#*casually skips between reigns*

[natequarter]

tudor gothic:

the lord chancellor is called thomas. he runs the country. he wants no part in where england goes from now. the lord chancellor is being arrested for treason. the lord chancellor was executed. the lord chancellor was never arrested. there is no lord chancellor.

the crown is dissolving monasteries. this is standard practice. all the monasteries are shutting down. this is thomas's fault. you have no idea which thomas. the crown wants the monasteries back. the monasteries are never coming back. you visited an intact monastery just yesterday. when you blinked, the ruins gave alms to the poor.

the wars of the roses have just ended decisively. the wars of the roses have been over for decades. the legacy of civil war haunts england. you've watched shakespeare's wars of the roses plays. the wars of the roses must have been over when the throne passed peacefully to henry viii. when you close your eyes, you can somehow hear reginald pole laughing at you.

the duke of somerset was beheaded for treason. so was the duke of buckingham. so was the duke of northumberland. so was the duke of norfolk. so was the duke of suffolk. the duke of suffolk never lost the king's affection. all the dukes are vying for power. but then you remember: there are no dukes. perhaps there never were.

the howards are not to be trusted. thomas howard was thrown in the tower. thomas howard was executed for treason. thomas howard lived out his life peacefully. thomas howard only narrowly escaped henry viii's reign with his life. you are drowning in thomases. they never end. one thing you are certain of, though: thomas howard is long dead. thomas howard will outlive us all.

you know the names of every courtier in the kingdom, and yet more go missing with every passing day. you try to note down the name of thomas wryth, but you cannot put quill to parchment. how is it spelt? wriothesley? you have always known that. you know it deep in your bones. and yet, when you try to say it out loud, words fail you. words fail everyone, where the earl of southampton is concerned. somewhere dark and terrible, an ancient beast awakens from its slumber. like everything else, it is also called thomas.

you turn to noting down the name of the queen. kateryn parr. this is a simple task. your subconscious whispers catalina to you in a distinctly spanish accent. your hand shakes. you try to write down catherine, but it morphs into a k against your will. you drop your quill, hand trembling. nonetheless, there is a name before you. whose name it is is anyone's guess.

mary is queen. which mary? which queen? suddenly, you are not so sure.

the bible is written in latin. the bible has always been written in latin. you flick through the pages of your bible, and greek letters swim before your eyes. you check the book again, and find you are holding a book of hours. all the words are in english. you cannot read any of them.

the king of england has ruled for many years. he is nine years old. the king of england is a foreign power. elizabeth was king; now james is queen. long live queen james!

[linnitheo]

The Speed of Love

Max Verstappen X Y/N

Y/N POV

The hum of engines filled the air, vibrating through my chest. The sun beat down on the streets of Monaco, casting long shadows between the narrow alleys and gleaming off the luxury yachts moored nearby. The Monaco Grand Prix—the crown jewel of Formula 1. A perfect blend of speed, glamour, and danger.

I adjusted my lanyard, the one that read VIP with Max Verstappen’s name under it. It still felt surreal being here, not just as a spectator but as someone close to Max—closer than the world knew.

I wasn’t just here for the race; I was here for him. The reigning world champion, Red Bull’s finest. But to me, Max was more than that. He was Max, the guy who made me laugh after long days, the guy who called me at odd hours from different time zones just to hear my voice, the guy who looked at me like I was his entire world even with millions of fans screaming his name.

Our relationship wasn’t public. Max wanted to keep it that way—out of the spotlight, away from the media frenzy. And honestly, I didn’t mind. In fact, I preferred it. It was a lot easier to be “Y/N” rather than “Max Verstappen’s girlfriend.”

I slipped into the VIP lounge, a little early for the race, the excitement thrumming in the air. The usual suspects were all here—other drivers' families, sponsors, and some celebrities. But my eyes kept flicking toward the pit lane, where I knew Max was getting ready for the biggest race of the year.

As I watched the screens showing the chaotic energy in the paddock, my phone buzzed.

Max: “You in the lounge?”

Me: “Yeah. All set for your victory?”

Max: “Always. Want to see you before the race starts. Meet me near the garage?”

I felt my heart skip a beat. Even though we tried to keep it low-key, moments like these made it clear how much he cared. Glancing around to make sure no one would follow me, I made my way through the crowd, passing the Red Bull hospitality area and the rows of sleek, gleaming cars.

As I approached the garage, I spotted him—leaning casually against the wall, helmet in hand, looking like the calm before the storm. His eyes lit up when he saw me, that signature crooked smile spreading across his face.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low but warm as he closed the distance between us.

“You shouldn’t be distracting yourself before the race,” I teased, though my heart was racing.

“Couldn’t help it,” he murmured, eyes tracing my face. “You’re my good luck charm.”

“Really? Haven’t I been around for a few races you didn’t win?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep it light.

He laughed softly, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray hair behind my ear. “Maybe. But today feels different.”

There was a fire in his eyes—one that spoke of more than just his love for racing. There was something unspoken between us, the weight of his words lingering in the air.

“Good luck out there,” I whispered, resisting the urge to kiss him. There were too many eyes, too many cameras nearby.

“I’ll see you after the race,” he promised, voice husky as he pulled back and slipped his helmet on, instantly transforming from Max to Verstappen.

Max POV

The roar of the crowd was drowned out by the sound of the engine beneath me. Monaco. There was no room for mistakes here. One slip and it could be all over. But that’s why I loved it. The adrenaline, the precision, the danger. It’s what made me feel alive.

But even as I steered through the narrow streets, threading the car through barriers with millimeters to spare, my mind kept drifting to her. Y/N. She had this way of grounding me, of making the chaos of F1 fade into the background, even if just for a moment.

She was my escape, my reason to keep pushing harder, to keep winning. Because when I crossed that finish line first, it wasn’t just for me—it was for her.

The race was tight—Ferraris and Mercedes breathing down my neck, the pressure building as the laps ticked down. The walls seemed to close in, but I didn’t waver. I couldn’t afford to.

Lap 67. A yellow flag came up—some debris on the track after a crash behind me. I could hear my engineer’s voice crackling through the radio, but I barely registered it. My focus was singular. I could almost picture Y/N waiting in the paddock, her wide smile the moment I stepped out of the car.

The last corner approached. My tires screamed, the G-forces tugging at my body as I navigated the final hairpin. The finish line was in sight.

I punched it, every ounce of power surging through the car as I crossed the line first. Victory.

Y/N POV

The explosion of noise was deafening as Max’s car crossed the finish line. He did it. Again.

The rest of the world erupted in celebration, but all I could think about was seeing him. I hurried down from the lounge, making my way through the throngs of fans and team members. The Red Bull garage was a frenzy of high-fives and champagne, but I stayed on the outskirts, waiting for him.

And then I saw him. Helmet off, sweaty, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Max was enveloped by his team, but his eyes scanned the crowd until they locked onto mine.

Without thinking, he pushed through the crowd and grabbed my hand, pulling me into a corner, away from prying eyes. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine—fast, hungry, full of adrenaline. I could taste the sweat and champagne on his lips, but I didn’t care.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and he was breathing hard—not from the race, but from the intensity between us.

“I told you,” he whispered, still catching his breath. “You’re my good luck charm.”

Max POV

Her lips against mine—it was the only thing I needed after that race. I could feel the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, but it wasn’t from the win. It was from her. She had this way of making me forget everything. The noise, the pressure, the world outside. When I was with her, it was just us.

But there was something more tonight. Something I couldn’t put off any longer.

“Y/N,” I started, taking her hand in mine as I led her away from the chaos, toward the back of the paddock. “I’ve been thinking…”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly curious but also a little cautious. “About what?”

“This,” I gestured between us. “I don’t want to hide it anymore. I don’t want to keep you a secret. You’re more than just someone I care about. You’re…” I hesitated, trying to find the right words. “You’re everything.”

Her eyes widened, and I could see the emotions warring inside her. But before she could say anything, I pressed on.

“I know it’s a lot—the media, the pressure. But I don’t care about that anymore. I want the world to know you’re mine.”

Y/N POV

I was speechless. Max Verstappen, the man who had kept our relationship out of the spotlight to protect me, was now saying he wanted to go public. I knew what it meant—the scrutiny, the paparazzi, the endless questions. But looking into his eyes, full of certainty and love, I realized something.

I didn’t care either. Not anymore.

“I’m in,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the distant cheers. “I’m all in.”

Max smiled, that rare, genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat. “Good,” he said, pulling me close once more. “Because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

As the night of celebrations continued, we slipped away from the crowd, the world beyond the paddock melting away. Max and I walked down to the harbor, the twinkling lights reflecting off the calm water.

“Race you to the end of the dock?” he teased, that competitive glint back in his eye.

I laughed, already running before he could finish. Max caught up to me in seconds, his laughter mixing with mine as he scooped me up, spinning me around.

In that moment, there was no pressure, no danger. Just us.

And for once, it felt like I had won the race.

The End

[p0ssywhippedcream]

Hey girllll what’s up?? Hope you’re getting rest from your flight- that type of tired is A WHOLE OTHER TYPE OF TIRED LOL- I was wondering if you could do Apollo x Demigod reader where the reader kinda dies and he goes up to Olympus demanding and threatening Zeus to make her a Goddess? (if you have to use godly parent could you do Hades?)

TYSMMMM<3333 HOPE YOU GETS LOTS OF REST AND REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!!!

FRRRRR I"M SO EEPY GIRL and istg if there are any spelling errors its cause I wrote this right as I got it n I'm too tired to notice!!

You miss your boyfriend. You've only been dead a day and you're sooooooo bored. Wandering around your father's palace can only be so entertaining when you've passed the same skull mantle three times. Apollo is a lot of things but he's never been a bore and you wish he was here, lighting up the gloomy atmosphere and kissing you dizzy.

You try not to think about how this was inevitable. You'd die and he'd move on because he was a god and that's what gods do, they keep living. You don't want to know that he's probably already moved on to wooing another so you stay in the palace, ignoring the gossipy dead and whatever news they bring because you can't bear to hear he has a new lover on his hip already.

You're sitting in the garden, picking at a pomegranate and turning your nail beds a deep red as they fill with juice when a familiar glow is skipping towards you. Apollo is tugging you to your feet and peppering you with his lips before you can even ask. Your father having followed not far behind is watching him with an observant glare.

When Apollo finally gives you a chance to breathe, you're cupping his face so he doesn't lean in for more as you ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you, silly! I'm not leaving my girlfriend in the underworld, what kind of boyfriend would that make me?"

"One that respects the rightful line between life and death." Your father chimes in but Apollo brushes his words away with an eye roll, his glittery teeth making it playful.

"Wait, wait," You put a hand up, effectively shutting them both up, "What do you mean 'come get me'?"

"You're coming to Olympus with me, Sunshine," Your jaw drops and his pointer is pushing it back up gently as he continues, "I talked to Zeus and he agreed!"

"Zeus wouldn't just.. agree." You shake your head baffled, glancing at your father when he says, "No, he wouldn't."

You turn back to your glowing lover, allowing your hands to run over his warm shoulders. "How do you persuade him?"

Apollo thinks back to when he'd approached his father's throne, casually bringing up the Black Plague and watching Zeus's face morph from confusion to anger to brief fear to understanding as he propositioned a new god with a little more threat than necessary.

"I'm his favorite son," He offers you instead, ignoring the narrowing of your expression.

"Sure you are.." You pat his beefy muscles before slipping out of his arms and wandering towards your silent dad. "What do you think of this?"

"You're happy with Apollo?" He confirms and when you nod, he says, "Then go be happy."

"Will I be able to visit you?" Hades reaches for your face, rubbing a thumb along your cheekbone with a faint smile.

"You're always welcome here, my child." You feel a light mist over your eyes as you envelop him in a hug, his chilly mouth leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

When you pull away, Apollo is by your side, taking your hand and allowing you one last squeeze to your fathers arm before he's leading you out of the Underworld. Your ghostly glare fades to a bright shine, leaving you sprinkled in sparkles and a well-fitted toga as he marches you to the heavens. Your father presses his fingers to his lips, blowing a shaky kiss towards the glow of your ascending forms, resigning himself to being alone again as he picks up the pomegranate you'd been toying with and slides back into the darkness of his reign.

[estapa-edwards]

BROTHERS BEST FRIEND - D.MERCER

paring: dawson mercer x fem! reader

word count:3.7k

requested? no

warnings: use of y/n.

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From the moment I first laid eyes on Dawson Mercer, I knew he was something special. It wasn’t just the way he moved on the ice, gliding effortlessly as he weaved through the opposition, or the precision with which he handled the puck, making it seem like an extension of himself. No, it was something deeper, something that tugged at my heartstrings and made my cheeks flush every time our paths crossed – which, as the sister of one of his teammates, happened more often than I’d care to admit.

In a household where hockey reigned supreme, with my brother Jack Hughes as the star center for the New Jersey Devils, and my other brothers Luke and Quinn also lighting up the ice, I was well-acquainted with the fervor and passion the sport inspired. Yet, nothing could have prepared me for the unexpected crush I found myself developing on one of Jack’s teammates, Dawson Mercer.

Being around the team, attending games, and cheering from the stands was a routine part of my life. It was during one of these games that I first felt that indescribable connection with Dawson. I was watching from the VIP box, my eyes darting across the ice, following Jack’s every move, when Dawson stole the puck and made an incredible breakaway. The crowd erupted into cheers, and as Dawson skated past our box, our eyes met for a fleeting moment. That was all it took. My heart skipped a beat, and I was hooked. 

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After the game, I found myself mingling with the players at a local hotspot they frequented. Dawson, still flushed from the excitement of the game, made his way over to me.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted with a playful smirk. "Enjoying the game?"

I grinned, trying to hide my blush. "Oh, you mean that amazing breakaway you had? Yeah, it was alright," I teased, feigning indifference.

Dawson chuckled, leaning in closer. "Just alright? I was hoping for a standing ovation."

Rolling my eyes playfully, I responded, "Well, maybe next time. You'll have to give me something even more spectacular to cheer about."

Dawson's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Challenge accepted," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

The flirty exchange left me with butterflies in my stomach and a smile on my face, realizing that my crush on Dawson Mercer was more than just a passing infatuation. 

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​​Over the next few weeks, I found myself looking for any excuse to be around Dawson. Whether it was attending team practices, hanging out in the locker room, or joining the boys for post-game celebrations, I was there, soaking in his presence like a sun-deprived flower. Each interaction, however brief, only intensified my feelings for him.

I would often find myself arriving early to practices, lingering near the rinkside to watch Dawson and the team warm up. The way he moved on the ice was mesmerizing, his every stride and shot exuding confidence and skill. I would cheer him on from the sidelines, our eyes meeting occasionally, sending a thrill through me every time.

Hanging out in the locker room was another opportunity for me to be near Dawson. While I respected the team's space and tried not to intrude too much, I enjoyed the casual banter and camaraderie that flowed freely among the players. Dawson would often catch my eye and flash me a smile or make a playful comment, making my heart race with excitement.

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The post-game celebrations were perhaps my favorite part. There was something exhilarating about being in the midst of the team's jubilation, sharing in their victories and witnessing the bond between the players. Dawson would always make an effort to include me in the celebrations, whether it was sharing a drink, introducing me to his teammates, or simply engaging in light-hearted conversation. Each moment spent together, no matter how fleeting, felt special and significant. 

One evening, as I was preparing to leave the arena after a game, Dawson approached me with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Hey, Y/N, the team is having a little get-together tonight to celebrate the win. Would you like to come?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful tone.

Caught off guard by the invitation but thrilled at the prospect of spending more time with Dawson outside of the usual hockey environment, I replied, "Sure, I'd love to!"

"Great! It's at Alex's place. I'll pick you up around 8?" he suggested, his smile widening.

"Sounds perfect," I said, trying to maintain my composure despite the butterflies that had suddenly taken flight in my stomach.

Later that evening, I found myself eagerly awaiting Dawson's arrival. When he pulled up outside my apartment, I was struck by how handsome he looked in his casual attire, a stark contrast to his hockey gear. He flashed me a charming smile as I climbed into the passenger seat.

"You look amazing, Y/N," he complimented, his eyes lingering on me a moment longer than necessary.

"Thank you, Dawson," I blushed, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words.

As we drove to the party, the atmosphere in the car was charged with anticipation. Dawson reached over to turn up the radio, and soon we were both singing along to the catchy tune, our laughter filling the confined space.

Upon arriving at Alex's lavish apartment, we were greeted by the lively sounds of music and laughter. The place was packed with players and their friends, all in high spirits and eager to continue the night's celebrations.

Dawson took my hand, guiding me through the crowded room with ease. "Come on, let's grab a drink," he suggested, leading me to the makeshift bar set up in the corner of the living room.

As we waited for our drinks, Dawson leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a seductive whisper. "You know, Y/N, I've been looking forward to tonight. It's not every day I get to take such a beautiful date to a party."

I felt my cheeks heat up at his flirty remark, but I couldn't help but smile at his boldness. "Well, I'm glad I could be your plus one tonight," I replied, my voice tinged with playful sarcasm.

Dawson grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Trust me, the pleasure is all mine."

Throughout the night, Dawson's attentiveness never wavered. He introduced me to his teammates, always keeping a protective hand on my waist or back, subtly claiming me as his. We danced, laughed, and shared whispered secrets, the undeniable chemistry between us growing stronger with each passing moment.

As the party began to wind down, Dawson pulled me aside, his expression sincere. "I had a great time tonight, Y/N. Thank you for coming."

I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth and affection for the man standing before me. "The pleasure was all mine, Dawson." With that, he leaned down, capturing my lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss. 

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The morning after the party, I mustered up the courage to address the kiss with Dawson. As I approached him in the kitchen, he was busy making coffee, seemingly unaware of my presence.

"Dawson, can we talk about last night?" I began, my voice hesitant.

He looked up, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What about last night?"

Caught off guard by his response, I stammered, "You know, the kiss... between us?"

A look of genuine surprise crossed Dawson's face, as if he had completely forgotten about our intimate moment. "Oh, that? I thought we were just caught up in the moment, celebrating the win," he replied casually, stirring his coffee as if discussing the weather.

The awkwardness of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt embarrassed and foolish for assuming the kiss meant something more to him.

"So, you're saying it didn't mean anything to you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the sinking feeling in my stomach.

Dawson looked up, seemingly realizing the gravity of the situation. "No, Y/N, that's not what I meant," he said, his voice softening. "I just... I didn't want to assume anything and make things awkward between us." 

Feeling embarrassed and wishing I hadn't brought it up, I quickly responded, "You know what, never mind. Forget I even said anything," I said, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Dawson's expression was a mix of confusion and concern. "Y/N, please don't say that. I didn't mean to dismiss our kiss. It meant something to me, too."

I shook my head, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. "It's fine, Dawson. Let's just forget it happened," I said, trying to sound casual despite the turmoil inside me.

Dawson reached out, gently placing a hand on my arm. "Y/N, I care about you, and I don't want to brush this aside. Let's talk about it, really talk about it."

But I couldn't bear to discuss it any further. "Maybe some other time," I mumbled, pulling away and fleeing the room, leaving Dawson standing there.

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A few days later, I found myself at the practice rink with Jack, watching the Devils go through their drills. I had tried to put the awkward encounter with Dawson behind me, but the lingering tension between us was hard to ignore. As I stood by the boards, cheering for Jack and the team, I couldn't help but notice Dawson's distant demeanor.

During a break in the practice, Jack skated over to me, his brow furrowed in concern. "Hey, is everything okay between you and Dawson?" he asked quietly, so as not to be overheard by the other players. 

I hesitated for a moment, trying to hide the turmoil I was feeling. "Yeah, everything's okay. What do you mean?" I replied, attempting to sound casual and dismissive.

Jack looked at me skeptically, clearly not buying my nonchalant demeanor. "He's been acting weird lately. Did something happen?" 

I shrugged, trying to maintain my indifferent facade. "How should I know? We don't even talk," I replied dismissively, masking the hurt and confusion I felt inside.

Jack frowned, clearly concerned. "That's not like Dawson. I'll talk to him and find out what's going on." 

"Please, Jack, no, it's nothing," I insisted, trying to downplay the situation and avoid making a bigger deal out of it.

Jack looked at me skeptically, hesitating for a moment before finally nodding. "Alright, if you say so. But if there's anything going on, you know you can talk to me, right?"

I nodded gratefully, appreciating Jack's concern and support. "I know, Jack. Thanks." 

As I watched Dawson from the sidelines for the rest of the practice, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was amiss between us. Every time I glanced his way, I noticed he was staring back at me, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of regret and longing. Despite my attempts to brush it off and maintain a sense of normalcy, the lingering awkwardness and distance between us were impossible to ignore.

It seemed as though he was trying to communicate something without words, his eyes searching mine for understanding and connection.

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As the practice came to an end, I started gathering my things, ready to head home. Just as I was about to leave the rink, Dawson suddenly rushed over to me, determination evident in his stride. Jack, sensing the gravity of the moment, gave me a knowing look before skating away.

"I'll let you two deal with it," Jack called out, his voice filled with understanding.

My heart raced as Dawson approached, the tension between us palpable. I looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of clarity or explanation.

"Y/N, we need to talk," Dawson began, his voice earnest and slightly shaky. "I know I've been distant lately, and I'm sorry. I didn't handle the situation well, and I regret that." 

"Dawson, I really don't want to talk about this," I said, my voice tinged with frustration and disappointment. The uncertainty and awkwardness of the situation had taken its toll on me, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to address it just yet.

Dawson looked taken aback, his face reflecting a mixture of regret and determination. "Y/N, please-"

"No, it's over, really. Just let it go," I interrupted, cutting him off, my voice firm as I turned around to leave.

Before I could fully turn away, Dawson reached out and gently grabbed my arm, halting my movement. His touch was gentle yet firm, his eyes pleading with me to reconsider.

"Y/N, please don't walk away like this," he said, his voice filled with desperation. "I know I messed up, but I want to make it right. I care about you, and I don't want to lose you over a misunderstanding."

I hesitated, torn between my desire to escape the awkwardness and the lingering feelings I had for him. I looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity and a hint of the connection we once shared. 

"Dawson, I-" I began, but he cut me off, his voice earnest as he began to speak from the heart.

"Y/N, I love the way you laugh, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about," Dawson started, his voice trembling with emotion. "I love how caring and supportive you are, always putting others before yourself. I love the way you challenge me, pushing me to be a better person and player. I love your smile, the way it brightens up even the darkest days. And most importantly, I love the way you make me feel when I'm with you - god, I can't even put it into words."

He took a deep breath, looking deeply into my eyes, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. "Y/N, I love you." 

"You love me?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his confession sinking in. The depth of his feelings for me was both overwhelming and comforting, and I felt a mixture of joy, relief, and uncertainty.

Dawson nodded, his eyes never leaving mine, his expression sincere and vulnerable. "Yes, Y/N, I do. I've been struggling with how to express this to you, and I'm sorry for the confusion and the distance I've put between us." 

I took a moment to process his words, my heart racing as I grappled with my own feelings for him. Despite the recent misunderstandings and awkwardness, I couldn't deny the deep connection and affection I had for Dawson.

"Dawson, I need time to sort out my feelings," I said softly, my voice filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. "The way things have been lately, it's been confusing and overwhelming. I need to figure out what's best for both of us."

Dawson nodded, releasing my arm and taking a step back, his face etched with a mix of regret and understanding. "I understand, Y/N. Take all the time you need. Just know that I'll be here, hoping we can find a way back to each other. "

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Back at our apartment, the familiar comfort of home did little to ease the turmoil swirling inside me. I had been trying to avoid the topic, hoping to find clarity on my own, but as the days passed, the weight of the situation became too much to bear. Jack, sensing my distress, approached me in the living room where I was lost in thought.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Jack asked, his brow furrowed with concern as he took in my tear-streaked face.

I tried to brush it off, forcing a weak smile. "I'm fine, Jack, just tired."

Jack didn't buy it, sitting down beside me and gently placing a hand on my shoulder. "Y/N, you can talk to me. What's going on?"

Unable to hold back any longer, I broke down, the floodgates opening as I poured out my feelings and confusion about Dawson and our complicated relationship. "Jack, I don't know what to do. I care about Dawson so much, and I thought he felt the same way, but everything has been so confusing lately. He confessed his feelings for me, and I want to believe him, but the way he's been acting... I just don't know anymore."

Jack listened patiently, his presence a comforting anchor as I struggled to make sense of my emotions. When I finished, he wrapped his arms around me, offering silent support and understanding.

"Y/N, relationships are complicated, especially when they involve someone close to you," Jack began, his voice gentle and reassuring. "But you deserve clarity and honesty, especially from someone you care about. Have you talked to Dawson about how you feel?"

I shook my head, wiping away my tears. "I tried, but every time I bring it up, it becomes so awkward and uncomfortable. I don't know how to fix this, Jack."

Jack pulled back, looking me in the eyes with a determined expression. "Then maybe it's time for a heart-to-heart conversation with Dawson. You both need to be honest with each other and clear the air. Whether it leads to a deeper connection or the realization that you're better off as friends, you owe it to yourselves to communicate openly and honestly."

I nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "You're right, Jack. I need to talk to Dawson and sort this out, one way or another."

Jack smiled, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. "I'm here for you, Y/N, no matter what happens. Just remember, you deserve happiness and clarity in your relationships."

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

The atmosphere in the Prudential Center was electric, the tension palpable as the New Jersey Devils faced off against their rivals. I was watching from the stands, my heart pounding with every play, every hit, every save. As the game progressed, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with Dawson. He seemed more agitated than usual, his gameplay erratic and tense.

Midway through the second period, the tension reached a boiling point. Dawson got into a heated altercation with an opposing player, exchanging words and shoves before throwing a punch. The referees quickly intervened, but it was too late. Dawson was assessed a major penalty and ejected from the game, leaving his teammates to finish the game without him.

Feeling a mix of frustration and concern, I made my way to the locker room, hoping to talk to Dawson and offer some support. As I entered, I could hear the distant roar of the crowd and the muffled voices of the players outside, celebrating their hard-fought victory.

Dawson was sitting alone in the corner of the locker room, his head in his hands, his posture defeated and desolate. He looked up as I approached, his expression closed off and distant.

"Dawson, are you okay?" I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the worry and confusion swirling inside me.

Dawson sighed, avoiding my gaze as he replied, "I'm fine, Y/N. Just not in the mood to talk right now."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I sat down beside him, determined to break through his walls and offer the support he clearly needed, whether he wanted it or not.

"Dawson, I know you're upset about the game, but shutting me out isn't going to make things better," I said gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I care about you, and I want to be here for you, especially when things get tough."

Dawson looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and vulnerability. "Y/N, I appreciate your concern, but right now, I just need some space. I don't want to drag you into this mess."

I shook my head, refusing to back down, my voice firm yet caring. "Dawson, we're in this together, whether you like it or not. We need to communicate and support each other, especially when things get tough. Please, let me be here for you."

Dawson sighed, his defenses slowly crumbling as he looked into my eyes, the weight of his emotions evident in his gaze. After a moment of silence, he finally nodded, his voice soft and defeated. "Okay, Y/N. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm just frustrated and disappointed with how things turned out."

I reached out, pulling him into a comforting embrace, feeling the tension in his body slowly ease as he allowed himself to lean into the support and understanding I was offering.

"It's okay, Dawson," I whispered, holding him close. Dawson pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with guilt and regret. "Y/N, I feel like shit. I shouldn't have lied to you," he said, his voice heavy with remorse.

I looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and pain reflected in them. Taking a deep breath, I gently cupped his face, forcing him to meet my gaze.

"It's okay," I reassured him softly, trying to ease the burden of his guilt. "Let's not focus on that right now. We'll work through it, together."

Dawson nodded, his shoulders sagging with relief as he leaned into my touch, grateful for the understanding and forgiveness I was offering.

"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I don't know what I would do without you."  

Moved by his vulnerability and sincerity, I closed the distance between us, placing a gentle hand on his cheek as I leaned in, our lips meeting in a soft, tender kiss.

"I'm sorry too, Dawson," I whispered as we pulled apart, our foreheads resting against each other, the weight of our recent misunderstandings and emotions hanging between us. "I shouldn't have overreacted like I did."

Dawson looked into my eyes, his gaze filled with warmth and understanding. "It's okay, Y/N," he whispered back, his voice soft and reassuring.

Feeling a surge of emotion and clarity, I took a deep breath, my voice trembling with sincerity. "I love you, Dawson."

Dawson's eyes widened momentarily, a look of surprise and overwhelming emotion crossing his face before it softened into a genuine, heartfelt smile. "I love you too, Y/N," he replied, his voice filled with love and conviction.

As we sat there, our hands entwined, the weight of our recent challenges and misunderstandings lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of connection, understanding, and love. We had navigated through the storm together, and now, we were ready to face the future, committed to each other, stronger and more united than before.

[politemagic]

Just casually dropping this here, because your fic touches on that too 👀

This part of TØP's Fall Away:

I'm screaming submission and, I don't know if I am dying or living 'Cause I will save face For name's sake Abuse grace Take aim to obtain a new name And a newer place But my name is lame I can't walk and I ain't the same And my name became A new destiny to the grave

- in relation to Jericho / Take Aim / Descending, and the implications of Sleep taking Vessel's name and erasing his identity to make him Theirs.

Okay that's it byeee~

DARYA I AM SCREAMING TØP X THE HAUNTING OF SLEEP MANOR?????????? this has the gears in my brain whirring so you're getting some insight into the Sleep lore of my au 😇 (spoilers for chapter 4 if anyone has not read it)

first of all, Fall Away will be added to my playlist immediately because this entire section is just. fucking spot on. but especially:

and my name became a new destiny to the grave

so I have always been fascinated by the fae, and so when Trish says “You’ve given him your name, haven’t you?” in ch. 3 it was very much based on the legends of giving them your name gives them power to control you to some extent. and as Charlotte reveals in this new chapter, Sleep needs to consume human energy in order to re-enter the mortal world and reclaim the power He once had. by becoming the True Vessel of Sleep, Vessel has damned himself to be given over to Sleep, he is the final piece of His puzzle.

until I wake I, dine on old encounters

this line from Jericho is precisely what inspired me to go so hard into the Sleep lore in this fic!!!! I cannot tell you the rush of euphoria I felt seeing you point out Jericho specifically because it's so heavily embedded in my plan for this story. Sleep is the thing that keeps the ghosts in the house, they can't move on to the Beyond because they no longer have control of their soul, Sleep does.

He came to all of them as they were dying and convinced them that He could help them (much like he has done to Vessel by offering this place of solace). part of why all the ghosts are spaced out the way they are is because that energy can only sustain Him for so long, depending on their strength. so He is, quite literally, dining on old encounters. and the line "you taste like new flesh say my name again" is in direct connection with Sleep's intentions to consume Vessel.

you led me on when the moment is perfect I will fire and forget til we both lay broken

this line from Take Aim I feel like sums up Vessel's feelings towards Sleep (not quite yet, but he's on his way there). if III's response to this revelation in chapter 4 wasn't enough evidence, the vessels feel deeply betrayed by their deity. Sleep is waiting for the perfect opportunity to consume them, but their allegiances are slowly shifting. they have spent so much of their lives now channeling all of this power and energy into Sleep, yet now they know that they've been led on by His false promises. they are starting to question if they should allow this being to have reign over the mortal world. Sleep lost His power initially by being forgotten, yet they have reminded the world of His existence... hm.....

okay I simply cannot resist so SLIGHT SPOILER WARNING!!!!! (I feel like most of you could imagine this is where I'm going but either way you can skip this next section)

you come crawling back to me but I'm already on the ground and we all know that talk is cheap so come on and save me now

this line from Descending, looking through the lens of this au, comes from Sleep to Vessel. He has seen Vessel fight back against Him before, yet he always comes back. Vessel feels torn between wanting to save himself and this deity he has given everything to. when Vessel first turns his back on Sleep, He is furious and wants to hurt Vessel (I WON'T spoil how. I will exercise restraint) in an attempt to get Vessel to come back to Him. but Vessel's actions have already hurt Sleep and His power (hence, already on the ground) and the "talk is cheap" refers to the warnings of the ghosts. He is trying to coax Vessel back into His service, trying to get him to take those last steps so that Sleep can be "saved" and return to full power.

SPOILER OVER!

til I let you fall, ah (why don't you just say what you wanted to say?) I've been left no choice (why don't you just say what you wanted to say?) don't you see that? (why don't you just say what you wanted to say?)

this is between Sleep and Vessel. Sleep is trying to explain to Vessel that He has no other choice to return to His power except for him. He's waited centuries, feeding off the energies of others however He can, but the True Vessel is the last missing piece. Vessel, trying to be reasonable (because he's hurt 🙁), wants to know why Sleep wouldn't just tell him the plan. beneath the part of him that feels betrayed that Sleep had planned this for him all along, he can't help but feel hurt that Sleep didn't think he was loyal enough to follow through with it. I think, if Sleep had told him what He needed, Vessel wouldn't have fought it, honestly.

✨anyways✨

there's a little a lot Sleep Manor lyrical interpretations for you🥰

[phillippadgettwrites]

Just finished reading the Partager series a third time, it is is very good and hot and I had a great time reading it thrice over. I hope you consider adding to it every now and then. Take care and keep up the hot and good work.

These freaks can't be stopped.

Partager 6

Rated X / 5163 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

The air in Seattle is water-logged but deceptively warm. Mulder drives while Scully stares at the blur of greenery whipping by outside her window, her knee bouncing nervously and a now-ragged thumbnail pinned between her teeth. She feels the weight of his intermittent glances across the console, but he doesn’t say anything. This is a good instinct on his part, because if he asks her one more time if she’s sure she wants to do this again, she’ll scream. 

She’s sure. She’s sure he’s sure. She knows they both want this, but nerves are nerves. 

Bradley greets her outside his apartment building like she’s just returned from sea. He scoops her up around the waist, lifting her off the oil-slick pavement and parting his lips in preparation for a searing kiss, which she delivers after a beat of hesitation. The flood of heat that sparks in her lips and rushes to her pelvis converts her nervousness into excitement, and she suddenly can’t wait to get inside. Mulder, appearing unbothered by Bradley’s enthusiastic greeting, shakes his hand and allows him to carry Scully’s bag up to his second-floor apartment, though the weight of Mulder’s hand on her lower back as she ascends the stairs reminds her who she will belong to when all of this is over. 

It’s clean but sparse, a one bedroom with a full-size mattress on the floor and a rented couch. Bradley asks if they’d like to get dinner, and Scully’s libido tells her to say no while her stomach growls loudly in protest. The men laugh, sharing a knowing look and a joke about needing to feed her so she’ll have plenty of energy later. Scully feels her cheeks warm, but she also feels a little buzz from the high of being the center of attention. From watching these two handsome men puff out their chests and make lewd innuendos about what they have planned for her. 

She and Mulder have talked about the possibilities—all the many arrangements one can make with two cocks and three available orifices. It’s been the fodder of their fantasy for weeks, ramping up further after they booked their tickets to Seattle. She’s not even sure what she’s hoping for at this point, but she feels open to just about anything. 

Bradley takes them to a little Italian restaurant that is dripping with romantic ambiance. Mulder insists on sitting across from the two of them, observing them together with a curious and lustful expression on his face. Tarantella Napoletana leaks from the blown out speakers in the ceiling and yellow candle light flickers across the bridge of Mulder’s nose. He catches her eye and blinks slowly, and the intensity of his gaze makes her heart skip a beat. It feels salacious when Bradley rests his hand on her thigh, slowly inching it up until the tips of his fingers brush against the seam of her jeans, because Mulder can’t see it but their waiter probably can. She feels her heart pounding between her legs, and is almost relieved when their food arrives and Bradley has to bring both his hands up to artfully wind pasta around his fork with the assistance of a spoon. 

“So, how do you like the Pacific Northwest?” Mulder asks casually, like they’re just a few old friends catching up. Like both men won’t be inside her later. 

“It’s not too bad, but I think Virginia will reign supreme as my favorite assignment,” Bradley tells him around a mouthful of linguine. 

“Are the patients here more difficult?” Scully asks innocently, her eyes on her plate as she spears a cherry tomato with her fork. 

The men are silent, and she looks up to find them smiling conspiratorially. She realizes the meaning behind Bradley’s remark, and again she feels her cheeks warm. 

“It’s a lot easier to find pot out here,” Bradley says, mercifully changing the subject. “The attitude about it is more laid back. And my dealer is an aerospace engineer at Boeing, which makes me feel less like a common criminal for some reason.”

Scully sighs, and Bradley looks over at her with a mildly perplexed expression. 

“You good?” he asks, and she furrows her eyebrows, mirroring his confusion. 

“She’s nervous,” Mulder says levelly, and both she and Bradley turn to look at him across the table. He looks gratified. He knows her best. He knows what every sigh, eye roll, and smile means. “The good kind of nervous, though. Right, honey?”

She feels his toe bump up against her leg under the table and she smiles coyly. 

“Well, let’s get out of here and get some of that Boeing grade, California grown reefer in you. That oughta take care of those nerves,” Bradley says, punctuating the statement with a squeeze to her thigh. 

-

Scully is floating, drifting around in circles, the solid mass of Mulder’s chest an anchor beneath her cheek. Dancing had been his idea, but she happily obliged. She loves it when he’s romantic like this, wooing her with Sinatra and his own brand of feminist chivalry. 

Her nerves have long since melted away, the THC in her system holding her steady in the current moment. She forgets, just briefly, where she is, and when she feels a second set of hands touch her waist from behind, she startles. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Bradley asks, and Mulder passes her over to him, pulling her arms free of his neck and draping them over Bradley’s shoulders as her cheek finds a new anchor.

She inhales deeply, and her cunt throbs at the muscle memory that his smell evokes. Sandalwood and spice, and the stretch of his thick cock inside her. She thrusts her pelvis against his gently and whimpers, feeling needy and piqued. 

Mulder is still right behind her, brushing her hair back over her shoulders and slipping his hands under her T-shirt to touch her bare waist. Scully smiles against Bradley’s chest. She feels so safe, so cared for, so desired. Mulder unclasps her bra and cups her breasts beneath the silky fabric, brushing his thumbs over her hardening nipples, and Scully groans. 

“Does that feel good?” one or the other asks her, she’s not entirely sure who. 

She hums her answer, and Bradley holds her arms up over her head while Mulder divests her of her shirt and then slides her bra down her arms. She imagines herself swathed in silk, lounging in a triclinium while the men feed her grapes and keep her cool with vellum fans, and she giggles. 

Mulder turns her around to face him and she finds a mischievous smirk on his mouth. 

“Having fun?” he asks, dropping a kiss to the tip of her nose before he gets down on his knees. 

She takes the question to be rhetorical; clearly she’s enjoying herself. She scrapes her fingers through his hair as he wraps his smart mouth around one of her nipples, and when her knees nearly buckle she leans against Bradley’s chest for support. Her eyes fall closed and she basks in the hot rough of Mulder’s tongue and the teasing fumble of Bradley’s fingers at the fly of her jeans. As soon as he gets the zipper down he slips his hand under the stiff fabric and beneath her panties, his middle finger gliding down her slick slit and settling over her opening. 

“She’s soaked,” he remarks, and Mulder hums. 

Scully imagines the triclinium again, but this time the crown of Mulder’s minky head is tucked between her splayed legs, and Bradley is kissing her and playing with her breasts. It strikes her that this fantasy could easily come to fruition if she’d only ask, but she doesn’t feel inclined to make requests of them. She spends so much of her time giving orders to her patients and other hospital staff, making critical decisions and solving complex problems. She doesn’t want to decide how they should fuck her, she just wants to be thoroughly fucked. She’s confident that this is already on their agenda, so she cedes control and lets it happen. 

Bradley works her jeans down her hips and Mulder reluctantly releases her nipple so she can step out of them. She’s now fully nude, and the two men are still clad in their jeans and T-shirts, impatient erections straining against denim. She can’t decide which one to undress first: Bradley’s body is more novel to her and slightly more intriguing, but she never wants Mulder to think for one moment that she’d want to do this without him, or that his naked body no longer excites her. Indecisive, she lays one of her palms over each of their groins, giving their matching erections a simultaneous firm rub. The harmony of their moans makes her cunt water, and she finds herself trying to take both of their pants off at the same time, which proves impossible. Mulder chuckles and unbuttons his jeans, and she quickly slips her hand under his boxers to feel the smooth skin of his cock. He steps closer and she kisses him, her tongue tangled up with his as Bradley kicks his jeans off and guides her hand around his own length. 

They stand there in the middle of the living room, Scully nude and stroking the two partially dressed men while she alternately kisses one and then the other. She can’t help but compare the taste of their mouths and the feel of their tongues. Mulders taut, silky shaft to the slightly slack foreskin that glides up and down with her fist over Bradley’s cock. She moves her hands lower and cups their balls, delighting when both sets draw tighter under her touch. She feels like Aphrodite, or maybe even Eros. She feels powerful and sexual, desirable and wanton. Never in a million years would she have pictured herself with a cock in each hand and every possible untoward intention for them, but even if she’d tried to, the fantasy would have paled in comparison to this. 

Her attention is startled away by the trill of Bradley’s cell phone, and he utters a string of profanity as he jogs across the room to silence it, his erection bouncing comically. Scully continues to kiss and touch Mulder, pushing him slowly back until his calves make contact with the couch, then she tugs his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs. He pulls his T-shirt off over his head and then sits down, kicking off his shoes and the remainder of his clothes. Scully drops down to her knees and situates herself between his open legs, stroking him idly while he watches her face with an erotic mix of adoration and desire. He reaches out and cups her cheek in his palm, and she closes her eyes. For a moment it’s just the two of them, slipping into a secret world that has never been accessible to anyone else. It’s the place where their shared memories lie, and their shared heartbreak. The parts of themselves that they have given only to each other. The parts that he knows are not on the menu to be shared, and never will be. Scully sighs and opens her eyes, leans forward and kisses him, and then lowers her head to his lap and guides him down the back of her throat. Immediately his hands are tangled up in her hair, his hips flexing up off the couch and agonized groans rumbling in his chest. It’s hard not to try to make him come, as het up as she is, but she knows that they are only getting started. She eases up a bit, bathing him with the broad flat of her tongue and squeezing his balls rhythmically. 

“Sorry about that,” Bradley purrs from behind her, and she feels the smooth warmth of his palms gliding over her ass cheeks. Instinctively, she moves her knees apart, humming with satisfaction when he runs his hand between her legs and brushes his fingers across her swollen clit. “Goddamn, you’re wet,” Bradley murmurs under his breath, then shifts his body closer to hers. She feels the spongy head of his cock taking the same journey down the crack of her ass and over her slick folds, and her cunt throbs in anticipation. “You ready for me, pretty girl?”

She flashes her eyes up to Mulder, and he blinks once in agreement. 

“Mmmhmmm,” she hums around Mulder’s cock, and it lurches against her soft palate. 

She stills, letting his cock sit idly on her tongue as Bradley pushes into her. Immediately she quivers around him, and he blows out a slow, steady breath behind her. 

“Too good,” he remarks with a chuckle, and she hears Mulder laugh in response. 

“Been there,” he quips, brushing her hair out of her face. 

She resumes sucking Mulder off, slowly drawing him in and then dragging her tongue up his shaft, finishing with a swirl around the head of his cock. Bradley fucks her in long, steady strokes, his hands on her hips to hold her steady. At one point, the men groan in unison at the pleasure of her mouth and pussy, and she feels the very edge of an orgasm tingle in her toes. 

“Shit,” Bradley hisses as his hips pick up speed, which feels amazing, but it also knocks her forward and jams Mulder’s dick against the back of her throat. She gags, and Mulder pushes on her shoulders to relieve the pressure. 

“Easy,” he admonishes Bradley sharply, and the younger man immediately freezes. 

“Sorry, I got a little carried away there,” he says sheepishly, and she gathers that the apology is just as much for Mulder as it is for her. 

“You okay?” Mulder says quietly, his head dipped down to create a bubble of privacy. 

She lifts her head off of him and smiles. Always her protector, even now. Especially now. 

“Yeah,” she says warmly, taking him in her fist. “You okay?” 

Mulder sighs and looks her over. 

“Very. Only one thing that could make it even better,” he says playfully. 

She lifts her hips and Bradley slips out of her as she climbs up into Mulder’s lap. Their bodies are so intimately acquainted that her cunt finds him without the use of her hands, and she settles fully into him with a wistful groan. 

“Home,” she whispers in his ear, too quietly for Bradley to hear. 

Mulder sits back and lets her ride him, smiling up at her until she hits a sweet spot and his eyes roll back in his head. 

“That’s enough of that for now,” he says urgently as he stills her hips with his hands. “And that’s not actually what I meant, to be perfectly honest.”

“No?” she asks with a tilt of her head. “You want…?”

She flicks her eyes over her shoulder, and he laughs. 

“Also a big fan, but also not what I meant,” he says as he pushes her up and withdraws from her. She lets him guide her down to lay on the couch beside him, and a flush of anticipation warms her pelvis as he pushes her legs open and kneels on the cushion at her feet. 

“Can I come out of the penalty box?” Bradley asks cautiously, and she looks over to find him watching them, his half-hard cock in his fist. 

Scully beckons him to her with a finger, and he kneels on the floor near her head. Mulder begins to lick her in broad strokes as she coaxes Bradley’s erection back to life with her tongue, all three of them whimpering and moaning in turn. The stiffer Bradley becomes, the harder it is for her to blow him at this angle, so she strokes him with her hand while she suckles at the head of his cock, drawing out a salty slick of precum. 

Mulder lifts his head, though his fingers are still tucked inside her, stroking at her front wall, and she hears a quick exchange between the men. Bradley pulls his cock free of her hand and bends to kiss her, trailing down her neck and clavicle until he has one of her nipples perched between his lips and the other pinned between his thumb and forefinger. 

Scully looks down and smiles as she realizes her fantasy has come true after all. There is no triclinium, no vellum fans, but there is the firm press of Mulder’s fingers and the sweep of his tongue across her clit, paired with the hot suck of Bradley’s mouth on her breast. Heaven. This must be what Heaven is like. 

She lets herself get lost in sensation, basking in the novelty of Bradley and the time-tested reliability of Mulder. She has just enough reach to snake her arm down and grab hold of Bradley’s cock, squeezing and stroking purely for her own enjoyment as Mulder teases her close and then backs off over and over. He knows her body so well, so intimately, and there is no need to provide instruction. One “Yes,” from her and he knows that she’s ready. That it’s time. 

She nears the edge again, and this time he doesn’t stop. He curls his fingers and brushes firmly against the top of her opening on each withdrawal, concurrently flicking his tongue back and forth across her clit. She climbs higher and higher, trusting him to take her all the way, unencumbered by the pressure to perform. 

“Oh, I’m gonna come,” she keens, and Bradley grunts as his cock swells in her hand. 

She stops existing in the corporeal sense that she’s familiar with. There is not a single thought in her head, not a single cell in her body that does not have its attention focused singularly on her cunt as she clutches and releases around Mulder’s fingers over and over, her clit pulsing like a hammering heart under his tongue. Bradley continues sucking on her breasts, drawing it out for an eternity, and she writhes indelicately against the rough upholstery of his rented couch. In increments, she returns to herself, slowly becoming aware of one of her hands clutching a fistful of Mulder’s hair, the other wrapped limply around Bradley’s cock. She’s wailing like a feral animal, somehow still coming. It feels like it will never end until finally the crashing waves subside into gently lapping surf, and she sighs. 

Bradley sits back and looks her over with an impressed smirk, and slowly Mulder withdraws his fingers, making her shudder. He crawls over her, planting his hands on the couch on either side of her head, and smiles at her in that dopey, love-struck way that makes her heart ache. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down for a kiss, which slowly progresses into full on making out, and she feels him hard against her lower belly. 

“Fuck me,” she implores him, canting her hips. 

“Mmmm,” he groans, pushing his pelvis against her. “I’d love nothing more, but I promised our host that there would be no cum on the couch,” he says against her ear, his breath hot and wet. 

“Bed’s all made up. Ready and waiting,” Bradley entices them from the doorway to the bedroom, wagging his eyebrows for emphasis.

Mulder stands and holds out his hand to her, and she takes it before rising slowly onto wobbly legs. He smiles proudly and then scoops her up behind the knees, and she squeals in surprise as he carries her off to the bedroom. 

“Will you get her a glass of water, please?” Mulder instructs Bradley as he moves to lay her down on the bed, and the man complies without hesitation. Mulder lays down beside her and tucks his face into the crook of her neck. A single standing lamp in the corner washes the room in warm yellow light that doesn’t allow for any shadowy corners. 

“You still good? You want to stop?” he whispers, and she smiles against his cheek. 

“I’m not done with you, G-Man,” she whispers back, then grabs a fistful of his ass. 

“M’lady,” Bradley says regally as he offers Scully a glass of ice water, which she gulps down gratefully.

They take a few minutes to rest and recuperate. Bradley lays on the bed behind her and runs his hand along the curve of her waist and hip, palming her ass while he plays with his own cock. Mulder kisses her slowly, deeply, like that’s all he plans to do. When she reaches for him, he’s rock hard and silky smooth, a steel beam draped in velvet. She squeezes her thighs together, ready for more. 

“I want you,” she mumbles against his mouth, a phrase that she long ago discovered will instantly put him at her complete mercy. Mulder groans and flexes his hips, pushing his cock through her fist. “Lay on your back.”

He quickly complies, shuffling more towards the center of the bed as she climbs over him and sits proudly astride his lap, his shaft nestled into the valley of her cunt and pinned to his belly by her weight. Scully looks over at Bradley, who is lying on his side with his head propped up on a fist. 

“Don’t mind me,” he says with a smile. “I’m happy to watch for a bit.”

Previous to this, the idea of fucking with a third party lying in the bed beside you would have made her skin crawl. Now, trusting Bradley like she does, it makes her clit jump. She leans forward and kisses Mulder as she slides forward and back over his cock, her own wetness allowing her to glide effortlessly. Each time she moves back and the head of him bumps over her clit, she whimpers. 

“You want to come again,” Mulder tells her, and her whole body trembles. “I want to see you come.”

She lifts her hips and he snakes his hand down between them, pointing his cock north towards her soaking cunt. She slams down onto him, feeling his balls sack against her ass cheeks. She does want to come again. She needs to. 

She leans forward again, pressing her cheek against his. “Please,” she begs, even though she is the one on top. “Please make me come.”

“You heard the woman, Brad,” Mulder says tightly, trying to hold back. “Help me make her come.”

The bed shifts, and she feels Bradley move behind her. She slowly raises and lowers her hips, drawing Mulder out and back in again, and Bradley rests his hands on her ass, gently guiding her. He lets out a low wolf whistle. 

“This is some view,” he says, impressed. 

Scully imagines what he must be seeing—Mulder’s cock disappearing inside her over and over— and she arches her back in an attempt to make more of herself visible to him. He settles his thumbs into the crack of her ass and spreads her cheeks wider, and she feels him shift again before the soft heat of his tongue swipes over her asshole. 

“Oh my god,” she blurts out, overwhelmed. “Oh my fucking god.”

She finds it hard to remember to keep moving, to keep riding Mulder, so he starts pushing up into her from below while Bradley thoroughly licks every inch of her asshole. She lifts her head slightly and makes a feeble attempt to kiss Mulder, but she can only hold her parted lips against his, moaning into his mouth. 

“You want him to fuck you too?” Mulder asks breathlessly, his voice hushed. “Same time?”

They’d discussed the possibility. Scully was intrigued, but opted to wait until they were in the moment to decide whether she wanted to try it. Now that the moment has arrived, she feels every neuron in her body fire at the idea. 

“Yes,” she says confidently, already limp-limbed in anticipation. “I want it.”

Mulder moves his head to the side so he can get Bradley’s attention. Scully can’t quite process the words they’re saying, too distracted by what is about to happen. Bradley shifts around again, and she feels his cock brushing around her opening, right where Mulder is currently tucked inside of her. She realizes that their cocks must be touching, and the idea of it makes her quiver around Mulder. He hums and bucks his hips a little, and Bradley puts one hand on her lower back to hold her in place. 

“Down here okay?” Bradley asks, squeezing her hip gently so she knows he’s speaking to her. 

“Yeah,” she says, dazed. Anywhere down there is more than okay with her. She’s ready. 

“Okay with you, Mulder?” Bradley asks, and Mulder hesitates half a beat before he says, “Yeah.”

There is the plasticky tick of a bottle cap popping open, probably lube, and then she feels him there again, brushing around beside Mulder’s cock. She waits for him to move higher to her asshole, but instead she feels him press against her opening, and then a deep stretch as he pushes inside. She realizes that he’s entering her pussy right alongside Mulder, and there is a flash of adrenaline in her ears. 

“We okay?” Bradley asks, his voice low and sultry. 

“Uh huh,” Mulder grunts. 

Scully’s mouth drops open as the girth of both men stretches her open wide. 

“Dana?” Bradley asks with another squeeze to her hip. 

“Yes,” she keens, on the edge of overwhelm. 

She feels the bump of Mulder’s nose against her own, and she opens her eyes. He locks eyes with her, reading her demeanor. 

“I’m okay,” she reassures him. 

“But do you want to keep going? We can stop,” he says tenderly.

“No, I don’t want to stop,” she whines, pushing her hips back against Bradley. “I want to come. Make me come, Mulder.”

“Fuck, I love you,” he mumbles, kissing her. 

Mulder begins to flex his hips up and down, pushing his cock in and out of her as Bradley fucks her from behind. They move in alternate rhythms, one retreating while the other advances, and she can’t stop thinking about them rubbing up against one another inside her. How much of their pleasure is from her cunt, and how much of it is from the other man? She’s surprised by how much that arouses her, how being the vessel for two cocks engaging in frottage feels like the most erotic thing imaginable. She wants them both to come inside her, one on top of the other. It’s all she can think about. It builds and builds, her muscles tightening and a warm, wonderful lightness spreading across her skin. It’s slow and powerful, overcoming her like a tsunami. 

“I’m coming,” she announces as she clamps down on them, and the room explodes in a cacophony of moans and whimpers. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Bradley bellows, and she can feel him throbbing inside her, running down the seam of her legs. 

“I want you to come,” she tells Mulder, knowing that he’s holding back. “Be a good boy and come for me.”

He groans and she feels the hot spurt of his orgasm, and he keeps fucking her even after Bradley softens and slips out. With more room to move, Scully sits up and grinds against him, setting off another, smaller orgasm for herself and making Mulder’s shoulders lurch up off the bed.

“Fuck, I can’t take anymore,” he pleads, oversensitized, and she mercifully lifts her hips to free him. 

As is apparently his M.O., Bradley is suddenly gone from the room, leaving them to enjoy their afterglow privately. Scully sighs and slackens, draped over Mulder like a blanket. He draws circles on her back with the tips of his fingers, and the mess of liquids between her legs begins to cool. 

“How you doin’?” he asks her, his voice low and gravelly. 

She hums and squeezes him, and he accepts this as an answer. 

“That’s good,” he says, wrapping his arms across her back. “You were incredible.”

Scully smiles, feeling proud of herself. There is a knock at the door, and she turns her head to rest the other cheek on Mulder’s chest so she can see Bradley peeking in. 

“Sorry to disturb you. I ordered a pizza, if you want to grab a shower before it gets here,” he tells them, not making any attempt to conceal his open leering between Scully’s still-spread legs. 

As before, Mulder has to carry her from one room to the next, though as they stand under the hot spray of the shower she slowly regains strength in her enervated limbs. She leans her back heavily against his chest as he tenderly washes between her legs, murmuring words of praise and adoration. Given, she is still far from sober, but she cannot imagine regretting what they just did. She feels closer to him than ever. 

They re-light the joint and enjoy it with their pizza, telling stories and winding down. Scully starts to doze off with her head in Mulder’s lap as he gently scratches at her scalp, Bradley rubbing her feet at the other end of the couch. She could get used to this. 

“Let’s get you to bed, sleepy girl,” Mulder says fondly, and although she is more than capable of walking she lets him carry her one final time. 

They emphatically assure Bradley that he is welcome to sleep in his own bed, but he insists on taking the couch and letting them have his bedroom. Scully brought pajamas, but opts to sleep in Mulder’s dirty T-shirt while he wears only his boxers. They leave the door open, having nothing to conceal from Bradley that he has not already seen, and Scully curls up with her head resting on Mulder’s chest and one of her legs draped over his. 

“What are you thinking about?” Mulder says after a time, sensing that she is still awake. 

Scully smiles against his chest. 

“What do you think?” she quips, and he puffs a laugh through his nose. “What are you thinking about?” she asks in return. 

“You,” he says simply. 

“Pure, romantic thoughts, I’m sure,” she teases him, and he takes the hand that is resting on his belly, moving it to his groin. He’s hard, and she feels her body respond. 

“Not quite,” he says. 

Scully clucks her tongue in mock judgment. 

“You’re insatiable,” she says, even as she’s pulling his cock free of his boxers and moving over him, hitching her T-shirt up around her waist. 

“I’m insatiable?” he retorts, his voice tightening when she sinks down on him. “I’m not the one who took two men at once and is already back for more,” he says proudly. 

Scully leans forward, rocking her hips slowly and dropping kisses across his cheeks and mouth. 

“Two is nice, but there’s only one I’m interested in,” she tells him, and she hears the parting of his lips as he smiles in the dark. 

“You’re my girl,” he says, running his hands over her waist and hips. 

“I’m your girl,” she assures him, then sits up and begins to ride. 

[dralione]

his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room (in my wildest dreams) | two

Summary: Draco finds his fellow Eighth Year Head, Hermione, reading terribly archaic sex advice, which he can't abide, so he offers hands-on tutoring instead. Totally all for her and not because of his crush on her, of course.

Rating: M (smut) ♡ WC: ~3k ♡ Ao3

She approached him the next time, ambushing him after Quidditch practice that weekend. It had taken a little while for her to be comfortable looking him in the eyes, having a slight panic attack the next morning when she woke up and remembered what she had done, but his nonchalant attitude had settled her nerves somewhat. Still, she had needed the rest of the week to work up the courage to ask if he could teach her something else. 

He was the last to exit the changing rooms, as usual (she assumed it had something to do with his oh-so-careful hairstyling), and almost poked her eye out with his wand before his brain caught up to his actions. 

“Oh, Granger. What are you doing out here? Waiting for me?” he teased, pocketing his wand.

“Yes, actually.”

“Oh.” His eyebrows brushed the fringes of his still-damp locks falling onto his forehead in an effortlessly casual manner. “Well then, what can I do for you?” “Are you doing anything tonight?”

“I was probably going to check out the party Hufflepuff is hosting before I did my rounds…” he replied slowly, searching her face for any clue towards what she was angling for. “I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it; I can skip if you need me for something.”

She glanced down at their feet, shoes almost touching, then back up. “No, enjoy the party. I can do the rounds if you want to stay later. I was just wondering if you’d want to have another lesson, but if you were going to meet someone else…”

“We can do the rounds together, Granger, I don’t mind leaving the party,” he said, reaching for her hand. “And I’d love to have another lesson with you. I wondered how long it would take before you wanted another,” he confessed.

She blinked. He’d been so normal after That Night that she’d half-wondered if he’d gotten what he wanted from her and was done, but she knew that wasn’t fair. It was nice to hear he’d been thinking about it, too. She offered him a small smile. “After rounds, then?”

“After rounds,” he confirmed, squeezing her fingers softly. “Shall we head inside out of this weather? It feels like a storm is coming.”

-`♡´-

Their rounds were the same as always, companionable quiet occasionally broken by one of them mentioning something from class or an interesting tidbit from some book they were reading recently. The same as it had always been, but also something new. They walked closer together than ever before, their fingers almost brushing several times as they rounded corners or gestured as they talked. A sort of anticipation sparked between them, knowing what they were going to do once this was over. The rounds seemed to be both shorter and longer than usual, their steps quicker than other days and the wait dragging the time out impossibly long. 

She wondered if this was what it was like to have a significant other, knowing you could go back to your room with them and engage in passionate trysts, a secret knowledge carried between two lovers in public. 

She was more confident tonight, more comfortable baring her most authentic self to her old rival and new friend, but a little trickle of nervousness circled through her as well, suspecting they’d go farther than the other night. Preparing for tonight had occupied her time while Malfoy was at the party, her free reign of their shared bathroom a luxury she indulged in to the fullest, shaving and primping in front of the mirror longer than usual. It had taken her fifteen minutes to decide on which set of lingerie to wear, and she only had two nice pairs, not having had much use for them in the past. 

She hoped he appreciated the effort, although maybe he wouldn’t even notice it, having not removed her bottoms the previous time. What if he’d remembered her comment about baggage and scars and decided she wasn’t attractive enough anymore? Or was simply too scared to look? She wasn’t sure what she’d do if that was the case. 

Rounds completed, they headed back to their dorms, Malfoy letting her through first. He collected another glass of water from the sink, but she waited for him this time. 

He tilted his head curiously at her still standing there, but said nothing as he approached her and began to climb the stairs to their rooms, his hand on her lower back a surprisingly comfortable warmth and weight. 

They turned into her room again, and she was thankful she’d had enough time left after her ablutions that evening to tidy up her multitudinous stacks of books and put away her scattered unmentionables. 

The glass went onto her nightstand and he turned to face her, his hands on her shoulders. “Remember what to say if you need to end things or take a break?”

“‘Stop’ and ‘pause’,” she recalled. 

“Good girl,” he praised. “Did you have anything you wanted to do tonight? Surely you had some plans since you approached me.”

“I’m curious about going down on someone,” she admitted. 

“Giving, receiving, or both?” he asked noncommittally.

 “Both, I suppose.”

“That can be arranged,” he nodded. “Which would you like to start with?” His thumbs stroked soothing motions across her collarbones, sending a slight shiver through her.

“Giving?”

“Say what you want like you mean it, Granger,” he told her. 

“Giving. I want to go down on you,” she repeated more firmly. 

“Good job.” He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled his shirttails out, hanging loosely around his hips. 

“Can I take your shirt off?”

A hint of surprise crossed his face. “If you’d like.” He sat on the edge of her bed, leaning back as she leaned forward to loosen his tie and undo the buttons. Once they were freed he helped her tug the tie and shirt off, leaving him only in his trousers and pants. 

She settled on her knees in front of him, glancing up to see his frozen expression. “What?”

He shook himself. “Nothing. One second.” He cast a Cushioning charm on a pillow and settled it underneath her, tossing his wand onto her nightstand. “There you go. Comfortable?”

“Very. Now what?” She eyed the prominent bulge at the front of his trousers, knowing it wasn’t his wand. 

“Now you take my cock out and do what you want to it…maybe don’t bite it, though.”

Ignoring the shiver that ran through her at the way he said ‘cock’, she tugged his trousers and pants down. 

“How vague,” she said as he lifted his hips to help her undress him. Once his cock was freed, she stared at it, unsure if it was good etiquette or not, but unable to look away. 

It was smaller than her brain had been convincing her it would be, but still larger than she thought would fit inside her. Other than the slight worry about the size, she thought it quite suited him: pretty, smooth except for a prominent vein along the underside, and a mouthwatering flushed pink. She licked her lips unconsciously as she gently stroked her fingers along it. It twitched, and she glanced up at him, unsure if it was a good twitch or not.

His bottom lip was between his teeth, and his grey eyes were almost black. 

“You’re doing so well, Granger,” he promised. “It won’t hurt to be firmer or wrap your fingers around it, if you want.”

She did want, and so she did as he instructed. The firmer, longer strokes made a funny noise escape Malfoy, and she wanted to hear him make it again. Unable to resist any longer, she leaned forward and licked the reddened tip, causing the noise again. 

The weight of his hand fell on her head and she glanced up to see his face screwed up in pleasure, one hand tightly gripping her sheets as the other dug into her curls. 

She licked him again, then tried to fit her mouth around him. It took a bit of getting used to, fitting him in yet wanting to keep her teeth away lest she bite him by accident, but she figured it out. Slowly she bobbed her head up and down, attempting to fit all of him in her mouth. There was no way she could, but she did her best. The vein lay against her flattened tongue and she was suddenly struck by the urge to trace the tip along it. 

He groaned, his fingers flexing in her hair. “You’re doing such a good job sucking my cock, Granger. Don’t worry about deepthroating tonight,” he added as she tried once again to take all of him in her mouth. “Maybe use your tongue a bit more,” he directed. 

She pulled off, sucking only on the head and using her tongue to trace every texture and ridge. It dipped into the slit and he groaned again, his hips bucking. 

Sensitive at the tip, she noted smugly. Wrapping her fingers around his length and stroking again as she sucked at the head seemed to be a good combo, going by his reactions. Finally he pulled her off, looking rather shocked. “I’m close,” he informed her, placing his hand over hers as she continued to jerk him off. “You’re a bloody natural.”

She preened under his praise, following his hand’s subtle directives as they worked him together until his cum spurted out, covering their hands and his stomach. He summoned a cloth and began wiping up the mess, but she brought her fingers up to her mouth, tongue flicking out to taste the white substance. She’d heard things about it and wanted to experience it for herself. It wasn’t too bad, she decided; if he let her, next time, she’d like to try swallowing. 

He looked at her incredulously, cloth-hand paused over his cum-covered one. “Did you–”

“Yes? I wanted to try it, I heard…things…Do you mind?”

He shook his head vigorously. “Not at all, I just thought you might.”

She shrugged, heart warming at the thought of him thinking of her. “I don’t. I want to do that again but try swallowing next time.”

“Whatever you want,” he swallowed hard. Finishing up his cleaning, he lifted her off her knees and tossed the pillow back against the bed. “Did you want to end things here? Or try receiving head now? Whatever you like.”

“I’d like to experience being gone down on,” she admitted. 

“Prepare for more ‘earth-shattering’ then,” he smirked, scooping her up and tossing her against the pillows. 

She frowned at him, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach and other parts. He settled between her legs, running his hands up and down her calves, making her glad she’d shaved and moisturised earlier.

“I knew you were going to be an arse about that.”

He grinned up at her unrepentantly. “Please, like I don’t deserve it. Allow me to remind you.” His fingers yanked at her tie, loosening it and tugging it over her head, throwing it to some corner of the room. The buttons down her shirt were next to be freed, and she shimmied the shirt off, leaving it to join the tie’s fate. Malfoy’s appreciative gaze took in her lingerie choices, a pale blue lacy bra with cute satin bows between the breasts and where the cups met the straps. 

His finger reverently traced the longest purple scar from her left breast down to her right hip, but he didn’t say anything about it. He let her remove her skirt and stockings, dropping them to the floor to sit tall in her matching blue lacy knickers and bra, scars uncovered and proud. 

“You’re fit as hell,” he whistled flatteringly, his eyes dragging slowly up and down her body. 

“Thanks,” she whispered. 

“Can I kiss your scars?” he asked, already halfway down her chest before he paused and glanced up at her.

She shrugged uncomfortably, unused to being so open with someone. “If you really want to.”

She bit her lip as his pressed softly over the epicentre of one of the worst reminders of the war. 

He kissed all the way up and down her, not leaving any scar untouched. “May I remove your underwear, Granger?” he asked when all the revealed scar tissue had been covered by his lips. 

“Okay…but I don’t want you to kiss my scars anymore.”

He looked a little sad as she requested that, but nodded. “I’ll leave your scars alone from now on. Thank you for letting me touch them tonight.” 

Underwear gone, she settled back against the pillows and let him get comfy between her legs. 

Ducking his head, he blew a stream of cool air against her core, causing her to jolt in surprise. Moving up her body, he kissed and licked at her neck, finding the spots where she was most sensitive with his memory of the previous time. His left hand circled her nipple and played with her breasts, while his right stroked up her leg, moving closer to the apex of her thighs with each pass. 

“Should’ve known you were a bloody tease,” she huffed, feeling nerves all over her body come alive in a tantalising shiver. 

He nipped at her breast, making her squeak. “Someone’s feeling braver today; those are some dangerous words to tell the person making you feel good. You’re lucky I’m not introducing you to edging…yet.”

She bit her lip to hold back any further antagonistic comments. 

Despite her annoyance at his slow pace, she could feel the way it was working to turn her on, her cunt clenching around nothing as she felt his returned hard-on brush against her thigh. 

Popping off her nipple, he licked a stripe down her abdomen. His fingers grazed over the skin under her navel, tickling her and causing her muscles to jump strangely. Finally he settled in front of her cunt, hooking her legs over his shoulders, forcing her wide, and brought his thumbs up to part her sticky folds. She blushed a little at the hungry look on his face, but then he licked up the middle and all thoughts fled her head, her thighs clenching around him at the unexpected shiver he caused. 

Smirking at her, he licked again, this time laving more purposefully over her clit, focusing on the nub and circling it with the right amount of pressure to have her muscles seizing like they had the first night. He moved his hand so he could prod at her hole, gently running his finger around the edge before pushing in shallowly. It felt…different, but then he suctioned his mouth over her clit and began a pulsing sucking rhythm, making her clutch his hair and whine his name repeatedly. 

She wasn’t sure what she was saying, possibly cursing him, possibly proposing to him as she fell over the edge, clutching him to her with everything she had as her head fell back and her breathing hitched. Sparks of fire flew up her torso while sparks of ice spread down her legs, a Bombarda setting off behind her eyelids. 

She lay back, panting, keeping her eyes closed as she caught her breath. She didn’t need to see his smug smirk, sure to be even wider than when he’d given her that first orgasm. 

The sound of him slurping up her juices off his fingers finally reached her ears and she cracked open her eyes, realising she still had a death grip on his hair. Releasing him with a start, she pushed herself up. “That was…wow. Thanks, Malfoy.”

“Just wow? Not earth-shattering, life-changing, a religious experience, nothing? Just wow?” he asked her. “I’ll take that to mean I made you speechless then,” the smug prat said. He had, but it was awfully presumptuous of him to assume her meaning behind her comment. 

“Prat,” she yawned, shoving gently at his shoulder with her toes, which were still hooked over his arms. 

He mumbled something under his breath, probably refuting her claim, but released her feet after pressing a kiss to each of her ankles. 

Handing her the glass of water, he pulled his pants on and covered her with her sheets, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Remember to use the loo,” he reminded her, completely ignoring the way he was at least semi-hard again. 

She tore her eyes away from the bulge, flattered that he appeared to have such a strong reaction to her. Merlin, had he gotten that from going down on her? Well, she supposed she’d been pretty wet after she’d sucked him off.

“Are you going to avoid me for the next few days again?” he asked her, hands pausing as he pulled his trousers up. 

“Er…I’ll try not to.”

“Alright. Let me know when you want to do this again, then.” He collected his shirt and tie but didn’t bother to put them on, slinging them over his arm instead. 

“Malfoy.”

He turned, hand on the knob. “Yes, Granger?”

Why had she said that?

“Do you, um…nevermind. Have a good sleep.”

“You too,” he said, and then he was gone.

Despite having an ‘earth-shattering, life-changing, religious experience’ orgasm, it took her a while to fall asleep that night, and for once it wasn’t because of the nightmares.

{three}

[spiinsparks]

the  intimacy  of  hands. / @badnikbreaker / ACCEPTING !           ↳   [ no tears & kiss ] AMY I AM FORCING SONIC TO CRY

          IT  WASN’T  ALWAYS  AS  EASY  AS  HE  MADE  IT  LOOK.   the  whole  moving  forwards  ,  no  regrets  thing.  when  the  curtain  fell  ,  and  the  lights  dimmed  ,  all  that  was  left  was  a  lone  figure  on  a  STAGE  whose  smile  wavered  ,  flickered  ,  FELL.  it  had  been  a  CAKEWALK  to keep  up  the  act  when  he  had  locked  eyes  with  whisper  and  returned  her  stolen  wisps  to  her.  it  had  even  been  easy  to  sit  with  his  brother  in  SILENCE  on  the  transport  back  to  south  island  ,  where  their  friends  were  waiting.

           it  had  also  been  easy  ,  as  night  fell  ,  to  SEEK  OUT  AMY  once  tails  had  been  shuttled  off  to  bed  after  an  hour  or  so  of  repeated  ,  careful  reassurances.  (  it’s  alright.  he  was  fine.  they  were  both  fine.  and  he  was  GRATEFUL  for  the  save  ,  as  usual.  tails  was  a  LIFE  SAVER  ,  and  there  was  nothing  for  tails  be  frightened  of  ,  not  while  sonic  was  here.  )

        easy  ,  to  ask  for  a  moment  of  her  time  and  sit  with  her  as  the  night  grew  old.  easy  ,  to  PLAY  OFF  the  jitter  in  his  hands  with  a  languid  SHRUG  and  a  casual  laugh  that  flit  off  the  tongue.  easy  to  sit  and  talk  about  all  of  the  LITTLE  NOTHINGS  of  life  they  shared.  grateful  ,  as  ever  ,  TO  LIVE.

          . . .  but  eventually  ,  even  between  the  best  of  friends  ,  silence  reigned.  and  this  one  was  TENSE.  it  was  uncomfortable.

          (  water  filled  his  mouth  and  stung  his  eyes.  it  flooded  his  ears  and  drowned  out  his  voice  as  electricity  blazed  fire  through  his  every  muscle  ,  every  vein.  he  was  STOPPING  /  STARTING  /  STOPPING  again.  his  heart  flew  into  his  throat  and  choked  out  the  SCREAMS  that  fled  from  him  the  same  as  the  hands  that  gripped  his  throat  and  plunged  him  beneath  the  water’s  electrified  surface.  )

           YOU  DON’T  GET  IT  —

                   surge  had  yelled  over  the  gurgle  of  bubbled  cries  and  frantic  splashing  of  his  spasming  limbs.

                                 THERE  IS  NO  FREEDOM  FOR  ME.

            sonic’s  heart  had  plunged  into  the  depths  of  him.                              it  skipped  —  it  stuttered   —  

                                        NOT  WHILE  YOU’RE  ALIVE.

                                            (       it  stopped.        )

        for  about  thirty  seconds  ,  it  had  stopped.

                        and  sonic  had  made  certain  not  to  let  tails  in  on  that.

        but  now  ,  in  the  dark  ,  when  all  that  was  left  was  the  SILENCE  of  this  night  without  the  hum  of  wisps  cuddled  close  under  his  arms  and  against  his  quills  ,  with  his  brother  having  been  ushered  to  REST  after  the  day’s  taxing  ordeal  and  the  damage  he’d  sustained  in  that  sinkhole  of  a  laboratory  ,               now  . . .  it  was  JUST  HIM.  him  and  amy.  and  it  WASN’T  AS  EASY  ANYMORE  ,  to  temper  the  rage  that  boiled  in  his  blood  ,  or  squash  the  FEAR  IN  HIM  —  suppress  the  shudder  of  his  body  as  the  fatigue  of  death  and  defibrillation  caught  up  with  and  tore  right  through  him.  

          sonic’s  eyes  pricked  and  stung  and  his  vision  blurred  and  his  shoulders  TENSED  as  he  turned  from  his  friend.  he  was  as  UNWILLING  to  shed  this  weight  as  he  was  to  let  them  see  how  terror  and  rage  and  regret  did  fester  where  it  shouldn’t.  he  squared  his  shoulders  and  squeezed  his  eyes  shut.  inhaled  deeply  through  his  mouth  and  out  his  nose.           but  a  pressure  cupped  his  cheek  ,  so  soft  and  gentle  he  nearly  missed  it.

           ❝  —! ❞  

            sonic  FLINCHED  ,  at  first  ,  when  they  touched  him.  then  winced  at  himself  for  flinching  at  all.  then  ,  allowed  them  ,  with  the  only  the  slightest  of  resistance  to  it  ,  to  tilt  his  chin  towards  their  face  with  nothing  but  the  gentle  coaxing  of  their  kind  warm  hand.             as  her  fingertips  brushed  the  wet  from  his  eyes  ,  sonic  grit  his  teeth  and  swallowed  the  guttural  sound  that  swelled  from  deep  within  his  chest  and  stuck  painfully  in  his  throat. (  —  was  it  a  SCREAM  that  clawed  and  stung  there?  or  was  it  a  shattering  ,  fracturing  WAILING?  )

            he  wanted  to  tell  her.              he  wanted  to  tell  her  EVERYTHING.

                          instead  ,  sonic  let  out  a  breath  that  carried  with  it  the  tangle  of  emotions  that  crowded  his  mind.  LEANED  FORWARD  ,  and  broke  their  hand’s  contact  with  him  to  bury  his  face  against  their  shoulder.  and  it  was  EASY  to  let  the  shudder  in  him  shake  the  tears  out.

           at  least  ,  just  for  this  little  while.

[blue-maiden4]

It’s been 3 years (or somewhere around that) since I last did a drawing of my Pokémon OC Blue. But ever since I got into Pokémon violet brain rot mode I sort of had this need of somehow adding her into the story (or at least make her have some relation with Julieta).

Before getting into more details about her I need to clarify something:

1-I headcanon that Scarlet/Violet take place 2 years after the events of Sw/Sh. Now, at the beginning of Sw/Sh story Blue is 18 yrs old and by the the end of the story she would have turned 19 (More specifically after the events that take place in the Crown Tundra, if you played the DLC you know what I’m talking about). So basically by the time Julieta starts her journey, Blue would be 21 yrs old.

2-Yes I do ship her with Leon. I created Blue more then 3 yrs ago, so I got everything regarding her story and all that figured out, I’m only adding a couple more things since I thought it would be interesting to have her and Julieta be related in some way (I literally had to figure out a timeline and do the math just so I could determine how big the time skip between SwSh and ScarVio storylines should be).

3-I only drew her in her champion uniform cause that’s the only outfit I hadn’t figured out for her. Most of the time she’s wearing her casual clothes and only wears the uniform for exhibition matches, and official battles and/or tournaments.

Now that’s been cleared up, time to get into her info! First we'll cover the stuff related with SwSh and then we start withe the ScarVio stuff (don't worry the SwSh stuff will be short).

Blue is currently Galar’s reigning champion. It took her a while to get used to her new role, but eventually she got the hang of it and enjoys her job as the region’s champion.

Has known Hop for a very long time since she used to babysit him back when he was little, but even though she has looked after the boy for a long time, she never got meet his big brother before until the events of the game kick in.

A month after she earned the title of Champion, Blue decides that she needs to do some extra or special training to become a better trainer. Leon suggests that she should go to the Isle of armor and train under his old mentor, Master Mustard. While she and Klara started with the left foot, they eventually become good friends and even helps the poison type trainer accomplish her dream of becoming a gym leader (being a champion and the partner of the chairman does have its benefits 😉).

A month after the events of the Isle of Armor, Blue travels to the Crown tundra to find out from who is the strange voice that’s been calling her all the way from the south of Galar. (Yes, she does capture Calyrex but let’s him roam free around the Crown tundra since she thinks it’s for the best they stay in their natural habitat. Blue does visit Calyrex every once in a while if she has some free time to spare)

Blue is a very kind person and easy to get along with, as long as you don’t piss her off of course.

Blue does some routine visits to the Pokémon schools all over Galar to scout for new talented trainers. She always does this some months before the gym challenge, as she gives an endorsement to the kids that manage to catch her attention. It was during one of these visits that she met Julieta. Blue realized that the girl had the potential to be great at Pokémon battles, so she took the girl under wing and made her some sort of protégée.

At some point, Blue becomes close to Julieta and her mom, making her a friend of the family. One day Julieta accidentally called her 'Auntie' but it didn't bother Blue at all.

Blue is techincally Julieta's Godmother, but it's way easier for Julieta to just call her auntie (and it's also cute).

Was the one who suggested Julieta's mom that they move to Paldea to have a fresh start, hoping that the change of scenery would help the girl open up and make some new friends.

Since moving to another region ain't cheap, Blue covered all the expenses: ferry tickets to Paldea, moving services and buying a house. Alice (Julieta's mom) was very insistent there was no need for this, but deep down she's very grateful for her kindness.

Since the enrollment process of Uva Academy takes a long time to be completed for people that come from other places of the world, Blue personally made sure that the staff works on the process almost at the speed of light so her little girl can start attending as soon as the new semester begins. All the administrative staff and Director Clavell were sweating bullets, being pressured by a very famous champion was a huge deal, so they better not fuck this up.

Whenever she has time, she calls Julieta to check up on her and know she's doing well. Imagine how delighted she is when the girl tells her she has made some new friends and is now having her own adventure.

Figures out in less of five seconds that Julieta has a crush on Arven, when during one of their video calls the young girl starts to talk about him and kept saying how amazing and cute he is. Ah, young love is just amazing, or it would be if the girl weren't so damn oblivious and kept being in denial-

Julieta: Me? H-Having a crush on Arven?! D-Dont be silly! We are just good friends!

Blue: Julie, anyone with at least one funcional braincell can tell you like him that way 😒

Not many people know Blue is Julieta's godmother. The only exception are Julie's family, Clavell and Geeta. All of them agree to keep that information confidential for Julieta's sake, otherwise the media will bother her with questions related to her relationship with Galar's champion.

Sometime later after the events of Area zero and the post game, Blue decides to pay a visit to Julieta which means she gets to meet Penny, Nemona and Arven at long last. Those three definitely were shocked.

Nemona: Miss Blue, please let me have a battle with you! 🤩

Penny: *trying to process the fact her bestie is good friends with Galar's champion*

Arven: *internally panicking cause his crush's godmother is a freaking champion so he better give a good impression or he's fucked*

[xhatake]

♫ hehe iruka & kakashi pls

playlist meme || always accepting.

i got carried away with this one.

sorry aha i fell asleep - egg

I don't know just yet who you take me to be And I don't wanna spoil your impression of me

i feel like there are a lot of lines that apply really beautifully to their carefulness when they start to get a little closer; i know kakashi specifically is afraid of messing things up, of hurting their friendship by catching feelings. iruka has proven that there is more to him than meets the eye & kakashi doesn't want to spoil iruka's perception of him. there's another line alluding to this but he also feels a lot of guilt around not being willing to be truthful; instead, he opts to watch iruka keep breaking his own heart over & over. kakashi feels, a little responsible. 'cause he can do it better.

This is just what I do Pushing you away Though I wanna be close to you

another line supporting the push & pull of their denial of their feelings. i feel like this line directly calls them out; iruka not realizing kakashi's feelings & dismissing them to Kakashi being hard to read, kakashi's reluctance to come out & just say the way he feels. like you pointed out, they orbit each other like stars without ever getting too close. but that's just something kakashi does... which is really difficult for him to maintain because he aches for connection, he wants desperately to be vulnerable.

I was too busy wrapped up in my head Don't wanna seem eager, I gotta be cool

this could really apply to kakashi keeping his feelings to himself. he doesn't want to admit the way his heart skips a beat when iruka smiles at him or how he notices the way iruka's scar wrinkles when he does it. when he's around iruka, there's usually a smile lurking just on the corners of his mouth but he reigns it in. there's a hopeless romantic in him that he's constantly putting to bed because he doesn't feel it's

sports - beach bunny

want to start this out by pointing out that just about every line in this song could apply. it's one of my favorite songs for their dynamic; i'm still gonna break down specific lines anyways tho bcs i love this shit.

If you feel lonely, I could be lonely with you Tell me, baby, why do you seem so blue? Why are we so complicated? Maybe love is overrated

anyways these lines i feel like they could directly apply to when they start fooling around; they fill their empty time with one another & that leads to them growing more & more comfortable with one another. which is great, at first. but kakashi really quickly catches feelings the more he observes & understands the weight that iruka carries with him every day & before long iruka fills the spaces in between his thoughts. he wonders if he's doing alright, if he might want to go out to dinner, if, if , if. it becomes more complicated than rolling into bed with him & leaving in the morning. where kakashi is usually great at keeping it 'casual', he just wants to hold iruka when they wake up in the morning. which is complicated. on top of this, iruka is breaking his heart constantly by handing it out to people who are careless. it makes kakashi wonder whether or not he would do the same; if iruka's idea of love is even possible. but he wants it to be

I'm tired of waitin', I was never good at sports Save the games for the girls on the tennis court Say you need me, but lately, you feel unsure Come on to me, come on to me, I need more

okay okay these lines make me think more of iruka because he's a forever chunin. he's not the most skilled guy in the village & he never will be. which may leave him feeling like he wouldn't be kakashi's first choice; he's hard to read & it's safer to assume he wouldn't be. but there are still these little hints kakashi & iruka exchange between the two of them that could allude to something deeper. they establish a trust between them that they both crave really deeply. iruka is drained & he needs more of the intimacy that comes with their connection; it is iruka who buckles one night, asking kakashi to comfort him. to hold him. to stay with him. he needs something he hasn't been getting; something kakashi is aching to give.

If you feel broken, promise I won't break your heart If you shatter, I won't let you fall apart

AGAIN this could be a shared sentiment but i think it directly has to do with kakashi's perception of who he wants to be for iruka. he doesn't want to break iruka's heart; he doesn't want to hurt him. they're both deeply wounded people in fundamentally different ways but they want to be able to help each other heal. it's cathartic, it's beauitful, they encourage each other to grow & when they fall down they're there to pick one another up.

but the rest of the song largely lends to their push & pull. they have this desire for intimacy; this desire for trust, for love, for romance. but it's confusing & the feelings are too big to handle at first. it takes time but in the moment it's maddening.

alright, cool, whatever - the happy fits

After you leave, I'll be so alright, it's true It's not like I've got something grand to say to you Like, "You'll be the only ever one" Like the only ever ones who came before How could I ever be so dumb To believe I'd be the one you would adore?

anyways i feel like these lines apply to both of them, from different perspective. kakashi has had a lot of flings, none of them romantic... but there have been plenty of people that thought he was going to be 'the one'. or at least, they wanted him to be. this, compared, to iruka's quest to find 'the one' feeds even more into their push/pull inside of themselves. but ultimately, they both want this to work; whether or not it seems possible. but they try. kakashi still tries to undercut his feelings with logic, but it's not sustainable. the actual sound of these lines lends to the idea there's still that excitement, that thrill of love blossoming invasively in your thoughts, lungs, heart. it feels too good to deny, despite any misgivings.

But, how could you ever really know? If you never look, you don't know what you'll find I've got an effervescent glow If you'd show me all the dark parts of your mind

This had e thinking about Iruka reassuring Kakashi that he's someone he wants to know; someone he wants to exist alongside. kakashi fears his ability to be shitty person, but all people are shitty at the end of the day. they can only try to be good & kakashi has a great capacity for good. and if the darkness ever gets too out of line, iruka is right there to shine a light on it. it's pretty simple, if you're afraid of the dark get a nightlight. iruka isn't intimidated by whatever perceptions kakashi may have of himself because he has faith in kindness & kakashi's ability to wield it.

also the chorus of this song makes me think of them both coming to the conclusion that despite any of the messiness or complications, they want to face them together. there is a connection, there is chemistry whether or not it's easy to process. they both want to be the one to stand beside the other, to support each other, regardless of anything else.

safe ship, hardbored - the crane wives

But we've been wishing upon ourselves, Things that I forgot, I cannot do.

first of all, i have like a million crane wives songs that could work for these two. this one just comes with a lot f very specific, very strong thoughts about them finding safety in one another while also facing the baggage of the past. this song also makes me think about iruka dealing with any internal aftermath of he & mizuki's relationship? though it's long over, there are still probably scars from what that did to his mind & perception of his reality. this line makes me also think about kakashi not thinking love was meant for him; even as he falls deeper, he still has to face the fact that he is a killer & will be again. iruka makes him feel more like a person but it's a temperamental feeling; decades of trauma doesn't just melt away on a whim.

I am a safe ship, harbored, A safe ship, harbored, Losing all of my good years, to the shallow water.

this makes me think very specifically of iruka's past relationship with mizuki & any sentiments that may have lingered from it. mizuki was someone he returned to because mizuki was someone he knew. he spent more time with him than he felt he should have in hindsight. it wasn't the sort of relationship that allowed for a deep emotional bond; it was a shallow pool of familiarality, which felt like safety. it applies to Kakashi in a more vague sense, having lost many of his ' good' years to the safety of shallow, temporary connections.

Where does your faith form, Where does your faith form in me? Don't break the bottle, Don't dare waste your blessings on me.

So these lines make me think very specifically of Kakashi wondering why iruka thinks he''s a good person. even as they grow closer, more comfortable with their feelings, there's still this lingering doubt. he doesn't understand how iruka's light is so relentless, even as kakashi slowly learns where it comes from. he wonders if iruka is wasting his love and future with someone like him. meanwhile iruka may be tackling feelings of inadequacy because he can't keep up with all the things in his life, moving so rapidly before him? He shares the sentiment with kakshi about wondering if he's worth the other's future. kakashi is one of konoha's top jonin, iruka isn't the only one who wants his heart. i wonder if that lends to any feelings he may have mixed up n his chest & it's just a lot for his body to handle.

falling for you - peachy feat. mxmtoon

i was hanging with you and then i realized i didn’t think it was true i was surprised when i found out i’d fallen for you

i feel like the sound & lyrics of this song really are soft a soft nod to them finally accepting their feeligns for one another. there comes a point when they stop beating around their internal bushes & finally allow themselves to relax & i feel like this largely applies to that

honestly i could break down the rest of the lyrics but they are so literal. they could almost be a dialogue between iruka & kakashi & it makes me WHEEZE. but i feel like this song speaks largely to a willingness to accept the vulnrebility that they are starting to feel towards one another as they begin to accept the fact that they aren't falling, they've fallen.

[muffin-man-marq-lynch]

It's been almost 24 hours since the pre-show and I feel I'm just finally processing what we just saw? Like were my expectations just set too low for my first live PPV or was that really good for Forbidden Door?

Just off the top of my head and skipping the pre-show:

- MJF gets thrown as a warm up pleaser act for the Long Island crowd in another pleather robe and bright blue and orange gear and tries to crowd-surf.

- MJF then mugs hard with as many of his specials as possible in 10 minutes including one of Adam's finishers and an Ole Ole Kick bit outside the ring straight out of Punk vs Joe 1 & 2.

- The Robe game is so on point for Forbidden Door that Tanahashi came out in something covered in Boas that would make Cruella De Ville jelly (This isn't even touching The Day Glow Eye Robe) and we didn't even notice once Platinum Max dropped the line "I'mma kill you like you killed Okada's Career"

- Elite Hardy Brothers Kissies barely made the top three Kissies this PPV insane

- I loved Mina before this match and I knew she wouldn't win and there was no way they could make it okay is there a loophole where Mariah can just pin the victor and win because we're not allowed to actually have the secret lesbian polyamory endin- oh we are?! And we have!!

- Nigel McGuiness's level of commentary Pettiness for Bryan's match was unmatched and I am so so so glad I caught up on watching This Documentary like a day before the PPV.

- The growing disconnect between commentary and textual on-screen queerness happenings growing wider and wider until it feels deliberate and hilariously played into halfway through like a dubbed Sailor Moon joke. Watching video of Mina and Mariah make out while talking about how they're best friends and Toni is a mother to her. Nigel calling Wheeler Yuta 'Danielson's Young Boy'.

- Gonna be honest I'm not following the Zack Sabre Jr & Orange Cassidy yaoi plotline yet but 'freshly squashed' Orange Cassidy did look very sad when he got fucked hard in front of all those people, forced to safeword, then got handed his sunglasses, and told to call an Uber with no aftercare.

- Absolute tonal whiplash then (or not if you're into that, we do not kinkshame here at AEW) when Samoa Joe's twink of the season forgot his compression shorts and Hook wanders out with a prominent boner?! With some staying power, and I am reminded like three minutes in that his father is one of the commentators and not Mr 'we do not kinkshame here at AEW' so I'm sorry it's all I can think about while they're getting CAMERA angles for the big screen and his dad is talking about how his son is the least experienced of all the guys on the mat

- LADDER MATCH GOOD. Everyone in it so sexy holy shit. Mark Briscoe you feral little demon what was that jump from the chair in the ring? Titty twister. We need to keep Takeshita more often too goddamn, sign something. He should have won. Shocker at who did but eh. No surprise wins this PPV.

- Speaking of, Stephanie Vacquer? Holy shit? Uhhh can we get her vs Mina? Please? Forever?

- Jon Moxley is a puppy and he was so lost they dropped him off at the wrong door and he was wandering around trying to find the ring and say hello everyone for so long.

- When you've been intimately engaged with someone's body 63 times before it says a lot to pull out the toys (Steel Chair) less than 2 minutes into the fight.

- The kind of muted and very split approaches to Swerve vs Will made me really nervous tbh, like were these very casual fans? More New Japan people? I was very worried with Ospreay being a fan fave for so many people that even with him being set up as the heel in this fight, and given the kind of Meh response to the reigning champ who is cool as fuck (but West Coast and black and more of a brawler in his best fights) they were going to do some disrespectful shit and yank it off him like they did to Kofi Kingston to try and help ratings.

- Holy shit can I say that that fear was misplaced? That was a Hell of a fight. Great story. Swerve is SO much better at story than Ospreay and he sold that shit as well as showed off the technical chops that got him the championship but I have Never Liked Will more than after watching him get the shit beaten out of him by Swerve. His selling has always been meh to non-existent, but it was way better here, and some of that is the camera focus on Swerve yeah but the ending? And the Post-PPV clips in the ring and behind the scenes? I am EXCITED for Wednesday. BANGER fight. THAT'S MY CHAMP.

[depdivevinyls08]

VINYL REDISCOVERED: AN ANALOG TREASURE TROVE

In a world where digital music reigns supreme, there is a timeless and cherished medium that has experienced a remarkable resurgence – vinyl records. As music lovers from all walks of life rediscover the magic of vinyl, they uncover an analog treasure trove that offers a unique and enriching musical experience.

One of the most captivating aspects of vinyl records is their superior audio quality. The analog nature of vinyl produces a warm, rich, and authentic sound that digital formats often struggle to match. Each track is faithfully captured, preserving the nuances and emotions of the music, creating a captivating and immersive listening experience that transports us to the heart of the artist’s performance.

Playing a vinyl record is not merely a casual activity; it is a mindful and intentional experience. The process of selecting a record, carefully placing it on the turntable, and gently lowering the needle engages us on a deeper level. As the music begins to play, we become captivated by its mesmerizing sound, appreciating every note and lyric with a heightened sense of connection.

Moreover, vinyl records offer a tangible and tactile connection to music that digital platforms cannot replicate. The act of holding a vinyl record, examining its detailed album art, and reading the liner notes adds to the overall sensory experience. The larger format of vinyl album covers allows for captivating visual representations of the artist’s vision, making each record a collectible piece of art in its own right.

Beyond the audio and tactile appeal, vinyl records hold a historical and sentimental value. Many vinyl enthusiasts cherish records from past decades, which act as musical time capsules reflecting the cultural influences and tastes of different eras. Inheriting vinyl collections or discovering cherished albums from our youth evokes feelings of nostalgia and creates a bridge between the past and the present.

The resurgence of Vinyl store has also fostered a thriving community of collectors, musicians, and enthusiasts. Vinyl fairs, record stores, and online forums provide spaces for like-minded individuals to come together, share their passion, and celebrate their love for vinyl records. This sense of camaraderie adds to the allure of vinyl, creating an environment where music enthusiasts can connect and discover new artists and genres.

Furthermore, vinyl records encourage a rekindling of the art of listening to full albums from start to finish. Unlike digital playlists that encourage shuffling and skipping, vinyl invites us to experience music in its entirety, as the artist intended it to be heard. This mindful approach to listening allows us to fully appreciate the story and emotions conveyed through the music.

In conclusion, vinyl records are far more than just a nostalgic relic of the past; they are a cherished analog treasure trove that continues to captivate and enrich our musical experiences. With their superior audio quality, mindful rituals, tangible charm, and sentimental value, vinyl records offer a unique and soulful journey into the heart of music. As the vinyl renaissance continues, let us embrace this analog treasure trove and embark on a musical adventure that transcends time and technology.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

tranquilizer (erik lehnsherr x human!reader) [request]

summary: You and Erik meet again after a long time.

warnings: angst, fluff

words: 1.4k

Your heart skips a beat.  

“I trusted you!”, your voice falters. You had tears in your eyes, but it was all very clear in your sight. “I trusted you and yet again, you throw away everything we built! God, Erik, when will it stop?! Yesterday it was Shaw, tomorrow it might be the president! You can’t go on like this, we can’t go on like this.” 

“I never wanted this to happen, (y/n)”, Erik simply states. 

As if it was enough to change what he did. Thousands almost killed, Charles shot in the back, his Brotherhood now having a reign of terror all over the world... He couldn’t even look you in the eye, how could he? After everything Erik had promised you, after everything you both went through to be together, he still wouldn’t let go of his past. His mutant shenanigans would always come between you two, no matter how much he tried to tell you otherwise. Only then you understood; it was a battle you just couldn’t win. Not even all the love in the world could make Magneto forget his vendetta against humanity. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Erik. I just... I can’t.” 

“Then leave.” He has a stone-cold expression, but you can almost taste the resentment in his words.  

You wouldn’t leave, he knew you wouldn’t. You didn’t until now, despite everything he’d done, but you were just too hurt. And your decision now was going to hurt even more. “I just need some time alone, and I think you need it too. Maybe it’s the best for us now”, you sigh, the tears in your orbs finally making their way down your cheeks.  

“Do what you must”, he spits, voice so angry it contradicted his stoic posture. “I have always been on my own. Nothing is going to change.” 

“You don’t believe that”, you point out, suddenly mad that he’s trying to put on this facade for you. He did that to everyone, but not you. You were the only person he wasn’t afraid of showing himself to, and yet, the only things coming out of his mouth are lies. Lies, lies, lies. You were just so tired. “When you come to me trying to apologize again, just know that I won’t hear any of it. This is it, I’m done.”  

Erik holds your gaze, unblinking. “Farewell.”  

You wanted to punch him, smack him, yell at him. You did no such thing however, choosing to leave with a simple nod. Wiping away your tears, you turned your back at him. There was a metallic noise when you shut the door behind you, as if he’d thrown something on the wall, and that was it.  

He had lost you for good.  

Standing before Erik right now, after so long, your mind couldn’t help but rush to that moment where everything had come to an end, inevitably. He had the same neutrality in his features as he always had, betraying no emotion, but you knew better than to believe in it; that was just yet another attempt of his to fool you. A frustrated one, of course, as you could read him like a book. The slight quiver on his lower lip when his eyes met yours was maybe unnoticeable to Charles or Logan, but not to you. The plane even moved a little, making you grip the edge of your seat in reflex. He was distressed. 

“(y/n)”, he is the first one to speak, staring at you with his hands closed in fists.  

“Erik”, you respond, and you can almost see Logan rolling his eyes in the corner. He took a drag of his cigar and looked at Charles, pointing his chin toward the door which gave access to another room in the plane. You watched as they both left in complete silence, clearing your throat when Erik took a seat across from you. “Long time no see, huh?”, you try to sound casual, pretending his presence doesn’t affect you that much. 

Erik, on the other hand, didn’t seem in the mood for games. “What are you doing here, (y/n)?” He is direct, still visibly tense and surprised, no doubt.  

You study his face and sigh, giving up your farce of looking unaffected. He’s just always been better than you at that. “I came because Logan asked me to. He said you’d probably need a... Tranquilizer.” You shift your gaze to the window, wanting to roll your eyes at Logan’s stupid words.  

Erik scoffed. “Tranquilizer? Like I’m some sort of mad-man.” 

“Well, you did kill the president”, you consider bitterly, risking a look back at his direction. He was serious still, although less uneasy. “Why did you do that, Erik?” You desperately ask, unable to keep the words in your mouth. 

He shakes his head. “I didn’t kill him, I was trying to save him. He was one of us.”  

“You gotta be kidding”, you say in disbelief.  

He doesn’t care for your reaction and shrugs. “It’s the truth, whether you believe it or not.” Your mind is still processing this revelation when he leans in closer, causing you to back up a little. His scent is still as inebriating as before, even after years, and it is just too much. The slight panic in your demeanour was probably undeniable and Erik grinned slightly, making your cheeks go red. “Who needs a tranquilizer now?” 

“I hope you’re in your right mind, then”, you change the subject, feeling naked as he looks at you more intently now.  

“I’m not crazy, (y/n), and you know that”, he muttered, and there was a tenderness to his tone that you couldn’t quite ignore. His hand slowly made its way to your side on the table as an invitation and you stared at it for some time, only to turn your gaze back to him. There it was; the blue eyes you couldn’t refuse even in your wildest dreams, the charming smile that still haunted you ever so often. “Didn’t you miss me?”, Erik asks, so softly you couldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t as close.  

Your heart skipped another beat. “You know the answer to that question.” You blurt out, avoiding his gaze by examining his palm. There was a moment of silence before you decided to finally take his hand, intertwining your fingers. “I didn’t want to leave, but you left me no choice”, your voice quavered, and you took a deep breath trying to hold back the tears.  

Erik squeezed your hand and your eyes met once more. “I know, my love. I know”, there is bitterness in his words. “You don’t deserve what I put you through, I know I broke your trust. And I am truly sorry for that.” 

You paused, considering his words. You’d heard them a thousand times before, you’d believed them just as many times. But somehow, somewhere deep inside you, you wanted to believe again. You wanted to trust him again, and the way he was waiting for your answer, staring at you so lovingly, made you realize you’d endure all the hurt in the world if it meant being by his side, regardless of his transgressions. You still loved Erik so much, it was just helpless to try and escape him now. So, you’d let your heart make the decision this time. 

“I missed you”, you confess, caressing his hand with your thumb.  

He gave you a sad smile, his blue eyes never leaving yours. “So did I.” Erik then stood up, stopping at your side as he looked down at you. He slightly pulled you by the hand, holding your waist when you were facing each other again. His lips were still curved upwards as he inquired: “now, will you do as you were told and tranquilize me already?” 

You chuckled, letting him kiss you sweetly. He hugged you tighter and his tongue entered your mouth without warning. You groaned against him, mirroring his advances, and the plane gave another jolt. Some stuff fell to the ground with the impact and you gripped his torso to steady yourself, making you both laugh through the kiss. God, how you felt at home in his arms.  

Charles and Logan appeared again, causing you to separate. You were a little flushed and went back to your seat, while Erik remained standing up. The professor also went to sit in silence and Logan followed him suit. You exchanged a look with Logan and smiled amusingly, making him scoff and shake his head. He turned his attention to the things on the floor and glared at Erik, then at you.  

“That’s your tranquilizing?” 

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Can we get sequel to goose’s best friend??? That was fantastic

I'll have you all know I had this saved under the working title "Goose's Mom Has Got It Going On"

Goose's Best Friend, Part 2

Part 1

Summary: After finding out your flirty pen-pal was Carol Danvers, you have to see if you can look past your shared past and make it work.

Pairings: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,897

A date with Carol Danvers was dangerous. There were about a million things that could go horribly wrong, all of which you ran over in your head as you walked to the cafe down the street, the blonde in question at your side. Neither of you had spoken a single word since you’d agreed to a coffee date after she’d shown up at your apartment and admitted that she had been the girl you’d been flirting with over the little notes on Goose’s collar.

When she’d first showed up at your door, you’d refused her.

You hated Carol Danvers, right? She was arrogant, self-centred, and an all-around pain in the ass. She was not a joy to be around and that had never, not once, been debatable. Not until that moment when, for some unknown reason, your heart skipped a beat when that too-familiar grin crossed her lips. You’d managed to ignore the feeling, tightening your grip on the doorknob to ready yourself to shut the passage that was open between you.

“Danvers,” you’d said, suppressing the shake in your voice. “Sorry I wasted your time.”

“Wasted my time? What do you mean?”

“We’ve never gotten along much, have we? Who’s to say that should start now?”

You’d tried to shut the door, then, but she’d put her foot in the way. “Coffee. Tomorrow morning.”

Uncertainty was something you thought you’d never see in the eyes of the army pilot. Yet, there she’d stood, gaze cast just past your head at the golden numbers nailed to your apartment door. It was something that made you momentarily forget just who it was. That show of uncertainty was comforting to you. It showed she’d changed. If she could change her attitude for just a moment then, who was to say she couldn’t change her attitude just a little more? You wanted to meet the Carol who had sent you all those notes.

“Tomorrow morning,” you’d agreed. Then you’d shut the door.

Now, here you were, walking into the small cafe at her side. She held the door open for you, an awkward smile tugging at her lips as she did. Your smile was just as forced, and the quiet thank you just as uncomfortable. Neither of you fit into the atmosphere one bit. It was calm, peaceful, and comfortable inside. You were wringing your hands together because you weren’t sure what to do with them, and your gaze was locked to the ground, unsure if you should be looking at Carol or not.

You finally stepped up to the front of the line, eyes travelling over the board quickly. Carol ordered a black coffee, and then her eyes turned to you. You cleared your throat hard before you ordered yourself a drink. When the barista asked suddenly, if it was together or separate, you and Carol both tensed up impossibly more. Her mouth opened and then shut once as she tried to find words. After forty-five seconds of tense silence, you whipped your wallet out.

“Together. Credit.”

You paid for both drinks and then moved to wait for them to be prepared. The entire time you waited, neither you nor Carol spoke a word. Instead, you bathed in the most uncomfortable silence you’d ever felt before in your entire life. Finally, the drinks arrived. You handed Carol hers, and she led you to a table in the corner. You both sat down, the silence reigning until you finally decided to clear your throat and be the first to speak.

“So, you have a cat.”

“Yeah. He’s a good cat. I got him from a friend,” Carol said, before sipping her drink. “Long story.”

You decided not to prod about that. You didn’t know her well enough to. Instead, you only nodded in response. You took to glancing around the room, something that gave you a reason to look away from Carol whilst not seeming awkward about it. There weren’t many other people in the cafe, and you didn’t stare too long at any one of them, lest they think you were being rude. Eventually, your gaze moved back to the blonde across from you.

“So, I guess this was unexpected,” Carol laughed tightly. “Me, I mean.”

“I was surprised. It was… unexpected,” you repeated.

“You don’t sound overly pleased.”

You had to stop and think about that. You’d been avoiding pondering just how you felt about this. When you’d worked up the confidence to ask your anonymous pen-pal to a coffee date, you’d been quite excited. Once you’d found out just who you’d asked on a date, though, your feelings had changed. You were still open to it, even if you were a little more hesitant. It made you nervous. Carol Danvers had never liked you and you’d never liked her. She’d spent every moment you’d ever spent with her teasing and taunting you and you’d never enjoyed it.

“Surprised,” you repeated. “We’ve never much gotten along.”

Carol shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t ecstatic either, you know.”

That was starting to sound a little more like the Carol you knew. Of course she would say something like that. For a second you had to stop and remind yourself of who you were talking to. You took a deep breath, focused on the warm drink in your hands, and then looked back up at the army pilot. She wasn’t looking at you, the comment she’d made obviously not having meant anything to her. That fact almost made you even angrier.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Carol only let her gaze flicker to you once before turning it back to whatever she was looking at behind you. “I mean it’s you,” she said nonchalantly. She looked back at you. “But I came anyway. After those notes, how couldn’t I?”

“You came anyway,” you repeated with a scoff. “And that was right after you overlooked the fact that it was me, right?”

Your voice had risen just enough that the table next to you was able to hear your conversation. They may have been trying to be discreet about it, but you know the young couple sitting across each other, hands clasped under the table, were listening in. Every once in a while their eyes would wander to your table, their conversation had dropped, and they were leaning a little closer than necessary. You wanted to give them a rude gesture with your hands, but then again, you wanted to give that same gesture to your date.

Carol rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you did mean.”

“You’re not exactly my type, you know.”

“And what’s that mean, Danvers? I'm not exciting enough for you? Pardon me for enjoying peace and quiet.” You stood up. “You’re welcome, by the way, for the coffee.”

You stood up and left your half-empty drink on the table, making for the exit. Carol didn’t stop you.

*

You were half tempted to hang up on the woman that was on and on in your ear. You lay back against the arm of the sofa, tucking the cordless phone between your ear and your shoulder. You grabbed the TV remote off the end table beside you and turned the TV on. It was the time of day for your favourite TV show. The sound of the theme song caught the attention of your best friend. She gave a very loud shout of protest, making you scramble for the phone to pull it away from your ear.

“You are not seriously watching TV right now!”

“I am seriously watching TV. Miami Vice is on.”

“You need to go knock on Carol’s door, and-”

You snarled. After the whole incident with the notes on Goose’s collar, you’d been unable to not think about the sweet side of Carol. When you saw her or saw Goose, it’d been all you thought about. But you’d gotten over it. Once more Carol no longer elicited any feelings other than rage. That was how you liked it. There was no want for anything else. In fact, you made sure that Carol no longer took up more than five minutes of your thoughts. You didn’t need to let her rule your life like that.

“I won’t do any such thing. I’d rather date the Wicked Witch of the fucking West.”

“Well, pretty soon that’s going to be your only option left.”

“You should see me right now. I've practically fallen off my seat with laughter,” you said, sarcasm coating your words.

There was a knock at your door before she could answer. You didn’t even tell her as you put the phone down on the coffee table, turned the volume down on the TV, and headed for the front door. You opened it up without checking who it was, and your eyebrows furrowed momentarily when no one was there. When Goose strode into your apartment with confidence, though, you couldn’t help but smile. You shut the door behind him and picked up the phone once more.

“Sorry. I had to get the door,” you muttered, jamming the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you reached for the cat treats.

“Was it Carol?”

“It was not,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It was my new best friend.”

“New best friend?!” She hesitated a moment. “It’s that cat, isn’t it?”

You decided not to dignify that with an answer. You turned to hand Goose one of the treats, only to find that he’d disappeared. You glanced every which way to find him, but the tabby was nowhere in sight. His presence was announced when you heard the shatter from the living room. The red mug that your grandmother had given you for your birthday was in pieces on the floor. You scowled at the cat, but when he glanced up at you with wide eyes, you found you couldn’t stay mad at him. Instead, you grabbed the dustpan and hung up the phone with a quick apology.

As you swept the red pieces of ceramic off the floor, you glance up at Goose. Casually, he licked one of his front paws where he was sat upon the coffee table. You might have looked away, but you noticed the small piece of paper taped around his collar. There was some unidentifiable feeling swirling around in your stomach. You hadn’t talked to Carol since the incident in the cafe. You had half a mind to just leave the paper where it was, but you found, as you dumped the broken mug in the trash and tried to resume watching your show, you couldn’t get your mind off it. Finally, when Goose made to stride past you, you reached out and took it.

For a few long moments, you held it folded in your hands. There was no way there was any sort of apology on the small note. That was not the style of Carol Danvers. Not that you knew, anyway. You turned it over a few more times in your hands before you finally unfolded it, still hesitating before you read it. Goose was watching you as if he were interested to see what your expression might be. You glanced down at the untidy scrawl that belonged to your least-favourite neighbour.

Can we talk?

You wanted to write out a simple no as a reply. She didn’t deserve that, did she? Not when you’d already given her a chance after she’d been nothing but terrible to you for well over a year. You crumpled the note and threw it across the room, watching it fall on the floor beside the TV. With nothing more than a simple grumble, you reached for the TV remote, turning up the volume, sitting back, and putting all of your attention into the show in front of you.

*

The sun streaming through the window of your bedroom was blinding. You’d been too distracted to remember to close the curtains the night before, so it was unobstructed as it was amplified by the glass pane in your window and shone into your eyes. With a hand raised to protect your eyes, you glanced over at the digital clock that was sat on your nightstand. You’d slept in. That fact didn’t surprise you much. You hadn’t slept much.

Only when you let your head fall back against the pillows once more, eyes squeezed shut to protect them from the bright light, did you realize the second presence you could feel in your room. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a little surprised that it was still present. You reached out with your left arm, using it to feel around the bed to find them. It didn’t take long, the other body being well within your reach. Your hand made contact so that you were both awake.

“You’re still here,” you mumbled, stretching as you turned your head to meet open eyes. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

Of course, Goose didn’t answer.

He’d been your companion the night before when you’d been tossing and turning, unable to get your brain to stop thinking about Carol’s note that was still crumpled into a small ball on the floor in your living room. He’d sat by your side and let you stroke the fur on his head as your mind raced, your own thoughts not letting you get a good night’s sleep. Eventually, he’d even curled up next to you on your bed, a strong sense of comfort coming from the action. You ran a hand over his head.

“Thanks, Buddy.”

He mewed in response.

You decided it was well time to get up, so you rolled off the bed. The first thing you did was jump in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of the stress from the night before. When you emerged in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Goose was still on the bed. You waved for him to follow you into the kitchen. You started the coffee maker and went to the fridge to grab the creamer. There was none left. You groaned, the noise drowned out by Goose’s loud cry from behind you. He was sitting by the empty bag of treats.

“Yeah, me too,” you grumbled. “Wait here. I’ll go get more.”

So, you grabbed your keys, slid your feet into your shoes, and headed out the front door. You weren’t expected for Carol to be there, hand raised as if she’d been preparing to knock on the door. For a brief moment, she glanced behind you to take a look at Goose on the kitchen counter. Her gaze moved back to you. You were still a little shocked, not having been prepared for the early-morning (or, technically, early-afternoon) encounter outside your door.

“He stayed the night?” She asked.

“Mhm.”

It was a stupid response, and you cursed yourself for it right away. She didn’t seem to think twice of it. Her eyes were searching your face carefully. You didn’t know what she was looking for, but you were forcing yourself from blushing bright red. Judging by the absence of her usual smirk, she didn’t know that. You shut the door behind you, stepping around Carol to remove yourself from the closeness you’d been forced into.

“I was just going to get some coffee creamer. Did you want him back?” You said, shoving the keys into your pocket.

“No,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” was all you said. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk.”

You could’ve slammed your palm into your forehead. Of course that’s why she was looking for you. She’d actually told you that she’d wanted to talk. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d sought you out to do just that. You supposed that’s what you got for not giving her a response. You nodded, finally, and leaned against the wall behind you, arms crossed over your chest. It was a posture that made you look closed off, and that was exactly what you wanted.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day,” she began slowly. “And I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you since I’ve lived here.”

Maybe you’d been mistaken. Maybe she did know how to apologize.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I’m sorry I stormed out.”

“I was just… I was hoping you’d give me another chance. Maybe lunch this time. On me.”

You sighed. “How many chances do you think you deserve, Carol?”

You’d meant to ask the question with anger. It had been intended as something rhetorical. What it came out as, though, was hurt and broken. At some point, it had become a sincere question. With eyes just as sincere, though, Carol took one single step closer.

“I just need one more.”

You hesitated. She’d hurt you. She was dangerous. But she didn’t want much. Just one more chance. You wanted to give it to her. You wanted to let her try and prove herself. That’s what your heart wanted. Your head was powerful, though, and rejected the feelings of your heart. It was screaming something different.

It was only one more chance, but you had to decide if she deserved it.

“Why don’t you start by walking with me to the store?” You offered.

Carol nodded. “I can do that.”

And, just maybe, that was the start of one more chance.

[loth-wolffe]

Congrats on the 100 Followers !!!!!Soo i saw the Song Lyrics Prompts and ... well duh i would deffo request my all time fave Crosshair and no 14 ! And you know.. Fluffy smut it is all good when it comes to the ones we love :D

HI! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! AND THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS !!!!

Pairing: Crosshair x reader (no y/n)

Warnings: okay so I knOW YOU ASKED FOR SMUT BUT. I didn't remember and I just got this very cute ficlet and completely forgot everything else and this came out being a whole different thing. bUT. i will make it up to you and write another version of this prompt for u. I'm so sorry really. i hope you like this tho.

So no warnings. it's a bit angsty, too, heh.

Prompt: 14. I know that you're scared because hearts get broken. - Golden by Harry Styles

Word count: 900

Saying that love is easy is an understatement, really.

It's hard, and harsh, and merciless. It's unknown and also familiar, because you have experiences to compare it too, from your parents to your friends to your past lovers.

Love is scary, because it's uncharted territory, no matter how much you've read about it, if you've seen it, if you have felt it before. Because every new person that comes, brings new challenges, something you haven't felt before. It brings chaos, too.

It paralyzes you, it had never happened before and it does now, when the sniper even looks your way, you freeze completely. Your breathing stops, for just a second, and your face flushes, and you feel embarrassed and dumb.

It makes you shy away, from conversations that might lead you somewhere else, with him. You have no problem talking with his brothers, or talking with him when around his brothers, but he had approached you once or twice alone and you had babbled and stuttered enough to make you scurry away whenever you have the chance.

But love, mostly, when there's even a single sign, a fleeting chance you might be falling again, makes you protect yourself, it makes you defensive, building walls taller and thicker than what they used to be, shielding yourself with steel doors and a million locks wrapping around chains.

Love is frightening, sure, because it might leave you broken. It can leave you in pieces, destroy you to the very core. It leaves you falling, hard and fast and you can't hold onto anything, onto anyone, and you hit the floor, and you're left there, bleeding out, with just you to stitch yourself up, alone, tired and hurt.

So you do nothing, and wait for it to pass. He'd leave, eventually, to some mission that takes him months to come back, if he ever does, and boy, you might even think he does just to annoy you.

Because he comes back every time, his body carries him with a confidence you sometimes envy, and it always leads him back to you.

It's a knock on the door that pulls you out of your thoughts. He's there, leaning on the frame as if he reigned the space, a king coming so casually to see his people.

"Yes?" You ask, because he doesn't say anything and you don't know what else you could say.

And he enters, as if the cramped office was his, and it's not the first time he's been there, but there is no reason for him to sit in the chair in front.

Your breath hitches when he leans over.

"I have a question," it's all he lets go, his voice sends shivers down your spine and you wonder if he knows what he does to you.

He must, because otherwise he wouldn't be there.

His eyes follow your movements, from the way you turn your datapan off to how you lean back against the back of the chair. The corners of his lips turn upwards just the slightest.

"Alright." You close your eyes a moment to kick yourself mentally, you don't have to be so awkward, you think, but then again, you don't know how not to be awkward around him. "Shoot."

"Would you consider going out with me?"

There's a silence, because with him you always let silences make their way between the two of you. With widened eyes and pated lips, you stare at him, searching for an indication that he might be joking, but his face betrays nothing, so you ask,

"Going out with you?" just to confirm.

He nods, once, a small frown on his face as he takes a paperwork that has been sitting for too long on your desk, disinterested in its contents as his eyes go back to yours.

"As in, a date." Your heart skips a beat and you take in the possibilities, and among all of them where you say yes, you see yourself getting your heart broken.

You shake your head,

"I don't know." You admit, because you really don't.

He shrugs.

"I won't break your heart if that's what you're worried about." His tone is like he's talking about the weather and your eyes snap at him, only to find his amber orbs already searching for yours. "Tech told me that's why you wouldn't speak to me."

You should've known better than to confide Tech such secret.

Crosshair looks at you, really looks at you, as if he could see your soul, grab your heart and hold it tight, kiss it better and patch it's bruises.

"I won't let it break, as long as you don't let mine break either."

And it's such a vulnerable thing to say, you think, to open yourself to someone enough to let them know you feel scared too.

Maybe it's a path you can both walk, a mutual arrangement you can take, holding his hand as you go down.

"Yeah," your voice is a whisper, one that cuts the silence and reaches him softly, the words holding him as he falls and you hope he is there when you fall, too, "sure, I'll go out with you," you say, and he smiles, the action making the butterflies you've been kept caged for so long flutter wildly in your stomach, "as in, a date."

You want to trust him. You'll have to trust him.

[xoxowrestlinggyrl]

Backlash.

Requested: Yes

Pairing: Dominik Mysterio x Afro-Latina Reader

Word Count: 2341

Warning[s]: Just one curse word! That’s all.

Summary: You are a wrestler with ten years of experience and a friend of the Mysterio family. Dominik has a massive crush on you. He asks for your help with training before Wrestlemania Backlash.

A/N: I'm back and better than ever. I hope you all loved this! Sorry for the wait to the person who requested this.

Days before Wrestlemania Backlash Rey and Dominik Mysterio were declared the number one contender for the Smackdown Tag-Team Titles. They will face the current champions, Bobby Roode and Dolph Ziggler at the upcoming PPV. You could not be happier for the father-son duo. The past few years, you have gotten close to the Mysterio family. Coincidently, it was during the time Dominik began his professional wrestling career. You have seen improve so much from when he first got in the ring to today. Since you already had your match, you were sitting on one of the crates backstage, checking your phone. When you heard the familiar voices of Dominik and Rey, you slipped your cellphone in your jeans pocket and hopped off the crate.

“Hey, future champions.” You greeted them with a smile on your face.

Dominik let out a small chuckle, “Future champions? Already predicting the results of Wrestlemania Backlash?” He teased.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Only this match since I am not on the card. I have to live vicariously through my favorite father-son duo.” You were joking with them. Seriously, you were excited about the match. Rey and Dominik have the chance to make history if they win the titles. Also, it will be Dominik’s very first title reign.

“I hope we don’t disappoint you, Y/N.” Rey let out a laugh as well. He looked between you and Dominik. “I have to go call Angie. She wanted to talk to me about renovating our house.” You and Dominik looked confused. This is the first either of you have heard about them wanting to remodel their home.

“That’s the first time I heard anything like that, padre.” Dominik looked at Rey.

Rey looked at Dominik, “It’s something your mother and I just started to talk about.” He “subtly” signaled to his son. Maybe, it is something you were not supposed to notice. You ended up noticing it though. Is there something going on? You did not want to think they are hiding something for you. They are some of your closest friends. You decided to dismiss any thoughts you had. It is not anything important, right?

“Hasta luego, hijo and Y/N,” The man told the two of you abruptly before walking away. Rey was in a hurry. He must really have to talk to Angie about the renovation, right?

Now, you and Dominik were left alone together. “Are you excited for the upcoming PPV?” You nudged him a little bit.

“I am.” Dominik stated before he looked down at the ground for a moment. There is something wrong with him. It concerned you a bit.

“What’s wrong, Dom?”

Dominik looked up from the ground, “I am just not sure if I am ready yet.”

“Dom… don’t doubt yourself, okay? You are more than ready and for this.” You placed your hand on his shoulder, looking up at him. “I have seen you improve so much over the past two years. You are amazing in the ring. I know Rey is so proud of you.” A smile grew on his face as he listened to you.

“Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate it. I do have to ask you something…”

You watched as Dominik grew shy. Honestly, you were not sure what to expect for him to ask you. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you and I could train together? It will help me get ready for the PPV. You are the great, Y/N, after all.”

You felt your cheeks start to warm up just a bit. You are thankful for your brown skin. It helped masked the blush a little bit.  “I’m not that great. I just have ten years of experience.”

“Ten years is not anything to sneeze at. You are so talented. It would be an honor to have you train me.”

You smiled at Dominik, “Yes, I would love to train you, Dominik. I’m going to go easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Dominik grinned at her.

“Are you free on Tuesday? If so, let’s go to the Performance Center to train.” You suggested to him.

“I am actually. Tuesday is perfect. You got yourself a date, Y/N.” Dominik’s eyes widen when he realized how it sounded. Your heart skipped a beat when he called your training, “a date”.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I I did not mean it that way. Uh, I was confirming that we are going together. You know? I mean, it’s not like you wouldn’t be bad for anyone to date—”

A slight laugh fell from your lips, finding this adorable. “I know what you mean. Don’t apologize.” You assured him. “It’s a date,” You were sure it was just a mistake on Dominik’s part.

~~~~~

It was Tuesday. The day you and Dominik were going to meet up at the Performance Center. You were running a few minutes late because you overslept. When you pulled up to the center, you see Dominik waiting outside. Since it is early in the morning, you managed to find a parking space. You got out of your car, grabbed your bag, and rushed to the front of the building. Your hair flowed in the Florida wind as you ran over to him. He smiled as he seen you. Dominik greeted you with a hug.

You hugged him back, “Sorry, I am late. I overslept.”

“That’s okay. It was just a few minutes.” Dominik stated, casually. He pulled away from the hug.

“Are you ready to train?” You asked with a grin on your face.

“Ready as I will ever be, Y/N.” Dominik opened the door for you, letting you into the Performance Center first. He entered in right after you.

The training is going smoothly. Right now, the two of you decided to take a break. You have no doubts in your mind Dominik is going to do great. However, you cannot deny the chance to help your friend. You were sitting in the middle of the ring, sipping on your water bottle. Dominik stared at you from the other side of the ring. He was not very subtle about it. You closed the bottle as you looked over at him.

“What? Is there something wrong?”

Dominik was thrown out of the trance he was in, “Your water bottle is shaped weird.” Your eyebrows raised, looking at the bottle and back at him. He had a playful tone in his voice.

“Oh yeah? Those are fighting words. This bottle is expensive!” The bottle is not expensive. It was at an average price. You and Dominik joked like this, constantly. You set it down to the side, getting up from where you were seated in the ring.

“Well, let’s fight then.” Dominik joked as he got up.

The two of you began “fighting”. Dominik began tickling you. You let out a loud laugh. “You’re a cheater!” You exclaimed in between laughs.

“You’re the veteran here, Y/N.” Dominik joked as he continued to tickle you. An idea popped into your mind. You launched yourself at him. You and Dominik landed on the mat with you on top of him. Laughs fell from both of your lips.

“You got me,” Dominik stated while laughing.

“Yeah! I do.” You were still laughing to. Your laugh started to fade a bit as you both stared into each other’s eyes. His dark brown eyes are just so beautiful and inviting. He began to lean in to kiss you, and you did just the same. Your lips nearly brushed his when you were quickly reminded how wrong this would be. You are so close with the Mysterio family! How will they react? Then, you pulled away before you both could kiss.

“We should get back to training.” You began getting up. Dominik looked confused, but he nodded his head. Even though you both went back training, it was so awkward. Neither of you could handle it, so the training was cut short. You hightailed out of the performance center, getting into your car.

“Shit.” She huffed under your breath as you slammed your fist in the steering wheel.  Why did you have to make things so awkward?

~~~~

The night of Wrestlemania Backlash came. You avoided Dominik through the week.  Honestly, you did not know how to talk to him about this. You wrecked things by pulling away. What if he is mad? Avoiding him probably made things a whole lot worse. You were dressed up casually since you were not scheduled tonight. You felt a tap on your shoulder. When you turned around, you gasped when she seen Aalyah. It has been a while since you have seen her. You pulled her into a hug instantly.

“I can tell you’ve missed me,” Aalyah joked as you hugged her.

You nodded her head, “I really have. There is so much we need to catch up on.” You both pulled away from the hug.

“I couldn’t agree more, Y/N.” The two of you began walking down the hall together. The PPV hasn’t started yet. Rey and Dominik’s match is the third one on the card. It gives you ample amount of time to catch up with Aalyah and talk.

While the two of you were catching up, Aalyah decided to address the elephant in the room. “What is going on with you and Dom? He told me what happened.”

You looked down at the ground. This is the conversation you were dreading. However, you should have known this was going to happen.

“Y/N?” She looked at you.

A sigh fell from your lips as you looked at her, “I totally ruined it with him. I panicked when we were about to kiss. I was afraid of what your family would think because I have been so close with you all for such a long time now. I don’t want you all to think the only reason why I wanted to be friends with the family was to get to Dominik.”

Aalyah looked at you, “Come on, Y/N/N. You know way better to believe we’d think that. We’ve been friends for way too long to believe that was your intent. If you want to know, Dominik has a massive crush on you. He fell for you the first time he met you. He is going to be pissed I told you, but he should have said something a long time ago.” The young woman let out a slight laugh. A Cheshire grin formed on your lips, knowing Dominik feels the same way about you. You got to make this right.

“I doubt he is going to be pissed when he knows I feel the same way.” You slightly joked. He can’t be mad, right?

~~~~

You and Aalyah were sitting backstage, watching Dominik and Rey’s match. The two of you were on pins and needles now. The father and son tag-team had to dig deep in this match. It was a close one. Rey hit Bobby with the 619 and tagged in Dominik. He climbed on the top rope and landed a Frog Splash on Roode. (Eddie would’ve been so proud). He went for the pin. The referee began counting. Dominik got the three-count. You and Aalyah jumped up from your seats, screaming. You and Aalyah hugged each other before hurrying up to the guerrilla. The two of you managed to make it up there before anyone else. The father and son tag-team walked up the ramp. Dominik smile faltered a bit as soon as he seen you. He looked surprised to see you here.

Rey looked at Aalyah. The two of them began walking away. They know you and Dominik needed to talk.

“Congratulations, Rey.” You stated before turning to look at Dominik. “Hi, Dom. You did amazing. I told you that you could do it.”

Dominik grinned, “Thank you, Y/N/N for believing me.” He had his tag-team belt on his shoulder. There was an awkward silence between you two.

“I am sorry about the other day. I crossed the line, and I never intended on making you feel uncomfortable around me.” Dominik apologized as he looked at you. He looked into your eyes.

You looked up at him, “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry for avoiding you the whole week. It wasn’t anything you did. I was scared…” You began.

Dominik’s eyes furrowed in confusion. “Scared of what? Talk to me, Y/N. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

A sigh fell from your lips, “It’s stupid. I was worried your family might think I only became friends with them just to get to you.” You told him. Dominik eyes narrowed a bit. “I know, it doesn’t make any sense.”

A small laugh fell from his lips, “Not at all. They were waiting for the day you and I would get together. I’ve had a big crush on you since the first day we met, Y/N. I never said anything because I didn’t think I had a chance.” Dominik cheeks started to blush just a little bit as he said this. You couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your lips.

“Dom, you have always had a chance with me. I’ve liked you for a while now. As you know, I was nervous too.” You admitted as well.

Dominik’s beautiful brown eyes were staring into your eyes. He leaned in to kiss you. This time around, you didn’t pull away. You and Dominik kissed, and it felt right. This was meant to be.

“Finally! We’ve been waiting on this forever.” You and Dominik pulled away to see Rey and Aalyah standing there.

Dominik sighed, “Dad, come on. This was a moment with Y/N and I.” He pointed out to Rey.

“Not anymore. We have to celebrate winning the Smackdown Tag-Team titles and your relationship with Y/N finally blossoming.” Rey stated while Aalyah nodded her head.

“He’s right. This is night we have to celebrate.” You held Dominik’s hand.

“You are right about that one, beautiful.” Dominik agreed with you as you both began walking down the hall, following Rey and Aalyah.