yoongi places his hands on your shoulders as his hips roll against your ass making your body rhythmically rock forward.

Your head falls forward loosely as you take in the sensation of him inside of you. The way his hands grip your shoulders, keeping control of your body. His thrusts start to speed up, and the counter edge starts to dig into your stomach. You don't care, though. He feels too good.

“Harder, Yoongi,” you gasp.

His hands come down, fingertips trace down your back and grab at your waist, pulling you back against him to meet every thrust. Your body starts to surge forward faster as his hips snap into you as he picks up the pace of his strokes. Sounds of slapping skin pierces the air in your kitchen as your bottom meets his pelvis over and over again. Your eyes start to roll back. Sex has never….and I mean never been this good.

Yoongi pulls out of you and grabs the back of your knee. Swiftly, he brings your leg up to rest on top of the counter. Thrusting himself back into you with a groan and a curse, his hand races down the front of your body over your hip until his fingers land on your clit. Skilled fingers start circling your overly sensitive bud.

“Oh, shit,” you moan and rest your face against the back of your hand.

“I know, I know,” he says breathlessly, continuing his relentless pace. Your heartbeat starts to quicken, your toes start to curl, and the delicious heat begins to spread across your body, making your skin flush. “Look at you, shit.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper.

Your walls start to clench around him as his fingers still work on your clit. Your hand drops down to stop him. He stops the circling and presses against it firmly instead as his cock still works its way in and out of you. Your eyes squeeze shut, your body tenses. You gasp.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Yoongi grunts, giving you one more hard thrust. He stills, and your walls continue to clench around him, milking him for all he's worth.

Dropping his head onto your shoulder, he catches his breath before pulling out of you. Carefully, he places your lifted leg back on the ground. His hand lightly rubs at the knee that was pressed against the granite counter, holding your weight. You stay bent over your counter, afraid to look at him. You don't know what to do now.

“You okay?” He asks, kissing your shoulder.

“Perfect,” you answer.

You look over your shoulder at him, and he smiles at you. For the first time…you truly smile back.

Tagged Readers:

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