#what do you mean that’s what everyone with the other thing says | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

greynatomy · 2 days ago

Text

limited

alessia russo x reader

hello 👋

this fic is inspired from the movie ‘seven pounds’. have you watched it? i had this idea after i finished watching and was bawling my eyes out.

i think i’ve made it known to some that i like angst on my birthday, so as a gift from me to you, here’s some angst.

let me know what you think

wc: 8.8k

trigger warning: suicide

———

in seven days, god created the world. in seven seconds, i shattered mine.

Alessia Russo had always known that her career wouldn’t last forever. No footballers did. But a career ending the way Alessia’s did come unexpected — abrupt, final, and out of her control.

Alessia was living the life of her dreams. Signing for Manchester United after playing for the University of North Carolina, she felt unstoppable. Nothing can slow her down… until.

Eighty minutes into the match against Manchester City, the score is tied at two. Alessia was running down the right side, ball at her feet when…

“Alessia Russo has gone down!” The announcer screamed. “Russo has not moved. The medical team is rushing to her now.”

The stadium was eerily silent, players on the field formed a circle around her and the medical team to give them privacy. Everyone was holding their breath. The stretcher came out and carried Alessia away, still no signs of life.

“I was just told that both teams have decided to forfeit the match. Everyone’s a bit shaken up, understandably so. Thank you all for watching. Prayers and well wishes to Alessia Russo.”

Once Alessia becomes conscious, the first thing she hears is the beeps from the monitors, wires attached all over her. She was confused at first, the last thing she remembered was running down the pitch and now here she was laying in a hospital bed.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” A nurse walked into the room, checking that everything is still in good order. “I’ll go ahead and call your doctor.”

More waiting.

“It’s nice to see you awake.” The doctor says, sitting on the stool.

“What happened?” her voice was raspy, throat was dry.

“Well, this isn’t easy to hear, but you suffered a cardiac arrest.”

“What?” She was speechless.

“We found out that you have a congenital heart failure. It was surprising to us that it hadn’t been caught before.”

“What-what does this mean? I can still play right?”

The doctor sighed, “I’m sorry Alessia.”

Football is… was her whole life. What was she supposed to do now?

The news of her retirement came as a shock to everyone. No one knew. Not even her teammates, her friends. Alessia just up and left, the social media post was the last thing people — except her family — had heard from her.

You were sitting on a chair placed in the corner of the living room. The room was almost pitch black, all the curtains were shut. You were staring into space like you’ve been doing for the last couple of weeks. You were a void. You shut everyone out.

The phone ringing brings you out of your thoughts. Sighing, you slowly get up from your seat, trudging to where the phone is.

“What?” you grated out.

“Well, hello to you too sunshine.” the voice on the other side replied.

“What d’you want Samuel?”

“Can’t a brother check up on his sister?”

“If that’s all you’re calling for then goodbye.”

You were about to hang up the phone when, “Wait, wait, wait! Don’t hang up yet.”

“What is it?” you put the phone back to your ear.

“I wanna come see you.”

“Goodbye, Samuel.”

You hung up, carelessly throwing the phone somewhere. You needed to get out of the house, so you threw on a jacket and made your way out, walking to a cafe not far from where you live. You sat at a table in the corner observing all the people in the room. The bell of the front door rings, alerting everyone of another customer.

You see a flash of blonde from the corner of your eye, but you were too occupied with staring at your cup of coffee. Eventually getting bored, you scan the room again, seeing some new faces. One particular face intrigues you though. She was alone, like you, staring out the window. You don’t realize that you’re still staring until her eyes lock onto yours.

Her eyebrows furrow, probably wondering why you were looking at her. Curious, she gets up from her seat, cup in hand, and walks towards you. You move your gaze back to your coffee hoping she doesn’t walk up to you.

“Were you looking at me?” she asks, sitting down on the vacant seat across the table from you.

“Huh?” you reply, looking at her.

“I was sitting over there,” she points to where she was sitting. “Were you staring at me? Why were you staring at me?”

You take a sip of your coffee, taking a deep breath. “You intrigue me.”

“I-what? I intrigue you?” She was taken aback, not expecting that to come out of your mouth.

“Yeah, I don’t know. There is just… something about you.”

“Do you recognize me or something?”

“No? Am I supposed to?” you ask, now curious as to why she would think you would recognize her.

“Story for another time.”

You both start talking about anything and everything, the conversation easily flowing.

“Alright, listen. I gotta run, but it was great chatting with you.” You chug the rest of your coffee, smiling at Alessia as you walk away.

“Wait!” she exclaims, a hand grabbing onto your arm. “I’d like to continue our conversation.”

“What’re you saying?”

“I’d like your name and possibly also your number.”

A small smile makes its way to your lips. You pat your pockets, hand going into your right pants pocket pulling a pen out. Taking the napkin on the table, you scribble your number on it, clicking your pen to be put back in your pocket.

“Name’s Y/N. Yours?”

“Alessia.”

“Well Alessia, I’ll be waiting for your call.”

With that, you walk away, leaving Alessia with a giddy smile on her face.

Pulling into a parking spot, you grab all that you have and head to the counter. You don’t see anyone, so you walk around when a person steps out from behind the curtain, signaling you to walk back to the front.

“Welcome to the Travel Inn, can I help you?”

“I need a room.”

“How many hours?”

“A couple weeks.”

Turning the key into the lock, you push the door open, quickly scanning the room. Setting your things down, you sit on the bed, reading over a newspaper you’ve kept for the last couple of months.

Seven Killed In Fatal Car Crash, One in Critical Condition

That night kept replaying in your mind.

The next day, you’re stood at Alessia’s front door, her inviting you over this morning.

“Hey, come in.”

Sitting at the table, she places a fresh cup of coffee in front of you.

“Thank you,” you say, taking a sip. “This is good coffee.”

You both picked up where you left off at the cafe, the conversation easily flowing. Alessia was light and full of life, but you can tell there’s something hidden beneath it all.

“What’s your story?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt, but the happiest people usually have the saddest story.”

You can see a sad smile appear on her face like she was reminiscing.

“I used to play football.”

“Used to?”

“Yeah and not to brag but I was pretty good.”

You chuckle, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Well, one game, I was on the field and the next thing I was lying in a hospital bed.”

You pause, your mind going back to your memories.

You look around the room. Everything is a bit blurry.

“Wh-where am I?”

“Ms. Y/LN, calm down please.”

You rip the oxygen mask off of your face. “Emily! Where's my Emily?”

“Hey,” a touch on your arm brings you out of your head. “You okay? You spaced out a bit.”

“Yeah, sorry. What happened when you woke up?”

Alessia bites her lip, trying to keep it together.

“I was confused. I mean one moment I was on the pitch, running towards the goal and the next I was waking up in a hospital bed. I didn’t know why I was there, wires attached all over me.” You reach across the table, placing a comforting hand on her own. “They told me that I was lucky to wake up. I asked them if I would be able to play football again and they said ‘One more match could be the last thing you ever do.’ There was only one thing I had to do and so I announced my retirement.”

Your heart aches as you listen, the weight of her words sinking in. You squeeze her hand gently, offering a silent support before speaking.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been,” you say softly. “Giving something up that’s been your whole world… I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes flicker with a mix of pain and acceptance. “Yeah, but I had to choose life, even if it meant letting go of the dream.”

You nod, understanding the sacrifice. “You’re still that player, though. Everything you achieved—everything you fought for—that doesn’t just disappear.”

A faint smile tugs at her lips. “Thanks… I needed to hear that.”

The air between you shifts, heavier with understanding but lighter with hope.

You get back to the motel, carrying a glass tank, the guy behind the counter following behind you.

“You know you can’t take that in.”

“That’s good to know.” You smile at him, opening your door. “Have a good night,” you say, shutting the door on him.

You step into the warm cascade of water, letting it wash over your skin. The droplets trail down your body, mingling with the weight of your thoughts. The day has been heavy—every day has been heavy—but for a brief moment, the water feels like a release.

“C’mon! Just tell me where else we’re going!” she grabs onto your hand, the one that was resting on her thigh.

You run your hand across your face, clenching your eyes shut.

“I’m not telling you!” you glance at her, smiling at her before you look back toward the road. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Let me surprise you.”

“It better be good then baby.”

You turn the shower off, drying yourself off with a towel. Stumbling out of the shower, you wrap the towel around yourself, taking a seat at the edge of the tub.

“Oh, you have no idea!”

It happened so fast.

You’re driving, the road stretching out ahead of you, the hum of the engine steady beneath your hands. Her laughter is still ringing in your ears—light, warm—filling the car with life. You glance over at her, just for a second, catching the curve of her smile. She’s happy. They all are.

Your heart was full.

And then—

Metal twists. Tires scream. Glass explodes into a thousand stars. The world flips and everything slows as you’re weightless — suspended in the wreckage of a single, irreversible moment.

You hear it before you see it — the crunch of steel, the splintering of lives.

Her laughter is gone, replaced by the sound of cries.

You reach out, but your hand finds nothing.

The car settles. The silence was thick and suffocating.

Standing in front of the mirror, you stare at yourself, hands gripping the edge of the sink. You want to forget it all, but you can’t.

You call her name — desperate and pleading. Your voice cracks, but there's no answer, just shallow breaths fading, then nothing at all.

You see her face, all broken and bloody. Her warmth was stolen away in an instant.

Your chest caves under the weight of it. The guilt floods in, sharper than any shards of glass.

This is your fault.

You scream.

You killed the person you loved.

Tears stream down your face.

The adrenaline wears off. You’re laid next to her, clutching her body in your arms. That’s how the paramedics found you, passed out, your arms around your lover.

You wake up but don’t open your eyes just yet.

For a few seconds, you let yourself in that in-between space — half-asleep, half-aware, floating just outside of reality. The bed is warm, your body heavy with exhaustion from all the tears you shed last night. You wanted to stay in bed, not having the motivation to get up.

Your eyes open.

The ceiling stares back at you, unchanged, but you know the moment is over. The memories from that night haunt your mind. You are about to close your eyes and drift off when your phone rings. Not looking at the screen, you answer.

“Hey, sorry for calling you so early,” you hear through the phone, making you sit up.

“Alessia,” you say breathily. “No, no. You’re fine, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to, uh, you know, have breakfast with me? And maybe spend the day together? You know have to. You could be busy. Shit, I should’ve asked that first. Are you busy? You probably are…”

You listened as she rambled, the corner of your lips twitching up.

“I’d love to have breakfast with you.” That made Alessia stop her rambling, her side of the call going silent for a moment.

“Really?” she asks, not quite believing you.

“Of course. How could I say no?”

“Okay, cool. Cool. I’ll, uh, see you soon then.”

“You will.”

Hanging up, you go back to staring at the ceiling, trying to find motivation to get out of bed.

You ended up spending the whole day with Alessia, wasting the hours away. You were still wary around her, not wanting to get attached. Despite being so guarded, Alessia was determined to get some information out of you.

You’ve now found yourself walking alongside her, somehow making it to the beach.

“You’re like a locked book,” Alessia said one day as they walked along the pier.

“Maybe I like it that way,” you replied.

Alessia frowned. “What are you so afraid of?”

You stopped walking and turned to face her, her expression unreadable. “It’s not fear, Alessia. It’s reality. Some people aren’t meant to stick around.”

Alessia’s heart clenched at the finality in your voice. She wanted to push further, to break down the walls you had so carefully built, but she could sense that you weren’t ready.

“Are you okay?” Alessia asked, concern threading her voice.

You gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath, then said, “If you could start over, knowing everything you know now, would you do anything differently?”

Alessia blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t know. I guess I’d try to hold on to the things that matter more. The people who matter.”

You nodded, expression unreadable. “That’s a good answer.” Before Alessia could reply, “Let’s head back,” you say, walking ahead of her.

The walk back to Alessia’s was silent. Stopping in front of her door, you stare at her, Alessia oblivious to the way you are staring at her as she fumbles with her keys. Finally getting the key through the lock and twisting, you move your gaze when you notice hers moving toward you.

“Have a good night Alessia.”

“You don’t want to come in?” Her eyebrows furrowed, looking disappointed.

“Not tonight,” you give you a small smile. “Sleep well.”

Dragging a giant cooler to your room, you were once again being trailed by the man from the front desk.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of shady stuff you got going on, but what are you bringing now?”

Opening the door, you step inside, dropping the cooler on the floor.

“Goodnight Steve.” You shut the door in his face.

“It’s Dave.”

You carry the cooler to the bathroom, opening it up, and you grab a bag, holding it up in front of you. You dump the contents out into the tank you brought in the night before, the water inside sloshing gently before settling. The room is quiet — too quiet — except for the soft hum of the filter. The glow from the tank casts a faint blue light, flickering against the walls, reflecting in your tired eyes.

You stand there for a moment, just watching.

The jellyfish drifts through the water, its translucent body pulsing in slow, rhythmic movements. Weightless. Effortless. It doesn’t fight the current; it simply exists. Something is mesmerizing about it, almost peaceful.

You rest your hand on the glass, fingers resting lightly. Cold. Smooth. Unforgiving.

You take a breath, steady, measured. You’ve planned every step, considered every detail. And yet, standing here, watching this delicate creature move with such quiet grace, a strange feeling tugs at you—something you can’t quite name.

But it doesn’t matter.

You pull your hand away from the glass.

The jellyfish continues to drift, untouched by the weight pressing down on your chest.

It doesn’t know what it’s here for.

But you do.

“The first time I ever saw a box jellyfish, I was twelve. My father took us to the aquarium. I never forgot what he said, that it was the ‘most deadly creature on Earth.’ To me it was just… the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

You called your friend over, wanting to discuss a few things. You’re sat at the desk, filling up some paperwork as he stood watching the tank.

“I talked to your doctor the other day, send over your files in the morning.”

“Is this everything?” you ask, not looking up from the papers. “Any questions?”

“Same one.”

“Same answer then.”

“You know, I was thinking last night, when we were fourteen and we made that pact.” You look over at him briefly. “Remember on the beach, in front of your grandparent’s house, we, uh, we agreed that we would never, never date each other’s girl. And I remember the day you told me that you liked Stacy Miller, that you were gonna ask her out and I said, ‘Woah! Hey, man, you can’t! Her and I already did it.’” You’ve put your pen down, paying all your attention to him. “But we didn’t. I wanted to, but she… liked you more than she liked me and — so I lied to you because I was so jealous and I’m carrying around this- this lie in my heart for the last twenty—”

“Stop it,” you throw a book at him. He stares at you. “Stop it. Stay focused,” you tap on the side of your head forcefully. “Do what you promised me.”

“What, you think I’m…”

“Do what you promised me.”

“You think I’m gonna let you down now.” He stands up, pointing a finger at you, accusingly. “I’ve known you my whole DAMN LIFE! Okay.” He taps on the papers you’re signing, “This, this! This is not something you do every day. Okay. This, this…” he waves his hands towards you, “is not easy for me. I’ll make sure everything goes to plan,” he wipes the tear that fell from his eye, shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” You can’t bring yourself to look at him as he cries, not wanting to cry yourself. “Thank you.”

You’ve managed to avoid Alessia for three days after that night at the beach. You didn’t do much, spent most of it in your room.

Sat on a chair you placed in front of the tank, you watched them float through the water. They somehow give you peace with how they move, almost innocently, something you’re quite sure you don’t have anymore. The sound of your phone ringing brings you out of your thoughts. Hesitantly rising from your seat, you trudge to where your phone is, answering and holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

You hear someone take a deep breath. “Y/N?” The person sighs, “Hi. I’m sorry I called so late.”

“Alessia? Um, did-are you okay?”

“Uh, I was- I was having trouble breathing after going for a walk. And I fainted,” your eyebrows shot up in concern, “an ambulance had to come and take me to the hospital.” She takes a couple of breaths. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I called you and I just-I wanted to — Y/N? You still there?”

You lock the door, walking out of the motel. “Yes.”

“Do you ever think about dying, Y/N?”

“Every now and again.” You answer, walking on the sidewalk.

“My face is, um, blue-ish. It’s not exactly a good sign.”

“You should try to rest. Just-why don't you try and get some sleep?”

“I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you too.”

“Would you tell me a story?” You look around, contemplating whether you should. “Please.”

“Okay, um, alright. Once upon a time, there was a, uh, little girl named—”

“—Lucky me. I just got it on reserve like that, okay.” You hear the rustling of sheets through the phone. “Let me guess, her name is Y/N?”

You chuckle. “No, actually, this little girl’s name is Jane.”

“I like the name Jane. Go on.”

“Jane’s little sister was always pestering Jane to make paper airplanes ‘cause she’s, you know, good at it,” you shrug. “But Jane had much bigger dreams than making paper airplanes.”

“‘Kay. Then what happened?”

“Then one day Jane went out to the backyard, put leaves and taped branches to her arms and started climbing the big ol’ tree. Her little sister said ‘Jane! You can’t fly!’ She said, ‘Yeah? You just watch!’” You couldn’t see, but Alessia had a smile on her face. “Got all the way to the top, and jumped.”

Alessia’s eyebrows furrowed. “How… tall was this tree?”

“Um, it was pretty tall. She broke her arm.”

“Oh-oh, my god! This is a horrible story.”

“Well, no, no. It gets better. Um, from that experience, Jane realized that she wanted to fly. So she dedicated her life to making spaceships.” The sounds of the city can be heard in the background, but you just keep walking and talking.

“I thought you said this was a good story?”

“Oh, well, yeah that is,” you stutter, not expecting to be called out. “Until the-the dragon showed up.”

“Oh, okay. I see. Now it’s getting better. I like dragons, especially dragons in space.” You can hear her voice fading.

“Yeah, these were fire-breathing, space dragons with really bad attitudes.”

“I see.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t you try to fall asleep and when you do, I’ll just hang up.” You suggest.

“M’kay. Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for listening. And for talking.”

You don’t say anything for a while. “Try to fall asleep.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Alessia.” Phone still pressed up to your ear, you walk through the automatic doors. “Alessia?” Not getting a response, you keep walking until you reach the room. “Alessia?” you ask again. Looking through the window, you see her, lying on her side on the hospital bed, asleep.

You hang up the phone and just watch her for a moment. She looks peaceful.

Stepping inside her room, you stand by her bedside, eyes scanning over her face, almost like you were trying to memorize them. You drag a chair to where you stood, sitting in it, never taking your eyes off of her.

The next morning, Alessia’s eyes flutter open. The sunlight peaking through the window blinds shines in her face. Pushing herself to sit up, she looks around the room, a bit startled, she sees a figure by her side, sitting — slouching — on a chair.

“Y/N,” she said softly, hoping to wake you up, but with no luck. She tries again a bit louder, that doing the trick.

You jolt awake, the loud call of your name pulling you out of restless sleep. Your neck protests, stiff from hours spent slumped in the uncomfortable hospital chair, and for a moment, you’re disoriented— caught between your dreams to the blinding fluorescent lights overhead.

You hear your name again, a bit weak but certain.

Your eyes snap to the bed next to you.

She’s awake.

You stand abruptly, moving closer to her bedside.

“You’re awake,” You whisper as if saying it aloud would make it not real.

“Yeah and you drool in your sleep,” you bring your hand up to wipe at the corner of your lips. Seeing a teasing smile on Alessia’s face makes a chuckle come out of you.

“You’re an ass.”

“Hey!” She reaches out to swat at you. “Don’t call the sick names.”

“Oh, I apologize, my queen,” you give her a mock bow.

Shortly after your banter, the door opens, and a doctor walks into the room.

“Good morning!” the doctor was overly cheery in your opinion. “How are you feeling Alessia?”

“I’m as good as I can be.”

“Well, I’ve got some news. As we’ve briefly talked about last night, your heart isn’t getting better,” your jaw tightens. “That being said, UNOS has you at the top of their list.”

Alessia froze, not believing the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth. “What?” she asked in disbelief.

“The first heart available is yours.” She was emotional, understandably so. She hands something to Alessia. “This is a pager. When a heart becomes available, this will go off and you take yourself back here.” The doctor decides to give her some space to process everything, you following her out the door.

“How long does it usually take?” you ask once the door clicks shut. “How long does it take for a heart to become available?”

“It honestly is hard to say because it just depends. We can’t just take a heart from anyone.”

“How long do you think she has until her heart completely shuts down?”

“That’s also hard to say, but I’d give it a couple of weeks.” She sees the look of defeat on your face, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Just have some faith.” You nod, thanking her, and step back into the room.

Alessia was looking into the distance still trying to process the doctor’s words. You place yourself next to the bed, not saying a word, offering some silent support. She gently grabs your hand, startling you from the contact, giving it a light squeeze. You squeeze her hand back, communicating without words. She pulls you closer, resting her forehead to the back of your hand, wanting to feel closer to you.

You walk through the lobby of your motel. The manager trailing you again, asking why you’ve now got a bag full of small fish. You tune him out like always, closing the door on his face.

Popping the top of the tank off, you rip open the bag, pouring the contents in. You sit on your bed, watching the fish swim around. The fish run into the tentacles, dying almost instantly. You don’t flinch, just curious about the fee—

The next morning, you’re picking Alessia up to go home, her having to stay another night for observation. The same doctor from yesterday escorted you both out, pushing the wheelchair Alessia was on. She gets in the passenger seat, you reach in the put her seatbelt on for her.

The drive to Alessia’s house was silent, but not uncomfortable. As you pull in front of her house, she breaks the silence.

“Have you- have you ever been in love?”

You swear your heart stopped. “Alessia, please,” you say, almost pleading.

“You have!” her tone teasing. You didn’t answer. “Yes, you have. C’mon, you can tell me.”

“Um, yes. But it ended.”

“What happened?”

“Stop it.”

“No, tell me.”

“Stop it!” your voice raised. “Get inside. You need to get some rest. Maybe sleep.”

She hastily takes her seatbelt off, practically jumping out of the car.

“Alessia, hold on.”

“Just leave.”

“Alessia!” You get out too, chasing after her.

You’re both standing in front of her door staring at each other.

“Thank you for everything.”

You go back in your car, hands grasping at the wheel, and then you scream. You scream all your anger, all your pent-up feelings.

A few hours later, Alessia was making lunch when she sees movement outside of her kitchen window. There you were, pulling on weeds.

She goes up to you, questioning what you are doing.

“Is this your way of saying sorry?”

“No, I just, uh, saw these were getting overgrown, so decided to take a day off.”

She watches you work for a while longer before stopping you.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” she says, a hint of longing in her voice.

She leads you into the house to a room at the end of the hall. She unlocks the door, one you hadn’t really noticed before. When she pushes it open, you’re met with a room that isn’t like any other in the entire house. It’s not grand or overly decorated — if anything, it feels a bit hidden, almost like a personal secret she doesn’t show just anyone.

Inside, the walls are lined with framed jerseys, newspaper clippings, and photos capturing moments from her time at university. A glass cabinet holds an array of trophies and medals, each carefully placed yet slightly tucked away as if she doesn’t like to make too much of a fuss about them.

You step closer, eyes scanning the awards. There are championship medals and even a few personal accolades from her standout performances. One shelf holds a pair of worn-out boots, laces frayed, their soles bearing the marks of countless games.

“These were from my first goal in uni,” she explains, stepping around you and picking them up with a nostalgic smile. “I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out.”

You watch as she moves through the room, her fingers grazing over the items, each one holding a story she remembers like it was yesterday. There’s a quiet pride in her voice—not boastful, just appreciative of the journey she’s been on.

“You don’t show this room to everyone, do you?” you ask softly.

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Not really. I don’t like to dwell too much on the past, but… sometimes it’s nice to remember where it all started.”

You take another look around, imagining the countless hours of training, the sacrifices, the triumphs. Seeing it all in one place, tucked away in this private corner of her home, makes you appreciate her journey even more.

As you turn back to her, she’s already watching you, a curious look in her blue eyes. “So, what do you think?”

You smile. “I think you are incredible. And I think you should be really proud.”

She exhales, almost as if she needed to hear that. You see a pink hue forming on her cheeks but don’t pay them any mind.

“Look,” she pauses, trying to find the right words. “I don’t really know anything about you or where you came from, but you keep showing up. And I’m glad.”

“Okay.” you nod, looking at her.

Then, with a playful nudge, she says, “Come on, you hungry? I’ve got lunch ready.”

You pause by the door, looking around for a while longer. Thoughts of what more she could’ve achieved if it weren’t for her heart filled your mind. It shouldn’t have ended like this. You walk out, closing the door behind you.

It’s been a week since then. You and Alessia grew a lot closer, but the memories of the accident become more frequent when you sleep. Or at least when you do get to sleep. You knew your time was ticking.

You’re limping to your room, bracing yourself against the wall.

“What the hell happened to you?” The manager asks as you walk past, but you ignore him. “How much longer are you gonna stay in my hotel?”

“Motel,” you correct him.

“How much longer?”

“Actually, I was planning on dying here,” you say, no amusement in her voice.

“Well, you need to pay in advance.” You block him out, shutting your room door.

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. You search under the piles of paper scattered on the bed for it. You answer once you find it, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s Alessia. Are you- are you sleeping?”

“Yeah, uh, no. I’m, um, how are you?”

“I’m good. Was wondering if you were busy later? Come by to say ‘hi’ say around seven?”

“Busy? Uh—”

“Look, I totally get if you don’t want to hang out with a dying girl,” she gets out.

“No, no. I- I can come at seven.”

“Okay.”

“Bye,” she whispers, a smile forming on her lips.

At seven on the dot, you’re at her front door. You knock, the door opening shortly after.

“Hey! Come in.” She shuffles away towards the kitchen. “Do you mind if we eat outside?” she asks over.

“Eating?” you ask, not expecting it.

“Yeah, you didn’t eat yet did you?” you can hear in her tone that she was worried you did.

“No, um, um. No.”

“Well, it was a surprise, but you’re on time.” She’s getting a dish out of the oven, placing it on top of the stove. “Um, I haven’t cooked anybody food in a while, so I hope you like it. Don’t lie to me.” She lets out a nervous giggle. She then grabs a present, wrapped neatly with a bow on top, holding it out to you. “This is for you.”

“Dinner’s ready and you’re not,” she walks away, holding the dish, “so hurry up. Chop chop.”

You go into her bedroom, stopping by the wall to look at all the pictures that lined it. Seeing Alessia setting a table outside, you open up the present, seeing a shirt. You quickly get dressed, walking out to the backyard. She’s sitting at the table as you stand in the doorway, gesturing towards the shirt you changed into.

“You look great,” she says, giving you a wide smile.

“Yeah, uh,” you look down at yourself, “it’s pink.”

“It’s salmon,” she says like it’s obvious. She waves her hand for you to come. You walk up to stand next to the table. Taking your time, you take it all in.

“You’re so nice.”

“So are you.” You take a seat, a bit uncomfortable with how intimate it all looks; candles, wine. “Everything is vegetarian. Um, I hope you like eggplant parmesan.”

You fidget in your seat, not really knowing what to do. “I, uh, haven’t treated myself very well in the past few years.”

Alessia nods in acknowledgment. “Start now.” You grab your silverware, “Bon appétit.” You take a bite, pausing at the flavors. “What do you think?”

You look towards her with sincerity, “it’s delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

The conversation started flowing easier after a bit. The awkwardness going away. Soft music fills the air around them. The song changes and Alessia perks up. She gets up towards the speaker, turning the volume up. She starts swaying to the music, getting lost in the melody. You sit back and just watch her. You couldn’t look away, mesmerized by how she moved, how happy she looked.

She then turns to you, a teasing smile on her face, holding her hand out to you.

“Oh, no. I can’t— I don’t dance.”

“Come on. Let loose.” She grabs your hand in hers, pulling you up and you know you didn’t have a choice. She pulls you close, placing one of your hovering hands in hers, the other on her side. The music changes to a slower song. You start swaying, trying not to be stiff. Her head rests against your chest. You hope she couldn’t feel the way your heartbeat starts to speed up — she does but doesn’t say anything. She pulls her head away after a few moments.

The air between you crackles, thick with something unspoken but impossible to ignore. You’re standing too close, your breaths mingling in the charged silence. Their eyes flick to your lips, just for a second, and your pulse stutters.

A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. You turn your head slightly, hoping she won’t see, but of course, she does. Her fingers, gentle and unsure, brush against your jaw, tilting your face back toward her.

“Hey,” she murmurs, searching your eyes. Her concern only makes the ache in your chest tighten.

You don’t know why this moment — why she — breaks you open like this. Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at you like you’re something fragile but worth holding. Maybe it’s the way she’s here, close enough to touch, even when everything in you tells you to pull away.

But you don’t pull away. You do the opposite.

With a shaky breath, you reach for her, grabbing the back of her neck. Her lips parted slightly in surprise as you closed the distance, pressing your mouth to hers. It starts slow, tentative, but the second she kisses you back, something in you snaps.

You pour everything into it—every unsaid word, every suppressed feeling, every ache that’s been sitting heavy in your chest. She meets you with the same urgency, her hands threading through your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you builds, wiping away everything else — the pain, the doubt.

You feel her hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingertips skimming your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You exhale against her lips, a soft, needy sound escaping before you can stop it.

Then you’re moving, tangled together, finding the bed without ever breaking apart. Clothes fall away, but it’s more than just hunger now. It’s desperation, longing, a need to feel — to be seen, to be held, to be hers.

For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re falling apart. You feel free.

Legs tangled under the sheets, you both hold each other close, the rain can be heard pouring just outside.

“Do you wanna play a game?” she asks, voice soft, not wanting to break the calm atmosphere.

“What game?” your fingers trace the features of her face.

“What if game.”

“The what if game.”

“Mhm.” Her fingers caress your face. “What if… my pager goes off… and it’s a heart and it works and my body doesn’t reject it. And what if I have time.”

You’ve become a bit speechless, but after a few beats, it was your turn.

“What if… we have children? What if we got married?” You can see tears forming in her eyes, threatening to fall. She kisses your shoulder, trying to hold back a sob. The tears finally fall and you hold her close. “I love you,” you mumble. She pulls away from your neck, hand grabbing your face to pull you in. “I love you,” you say it stronger. She kisses you.

She falls asleep in the comfort of your arms. You lay on your side, head propped up on your hand as you watch her, watch how peaceful she looked.

You carefully slip out from under her, making sure to not wake her up. Quietly getting dressed, you look at her once more. Everything you’ve bottled up with her slowly hitting you one by one. Leaning down, you give her forehead a gentle kiss, before slipping out.

You run.

The rain pours down, drenching your clothes, but you don’t care. Your breath is ragged, your footsteps heavy, your body pushing forward as if fueled with determination alone. Your soaked shirt clings to your chest, water splashing with each step.

You push the heavy hospital door open, breathing heavily, steps filled with a purpose.

“Alright,” you reach the nurse’s stations “Is Doctor Briar on- on duty tonight?” you ask, out of breath.

“She’s… doing her rounds,” the nurse looks at you in concern.

“Can you tell her it’s Y/N Y/LN? It’s very important.”

“I’ll, uh, page her.” The nurse picks up the phone, paging the doctor, eyes not straying away from you.

You were close to hysterics, thinking that you didn’t have enough time. You turn around, find a chair, and take a seat, still breathing heavily. Hearing a door open, you turn your head to the right, seeing the doctor walking towards you. Getting up, you meet her halfway.

“Hey.”

“Is it Alessia?” she asks, concern in her voice.

“Uh, no. No. I’m sorry. Is there- sorry.” You try to find the right words. “Do you have any more- any optimism about Ales- Alessia that you did the other day?”

“When- when you’re looking for donors with a rare blood type,” you nod, listening intently. Eyes bloodshot. “the odds go way down.”

“To what? They go down. What’s- give me a percentage.” The doctor’s reluctance to answer makes you raise your voice. “Give me a number.”

“Three, five percent.” You put your hand up, not wanting to hear anything else. “I’m sorry. I- I wish the numbers were higher.”

“Thank you.” you walk past her. “Thank you, thank you,” you’re mumbling, walking out of the hospital.

The rain pours heavily on you, but you don’t think about it. Pulling your phone out from your pocket, you quickly dial a number.

“Hey,” you whisper once the person picks up. “It’s time. I love you,” your voice breaks. You hang up, not giving him a chance to reply.

Stepping into your room, you pause by the door.

You stand in the dim motel bathroom, the weight of your decision pressing against your chest like an iron vice. The letters were written, and your affairs are in order. You have spent almost a year preparing for this moment.

You twist the bathtub knob, water rushing in as you slit open the bag of ice. The ice tumbles into the tub, the chill spreading as you check the time on your watch, carefully placed on the edge. Hurriedly, you jot down a note and set it on the floor beside the tub.

The hotel phone feels cold in your hand, dialing the dreaded number.

“999 emergency.”

You’re breathing hard, the weight of everything heavy on your shoulders.

“I need an ambulance,” you run your hand down your face.

“I have you at 9216 Street.”

“That’s room number two.”

“What’s the emergency?”

“There’s been a suicide,” you sigh.

“Who’s the victim?”

“I am.”

“You are really gonna need to stop looking at that thing,” you let out a laugh, looking over to the person in the passenger seat, driving the both of you to somewhere special.

“Why? Is it gonna crack?” The woman is holding her hand out in front of her, admiring the ring that sits on her finger.

“Oh no. I paid extra for the non-cracking kind.”

“Yeah, I bet you did.”

A notification from your phone pulls your attention from her. Taking it out of your pocket, you read the text, occasionally looking back at the road.

“Honey, why don’t you just turn that off?”

“Yeah, hold on. Sorry, no more. No more work, I’m almost done, almost done.”

“Y/N!”

You don’t expect it, hearing tires screeching, horns blaring, her screaming. You swerve, narrowly missing the car, but there is another one. It hits head-on to your passenger side.

You’re flipping.

Flipping.

Then everything stops.

Bracing yourself against the wall, you step into the water, fully clothed. The water, ice cold, makes your breathing unsteady. Now sitting, you grab the edge of the tub, hands turning white with how hard you’re gripping.

Your mind drifts back to Alessia, how beautiful she looked lying next to you in bed. How warm her hand felt as she rested it on the side of your face.

You grab the bucket filled with the jellyfish that was placed on the foot of the tub, quickly dumping them in the water before you have second thoughts.

Then you feel it.

A searing pain explodes across your body as the tentacles wrap around your arm, your chest. It is fire and ice all at once, electricity surging through your veins. Your muscles seize, your breath catches, but you don’t fight it. You let it take you.

You bite your tongue, holding a scream in. You grab the shower curtain, pulling so hard that you rip it off. The scream you try to hold in can’t be contained.

You’re running.

You don’t know where to, but once you’ve pulled yourself out of the car, you run, climbing up the steep hill you fell into.

You clutch onto the curtain, the pain becoming unbearable, hyperventilating.

You see the aftermath of the crash, freezing in disbelief.

Hugging the side of the tub, you let out another scream.

You’re running, seeing something in the distance. A flash of red.

Red.

The color of her dress.

Fully submerged in the water now, your energy draining.

You stop next to a body, crouching down with your hands out. Legs giving out, you slowly crawl up to her.

Everything feels numb. The pain doesn’t feel painful anymore.

“No. No no no.” Your voice cracks, hands hovering, afraid to touch her. “Baby, wake up.”

Your fingers brush her cheek — still warm. A flicker of hope flares in your chest. You press your palm to her face, stroking the cheek that you’ve kissed a thousand times. “Come on, look at me. Open your eyes.”

But she doesn’t.

A strangled sob tears from your throat as you gather her into your arms, cradling her against yourself, rocking back and forth. Leaning down, you press your forehead against hers, body shaking with grief, mind clinging to denial, as if you hold her tight enough, love her hard enough, that she’ll take a breath, that her eyes would open and everything would be alright.

But she doesn’t.

A sigh of relief escapes you.

Your vision blurs. The walls of the motel bathroom fade. The sound of your own heartbeat roars in your ears then softens, then slows. The pain becomes distant, then almost peaceful.

Then — nothing.

The sound of the heart monitor fills the room. Doctors and nurses surround the bed, doing everything they can.

But they couldn’t.

Beeps wake Alessia from her deep sleep. Her eyes shot open, narrowing on the pager that sat on her bedside table. She’s in disbelief, grabbing the pager making sure she wasn’t dreaming. She looks around, trying to ground herself.

“Y/N?” she sits up, excitement in her voice.

Next thing she knows, she’s laid in a hospital bed being rolled into the operating room.

“Hi. How are you doing?” The doctor greets Alessia, ensuring her that this is real. She doesn’t say anything, still in a state of shock.

Your friend breaks down in his office, not wanting to believe his best friend is gone.

Alessia’s new heart beats strongly in her chest, still unknowing of where it came from.

Your brother sat on a chair in your motel room, finding your newspaper clippings pinned on the wall, all about the accident. He never understood why you shut down, why you distanced yourself.

Now he does.

He held a stack of envelopes, each with a different name, the same names that he found in a list in your notebook.

“About a year after the accident, I got sick. I got, uh, lung cancer. I needed a double lobe transplant. Y/N could only give me one of course.” Your brother, Sam, sat at the table, Alessia sitting across from him. “That must’ve planted the seed cause six months later she, uh, donated the right part of her liver to this woman.” He gives her a picture, you stood next to a woman in a hospital bed, smiling widely. “Her name is Holly.” She brushes her thumb over your face, tears now streaming down her face.

Once Sam had left, she opens an envelope, pulling the paper out.

My Dearest Alessia,

By the time you read this, I will be gone. I wish I could have had more time, more moments, more laughter, more mornings waking up to the sound of your breathing. But time isn’t something I deserve anymore.

I have carried the weight of my past, every mistake, every regret, and every life I have shattered with me. No matter how much I have tried to let go of my past, that night still haunts me. You once told me that love has the power to heal, but Alessia, some wounds run too deep. Some burdens cannot be lifted. Not even by the hands of someone as beautiful as you.

I have spent my days trying to make up for the lives I took, giving away pieces of myself in the hope that it would bring back the ones I lost. And now, I am giving you the last piece I have left. Not because I feel I owe it, but because you deserve life. A full one. A long one. A life without fear, without hesitation, without the pain that has held you captive for too long.

I have seen the way you look at the stars as if you are searching for something, some hope, some sign that things will be okay. I hope that after tonight, you will look up and know that you were loved. That you changed me. That you gave me something I never thought I’d have again. Peace.

Please live, Alessia. Live enough for the both of us. And if you ever feel the darkness creeping in, remember me not in sadness, but in love. In every heartbeat. In every breath.

Forever yours,

Y/N

She clutches the letter to her chest, legs giving out from under her.

Later that night, Alessia lays in the bathtub, feeling numb as the water surrounds her. Slowly, she sinks under the water, stopping for a moment once her ears are under just to hear it.

Lub-dub.

She places her hand over her heart to feel the beats momentarily before fully sinking under.

Alessia’s hands trembled as she stepped into the small music shop. The warm notes of the piano fill the air. She scanned the room, her breath caught between anticipation and fear.

Then she saw him.

A man sat in the corner, watching the pianist play their songs. His expression was calm, and peaceful, as if everything was right with the world.

Her heart pounded as she stepped closer. He turned to her, sensing her presence.

“Hi,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ezra smiled. “Hi.” His head tilted slightly as if reading her silence. “Can I help you with something?”

She opened her mouth to speak but the words failed her. Instead, her gaze locked onto his eyes—warm, deep brown, achingly familiar.

Your eyes.

Her breath hitched. A sharp, unrelenting ache surged through her chest. It was as if he was standing in front of her, looking at her, seeing her.

She tried to hold it together, but the tears came fast, unbidden. A sob escaped her throat before she could stop it. She covered her mouth, shaking, overwhelmed by grief and love crashing into her all at once.

Ezra frowned, concern washing over his face. “Are you okay?”

Alessia forced a nod, wiping her cheeks. “I just—” she swallowed hard. “You have beautiful eyes.”

A small, knowing smile flickered across Ezra’s lips, as if he understood more than she had said. “Thank you.”

Her chest tightened. She could barely breathe, but she could feel you, right there in front of her. And for the first time since you were gone, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run from the pain or hold onto it forever.

She was back.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Alessia stood on the edge of the penalty box, her heart pounding — not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from the pure, electrifying thrill of the game. The England shirt clung to her, damp with sweat and the weight of everything she had been through settled in her chest. But it wasn’t heavy. It was powerful.

The ball came to her feet—a perfect pass, spinning toward her as if fate itself had lined it up. For a split second, everything else disappeared. The surgeries, the hospital beds, the whispers about whether she’d ever play again. The months of grueling rehab, the moments of doubt.

None of it mattered now.

With one touch, she controlled the ball, took a deep breath, and struck it cleanly. Time slowed as it soared through the air, past outstretched hands, and into the back of the net.

Goal.

The stadium erupted. Her teammates swarmed her, wrapping her in tight embraces, their voices became a blur against the roaring of thousands. But Alessia barely heard them. She staggered backward, hands trembling, sinking to her knees as the weight of everything came crashing down.

She choked back a sob, looking up at the sky, wishing — hoping — that somewhere, wherever you may be, that you could see her now. Pressing a hand over her heart, she felt it beat strongly.

Thank you.

Her teammates pulled her up, holding her as she sobbed. As the final whistle blew, a new wave of emotion hit her. She closed her eyes, tilting her head up to the sky once more. She swore she could hear your voice.

“I am so proud of you.”

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #arsenal wfc #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #engwnt

248 notes · View notes

bejeweledinterludes · 2 days ago

Note

dean winchester dating n nsfw headcanons i dare you

love ur page n writing xx

MINORS NO LOOKIE !!! I MEAN IT !!!

you have one ( 1 ) new message from the author ! ↓

OHHHHHH FUCK YES! CHALLENGE ACCEPTED !!! YEAH I’M LOCKIN’ IN FOR THIS ONE. QUICK EVERYONE SAY ‘THANK YOU ANON’ ‼️‼️‼️

— ⌈ dating + nsfw edition: dean x reader headcanons that are way too specific but very important TO ME! ⌋

『 part 3 of @bejeweledinterludes’ headcanon series. 』

𖤐 ────────────────────────

dating dean winchester headcanons.

> i am a firm believer that if dean winchester ever were to seriously, hardcore, actually date someone, they would have been his friend first.

maybe you were a fellow hunter, or someone he crossed paths with frequently time and time again— so much so that it almost seemed like fate herself kept bringing the two of you together.

you’d been dean’s friend for years before you finally realized that ‘hey, maybe this guy i’d definitely and gladly die for should be more than just my friend’. little did you know that dean felt the same exact way.

> both you and dean’s feelings all spilled out to each other in the wee hours of the morning on a particularly vulnerable hunt, just you two.

knowing dean long enough to know he didn’t do ‘love’, you’d stated outright that you didn’t have to be too serious about the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing— but he surprised you with the notion that he did want a serious relationship with you.

and after another little while— and a lot more talking, you and dean started dating. you didn’t go on too many actual dates— you all were too busy saving the world all the freakin’ time, but it didn’t bother you one bit. because you were with dean. and that’s what mattered to you.

> dean holds the door for you. this started long before you both had even thought about dating each other— it started on one of the first cases you had ever worked with him.

dean and sam, with their stupid freakishly long legs, had made it to the door of the coroner’s office much quicker than you ever could— and while sam went in, dean stayed and propped the door open for you. it should have been much more awkward than it was, but somehow, it wasn’t. and that summed up a lot of experiences with dean over the years.

> dean sleeps closest to the door when he sleeps with you in the same bed as him. always. doesn’t matter if you’re in a motel room, or even in the bunker, he picks the side of the bed closest to the door. he says he just likes it more— but you know the real reason. it’s so no threats could get to you first if something were to get past the door.

> you both love music. you had a vinyl collection long before you even met dean, but its one of the very first things you bonded over— and still do, to this day. and each christmas starting years ago, you exchanged mixtapes as your gift to each other. you still do now, though— and it has much more meaning than it did before, too.

> dean is always touching you. i believe that man is touch starved beyond belief— and he’s so incredibly insecure about it.

he’d talked about it with you long before you started dating— a whispered confession as you were saying goodbye because you both had to part ways again.

“i think i have a touch problem,” dean’s voice had been barely audible against you as he hugged you tighter than he’d ever had, but you still heard it. and you told him that wanting physical touch wasn’t a bad thing— and that he could seek it out with you, if he’d like. and he appreciated that.

because he actually did seek it out one night after a solo hunt he’d gone on, when you’d started living in the bunker. dean trudged down the steps like the weight of the world was on his shoulders—let’s be honest here, when didn’t he feel like that— and without saying a word, he just dropped his bag on the map table, walked over to you in the library, and just hugged you. and… wouldn’t let go. like at all. not that you minded, though. you just hugged him back.

you didn’t know how long you both stayed like that until you convinced him to come to bed with you— but you held him the entire night in the sheets, reassuring him over and over that you were fine with it.

> speaking of, dean is completely comfortable around you. he’s free to be purely just… himself. because while sam just rolls his eyes at every joke and half-smiles, dean’ll catch you with a real smile on your face— and usually trying to stifle a laugh. or better yet, you’ll make a joke of your own with him sometimes.

same with talking. dean talks a lot with you— and you just listen. he’ll yap your ear off about the movie he’d rewatched in the dean cave, or retell the story of how he killed hitler, but you don’t mind. you never did. you listened and offered the right words back to him.

he’ll talk about his feelings once in a while, too. and you know it’s because dean feels safe enough to do it around you— because you don’t judge him or view him differently. never once have you denied a conversation with him. and you never will.

now for some . . .

dean winchester nsfw headcanons.

(and if you’d like actual dean smut, i have my own right here for ya)

> no matter who initiates sex first, dean always makes you cum before he does. you already knew going in that he was already ultra-considerate— and the same thing goes when it comes to sex.

and believe me, you’ve tried countless times to get him off first for once— but you’re met with a forceful ‘no’ before you’re pushed back against the sheets, and dean takes care of you with his mouth and fingers first.

or if he’s already inside you, dean purposefully makes sure you come apart on him before he even thinks about cumming himself. not only does he like to guide you through your orgasm, but he loves to watch the way your face scrunches up when you’re fluttering on his dick, all because of him.

> after a while of dating, though, dean realized that he also likes cumming with you— at the exact same time. it doesn’t happen as often, and its usually after a few initial rounds. but he loves the feeling of groaning into your mouth and skin as he spills into you while you spill all over him.

> dean also holds your hand a lot when he fucks you, or you fuck him— whether its your fingers interlocked with his when he rails you into the mattress, or you grasping onto his hand when you ride him, holding on for dear life.

and you like it just as much as he does, if not more. it amplifies the intimacy— the bond between both of you.

> one thing about mr. dean winchester… he is not a quiet man in bed. he’ll groan right into your ear while he pounds into you, or choke out praises and swears against your skin as you ride him— he’s not silent at any point (but honestly, neither are you).

> speaking of positions… dean has a lot of favorite positions for you both to be in, but most, if not all of his favorites are the ones where he can see your face. because he loves the way your face and eyebrows scrunch together from pleasure when he’s making you feel good, knowing it’s all because of him.

──────────────────────── 𖤐

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

#faith’s works . . . @bejeweledinterludes!#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester my beloved #@ dean winchester #dean winchester smut #supernatural headcanon

362 notes · View notes

verdancy-hime · 2 days ago

Text

I want it for talking about when other people do crazy making behavior and then blame it on your gender and tell you that you're just a girl and you're too emotional and the specific intrusive cinematic thoughts that you have to hold back about how exactly you should murder them because if you raise your voice by a single degree they win the argument and can hold it over your head for months. Because I don't know what the fuck to call that. Men do that. Women who are older do that to women who are younger. Whiter white women do that to white women who fail to perform white feminity the way they are supposed to. It only never happens to me with gay men and when I was a teenager and I was like 300lbs and boys functionally saw me as another boy. When someone else is accusing you of being crazy and you can't win because you're a woman and women are crazy. When someone else is accusing you of letting emotions cloud your judgment or being too sensitive or they trust their own experiences but patronize you about yours being baggage and you can't say it's anything because women are too emotional. Women are so angry over every little thing. Women are mean women hate fun. When prettier women can do passive aggressive shit to you and you can't complain because you're just jealous they're not ugly. When every autistic woman I know has nightmares about other women. When you don't know why your coworkers suddenly hate you and then you figure out it's some woman and telling everyone you're disagreeable and emotionally unstable behind your back but if you say anything you're disagreeable and emotionally unstable.

You come up with a word for it.

we are NOT reclaiming "female hysteria". listen to me. women fucking died because their every issue was labelled "hysteria" in recent fucking history. we are not talking about the old times we are talking about my grandparents' generation. the legacy of the hysteria diagnosis is alive and well in many many forms we are not. under any circumstances. reclaiming this one

5K notes · View notes

screamlet · 2 days ago

Text

post 8x09-10 coda

my contribution to the "tommy shows up at eddie's place and finds buck there" collection. also on the ao3.

bucktommy / hopeful ending / 1k

---

Buck thought about becoming a cyclist a few years ago. Like, as a personality trait. Like he thought he'd get really into biking on his off days, ride for miles and miles, maybe do some of those super long 50-mile races people allegedly did. Getting a newish start at Eddie's old place means taking his fancy bike out of storage and deciding whether it should come with him.

He starts riding and it's not exactly transformative, and he feels a little silly thinking it would be. But he keeps to it because, what, does he have anything else to do? Eddie's settling into his new house and working on his family (not just Chris, but all of his family) and everyone else in his life has their own families, and Buck has his bike. And running shoes. Maybe he should take up running instead. Or build a home gym, like Tommy has. Had. Has. He's not sure about the state of his home gym.

That also feels dumb, though, since Eddie told prospective tenants over and over again that there was a bustling suburban downtown area with a great gym that had reasonable membership prices, and honestly maybe at this point Buck should think about moving out of LA, too. At least when he lived in the Jeep and traveled all over, he met lots of new and different people who made time for him for a little while, and he'd be on the road before they could really lose interest in him and let him go.

"Are you crying?"

Buck's sitting on the front step of Eddie's house and rubbing at his eyes but, yeah, he might have been crying. Now he's definitely crying in front of Tommy, who's standing on the lawn with his hands on his hips. They stare at each other for a minute, like Tommy's waiting for an answer and as if Buck isn't obviously answering him.

"Feeling a little lonely, Tommy. How about you?" Buck leans on his knees and musters a smile. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Tommy takes another long moment to answer, but Buck's got nowhere else to be so he can wait him out. Wait, he lives here now; he literally has nowhere else to be.

"Eddie said his subletter wouldn't move in for a few more days but he thought he left the back door unlocked. Did he tell you the same thing?" Tommy raises his eyebrows. "Cute little scheme to get us to run into each other?"

Buck claps his hands. "I'm the subletter."

Tommy looks surprised, but tries to hide it. "And is the back door closed?"

"I'll find out." Buck, hollowed out, smiles again. "Need anything else?"

A beat. A long one, again. "I've been lonely, too."

"Really?" Buck asks. "With your karaoke trivia and—"

"I've been lonely, too," Tommy repeats.

Buck's less hollow now; a drop of pity for Tommy has hit the bottom of the bucket.

"Wanna sit with me? Be less lonely?" Buck clears his throat. "Eddie told you he was moving, right?"

"He did." Tommy comes closer. "Said he didn't need any help, though, so I didn't come by. Had all the help he needed. Did you guys have a going away thing?"

A wave of pity rolls into the bucket.

"It was really last minute," Buck says.

"Yep. I get it."

There's enough space, for sure, but Buck edges to one side of the step anyway. "There's space for you."

"That's okay." Tommy's lips are a fine line before they quirk into a smile. "I don't need the pity."

"Too bad," Buck replies. "I went and got too much for myself and there's leftovers with your name on them."

Tommy rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. He sighs loudly, playfully, then comes and sits next to Buck on the step. He asks, "You doing okay?"

"I mean, my pregnant sister got kidnapped and my best friend moved to another state and I moved out of my apartment that I've been in for five years and I still miss my ex-boyfriend but other than that. Yeah, just fine." Buck clears his throat and points to his bike. "Do I seem like a cyclist to you? Like could you see me really getting into biking?"

"I think if you want something, nothing will stop you," Tommy says. "If you want to date a guy and never have before, you're gonna date a guy. If you wanna learn everything about a dead cowboy and then give him a respectful funeral while you're covered in boils, you will. If you—Eddie gave me like five different lemon and walnut and cranberry-orange loaves before he left and he said you made them? You just like, started a baking side gig or something? Did you want to do that, too, or did it just happen to you?"

"Oh, that." Buck has been blushing as Tommy talked, ducking his head to hide it, shying away, but Tommy's leaned in like he has to make sure Buck doesn't miss a word. "I started baking after we broke up. It was a good distraction."

"Five—"

"You came at the tail end, honestly, you missed a whole bakery's worth over the holidays." Buck looks at him. "What have you been doing?"

"Me, well. I bought another car I could start restoring. I repainted my porch and the fence. Took up yoga because, I don't know, wasn't feeling that flexible anymore. Uh." Tommy motions to the bike. "Also thought about biking because who doesn't want to pedal away from their problems, right?"

Buck asks, "What's your schedule look like? Did you actually buy a bike? Want to go on a ride? I know a place that does rentals."

"Buck, I don't know."

He wants to howl and correct him (Evan) but he keeps his mouth shut.

"Just an offer," Buck says. "I'm gonna head in now. Do you want water or something before you head back?"

Tommy doesn't make a move until Buck does, standing up from the steps and brushing off the back of his jeans. "If you're free..."

Buck raises his eyebrows.

"I'm free," Tommy says. "There's a bottle shop like 10 minutes away, if—maybe we could have a drink here? I don't know if you've already christened your new house or anything."

Buck grins. "Have I had a beer here? Yeah, I have. But—but that sounds nice. I can order a pizza if you're hungry. I'm starving."

"Yeah, that sounds nice." Tommy takes a few steps back to the truck. "I'll be back. Promise."

That little promise makes him ache. "No IPAs, please."

"I remember." Tommy watches him for a moment from the driver's side, then climbs into the truck and starts it up. Buck steps inside and shuts the door. He knows Tommy will be back.

#911 fic #bucktommy fic #bucktommy #my writing #my fic #tevan #tevan fic #kinley #kinley fic #it's a monday and work is so excruciatingly slow #have this

180 notes · View notes

rotagnus · 2 days ago

Text

your good qualities --<3

physical, mental, spiritual, etc. i feel like everyone could always use some encouragement!

pick one of the top images, from 1 to 3.

pile 1.

you're a very proud person. don't take this the wrong way!! when your friend succeeds, you hype them up like no other. when someone is good at something, you compliment them, and you're proud of them. you make everyone feel like they're loved, and you have a tendency to make people, especially men, feel like they're the only one in the world when you're paying attention to them. not just men, though--a lot of women look up to you and see you as a motherly/sisterly figure. you face challenges head on, and you don't let anybody step on you or your people. you're extremely loyal, almost to a fault. you have a big heart. you're also very easy to look at--your features are picturesque, and you'd definitely be in a renaissance painting if you existed then. you have graceful, swan-like features, and your movements are very languid. you also don't judge people by their appearance, and people feel extremely comfortable around you, sweetheart.

pile 2.

speaking of sweethearts! aren't you an absolute darling. you're a little bit naive, but you see the good in people without doubting them. you truly do inspire people to be the best version of themselves. you come from a place of isolation and pain--you've truly built yourself up out of a very difficult past. you were terrified of change, but you became it. you have this unquenchable desire for growth, and this makes the people associate you with positive occurrences. you make people feel like they're in a movie--you bring people happiness with the way that you're bubbly and bright. i think a lot of you were ashamed of this quality, and you didn't really speak a lot in the past, but you shouldn't ever dim your spark for anyone. physically, you may have a darker appearance--maybe some of you are alternative, or have darker features. this is a bit contrasting to your bright persona, but it makes a beautiful mixture that pulls people in soooo sooo deeply.

pile 3.

you're willing to see everyone as someone forgivable. you don't judge people easily. cause of this, you make friends easily, and people are also easily attracted to you. however this can be bad, too, because you can develop people who only want one thing from you, dear :(. you're everything to some people--their pillar, their heart, their sun. you're also very blunt and sharp with your words. you don't soften the meaning of what you say for anyone, and this is a very admirable quality to certain people you meet. there's a lot of lies in this world, dear. you're not a liar. you're very rooted in your faith, too--you may talk a lot about God/the universe, and this makes people want to listen. you have a very compelling voice, and something about your eyes--people get lost in them when you speak.

#love reading #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot reading #pick a picture #tarotblr #pac reading #divine guidance #intuitive reading #intuitive readings

243 notes · View notes

demon-at-peace · 2 days ago

Text

DC + DP

Danny and Dick are protectors. Both would destory the world for the people they love. They need someone to talk too, aka I found this ship again and wrote a long thing.

Danny met Dick outside the library. Babs hadn't been there and they'd recently had a fight. He was walking out when he met Danny. Danny was honest, painfully so, they'd been friends for not even sixth months when he'd revealed his identity as a former vigilante.

Dick didn't tell him about Nightwing. Not yet, maybe though, eventually. Maybe not, they were just friends after all. Danny would get him coffee, or more accurately cream with caramel sauce. He's laugh at his puns.

Dick after showing of his acrobatic tricks one time became Silly Bird. Danny said it was "because you fly idiot, literally, like a Birdy, and your silly of course." Dick was once again a bird, but the name wasn't what his vigilante name was, it was light loving, like how his mother would call him robin.

But meeting up became an issue. Dick couldn't help but feel guilty really, he canceled constantly, because of patrol, or a fight or some other issue.

Danny would wave it of, he'd laugh, and say "Silly bird, I don't care, your my friend, you have other commitments, and I know it's not just you cancelling, because you always apologize and reschedule, plus it means I don't have to pay for my coffee." So Dick relaxed, Danny had other stuff too, he'd cancel plans, apologize and reschedule.

It was two years after they met that Dick told Danny he was Nightwing. He was ready, he liked Danny, they were close, but Danny would be mad, and it would be the end. Danny's face had been shocked, absolutely stunned. He'd left the apartment. And Dick cried. He wished he hadn't told Danny. It was three hours later when there was a knock at the door, and Danny dripping stepped in.

He said sorry, he apologized for panicking, and through rushed apologizes they forgave each other.

They started dating three long years after they met, they were at a circus, Dick loved them, he loved the tricks and the familiar noises, besides he would never see the acrobatics shows, or the clowns. Danny made sure of that. They'd been walking home, Danny clutching a Nightwing Plushie when Danny had stopped and stared at Dick.

"I think I like you, as more than friends." It was simple, a statement, and Danny looks ready for rejection. But Dick, he felt the exact same way. Because Danny never asked for anything, nothing but time spent with him. The time with Danny was easy, fun, and when they had arguments, they always talked through them.

So like a soldier going to war he said "I do too," and Danny beamed. Suddenly they were kissing, and Dick was barely thinking as he kissed Danny back. Later curled up on Danny's couch they watched a show together. Almost like nothing changed, but something had.

Danny still cuddled with him, he still laughed, he still talked with him. He also brought him roses, and heart shaped chocolate. He left love notes about. Danny also kissed him. Dick decided Danny gave the best kisses in the world. He did the same, he put in his all, and Danny returned his affection just as eagerly.

It had been two years since they started dating, they kept it under lock and key. Dick liked that too, he'd thought Danny would demand to meet the family, but he'd simply laughed and said, "you didn't want them in our friendship, if you don't want them in our relationship that's up to you Silly bird."

Except now their anniversary was coming up their three years together, and apparently everyone was having issues. It was tomorrow, they had plans. Yet so far it had been all hands on deck. Or all available hands. And they didn't know about Danny, because he hadn't wanted them too. But he wanted out, he had stuff to do, roses to buy, presents to wrap.

His phone rang, the familiar ringtone of California Girls echoing throughout the cave. He grabbed it in an instant checking the caller, and sure enough it was Danny. Normally he wouldn't take Danny's calls in the cave, he'd leave, and then they'd talk. But he was too tired for that.

"Hi," Dick greeted as he picked it up.

"Who is it?" Jason called out curiously looking up from the files. Yeah Jason was here too, it really was an all hands on deck thing.

"None of your business!" Dick screeched at him. Before turning back to the phone as he heard Danny's laughter.

"Silly bird, how are you doing?" Danny asks softly, dick groans he can practically hear his smile.

"Fine, I mean i'm tired, but Danny I'll probably be here late," he sighed, he could hear the sadness in his voice.

"Do you want to be? You know you can ditch them, Silly bird, you're far too sacrificing, I can pick you up if you want?" Danny chides. Dick groans.

"Sure," the answer chocks himself, but he doesn't regret it. It's their anniversary, he doesn't care about keeping Danny a secret, it's been due to tell them for a while anyhow.

"Be their in five sweetheart," Danny chirps and Dick can't help but smile.

"I'm leaving B! Got plans!" he calls out. He stretches his back cracking, and he runs a hand through his hair. "Hey Babs how do I look?"

"Terrible, and why exactly are you leaving?" she answers dryly.

"Danny would kill me if I didn't get a good night's sleep before our anniversary, anyhow gotta go!" he slips out of the cave before anyone can say something.

He reaches the front easily , and as always Danny is early, griinign at Dick as he sticks his head out of the car, "Silly bird ya ready?" he asks, ignoring the bats that followed Dick out.

"Who are you?" Jason demands and Dick buckles his seatbelt.

"His boyfriend," Danny answers with a Midwestern smile, "BYE!" he screams as he spins the car out of the driveways o quickly even Dick is shocked.

"How are you doing Birdy?" Danny asks as he drives out of the manor like a bat out of hell. (pun intended)

"Great," Dick grins, "How are you doing?"

"Never better," Danny smiles happily.

--------

idk what that is, I like it tho, anyhow yeah fell back down that ship, cause I ship too much stuff. Actually writing this actually made me less of a ball of angst so yay!!! Anyway I hate daylights saving stuff, like I woke up too early. I was supposed to have more sleep!!!

#danny fenton #dick grayson #dpxdc #batfam #jason todd #dcu #danny phantom

152 notes · View notes

dvandom · 2 days ago

Text

Sigh. One of those areas where bigots latch onto an otherwise useful term or set of terms and ruin their scientific usability.

My PhD research was in science education, and a big thing in the 90s and 00s when I was active was gender differences in STEM (what actually exists, what we can do about it, etc). And it turns out that the way boys and girls are raised does have an impact on how things go for them in school, especially STEM classes. We also found that a lot of assumed differences didn't actually exist! But we still need to find ways to deal with the differences that DO. Pretending that there's zero differences in how boys and girls are raised tends to end up favoring the male students and reinforcing the "girls don't do STEM" vicious cycle.

Probably the biggest difference is that girls are raised to let boys be the ones to talk. You probably already know about the studies showing that if women participate even a little, the men in the audience think they're dominating the discussion? Part of being "socialized female" is having that hammered into you, and likely having suffered for daring to speak up. Do assertive girls and shy boys exist? Of course. And after you've gotten a chance to know your students, you can adjust for their specific personalities. But research showed over and over that a group that is majority male will result in the women mostly staying quiet and taking the "secretary" role while the guys do all the talking. If you can get it to half and half, women will participate a lot more. By being careful to not leave any "one woman and three guys" small groups, at least until you know who can hold their own in those situations, you help get them past the first few weeks. (And hopefully also figure out which guys don't like to speak up and do something about that, but that can be more difficult...the brash and talkative women naturally stand out more than the shy guys.)

How do trans students fit into the data? Well, in the 90s and 00s they weren't in the data in any significant numbers, where they were known at all. My personal experience with trans students only goes back a few years, in numbers too small to draw conclusions, especially since each has been rather different in terms of presentation (e.g. one managed to avoid being clocked even by pre-transition classmates, another was always having to argue with people who were misgendering them*, another doesn't mind being deadnamed, and so forth), so the statistical power is basically nil.

(* I have long been in the habit of referring to students as they/them when talking about them to others, as part of anonymizing. I have few enough women in my classes that if I say "she" where relevant it can sometimes be enough to ID the student, and if I only use "they" for women it's not really an improvement. So unless you know the student I'm talking about, everyone is they/them. This also means that the rare they/them student is not singled out either, because I could be talking about a cis dude...and probably am.)

And then, of course, TERFs grab the idea of being "socialized female" and use it for evil.

Is he "female socialized" or is he just a standard flamboyant sensitive artsy gay dude who would honestly be indiscernible from any other fem gay guy if you didn't see him as a walking vagina first and foremost.

46K notes · View notes

henneseyhoe · 2 days ago

Text

A Lieutenant's Daughter and a Soldier's Heart

Terry Richmond x BLACK!FEM!reader

Order: Tea (Angst), Coffee (Smut), Smores (Virginity), Red Velvet Cake (Romantic style(at first)), Chocolate Wafer (Forbidden Love)

SUMMARY: You’ve been getting close with a new friend lately, a little too close for Terry’s liking, someone who shouldn’t have even known of your existence in the first place.

🍰 ˚～Henny’s Bakery!

✮✮✮✮

If there was something you knew how to do, it was to attract what you needed to keep away the most, the latest secret from your father being one of his officers. As a lieutenant, your fathers job was to protect and keep things in line. It was a dangerous job regardless if he was in contact with the danger directly or not and because of that, people barely knew you existed.

The stone cold lieutenant with a daughter? No, surely not! He could never love anything; This is what he liked everyone to think.

It wasn’t until you were caught in his office by Terry that the cat was out of the bag (for him at least).

You were no assistant! Not sitting there looking exactly like lieutenant's wife with a younger face, And you definitely weren’t the same party girl he saw at the club last night, not in that uniform.

You two spent half that day bickering, the other half with you begging him not to tell anyone who you were, not to let your father know that you slipped up and told someone, and absolutely not where he first knew you from. The white flag you raised along with a handshake in solidarity and agreement that he scratch your back and you scratch his (blackmail, really) sprouted an unlikely and unruly friendship…And something more you couldn’t yet explain.

I mean, it wasn’t like you two were fucking…you just hung out, kept company. Maybe kissed a little here and there, but Terry was too emotionally unavailable for you to go any further. You wanted to be with him, to give yourself to him, but he was stubborn as a mule, so why force and beg for what you knew you couldn’t have?

So, you tried to move on. Key word: try.

You hadn’t even known Terry was the jealous type until the recent incident.

When he saw you with someone else, going the places you two went, making the jokes you two made together, it ticked something off in him. The way he made you laugh alone had him salty.

“nigga is not that damn funny..” He’d think as he heard your laugh across the room.

He wished he could get away from the both of yall, but unfortunately for Terry, the guy was a private, small fish, and the man who adored you the most was his boss.

Was he better than Terry? Did he make you feel the way Terry knew he made you feel? All different questions that went through Terry’s mind that had him spinning, practically wishing death on a man he didn’t know from a can of paint, to his grandmother's dismay if she knew.

Terry was sick. Even sicker when flowers started to show up.

It led him to start with you all the time, it felt like you two weren’t even friends anymore, if you could even call y’all’s relationship that.

“Why do you care who I hang out with?” You squint at the man, Terry rolling his eyes in response.

“I don’t. I'm just saying. You don’t know this nigga, yall just met and you drinking with him and shit. Since when you start doing all that?”

You stare at him, patience wearing thin. Did he invite himself over just to piss you off? He didn’t care, he was gonna plant whatever seed he could to get you away from him, unfortunately it was just making you hate him a little more.

“It’s illegal to get drinks with a friend? Where was this energy when I didn’t know you and we was chilling?”

“Exactly though! That just shows how irresponsible you are, we shouldn’t even be friends right now! I could have been crazy or some shit”

It was a bit humorous to you, but you couldn’t even crack a smile or else he’d think you weren’t serious.

Licking the inside of your cheek, you huff. “You are crazy. Now move from in front of the door so I can go! You making me late nigga!”

“No. I said no” He repeated.

“What is your issue? Since when did you give a fuck about who I hang around? Since when did I become a top priority to look after? I’m grown”

“I know you are, I never said you couldn’t hold your own-“

“Then MOOOVE!” You nearly sounded like an irritated cow, but you were over the antics. If you had to fight to get out, you would at this point.

“No!”

“Why?!”

“Cause I don’t trust him! I don’t like you being with him or around him, he’s bad for you”

“Oh please, spare me from the lecture, *dad*. You’re just jealous”

He scoffed “Of what? He’s not better than me-“

You smirk bitterly. “See? You can’t even admit it, yet you wanna make a point that you’re better than him... You have a really sick attachment to me, but don’t wanna do shit about it. I’m not about to sit around and wait for you to make the moves I want you to, Terry, find somebody else to do it. Get help, and cope”

Adding salt to injury is all you did. Nothing you said made what he felt better, but it wasn’t like you were trying to comfort him either.

Your expression made Terry move to deflect as a defensive mechanism, but he couldn’t even do that. He didn’t have the heart to gaslight or fight about it, you were damn right.

“I don’t want you to wait, I never asked you to postpone anything for my own personal reasons”

“Then what the fuck do you want from me, Terry? You’re standing in front of the door like you got something to say but shit is coming out of your mouth. You wanna say something? Say it and leave the ego behind”

Thick silence fell upon the room as you gave him the ultimatum of the night, but as he stared with those eyes you admired on nights it was just you two, it only heated you even more. He didn’t care about the ultimatum. He didn’t care to have you stuck, he was too stuck in his own ways.

He stood his ground, quiet like you expected. You chuckle with no humor and shake your head.

“Right. Move so I can go”

“I told you already, you ain’t going”

He took authority like it was already his, and it wasn’t.

“You told me??? Move out the fucking way”

“No”

“Move!”

He shook his head like a bad kid refusing to eat broccoli, a childish gesture that had you halfway ready to use the army knife in your chanel purse.

You squint. “I’m finna move you myself in a minute…”

“Move me? You?” He looks you up and down, kissing his teeth. “You couldn’t move something with wheels”

“You’ll need two pairs of wheels when I'm done. Let’s see if I can move the chair with them by yourself when you get out the hospital”

Terry’s eyes darkened, his face reading an expression you didn’t expect from your threat.

“And this is the part where I’m supposed to be scared?”

You stepped closer with no fear, determined to make it out that door without folding, one of your hands flying up to push him before he caught it in his large hands.

Holding tight, he yanked you closer to him, so close you could feel each others breath.

“Let go of me, Terry” Your voice shook.

“Back up out my face and sit down before I sit you down”

“Sit me down, I don’t care!”

You said that with the initial plan to get back up, but Terry had already cemented in his mind that he’d leave your legs shaking before you could.

✮✮✮✮

Lord knows how many times you wondered how fucking would feel. As vulgar and nasty as you felt thinking about it sometimes, nothing you thought amounted up to how you were feeling right now.

You could only stare blankly into the distance as Terry pinned you down to your own bed and slid into you from the back. You had already been wet from the borderline torturing he did on your clit before hand, strumming the little pearl until your thighs shut around his hand and your sheets got soaked.

You couldn’t even hold a proper arch for him, hips flat on the bed because of leg exhaustion thanks to all the shaking, but that didn’t stop Terry. That just made it easier to keep you from running as he rolled his hips into you slowly, kissing up your neck as if he had loved you for years.

Your moans fell softly from your lips, lipgloss long gone and wiped off somewhere on your good linens. He even talked sweet to you and held your hands while he was in it.

It was like he forgot you were about to go out with someone else before this. He didn’t.

“Could you imagine him doing this to you? Fucking you this good? Cause I can’t” Even now his obsession and jealousy shines through like a jewel in dirt, one pound following each sentence. Your lungs were deprived of oxygen every single time.

“He couldn’t fuck you like this, baby. Say it!”

“He ca-can’t—Ouuu fuck!”

What he was doing to you was straight voodoo, the type dick you could feel deep in your stomach, the type that had you looking stupid in the face, and that you did look.

You felt the tip of him reach the deepest part inside you, pushing further and further until he physically couldn’t go any further. Your poor walls knew nothing better than to hold his big dick tighter inside of you, milking him for all he had.

“Fuck! Don’t wanna let me go, do you? Tight ass pussy” He grunted, expecting no response from you, and none he got as you drooled all on your sheets.

Was this a dream? This was too good. You had no time to think about how your father would kill you if he knew what was going on in your bedroom at this very moment. His best man on the field digging his beloved daughter out like a slut. That’s what was going on.

He left you heaving, begging to be shown mercy after all that shit talking.

“Uhhh! Fuck! you gonna make me cum, Terry!”

“That’s all I want, baby. I wanna see it, give it to me” He spread your cheeks open and watched himself dip in and out of you, your cream sticking to the base of him and coating his trimmed pubic hairs.

“Yes, yes, yesss!” White flashed behind your eyes as you squeezed them shut harshly, your toes curling as you came around him again, flooding your thighs.

“Give it to me!” His hips jackhammer into yours as he pulled your tired hips back up to force an arch and leaned into you, the force of his thrusts sending you up toward the headboard with small nudges until you clutched onto the fitted sheet below you, the fabric slowly being pulled from the edges of the bed.

The sounds you made heightened and your head spun like blue birds were chirping around you to show you had not a thought left.

You could barely hear the string of “I love you”s above your head as he came, shooting ribbons of milky white cum on your back.

✮✮✮✮

💌~AND WE BACK, AND WE BACK! 🙂‍↕️ idk if i got these rankings right, nor do i care either tbh ngl 💀 i hope anon enjoyed tho, sorry for the wait, boo 🩷 and sorry for any mistakes too it’s late lmao <3

148 notes · View notes

ellierium · 2 days ago

Text

cry baby ft. ellie williams/reader

tags: character study, lots of feelings, ellie loves hard and weird and impatiently. mentions of nsfw? its barely there.

a/n: so ever since i got into tlou, i've always paired ellie with this song. so here's a little drabble just cause. cry baby by the neighbourhood.

ellie knows that when you know, you just know. it is what it is, such is life— its how the cookie crumbles, its in the cards. ellie collects those; maybe not playing cards, but she's a total loser so yeah, she tried to learn card tricks. no, she's not very good at it. but she knows— its always in the deck, its in the cards. love, apparently, is in her cards. love shouldn't have gotten so close to her, but it did. now she has to relax the sneer on her face, dig her heels in the ground and try not to flinch when it touches her. 'cause she deserves it. or so it has been explained to her. because apparently, everyone gets what they deserve. thats a neat trick. she wishes it were true, sometimes, and other times, not. if it were true, dina wouldn't have had to deal with her for as long as she did. riley wouldn't have died. you wouldn't be around. she's not all the worthy, really, and you could do better. she thinks, at least.

thats her thing, of course — thinking too much, saying too little. only sometimes, though, because other times, everything she hoards in her mouth just spews out. nothing to stop it — well, you're a burden now, aren't you? — and its a fatal flaw. she says what she means, and she meant that.

but she also means this: love me. love me but don't look at me too hard lest you catch sight of the beast beneath the floorboards. love me but don't move too quickly, keep every part of yourself in my line of sight. hands raised, fingers spread, your heart in her teeth. her heart on her sleeve, ready for the taking.

and ellie tries really hard — for everything she does, she tries hard. whether or not she tries to do it correctly is another thing entirely, she thinks she does it just to satisfy what she thinks is right. but you know when you know, and she knows when she's right. she can taste it in her molars, but god forbid you say it, so please don't. because if she's right about this, about one thing, she's right about everything else. she's right about joel, right about her fears, right about how she feels when you look at her and tilt your head like you just love her. knife to her chest cavity, bones blown open and cordyceps seeping out.

because whats she to say when you ask how she felt when you first met? that she looked at you and knew she'd fall in love with you but its not what she wanted? that she could taste it on her tongue like she tastes you — sticky, thick, addictive.

#ummmmm yeah idk #im spit ballin here #i dont wanna be working #but its so fine #doing this instead <3 #ೃ⁀➷; ellierium writes #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x y/n #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams headcanons

107 notes · View notes

mia-can-yap-too · 2 days ago

Text

JJK but it’s a dating show

What?:- The JJK men are here to compete to steal the heart of Y/n L/n in the show ‘Binding Vows and Broken Hearts’! In this segment, our host will ask each of the contestants why they want Ms.L/n to choose them!

Warnings!:- fluff, crack, allusions of violence, a little bit suggestive but like it’s only the last line

(bllk ver.)

Gojo Satoru

“Starting off strong with none other than the strongest sorcerer in the world, Gojo Satoru!” introduces the host.

Gojo lounges on the leather chair like the rich man he is, with a confident yet effortless smirk adorning his face. The cheers he gets certainly boosts his already huge ego.

“Ah, you don’t need to make everyone nervous like that! Someone people cower in the presence of greatness, you know? Just call me Gojo,” he chuckles.

“Confidence, we like that! Let’s dive right in then! Tell us, Gojo, what makes you stand out from the rest? Excluding your incomparable strength, of course!” The host laughs a professional laugh.

Still smirking, Gojo doesn’t ponder before he answers. “Other than that? Well, there’s so much…like my otherworldly beauty, my endless wealth, my irresistible charm, my glorious blue eyes, which would look great on our children, by the way, Y/n. Oh, there’s also”—

“Right, that’s enough for now! Onto the next!”

“Hey! I wasn’t done yet, Y/n needs to know all that she could score with”—

Geto Suguru

“Next up, we have Geto Suguru!”

Geto smiles charmingly at the crowd which makes some fangirls scream. “It’s my pleasure to be here.”

His long locks are tied up into a bun and his black suit complements him well, adding onto the allure.

The host reads from the cards in his hands. “Let’s not waste a second! What makes you think Ms.L/n would choose you?”

Geto straightens his posture before he replies. “Well, not to toot my own horn, but I am quite popular with the ladies. I believe I could treat her right, as someone as priceless as her should be treated. I can be charming, but not so much that it’s bothersome. Trust me, I know someone who doesn’t know where that line stands. I can be very caring, and thoughtful also. I believe these traits would make me a good boyfriend.”

The host nods slyly. “That’s a very good answer, Geto. Now, what do you say about the rumors that you are mentally unwell?”

“I—What?!”

Nanami Kento

“Everyone, give a round of applause for Nanami Kento!” The host exclaims.

The man himself is seated politely on the leather chair, every bit of him looks as neat and pristine as usual. “Nice to meet you, everyone.”

“So, Nanami, what type of man do you consider yourself to be?”

“Based on what I deduce from my daily routines and on the type of person I strive to be, I would say I am a hardworking and honest man.”

The host nods. “We’ve all heard a lot of good things about you! The media says that you are ‘total malewife material’! Isn’t that great?”

Nanami merely nods. He does not know what that phrase means.

“Let’s do a couple more short questions. How much does loyalty matter to you in a relationship?”

“A lot. I would be very loyal to my partner and expect the same in return. I wouldn’t date someone if I had the intentions of cheating.”

This earns him some coos from the ladies in the audience.

The host continues, “Would you say that you are hot tempered in any way? What if your partner did something that made you mad?”

Nanami doesn’t hesitate, probably because he was raised well. “No, I wouldn’t. I find no use or respect in shouting at someone for their mistakes. I like to think of myself as patient, so I would try to talk it out instead.”

The host claps. “Wow, ladies, this is the type of man you should go for! You very well might be the best contestant here!”

Sukuna Ryomen

“Give it up for, Sukuna Ryomen, the King of Curses!” says the host nervously.

There aren’t many cheers as most of the audience is praying for their lives instead. Even the viewers at home can feel the tense atmosphere from the screen.

The curse, who makes the leather chair creak, is seemingly satisfied with the term of address that he doesn’t notice the lackluster performance from the audience.

“So, Sukuna,” starts the host, “why do you think Ms.L/n should choose you?”

Sukuna scoffs. “Why shouldn’t she? I would make her my queen. She would be the most respected woman in the whole world and would have authority over curses too! She’s a fool to say no to me!”

The host is apprehensive. “But, there is a chance…she chooses someone else? Someone less likely to murder her maybe?”

Sukuna glares. “Do you wish to die, peasant?! I can kill you all right now! Matter of fact”—

There is a flurry of cameras knocking down and people screaming. In the midst of it all, the host grabs a camera and talks to it. “After a short commercial break about the best onigiri places in Japan, brought to you by Inumaki Toge, we will be right back!”

The cameras cut.

Choso Kamo

The host wipes his brow with a handkerchief. The set up looks as normal as before, if you don’t include the slightly disheveled state of the staff.

“Sorry for the wait, but moving on! Choso Kamo!”

The audience does its best to applaud but Choso doesn’t mind.

“Hello, everybody!” He even gives a small wave.

The host chuckles. “Hello to you too, Choso. Right, the questions! Choso, what about Ms.L/n caught your eye?”

Choso blushes slightly. “She is very kind. Oh, and pretty too! Very pretty. Um…and she’s nice and my baby brother, Yuji, thinks so too! He says he ‘ships us’”—he makes quotation marks with his fingers—“but I don’t really know what that means.”

“That means he thinks you both look good together! I didn’t know kids so young could talk, he must be talented! You seem to be very fond of your baby brother! He must be a cute little gentleman, babies are so adorable after all! How old is he?”

“Sixteen.”

Toji Fushiguro

“Everybody, welcome the Sorcerer Killer, Toji Fushiguro!”

The crowd, both the male and female members, hoot and holler.

Toji manspreads on the leather seat, wearing his usual day to day clothes. Which the host totally doesn’t judge him for.

“Toji, why is someone like you on a dating show?”

“I heard there’s a cash prize for the winner. Also, the girl’s hot.”

The host’s professional smile falters. “…the cash prize is the reason…Nevermind! What do you expect in a relationship?”

“For her to pay for my meals. My physique needs protein I can’t afford.”

“No..I mean what would you do?”

“…Do backshots count?”

Bonus Scene!

The viewers are waiting for the show to come back on while watching the commercial break.

Currently, there is a guy on the screen whose face is half-covered with his collar.

“Tuna Tuna. Salmon Roe! Mustard Leaf, Tuna Mayo!”

“Dude, what the fuck is this guy on about?”

Authors note:- About time i admit i haven’t watched S2 of JJK and this is based purely on the fanfics i’ve read and tiktoks i’ve watched. anyways I won’t be adding more people in this but if u want a part 2 then you can tell me what the next segment should be about in my inbox or replies! Thank you!

take a look at my masterlist!

#mia wrote this #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #nanami kento x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #choso x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #toji fushiguro #choso kamo #nanami kento #sukuna ryomen

89 notes · View notes

estfel · 15 hours ago

Text

This post really got me thinking about the last year for me.

Sums up how I feel right now about doing morning exercise for 20-30 minutes. The temporary hatred at the thing, hatred of myself, resentment, and rage I feel doing it, is less distressing than the endless hatred I feel not doing it that would follow me throughout the day.

Damn it.

Someone once said "you just need to find an exercise you enjoy". And then I felt like a failure because I DID NOT ENJOY ANY in the moment.

I think it's okay advice for some but it just made me feel like I was weird for hating dedicated exercise. It also didn't help when I was so low I was not motivated to do anything and would rather rot. "YOU JUST" is such a shitty line. Because you don't "just" it's a combination of efforts, and they are hard, and it sometimes really hurts to do the things in the moment that help things hurt less in the long run, and that's a sticky cycle to get stuck in. The many bits that make up self care can feel like a mountain when they all slip at the same time.

I think for me I put so much pressure to do it all at once and "just" get better. All or nothing. Then some good advice I got was quick wins and build it up slow. "YOU just need to..." doesnt exist for a lot of people.

For me, and it's not the same for everyone, the thing that helped was one thing at a time until that one thing gets easier. For me it's never "just do X" because there is never going to be a thing that just makes things better. I love the above posts for showing how hard it can be, and all the things that are good for you but are both infuriating, difficult but beautiful and enriching. Enraging and enlightening.

So last year, I started with breakfast. Never had breakfast really, and struggled to get out of bed because I never ate breakfast and felt like I had no reason. No motibation. I used to feel like I had to do breakfast, exercise, lunch, meditation, walks, work, socialise, clean and tidy and do it all at once. Gogogogogogo. And because I couldn't do all that at once I felt hopeless.

So I just did breakfast.

No worrying about exercise, or other routines. This week, I am just going to eat breakfast every day. Then that got easier. After two weeks, I added something new.

I added 15 minutes of cleaning to my headphones a day. Nothing longer. Didnt matter what I did just 15 minutes then stop. I ended up loving cleaning once I stopped trying to regiment it so hard, so this didn't pan out like I expected. Which was nice. But that doesn't mean some days I don't want to throw the window cleaner out the window.

Then with exercise I think for me it wasn't about enjoyment, it was about ease of access and the capacty for overthinking. I needed exercise that you have to do the least pre-prep for because you can just do it immediately without psyching yourself out. Just go right in and do it.

I love swimming but the act of having to drive there, spend the money, get changed in a weird space that doesn't feel 100% clean and do boring laps because our public pool doesn't really allow you to pretend to be a mermaid and throw shit to dive for and catch, was such a process my brain and body would be in a state of such high "Nuuugghhh" I would just not go then feel like a failure, and that demotivated me more.

The gym was the same. Too much prep, strangers in my space, loud weight drops etc.

But walking in the evening for just 15 minutes down the road I could do. Shoes. Leave house. Simple. Count all the red or blue things on the walk. Then after that got easier I added five minutes.

The once that became my new normal I added, sticking a video I can dance along to on YouTube requires me to wake up, pick up a remote and do it. I can do it in my pyjamas. Then I would get breakfast. It leaves less time for doom brain to talk me out of it.

And sometimes it's about NOT adding anymore. There's enough already. That actually, it's enough for now. Just be with that for a while. It's okay to say, "Ah, I can't do much more right now".

My achilles tendon ripped. Suddenly walking and dancing were not really options. I felt shit. I was in pain. It wasn't an option to "just go and do some yoga" because a downward dog would have snapped my tendon like a twig. So, new goal, breakfast, and physio stretches. I hated those stretches. I wanted to murder those stretches. But things change, and it's okay to say "what got easier, is now harder again" and change it up to fit your now, rather than your was.

I still hate it all a lot of the time. I beat myself up a lot. It's hard not to spiral and dive off the wagon.

But doing it does make a lot of the rest of the time better for me, I have found. Annoyingly.

I don't know what this post was really. I just felt like it resonated and wanted to ramble. I think it's nice to sometimes think about.

But yeah, I resent exercise and hate having to do it, but I'll do anyway.

fucking hate it when the stuff everybody says "actually works" does actually work.

hate exercising and realizing i've let go of a lot of anxiety and anger because i've overturned my fight-or-flight response.

hate eating right and eating enough and eating 3 times a day and realizing i'm less anxious and i have more energy

hate journaling in my stupid notebook with my stupid bic ballpoint and realizing that i've actually started healing about something once i'm able to externalize it

hate forgiving myself hate complimenting myself more often hate treating myself with kindness hate taking a gratitude inventory hate having patience hate talking to myself gently

hate turning my little face up to the sun and taking deep breaths and looking at nature and grounding myself and realizing that i feel less burdened and more hopeful, more actually-here, that i am able to see the good sides of myself more clearly, that i am able to see not only how far i have to grow - but also how much growth i have already done & how much of my life i truly fill with light and laughter and love

horrible horrible horrible. hate it but i'm gonna do it tho

257K notes · View notes

sevensoulmates · 2 days ago

Text

The thing about Buddie's fight in Sob Stories is that both Buck AND Eddie are saying things to each other that they know will bring the other the most pain. They know each other so well that they know just what to do to say and hurt each other the most...and they know just what to do to heal each other too.

This whole time they're just trying to bring each other back into equilibrium and yet they can't actually just TALK about the true core of what their issue is.

Think about it: Buck is triggered by Eddie's desperate words said to the renter couple that imply that Eddie does not value Buck as much as Buck values him.

Buck then does and says a series of things that he believes will hurt Eddie and will make him feel what Buck feels. Obviously, their conversations are extremely revealing of how Buck feels: Like he's being abandoned, like he's not worth staying for OR coming back for, like Eddie doesn't need him and like he doesn't matter to Eddie.

He gets a dog as a replacement for Eddie. Buck knows how shitty it feels to perceive that you're being replaced. Take a look at his reaction to Eddie in 2x01. Then he says "don't want him to think I'm an abandoner" and "he knows how to stay." all of which poke at something Eddie is very sensitive about. He felt endless guilt over leaving Shannon and Chris for the military, and even more, feels shame over "pushing people to leave him" due to his own actions or inactions, like Shannon and now Chris.

Buck doesn't really believe all of these things, he just wants Eddie to feel the pain that he is feeling.

And Eddie is pissed, because how does Buck not see that Eddie HAS ALREADY BEEN in just as much pain about leaving? He just cannot show it as plainly as Buck can. Now he's extra hurt not just because Buck's bringing up some of his deepest insecurities, but because he refuses to talk to Eddie directly about it, and he hasn't since the second Eddie brought up moving. Neither of them is thinking rationally here. Both are spiraling out, desperately trying to think of something that will get the other to just UNDERSTAND.

And so Eddie pulls out a weapon that he knows will hurt Buck. "Everything really is all about you!" Eddie knows this is exactly what Buck is sensitive about. And although Buck doesn't mean to do it, by bottling up his true feelings, "it's what he turns it into every time". "You acted out like you always do" when in reality, Eddie just wants Buck to be mad at him and to TALK TO HIM. The truth is Eddie is mad, he's pissed off, and that hides the soft underbelly of how painful it is to be separating himself from Buck and LA.

But the second Buck finally lets go and tells Eddie the truth of what he's feeling, that he's not handling Eddie leaving well, the entire conversation changes. Eddie admits he doesn't want to leave. He doesn't like this situation any more than Buck does, and it's killing him that he feels he has to choose between Buck and his son because everyone knows that the choice will always be Christopher. It's easier to pretend everything is fine. It's easier to be angry.

And Buck realizes this before Eddie even has to say it to him directly.

So, instead of trying to hurt Eddie more to force an "I'm sorry, Buck, I do care about you!" out of him, Buck lets go of his insecurity and makes an ultimate act of sacrificial love. He manages to self-regulate his own emotions for once, and decides that he'd rather pour his love into Eddie and remind him just how loved he truly is by Buck than try to pull Eddie down into deeper despair. So Buck destroys a large chunk of Eddie's worries and anxieties all in one fell swoop, and the relief is so palpable for Eddie that he is fighting tears. Eddie knows how much Buck loves him, and Buck can feel that in return.

Eddie's anger and desperation in their final fight scene finally prove to Buck just how badly this is affecting Eddie. And reminds both of them that the way they love each other isn't conditional, nor is it rooted to being in the same physical location. Buck is happy if Eddie is happy, even if that means they can't be together.

I loved this episode because it really did show just how deeply intertwined Buck and Eddie are. They know the core of what hurts each other the most, but they also know how to make the other feel more loved than they've ever felt in their lives.

#buddie #8x09 #911 abc #the layers to this episode are insane #buck and eddie are insane about each other #and they are each other's soulmates through the good and the bad #sorry for rambling yet again

92 notes · View notes

dearlenore · 3 days ago

Note

Hii! I was wondering if you could do Spencer Reid x male reader (female is fine if your more comfortable with it) the reader is a Italian chef who runs their own restaurant and Spencer loves their food, that one day he brings their food in for the team for lunch sense they’ve all been working really hard and as soon as Rossi tastes the food he immediately says this is the best food that he’s ever had and it’s even better then his own food, the team agrees with Rossi and all of them want to know where he got it so they can get it themselves. Spencer blushes and tells them that his partner made it in their restaurant and the teams eyes go wide, Rossi demands that he seems them so he can tell them how good it is and ask for the recipe.

Also I love your work!

Absolutely!! My first request giggling kicking my feet blushing I’m so excited!!😭❤️ love uuuu tysm for reading my work

TI AMO MEANS I LOVE YOU • S.REID

SUMMARY: When Spencer brings in a homemade Italian lunch for the BAU team, the last thing he expects is for Rossi to declare it the best food he’s ever had—better than his own. The rest of the team quickly agrees, eager to know where it came from. Blushing, Spencer admits that his partner made it, leaving everyone stunned. Rossi insists on meeting the mystery chef to give his compliments (and demand their recipes), to the person who’s stolen both Spencer’s heart and their appetites.

PAIRING: bf!reader x spencer

tags: male reader, reader is a chef, Spencer being obsessed with his boyfriend, canon cm violence mentions, Rossi being Rossi, PURE FLUFF<3

a/n: first time writing male reader sorta nervous, also super rushed because I’m incredibly excited to write this!!

w/c: 1.7K

“HOW’S THE FOOD?” You smiled, balancing a stack of plates in your arms as you strolled past Spencer’s table.

“Like my last meal on death row,” he mumbled through a mouthful, eating like a man starved.

You rolled your eyes with a playful scoff. “Speaking of death row, what happened to that guy you were telling me about?” You hummed, setting the plates on a nearby cart for the busboy.

Spencer swallowed before answering. “Oh, he got sentenced to life without parole.”

“Really?” You raised a brow, leaning slightly against the table. “They don’t do the death penalty there?”

“They do,” Spencer nodded, cutting another bite of his food. “He just took a deal—gave up the locations of the other victims we hadn’t found yet.”

You nodded in understanding, wiping your hands on a rag before sliding into the seat across from him. Folding your arms on the table, you smirked. “Slow down, Spence, you’re gonna choke.”

He looked up at you, cheeks slightly puffed with food, and swallowed hard before giving a sheepish smile. “Not my fault you cook like a Michelin-star chef.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then set his fork down, fidgeting slightly. “By the way…” He glanced up at you. “Do you think you could make something for my coworkers tomorrow?” His voice held a nervous edge, though he had no reason to be—when had you ever told him no?

You grinned, already standing. “Of course, Spence. I’ll let the kitchen know now.” Leaning down, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll be right back, but if you leave before I’m back—goodnight.”

Spencer caught your hand before you pulled away, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Goodnight, my love.”

You shot him one last warm smile before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving him to savor both the food and the lingering warmth of your touch.

SPENCER STEPPED INTO the BAU bullpen, balancing two large bags in his arms as he made his way to the conference room. The scent of rich tomato sauce, fresh herbs, and warm bread trailed behind him, instantly catching the attention of his teammates.

“What’s this, kid?” Morgan asked, raising a brow as Spencer set the bags down on the table.

“I brought lunch,” Spencer announced, his voice carrying a rare note of pride.

“Ooo, tell me it’s something good!” Penelope practically bounced over, already reaching for one of the bags.

“Smells like Italian,” Prentiss noted, peeking inside.

“Is it authentic?” Rossi asked, arms crossed, clearly skeptical.

Spencer only grinned. “Trust me on this one.”

As the team unpacked the containers, the room filled with the unmistakable aroma of fresh pasta, slow-cooked sauces, and perfectly seasoned meats. The moment Rossi lifted the lid off a tray of lasagna, his eyes widened.

“Wait a minute…” he muttered, taking in the layers of perfectly baked pasta, ricotta, and bubbling cheese. “Where exactly did you get this from?”

Spencer cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little shy under the weight of everyone’s curiosity. “My partner made it,” he admitted, pushing up his sleeves. “They own a restaurant.”

Silence. Then—

“Hold on,” JJ spoke up, fork already in hand. “You mean to tell me you’ve been dating a chef and just now decided to share their food with us?”

“That’s cold, pretty boy,” Morgan teased, already digging into his plate of pasta. His teasing immediately stopped when he took a bite. His eyes fluttered shut. “Oh damn—okay, okay, I take it back. I’d keep this place a secret too.”

Prentiss took a bite of her own meal and let out a small, involuntary groan of approval. “Holy—Spence, this is incredible.”

Penelope was already halfway through her plate. “Tell your partner I love them. Seriously. I might leave Kevin for them.”

But the biggest reaction came from Rossi. He took a deliberate, measured bite of the lasagna, chewing slowly. The team watched in anticipation as he swallowed, then let out a deep sigh.

“This…” Rossi said, setting his fork down with a dramatic pause. “This is the best damn Italian food I’ve ever had.”

Everyone’s heads snapped toward him.

“Wait, better than yours?” JJ asked, eyes wide

Rossi sighed again, looking almost pained. “I can’t believe I’m saying this… but yes.”

The team erupted in laughter and mock shock, and Spencer, still slightly flushed, couldn’t help but smile as he watched his friends enjoy every bite.

“Well, I guess we have to go to this restaurant now,” Prentiss said, nudging Spencer.

Rossi nodded firmly. “I need to meet this culinary genius. And ask for their recipe.”

Spencer chuckled, already knowing his partner wouldn’t give up their secrets so easily. But as he watched his team savor every bite, he felt nothing but pride—both for them loving the food and for the person who made it.

“You really want to meet them?”

“Are you kidding?” Morgan scoffed. “We need to. If this is what they’re cooking for you on a regular basis, I need to know what I have to do to get a plate.”

“Same,” JJ chimed in, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I’m actually a little jealous.”

“Just a little?” Penelope teased. “I’m ready to propose.”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “I was actually thinking about introducing you all, but now I’m afraid you’ll steal them from me.”

“No promises,” Prentiss smirked.

Rossi, ever the strategist, took one final sip of his coffee before making his move. “Tell you what, Spencer—I’ll make this easy. I have an excellent bottle of Barolo at home, and I’d be more than happy to share it… if your partner brings more of whatever magic they cooked today.”

Spencer arched a brow. “So, let me get this straight—you want me to invite them over to your place after work, just so you can bribe them with wine and try to get their recipes?”

Rossi spread his hands in a what can I say? gesture. “When you put it like that, yes.”

The rest of the team murmured in agreement, looking at Spencer expectantly. He sighed, shaking his head with a small, amused smile.

“Fine,” he relented. “I’ll ask them if they’re up for it. But I’m warning you now—don’t get your hopes up about those recipes.”

Rossi smirked. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

With that, the plan was set: after work, they would all head to Rossi’s place for wine, conversation, and—if they were lucky—another round of the best Italian food they’d ever had. Spencer could already picture his partner rolling their eyes at the team’s antics, but he knew they’d have a good time.

And, if nothing else, it would be entertaining to watch Rossi try and charm his way into their kitchen secrets.

SPENCER PULLED INTO Rossi’s driveway, glancing at his partner in the passenger seat. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he assured them, though he knew it was easier said than done.

His partner huffed a quiet laugh, adjusting the containers of food they had carefully balanced on their lap. “Oh, I’m not nervous about meeting them,” they teased. “I’m just mentally preparing for Rossi trying to interrogate me for my recipes.”

Spencer chuckled. “That’s a valid concern.”

With that, they stepped out of the car, Spencer taking the heavier bags while his partner carried the rest. As they approached the front door, they could already hear the lively chatter of the team inside. Before Spencer could even knock, the door swung open, revealing an eager Penelope.

“Oh my god, it’s the culinary genius!” she practically squealed, pulling Spencer’s partner into a quick but enthusiastic hug. “I’ve been dreaming about your food all day.”

“You and me both,” Morgan grinned from inside. “Come on in, we’ve been waiting for you.”

Spencer’s partner shot him an amused look before stepping inside, immediately greeted by warm smiles and excited energy. Rossi, ever the host, was already pouring glasses of wine as he approached.

“You must be the mastermind behind today’s lunch,” Rossi said, offering a charming smile as he handed them a glass. “David Rossi. It’s an absolute pleasure.”

Spencer’s partner shook his hand, already seeing the calculating look in his eyes. “Likewise.”

“Now, I have to ask—”

Spencer groaned. “Rossi.”

His partner smirked. “Let me guess. You want to know how I made the lasagna?”

Rossi placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “What? Can’t an old Italian appreciate a fine meal without ulterior motives?”

“No,” the team responded in unison.

Rossi sighed, taking a sip of his wine. “Alright, fair. But you can’t blame me for trying.”

Laughing, Spencer’s partner set the containers of food on the dining table. “I figured as much, so I brought more than just lasagna. Hope you all came hungry. And… I’m more than happy to share lasagna recipe with you, for Spencer’s sake.”

At that, the team eagerly gathered around as the lids were removed, revealing an impressive spread—pasta, fresh bread, meatballs, and a beautifully plated caprese salad.

“Okay, yeah,” JJ breathed, eyes wide. “I’m officially in love.”

They all sat down, plates quickly filling up as conversation flowed. Spencer watched as his partner settled in with ease, fielding questions from Rossi about ingredients, dodging Penelope’s playful attempts to set up a standing meal subscription, and listening to Morgan dramatically declare that they’d ruined every other Italian restaurant for him.

As the night went on, laughter and good food filled the space, the warmth of the moment wrapping around Spencer like a comfort he never knew he needed. His partner fit in seamlessly, like they had always been a part of this odd, dysfunctional family.

Rossi raised his glass. “To damn good food and even better company.”

The team echoed the toast, glasses clinking together. Spencer glanced at his partner, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Yeah, this was exactly where they were meant to be.

“Cheers” You smiled as you clinked your glass with them.

#x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #request #fluff #cm #male reader

88 notes · View notes

urcoolgf · 1 day ago

Text

what’s your deal? pt. 1

pairing : childhood bsf!rafe x reader

content : fluff , suggestive content(?)

summary : you go on a ‘family vacation’ with rafe, but when he starts ignoring you, you’re determined to find out why. p.s. i’m gonna make this in two (or more) parts because as i was writing i got carried away with the build up…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

you and rafe had been basically inseparable since birth– well your birth– rafe was a couple years older than you. your moms had been best friends, but even after yours passed and his left, you guys stayed the same. everyone on the island knew you weren’t to be touched, looked at, or even thought about– you were rafe’s even if you weren’t dating. you didn’t mind though, it only saved you from dealing with all the guys with egos too big for their own good. plus rafe was good security– you were basically untouchable when you were around him, which was basically all the time.

sure, you had a few boyfriends here and there– those who were brave enough to deal with rafe on occasion, but nothing worked out. they either mysteriously left, or you broke up with them because they only wanted what they couldn’t have– which was you. you knew rafe was proabably the reason behind the ones who left, but you didn’t really care. you still had him, and that’s what mattered.

you were a kook, but you were not like them at all. sure, you had nice clothes and a nice house, but you didn’t care about those things. you cared about the people around you, but you didn’t care what people thought about you. rafe had always liked that– no matter what people were saying about him, you had his back and it never changed the way you saw him. you defended his name when he wasn’t in the room, and that kind of loyalty was attractive as hell to rafe.

your dad always liked rafe, which you thought was weird because he was kind of insane, but you figured your dad liked that someone that extreme was always looking out for you– protecting you when he couldn’t. so, when your dad offered to take rafe, sarah, wheezie, and you on a little ‘family vacation’ you weren’t that surprised.

“how ‘bout it, pumpkin?,” your dad asked with a wide smile on his face, and a hopeful spark in his eyes. you could tell this trip meant a lot to him– i mean he already had everything booked– you really had no choice but to say yes.

“sure, dad. sounds amazing. thank you,” you smiled softly, giving him a tight hug before running off to tell rafe.

—

“so, of course, it’s all expenses paid and whatever– i mean it’s literally just our beach house in the bahamas, but he invited you, sarah, and wheezie. y’know like a little ‘family trip’. so you down? oh, we leave tomorrow by the way,” you and rafe were sat outside by his pool at tannyhill while you info dumped everything on him.

“am i down… of course i’m down,” he said it like it was a dumb question– which is kind of was– if you were going, he was going.

“i’m sure sarah and wheeze would love to go, too. you wanna tell them?,” he asked pointing toward the house behind him.

“nah, you can. i gotta go home and start packing,” you replied, standing up from the lounge chair, and fixing your shorts. your houses were within walking distance from each other, so you were able to just walk home– it took about 10 minutes but you didn’t mind, you liked the fresh air.

“alright. hey i’ll be over tonight mkay?,” he replied, standing and turning on his heel to walk back into the house.

“sounds good!,” you shouted to him as you were walking away.

—

“duh we’ll go!,” wheezie replied to rafe with a big smile, almost jumping for joy when she heard the news. she loved you– you were like a second big sister to her, plus you gave rafe a hard time, and she always wanted to see that. your dad was pretty cool too, not too strict, which she liked because this meant she could basically do whatever for the next two weeks.

“yeah, we’re in,” sarah added, laughing at wheezie’s excitement.

“cool, cool. we leave tomorrow, alright? so be ready. i’ll drive us all over to y/n’s and we’ll leave on their boat from there,” rafe said before leaving the girls to excitedly squeal together in sarah’s room. rafe laughed and shook his head as he walked away from the closed door.

he made his way to his room to quickly pack his things, he would probably stay the night with you anyways. rafe knew you would be asking for his opinion on what clothes to bring all night. he didn’t mind, it was fun dressing you up like his pretty little doll.

he packed some shirts, few pairs of shorts, swim trunks, and some bathroom essentials into a duffle bag. that was really all he needed, he knew everyone would just be at the beach every day, so he didn’t bother stocking up on clothes.

he picked the duffle off the bed, and headed for his car– but not before knocking on sarah’s door. he could hear the faint sound of some girly pop music coming from behind the door, and the girls giggling to each other.

“come in,” sarah said without stopping what she was doing.

“i’ll be back at 10am, ‘kay? be outside,” rafe stated with a semi-serious face.

“are you going to y/n’s now?,” sarah asked, looking over at rafe’s duffle slung over his shoulder.

“yeah, i’m gonna chill there for a bit, maybe the night,” he replied.

“we can just walk over tomorrow if it’s easier?,” she suggested with a helpful smile.

“you sure?,” he was glad she said that because then he wouldn’t have to take his car.

“‘course, rafe. it’s only like a 10 minute walk. we’ll be fine,” sarah said reassuringly.

“alright. tomorrow. 10am. don’t be late, got it?,” he said one last time.

“got it,” sarah answered with an ‘it’s-okay-we-got-it’ type expression on her face.

—

once rafe arrived at your house, he greeted your dad on his walk to your room.

“hey mr. y/l/n how’s it goin’?,” your dad had told rafe multiple he could call him by his first name, but rafe refused. it just felt more natural this way.

“rafe, hey bud! doin’ good. how ‘bout yourself?,”

“i’m good. y/n in her room?,” rafe asked, though he already knew the answer.

“oh yeah, been trying to pack for like an hour,” he laughed like it was amusing, “go help her out for me son, would ya?,”

rafe just laughed as he walked toward your bedroom. when he opened your door, the room looked exactly as he expected– a complete mess.

“jesus, y/n we’re not moving there,” he said, moving things around on your bed so he could sit.

“two weeks is a long time. plus, i wanna take pictures, and what if i meet a guy? vacations are a mystery, rafe. anything could happen. sue me for wanting to look good,” meet a guy? not on rafe’s watch.

“whatever, jus’ pick some stuff out,” rafe knew you, so he laid the trap.

“pick some stuff out?! it’s not that easy. i need your help,” bingo.

“alright, alright. what are my options,” he said, kicking his legs onto the bed, his back against the headboard with his arms behind his head, a smirk spreading across his face.

“okay, so there’s this bikini,” you said holding up the top of one, “or this one,” holding the top of another.

“you’re only bringing one?,” rafe’s brows furrowed.

“oh, no! i already have three definite options packed,” you laughed like the answer was obvious.

suddenly, rafe had an idea, “hm i don’t know… might have to see them on,” he said with a fake puzzled look on his face as if he really couldn’t decide.

“good point! be right back!,” you said before disappearing into your bathroom. rafe just laughed to himself, pulling out his phone. he had always seen you as just a best friend, until the last year– it’s like you had completely transformed, not only physically, but you were this sexy, independent woman who did whatever she wanted. you didn’t care what other people thought of you, and you were hardly ever embarrassed. your mindset had matured, and it turned rafe on like crazy. you had always been smart, but now it was one of the things he liked most about you. he knew you knew what he was doing– having you try the bikinis on– so the fact you complied gave him hope you didn’t see this as just a friendship anymore either.

he was pulled out of his thoughts as you walked back into the bedroom. you stood there proudly, almost modeling the bikini you had on– confidence radiating off of you.

“okay, here’s the first one…,” you said turning around so that rafe could get every angle. he didn’t even have to ask, you knew what he wanted. your ass was basically on full display, and rafe would be lying if he said he wasn’t drooling… just a bit. your tits perfectly secured and upheld behind the two triangles on top. the color was nice too, a bright blue that contrasted with your dark curls and already slightly tanned skin perfectly.

“alright, you got the picture? let me go try on the other,” oh, he had the picture alright, memorized every tiny detail, and stored it away. you turned back into the bathroom, not even knowing what you just did to rafe.

a couple minutes later you walked out in the other bikini. this one had slightly more coverage, but still showed off your curves in a tempting way.

“okay, second option,” you said, doing the same ‘modeling’ as you did for the first one. this one was strapless though, and covered your tits more– rafe wasn’t sure if that was a good, or bad thing. good for other guys, bad for him.

“hmm… that’s a tough one. i think you should just bring them both,” rafe shrugged it off as if he wasn’t half hard just from looking at you in them.

“if you insist! five bikinis are better than four anyways,” you complied, going back into the bathroom to change.

you returned to the bedroom, both bikinis in hand, with a tank top and tiny shorts now on your body. you threw the swimsuits into your suitcase before throwing your curls up in a bun just to keep it out of your face while you finished packing.

you and rafe just talked mindlessly about random stuff as you wandered around your room, rummaging through your drawers, and throwing more clothes into your suitcase as he sat on his phone.

“okay, i think i’m finally done,” you sighed, falling dramatically onto your now clean bed.

“great. you wanna get food? i’m starving,” rafe said, finally pulling his attention away from his phone.

“yeah, sounds good,” you both got up from your bed, you grabbed your phone and purse and headed out of the room.

“hey dad, rafe and i are gonna go get food. you want anything?,” you asked before you passed by him in the living room.

“no thanks, pumpkin. have fun, be safe!,” he replied with a smile before turning back toward the tv.

—

you and rafe eventually made it to ‘the wreck’, and after getting drinks and ordering food you sat in silence, until you broke it.

“you think i could have like a little vacation fling in the bahamas? that would be so fun. have someone to go out on little dates with while we’re there, maybe sleep with him once or twice– if he’s lucky,” you laughed. surely, you had to know what you were doing to him right now, rafe thought. he was never one to show he was desperate, but he had no problem showing he was possessive.

“if you wanna go out on dates, i’ll go with you. no need to slum it with some stranger,” he replied, trying to hide the fact that he was seething inside.

“well, i wouldn’t slum it. he’d be hot of course. i’m sure there’s tons of hot guys in the bahamas,” you said, looking around, awaiting your food. you said it like you didn’t know it bothered rafe– and it really bothered him.

“yeah, sure. do what you want, i guess,” he replied coldly, staring at you even though you weren’t looking at him.

no way was he letting you out of his sight on this trip.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron outer banks

108 notes · View notes