#WAS I JUST. NOT PROCESSING THAT I WAS TYPING THE COMMAND WRONG

[dilf-docs]

Hand To Heart (I'm Gonna Stay Faithful)

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: a pregnancy scare makes you realize just how deep you are in this.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., pregnancy scare, fingering (WE GET IT U LIKE IT), bit of praise kink, humilliation kink, breeding kink (they're stupid and insane acc), dacryphilia, sex thru the looking glass (there's a mirror in reader's dorm), ANGST in capital, they're starting to catch the feels™ ur honor, hurt/comfort, plot thiccens, this people are clearly NOT in a good headspace btw idk we listen read and don't judge.

word count: 4,757 words

side note: everyone calling this joel nasty but thirsting after him too? was going to hold a trial over my citizens but yk... what the hell, sure! i too want nasty bfd!joel to ruin me: he can be my baby daddy who doesn't pay for child support of our 4 kids and we'd make way to bed for our 5th LET'S GO also spam time! but i also happen to write in wattpad, and got a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) it's on spanish tho, but if u speak the language and would like to tune in, u can read it here

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It's a regular Tuesday when his phone rings at ten in the morning.

"Dad"

Joel gets up from his desk in a brash move, immediately picking up his daughter's worried tone. Tommy bursts inside, telling him to calm down, but all Joel can hear is the anxious beat in his chest.

"What's it, babygirl? You okay?" his throat tightens. "Talk to me"

There's silence before she answers, as if she's unsure to continue.

"It's not me" he feels his muscles relaxing, but then Sarah drops the bomb. "It's y/n"

Joel's heart beats with a different type of worry.

"What's wrong with her?" voice firm but emotionless.

It's almost summer again, and he's still seeing you. In a way, you had carved a space for yourself in his cold heart, so naturally, fear settles in. He'd never admit this things out loud, though.

"I don't know, dad" his daughter starts to rush the words out, panic evident on her voice. "She has locked herself in the bathroom and won't stop crying. I-I didn't know who else to call"

"Don't worry" but it sounds like he's trying to convince himself. "M' comin'. S'anyone else in there?"

There's a pause on the line before she answers.

"No"

He thinks of you. He'd seen you cry before, of course, but it'd been over silly childish stuff, like getting sent to bed early or not getting what you wanted for Christmas.

He thinks of you. Images of your pretty face, etched in pain, make his stomach drop. It isn't fair: your face was one destined to be happy for eternity, your smile so contagious Joel would sometimes find himself surrendering to your juvenile joy, his crow feet a little more notorious since you entered his life and carved your space on it by force; a light in the dark.

He just couldn't bear to see a mirror of his dullness on your face. It wasn't right.

"Stay put. I'll be there"

He tries not to think about your eyes drained of life. He tries not to think he's the cause. And then, he hangs.

As soon as Joel enters your dorm, your perfume is up his nostrils, providing him with a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. It was comforting and familiar, words that used to be hollow now carrying a knowing feeling that stung right on his chest.

"Dad" Sarah calls out, going for a hug. Joel embraces his daughter tightly while caressing her hair. "I'm so glad that you're here. I didn't know what to do"

"Breath in, babygirl. S'alright" he looks at your door, closed. Broken sobs can be heard, and his wounded heart feels like a heavy burden on his chest.

"My class starts in ten" Sarah speaks against the fabric of his flannel, "but I just couldn't leave her like this"

His daughter has a good heart. At least one of them did, anyway.

"Go to your class" he's commanding before he can fully process what he said.

Sarah breaks the hug, looking at him with a look he can't quite place.

"What? But, dad-" she tries to protest, concerned for your wellbeing.

"I'll take care of it. Always do, haven't I?" he sees her hesitation, and afraid of where her doubts would take her, Joel adds a small joke in there. "Y'know those classes ain't free, kid. Go ahead"

"Okay" she gives up. "Just... tell me if anything happens, yes?"

"F'course. Trust me"

"I trust you"

He still remembers when Sarah's kindergarten teacher handed him that drawing: Joel was wearing a cape, and she said his little girl had told everyone in class his dad was a superhero because there was nothing he couldn't do. That same admiration and faith is there in her eyes, even as the small naive kid slips from his fingers and turns into the woman that stands before him. He's not the devil, but the worst father in the world, and that is pretty much the same to him.

When Sarah is out of your dorm, he's trapped inside the small room with your heavy crying on the other side of the door. He looks at the small place, thinking about all the times he's sneaked inside during the night, hiding like a criminal as you wait for him behind the door full of scrapped stickers, ready to capture his lips with an eagerness that gnaws his chest.

Now it's just him and your sobs, his terrified reflection displayed in the mirror in front of your bed, mockingly staring back.

What are you doing? it questions, and Joel, always ready to answer, has suddenly lost the ability to speak.

Forcing himself out of such a pitiful state, he approaches the door, knocking softly.

"Sarah" your hoarse voice speaks up, and just then, he realizes how much he loves hearing your voice, no matter how it sounds. "Don't you have classes to go to? Leave me, please. I promise I'm good, I-"

Joel hears your distress, so he interrupts what looks like the start of a nervous rambling wreck. Huh, doesn't he know you so well?

"Sarah's gone" a beat, "It's me, Joel"

As if you wouldn't recognize that deep voice even if you were deaf.

There's silence before the door flings open, surprising Joel, who takes a step back, barely noticeable to the rest, but obvious to you, who has spent hours admiring him and all his small movements, he who you could draw by memory and built in your head as real as he who was standing before you, his eyes circling with a whirlwind of emotions you can't quite place, yet make your heart race.

Joel takes in the sight of you, deciding it's unfair how good you look, despite your disheveled hair, run mascara and red-rimmed eyes: you are still the prettiest sight he's ever seen, and now he doesn't know what scares him the most.

"You're wearing my shirt" he says out loud his latest discovery. It's all he manages to say: not an are you okay? nor an what's wrong?

No, Joel just happens to be very stupid(ly in love).

"Sarah didn't see me" you hug the fabric that makes your frame look smaller, or maybe it's your tired composture that makes it seem that way, avoiding Joel from enjoying the way his shirt looks on you. "If that's what you wanted to know. Been inside there for hours, already was when she came by"

The fact that you rather explain and assure him of his supposed possible worries instead of sharing your own, makes his stomach tie on a knot. Were you too kind or perhaps selfless? Maybe just stupid(ly in love).

Joel grunts, and you're not sure if it's his way of dissmissing your comment (maybe he thinks you're lying), chastising you in a shallow manner or the fact that you're poorly trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Maybe he thinks you're still a foolish careless child who can't comprehend the weight of whatever it is you're doing by being with your bestfriend's dad behind everyone's back.

"Tell me" he gets closer to you, fingers on your cheeks, but they don't dig the skin, instead, his roughness hiding a surprising tenderness to them. "What happened, y/n?"

The rawness in his voice takes you by surprise. Joel Miller, who seemed a man impossible to waver, now stood before you, wrapped in a gloom that left you at loss for words, something akin to hope planting it's seed on your heart.

"Tell me" he demands, yet his pupils move as unsteady as your heart. There's no power for command in his voice, only what you could allude to helplessness.

Was it because you were putting up walls like he did?

Was it because the consequences of being with you are starting to dawn upon him?

Whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What's wrong?" he's pushing for an answer softly, such a contrasting image to that of him in bed. "Please, talk to me"

Please.

The words slip past his trembling lips, defenses crumbling.

Joel Miller hasn't pleaded since Sarah's mother packed her bags and walked out of their shared home. He promised himself he would never be vulnerable again, never at the feet of a loved one, beggin to be seen.

To be heard. To not be hurt. To be loved.

But here you were, red eyes blown wide at a confession spoken through other words.

Please.

Your chest feels heavy, breath constricted.

"Joel..." you utter his name like a prayer. As something to believe in; something to hold.

He rushes to your side, strong arms caging around you as your labored cries fill the tiny room.

"S'alright" he whispers against your ear, burying his face on your shaking shoulder. "M' right'ere, doll"

Your hold turns more desperate, practically clinging as if your life depended on it.

"Take your time, y/n" your name so soft, you feel like crying more. "I ain't goin' anywhere"

"Promise me" you whimper, holding tightly.

"I won't go" he assures. There it is, the same unwavering strength you know. It's for you, he thinks.

"Joel" you call out again, tone terrified. "I think I'm pregnant"

It takes him at least a minute to speak. Even to breathe.

"...What?"

He feels your erratic pulse against his chest.

"Joel. Look at me"

He doesn't feel your heartbeat anymore. Just then he realizes he's backed down, embrace letting go of yours. Joel takes in your eyes, shimmering with new tears and fears.

"Joel?"

"I'm here" his voice sounds like it belongs to someone else, and the reminder like it's for himself.

"I know" your small voice speaks up, "but, just- please, look at me"

Joel holds your gaze, and it's like your air supply as been cut.

We don't want this.

"Are you sure?" Joel asks cautiously, as if you were a small animal he's afraid to scare.

"No" you breath in. "I bought the test, but I couldn't take it... I was, for the very first time in my life, scared. But there's always a first, isn't it? That's when Sarah found me"

There's always a first. You weren't afraid when he pounced you next to his sleeping daughter, neither when you didn't stop coming and he let you in everytime, and absolutely not when he obscenely ate you out while Sarah was on the phone. No, you were brave―brave enough to stand defiant when his conflicting gaze pierced through you, daring you to be the first to leave this mess and forget about him. But you were brave because you stayed, despite it all.

That had to mean something, right?

"You said you wouldn't leave me" it comes out in a shaky breath; a threat. Your voice seethes with a quiet rage. "You promised, Joel"

Like the word promise was a dagger twisting on his insides, not a sacred oath.

So he forces himself to be that hero Sarah still thinks he is. After all, he promised her he's going to solve this, didn't he?

"I did" he runs a hand through his hair. "Got the test with you?" You slowly nod. "Take it, then. I'll wait here"

You don't move from your spot, chest still moving uneven under your labored breaths.

"When you come out, I'll promise I'll still be here"

He can't promise you more. The world? It's what you deserve but not what he can give; Joel can only give so much.

"Okay" your tone is clipped, and that's all you say before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

The room feels smaller than it is, the small plastic stick feeling heavier in your fingers than it actually is. You hear the clock's tick, Joel's frantic pace and your own irrational beat. It feels like a bomb: ready to explode and destroy everything within it's range.

Time drags like a cigarette, walls closing over your shaking pale frame. Your phone has a timer going on, yet for some reason, it feels an end to your beginning. You hug your body, wishing it was Joel's arms doing so.

But you saw it: fear, hesitation. It was on his eyes, auburn cracking like wood under fire. He was weak, and so were you. All of this... it starts to loose it's meaning. What started as a summer fling now falls upon you like a second skin you can't quite wash off, and it's suffocating as much as the enclosed space where a stupid line could change the rest of your life forever.

Joel outside isn't doing much better. He's aware his walking probably set you on edge, so now he's sat at the small bed that dips under his weight. He takes one deep breath, two―then looses count.

How could he be so careless? For a brief moment, why did he let himself believe it could be?

For God's sake: you were his daughter's friend. He had seen you and Sarah play on his house, laughing on his porch, gossiping on her bedroom. Growing up.

He wanted you, a desire so consuming it sometimes kept him up at night, thoughts confusing with something else. Probably fear, probably acceptance.

Joel is aware you changed his life. You, with your wild spirit and obnoxious laugh. You whom he couldn't tear his gaze away when standing in the same room, a magnetic force making the world around you drawn to you and that dangerous allure you had that made it impossible to resist you. To forget you. To live without you.

He feels dirty. A monster. A wolf with an insatiable hunger, sinking his canine teeth on your soft flesh. He'd drink your blood, to always keep a part of you with him; to be one. Like a lamb sent to the slaughter: but you wanted it. You had placed your head inside his jaw; trusting. As if knowing he could devour you, yet he'd never hurt you. Daring, almost.

Show me you can love me. Take a bite. Take me as yours. Mark me. Ruin me for anyone else. My blood, it belongs to you. This isn't a sacrifice―this is love.

When you exit the bathroom, hand holding the pregnancy test, it's all clear to him.

For a moment even, Joel forgets there's a world outside and sees a small baby: they have your smile, your eyes―and nothing of him, because you're the sun of his moon, the light of his darkness, and that baby is a mirror of you and your beauty. You and your warmth, devoid of his cold and far from where his filth can taint it. They have to look like you, because you are the most beautiful person in the world, and suddenly, the idea one more of you is possible, makes it feel like just you isn't enough.

"It's negative"

For the second time in the day, Joel is rendered speechless. His gaze is trained on the floor, lost in thought. Besides his lack of an answer, whatever he's thinking makes you nervous.

"Joel, are you okay?" you call out.

He swallows the lump on his throat, pose awkward before he moves next to your bed.

"M' fine, baby. C'mere" he sits over it again, motioning with his hand the empty spot next to him. Joel's embrace is warm, like it shields you from the cold harsh truth.

"Are you upset?" you ask over the comfortable silence, the underlying tension stretching like a rubber band.

"No" his answer comes quick, "but I won't lie to ya', doll. Thought for a sec and ol' man like me could give a pretty girl like yourself a baby as beautiful as their mamma"

A treacherous pink dusts your cheeks. Had you lost all your common sense? Seconds ago, your life hung by a fragile thread, and now all your body can think is to go for the same risk again. Fuck it.

"Did you? I thought you were too busy freaking out"

Joel lets out a nervous laugh. "M' a busy man, doll. Learned how to do two things at once"

A fire settles in your stomach when his touch lingers over your soft flat belly, longing.

"Hmm, I see" your fingers move from his hold to his collarbone, as they play with the buttons he hasn't wore.

"Y/n" he warns. You stop for a moment, not because you're unsure, but because when you look up, his eyes don't shine with that glint of danger and hunger that gives you the thrills. Instead, they look at you with a fondness he doesn't seem to even realize―the one that gives you the hope of it all.

"I want this" you speak up, voice confident.

"I don't think that's a good idea, doll. What'ya need is-"

"You" your face gets close to his, cutting his words and breath. Joel's adam's apple bobs, your throbbing pussy going through a Pavlovian response, such action an indicator he's surrendered to you, mouth watering at just the thought. "You said you could do two things at the same time, right? The comfort me in the only way you know"

There's hesitation on his eyes, and while you think it's because he's still hung up on the idea this isn't what you need, Joel's mind is stuck in the fact you think he can only warm your bed but not your heart. It's stupid, indeed. It can't affect him that much. Ashamed, he cuts the space hanging between your lips and traps them in a heated kiss.

"Hmh, Joel" your voice barely audible as Joel's fingers grip on your hair, his sleazy tongue sliding it's way into your mouth until you can feel it in your teeth. "Please..."

He chuckles at your neediness. "Please, what?"

"Please" you whimper, feeling your back heat with droplets of sweat under Joel's shirt, the sticky feeling akin to that starting to pool in between your thighs. "Please, make me feel good"

Joel smiles adoringly, moving your body until your legs are up his shoulders. Sure, his knees covered by his dirty worn-out jeans are ruining your fresh laundry, and his joints may crack here and there, but you don't pay mind to this little things: all you care is how he's kissing your bare thighs, his salt and pepper stubble tickling skin that feels more sensitive than ever; burning almost.

"Gon' touch 'tis pretty pussy 'til you forget y'r name, doll" he breathes out. "Will ya' let me?"

You nod eagerly as he helps you get out of your panties, throwing them somewhere around the room. You smack his arm playfully at his rough manners, but then he's pressing his lips with wet ticklish kisses on your legs and laughter bubbles at the tingles it's causing.

"S-stop, Joel!" you beg, legs shaking. Your giggles are contagious, and soon the foreign feeling lifts the corners of his scowl into a smile, a concept becoming more familiar with time.

"I ain't stopping" his fingers then graze your clit, tauntingly. You whine, as Joel doesn't let up on your clit, his calloused digits coated in your arousal. "'Tis what you asked for, baby. So 'm gonna make you feel good. So good until you can't speak nothin' that ain't my name"

The threat feels like a delicious promise, so you tell him you'll behave.

"I wanna try somethin', doll. Wait" you whine at the loss of his fingers inside of you, and then he's moving your body until he's against the wall and you're on the border of the bed. With your eyes, you follow his line of view. "So needy, ain't ya'? Cockhungry slut. Jus' scared the shit out of me and now you want me inside?" he tsks. "Sick fella"

"Joel..." you breath out, desire pooling into your orbs.

"Wanna see you, doll" you see your reflection in the mirror as Joel lowers his head to whisper on your ear, eliciting goosebumps on your skin. "Want you to see yourself, too. How you'll be beggin' for me"

His middle and ring finger dip between your folds as he continues the minstrations, fingers pumping in and out as they graze your moist cunt. They start to go in circles, and even if it's not exactly next to your bed, you can see the mirror begin to fog, whines condensed in the heavy air.

His shirt clings uncomfortably to your body, but you don't care. In a way, he feels even closer to you, as if he was an extension of yourself.

Joel's body radiates heat on it's own, making the room's temperature skyrocket.

You lean your head back onto the mattress, moaning.

"Need ya' to use that pretty mouth of y'rs, doll. Say it" his fingers linger on the dip of your hips, waiting for an answer with a smirk and daring manner. "Say what ya' want; that's if you can"

It takes you a while to speak up, the slippery sound of Joel's coated fingers the only sound to be heard on your dorm.

"I... I need" you whine through labored pants, "I need you, Joel"

I need you, Joel. It's in the heat of the moment, really, yet on that very instant, he makes a silent vow that hangs unspoken in the air.

"Good girl" he bites your earlobe, making a chill run down your spine.

His fingers fuck into you just how you like it: swirling to explore your inner tight walls.

"Fuck. Love how your pussy takes me, doll. 'S mine, isn't it? Say it, say who this pussy belongs to. Who's the only man allowed to have it"

You close your eyes, but the answer comes clear. "You, Joel. Just you"

You whine, feeling him go harder in a new-found confidence. Your nails dig on his biceps, but he doesn't flich, still busy burying his fingers inside your clit as his mouth continues spilling filthy shit you barely can comprehend, mind starting to go numb.

Normally, Joel would make you cum on his fingers, always making sure to lick it after, claiming it was bad manners to leave to waste. But today, the clock ticking in your wall, he knows he must hurry.

"Eager, eh?" you taunt back, seeing how quickly he's pulling down his underwear, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Your dripping cunt welcomes his cock, tip teasing your entrance.

"Don't" he seethes.

"Don't?" you laugh. "Don't what, laugh?"

His fingers grab your jaw tightly, forcing you to look behind you.

"Don't stop lookin', doll"

Joel slips the tip of his cock into you, his hands grabbing your waist to steady you. He looks at you through the mirror, seeing your dazed eyes, waiting as you bite your lip.

"That's it, good girl" he praises, purring against your ear. You see his face go down and lick the side of your neck before sinking his teeth in it. "Gonna reward you for'at"

Your mouth falls agape when he fully pushes his cock inside of you, burying himself to the limit in the first thrust. You moan, stretch wet pussy trying to adjust to his girth. He groans, his hips moving back and forth with yours, to meet his thrusts.

"R-right there" you whimper, feeling eyes starting to water. It had been a long day, and with his cock buried deep inside you, you can't think of anything else: just him―like this, for the rest of your life; you don't need more. "Fuck, don't stop"

His thumb rubs across your cheekbone, capturing a tear that had slipped past your foggy mind in a brittle moment of vulnerability, brown eyes flickering with something else. It could be.

We could be.

"Fuck, you cryin' over this cock, doll? What'a fuckin' slut" he laughs incredulously, but there's a hidden fondness to it. "S' that how good 'm makin' you feel?"

You can only moan, his dick harder now, his infatuation with your fucked-out state evident in the way his movements become more hectic.

"Can't even speak? What'a dirty minx inside 'tis sexy little body"

"Mhm" you blabber, tears running hot down your cheeks, landing on the mattress in fat droplets, noticeable through the reflection even. Joel stares back at your puffy eyes, devotion pouring at your glossy gaze, coated in a faint red tint, more pronounced from your earlier cries. Fuck. Never did he think your lambent eyes and sniffle sounds could turn him on this much. Something about him being the cause of it has his head spinning.

"New rule" he growls, "you keep those pretty red eyes lookin' at me when you cum"

You whimper at his words, the powerful aura they carry pushing your orgasm closer to the edge. You feel your tight folds clenching around his cock, hands holding to his back while your nails dig in it. You feel yourself approaching your release, multiple tears escaping down your cheekbone. In an obscene gesture, it isn't his thumb but his tongue what removes the wet stream from your body, feeling the salty drops on his tastebuds.

You were already so worked up, it was a matter of seconds before you could cum at any moment. Your walls clench around his length, and before you can process, Joel pulls your body up, caging your tits until they're pressed against his soft chest. You face the white paint of your wall, and Joel can see your back in the mirror as he's still buried inside of you. You gasp at the change in position, all of the sudden, a painfull delicious sensation flooding your senses.

"You're gonna cum, aren't ya', doll?" Joel's asking, hot breath nestled in your neck.

"Hmh" you barely manage to blurt as he fucks into you harder, your arms clutching onto him. You were being so loud now that you were sure you'd get at least one noise complain, hoping it stays there; if they found out not only had you been fucking, but with a fourty year old man who happpened to be the father of your bestfriend, you'd probably get expelled. "So close..."

"You know?" he whispers, voice fragile over the sound of your pants and worked up breaths. "I was scared, ealier. M' sorry you had to see that" your body trembles, making you close your eyes. "But I need ya' to know, for'a moment, I did think about having a kid with you"

Your forehead drips with sweat, mixing with the sodium of your tears.

"Maybe in 'nother life, huh?"

Your heart feels like it's about to burst when he sloppily kisses you, as to prevent any words come out of your mouth―humilliating or full of regret, avoiding the heart ache of a rejection. Joel, for a moment, lets his heart wander off to territories he shouldn't, thinking of things he should leave to be. Joel digs his hole deeper, but he doesn't care: he just wants to be the best grave in your cementery.

"Maybe" you answer, but it sounds like a possibility, the promise of a foolish mind betraying the guarded hidden hope.

"Fuck, Joel" you bury your face against his soft pecs, your orgasm crashing over you. Your whine comes our rather loud, trying to drown the sound against his body. He doesn't stop holding you on his arms, firm; you'd probably fallen if he didn't.

"Wait for me, doll. 'M close"

"Please" you plead, kissing his jaw. "Need you. Want to feel you, Joel"

Not daddy, but his name. I want you. I need you. Want to feel you; for you to fill me. He groans, rhythm sloppy as he crashes his lips into yours. he should stop, especially after today's events, but God, his traitorous head is filled with images of you, belly round with his child, one carved to be the spitting image of you.

Do it.

You moan inside his mouth when you feel him finish inside of you, thick, your fingers running through his dark greying hair damp with sweat.

"M' right here" he says his words from earlier, and you feel yourself hugging him to keep his body next to yours even as he pulls out.

"I know" you hum, arms around his neck. "Thank you for coming"

"What of both?"

You let out a laugh.

"Jesus, Joel" but your tone is devoid of malice, adquiring that layer to it, just like his own. There's a shift in the air, and if you felt it before, now you know there's no point of return. "You sure are something else"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs / dts: @ann-gell; ángel de mi corazón, tkm mucho, gracias por llegar a mi vida ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

[vixenofthemist]

DESERT HEAT

Abysswalker!Rafayel X Princess!MC Rating: E Words: 4,220 tags: Minors Do Not Interact, Heat/Mating Cycles, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Fluff and Smut, not plot related but he has the tamino wolf cut lmao

Her Highness was used to the sound of her balcony door opening in the dark hours of the night when the desert palace was asleep, but this time was different as the noise brought her from a dream. 

Blinking sleep from her eyes, she lifted onto a forearm as she peered through the darkness, the form of Rafayel becoming clearer where he stood rigid. Hand still on the doorknob.

“Rafayel?” She questioned as she rubbed her eye with the back of her free palm. “What are you doing here? I didn't summon you in my sleep again, did I?”

“No.” His voice was tight and slightly ragged, but he was in enough shadows that she couldn't make out the details of his features besides the broader shape of his mask and face above.  One glance at where the fishtail beacon remained hidden beneath her pillows proved she hadn't been holding it. “I… did not mean to wake you.” 

There was a sincere apology in his voice, and she smiled.

“Not many could get away with it, but you're an exception for most things.” Her Highness then reached out her hand, and beckoned him to her. The loose fabric of her nightgown- worn because it was the season where the hot temperature remained even into the night- slipped down her shoulder and revealed her bare skin. 

Rafayel didn't budge at her invitation, causing her to frown.

“Rafayel? Aren't you going to come closer?”

“No.” She had never heard his voice waiver before, but it did, even in such a short word. Her confusion turned to concern now, and she sat up. Soft sheets pooling around her waist and her sleeve falling even further down her arm. Revealing half a collarbone.

She could hear the sharpness of his gulp from here, and the faint sound of metal creaking accompanied it.

Something was definitely wrong. Rafayel was too in control of his own reactions to give off such clear tells usually, yet here he was barely able to control his own strength.

“What has the poor doorknob ever done to you to deserve such a treatment?!’ Her Highness accused, pushing her bedding off her and sliding her feet to the floor. “If you damage it too much, Natasha will-”

She didn't get to finish her sentence, as one look at her temporarily exposed legs brought a strangled noise from the back of Rafayel's throat, and suddenly he was doubled over on his knees. One hand on the floor to support him as the other covered his eyes.

“Rafayel!” She raced towards him, but he halted her halfway with a shaky hand in the air.

“Don't.” Rafayel's voice held command to it that would have made her knees weak on any other occasion, but right now she couldn't process anything but worry. “Just- give me a moment to-”

“What are you talking about? You're clearly hurt!” She kept moving forward, and his hand fell easily when she batted it away to kneel in front of him. She could see beads of sweat gathering in his hairline, and his visible ear was almost red beneath his long hair.

When she pressed her palm against his forehead, the hand covering his eyes dropped away and she could see now the barest peek of pink skin at the edge of the mask.

“You're burning up. Oh no- um-” She felt woefully unprepared to treat him. She’d never taken care of someone sick before. 

“Bath?” She landed on, rather weakly. If someone was this hot, maybe soaking in cold water would ease the heat? “I-I can draw you up a cold bath, would that… help?”

“Yes. Please. Water- any type-” He begged, and a new sense of urgency flooded through her. Lemurians went through something called Ebb day, right? It was rare with the tides being no more but rumors said sometimes they experienced phantom symptoms. If this was what Rafayel was experiencing, then he had put himself in real danger bringing himself to the palace when he was at his weakest. 

She had to try and get him back on his feet enough for him to escape before dawn, but when she withdrew her hand from his forehead she found her wrist caught and jerked back to him. He rubbed his nose- mask still on- against the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. Inhaling deeply.

“You have to leave.” Rafayel was unsatisfied with the amount of her smell he was able to get through his mask, so he quickly clicked it off and discarded it onto the floor where it slid beneath Blu-blu's table. Her cheeks burned as he now slid his nose from wrist to palm. Muttering as he did so. “It's bad to be near me, you have to go away.”

“Y-you're the one who came into my room,” She pointed out. Her turn to swallow hard as his lips brushed her skin ever so slightly. Leaving a tingling sensation in his wake. “AND the one keeping me from leaving. You need a bath, but I can't prepare it for you if you don't let me go!” 

She gasped as his teeth bit- just barely- into the meaty part of her palm. She was lost now. She had heard Ebb day took a Lemurian's strength yet here he was able to keep a tight hold of her even as she struggled to get free. 

“Rafayel, what is going on?” When she said his name the breathy back of throat noise was back again and he shifted his heady gaze onto her, and the cogs clicked into place as she registered what that noise was.

He was moaning. 

Rafayel was moaning because she had said his name, and immediately she wanted to make him do it more. Saying it again was on the tip of her tongue when the moonlight hit something reflective on his cheek between the strands of hair, and at once her free hand brushed them aside to see what it was.

Dark blue, muted scales scattered across the highs of his cheekbones and down into the collar of his shirt. Her Highness' breath caught in her throat and all desires to tease were thrown out of her mind.

Right! The ebb thing was happening she couldn't- Rafayel was in danger - she had to be the responsible one between them for once- 

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction of which of her hands he wanted to lean into, she withdrew both and leapt to her feet. Managing to turn and get a step away before strong arms were around her waist, and Rafayel's full body weight leaned against her lower back and legs and suddenly she was falling forward-

Her squeal was muffled by one of the softest pillows from her bed snapping to catch her fall. Brought by one of Rafayel's chains.

He was now laying on top of her, shifting upwards till his head rested between her shoulder blades and his hot breath spread across her skin. His weight pressed down on her, and she was flushing something awful as she lifted onto her forearms.

“R-raf-” Her reprimand died on her tongue as her own shifting made something firm and thick rub against her thigh, and Rafayel groaned in response and pressed a kiss to her spine, and her mind turned to momentary mush as the realization of what was actually happening hit her.

“Rafayel… are you in heat?” She couldn't hide the excited quiver in her voice and she bit her bottom lip, shifting her leg to rub against the tent again. In response Rafayel groaned. Mouth hot and open against her left shoulder.

“Your fault.” He rasped, his arms shaking in restraint as even now he was desperately trying to keep it together. ��Usually it's nothing. Barely even a problem but- but you called for me yesterday and…” His tongue swiped a hot path from the nape of her neck up to behind her ear where he took in a deep breath. “Can smell it on you. Fills my senses. Couldn't- can’t think of anything else but how your body is all ready and waiting for me.”

A mixture of embarrassment and thrill coursed through her, and her thighs pressed together.

“You can tell I'm…?” She turned her head, uncertain of how exactly to describe it, and he eagerly pitched forward to press their foreheads together. The tension in his brow loosening as if being close to her eased whatever experience being in heat brought him.

“Fertile? Yeah.” Rafayel filled it in for her. Nose brushing against hers and their lips were a breadth apart. “Makes sense, doesn't it? Lines up perfectly with me to fu-” He cut himself off with a harsh inhale, and he was suddenly off her. Rolling onto his back with an arm thrown over his eyes.

“Fuck. FUCK!” His chest was rising and falling rapidly. “I- I didn't mean to come here. Meant to go further away but I blinked and you were in front of me so pretty and tired but- This isn't your problem to deal with.”

“Problem?” Her Highness had never heard her voice so low and silky as it was now as she crawled towards him till she was in reach to delicately drag the back of her knuckles against his scales. “How could this be a problem?”

Rafayel was blinking quickly as he lifted his arm just enough for one eye to look at her. 

“You don't understand-”

“I think I do.” She cut him off, tracing the scales down his throat. “Lemurians go into heat to reproduce, right? All their senses and thoughts go into the extremes and won't calm down till their urges are sated…” 

Rafayel's adams apple bobbed beneath her fingertips. Skin still burning hot with what she now knew was desire.

“Do you know how relieved I am that this is something I can help with? I thought I was going to have to nurse you back to health and we both know that would be a disaster!” She laughed lightly, and the corners of his mouth upturned despite everything because it was a ridiculous thought. “No, this is… exciting.”

The sound of the top buckle of his collar clicking open moved his arm from his face and she found herself half laying over his head now. Balanced a little awkwardly on her hands and knees.

“You don't understand.” He repeated, raising his head so he could trail kisses along her exposed collarbone between words. “If we started, it wouldn't be quick nor once. I'd take my time filling you over and over so something will for sure stick. Maybe till sunrise, maybe till noon… Someone would come get you, and they'd catch us.” 

Her knees felt wobbly, and a gasp left her as his hand pushed a breast out of the low dip of her nightgown, and his mouth latched onto it. Marking the tender flesh.

“What would they say when they see their precious princess being used by a dangerous Lemurian like that? One that's personally killed so many of their nobles, and now so dangerously close to their immortality?” His voice was low and dangerous with lust. But her own arousal was only growing at his words, and leaking through the already moist fabric of her underwear. 

“If anything, I'd be using you.” She slung a leg across his abdomen to angle her aching center against the hard and ridged leather of his coat as if to make her point. Using him for momentary relief. “I hate it here. I want nothing more than to leave, and if I was with your child you'd have to take me, wouldn't you?” 

His still gloved hand grasped the back of her thigh to urge her to rock against him, and she gasped into a moan as his own reverberated around the nipple he had in his mouth.  

She grinded down, trying to find the spot that would properly satisfy the pulsing ache.

“If- if you don't take me they'll marry me off as soon as they know.” She braced herself against his shoulders to give herself more friction, and his head snapped back to look up at her. His eyes darkened to a deep purple and the saliva string between his mouth and her breast broke.

 “They'll claim I slept with whoever they decided to marry me off to, and I'll be forced to be someone else's bride-” 

Her breathy pleas were cut off with a yelp as Rafayel's mouth suddenly crashed into her. Hands on either side of her face so he could slot their mouths together properly.

They were both desperate and needy, and it came through in their kissing. 

It was raw and instinctual, a dance of tongue and teeth fueled by the rocking of her hips releasing more of that smell that drove his innate desires crazy. It only ended when lungs burned for oxygen.

They panted into each other's swollen lips, and after catching his breath enough to speak, Rafayel dragged a thumb across her bottom lip.

“Mine.” 

That growl brought a delightful whimper of agreement from her, and when he pressed back in with his tongue she was pliant in letting him in.

Her movement had stopped; she was too caught up in how devouring Rafayel was with his kissing to pay attention to herself, but Rafayel hadn't forgotten.

 Hands shifted to her waist, and his teeth pulled a little on her bottom lip before he leaned back against the marble floor.

“I hope you're serious about this, because I can't hold back anymore. Need you so-”

He couldn't finish because there were no words to encompass the depths of his love for her, because that was the basis of why his heat was affecting him so intensely. The love that burned so fiercely it had left a permanent mark on time itself spurred the want to make up for lost lifetimes together.

She did not remember, but she did not need to to recognize what he did not say. She held his face and he nuzzled into her palm. Eyes fluttering open and closed.

“I've never been more serious about anything.” She confirmed, brushing back his sweat soaked hair from his forehead so she could press a kiss to his scales. “I want nothing more than to be with you, Rafayel. In every way, including this and what might come after.”

His heart swelled, and she was urged onto her hands and knees. Thighs framing his face.

“Have to get you ready first. Want you to enjoy it.” As Rafayel spoke, fingers hooked into her underwear and pulled it down her thighs. Seeing the mess already there, an appreciative noise came from him. Spreading her apart with two fingers to get a better look. “You're so wet for me already, Your Highness.” 

“Was dreaming of you.” She confessed, and that revelation brought a full body groan from him before his mouth was on her; the occasional scrape of his earrings against her inner thigh a delicious contrast to the care of his tongue. 

She felt the pressure building in her as his ministrations got more focused and his fingers joined. Pistoning in and out of her while his lips focused on the bundle of nerves that challenged her ability to hold herself up with how good it felt to be stimulated. 

On one particular thrust and suck where he scissored his fingers to stretch her even more, her shaky arms gave out- and she found herself with her forehead against her wrists as her upper body weighted in on her forearms while her lower half was still above him. 

“You alright, Your Highness?” His hot breath was a cruel reminder that his ministrations had stopped as Rafayel removed himself to check in on her.

“Just s-sore. Awful posture lesson all day where I couldn't lower my arms while books were on my head.” She explained rather poorly, but they weren't exactly in a position for conversation. To remind him of that, she wiggled her hips in impatience that he had paused. “Fine now though don’t stop please, s’ close.”

He didn't have to be asked twice.

Sucking and stretching her walls as the chord in her pulled tauter and tauter till it snapped, and with a cry she muffled into her fist, she came on his tongue and fingers. 

Rafayel was like a traveler in the desert who found an oasis the way he began eating her out with even more fervor through the climax. Letting her ride and use him through it till she was blinking back to her senses. 

When she tried to moved away, his hands locked around her thighs. Keeping her there even as she tried to shift to get a moment of respite to catch her breath.

But the movement made her wince, and realize something even more pressing.

“R-Rafayel” She reached beneath her skirt and found his hair, and with a few insistent tugs she told him with a slight whine: “My knees hurt!” 

That made him unlatch himself, and tilt his head back- locks of dark purple hair spreading around the light floor- as a slanted grin made its way onto his handsome, red, upside down face.

“Hah, such a sensitive Princess.” He chuckled, giving one last kiss to her clit- proving her sensitivity in more ways than one as she shook- before he released her and sat up. 

“It's a hard tile on bare knees…” Her Highness pouted, but before she could get up herself Rafayel was lifting her- bridal carrying her to her expansive bed where he dropped her down onto the mattress. 

It was so soft that she bounced a few times with a squeak before stopping on her back with her limbs spread all around her, but all thoughts of sitting up left her mind in favor of ogling up at Rafayel as he started to undress.

One glove was already on the floor back where they'd been laying (She hadn't noticed when he took it off, but she should have realized he hadn't been wearing it when inside her), and it's twin followed suit.

His overcoat was next to be unbuckled and shrugged off easily, revealing the sight that always made her mouth water; The sleeveless leather shirt exposing Rafayel's bare, toned arms. Her eyes roamed over every flexing muscle and scar as his hands worked at his belt while kicking off the spiked heel boots, and once the belt hit the floor Her Highness found herself biting her lower lip in anticipation. Gazed locked on to the straining tent in his trousers.

Rafayel noticed, and his knees hit the bed as his pants were undone. Then one hand was around her ankle, pulling her towards him so he could crawl over top of her while the other freed and pumped himself.

“You want it my cute, cute princess?” He asked in the low timbre that went straight down her spine and into her renewed pooling desire. 

“Yes.” She said, airy and needy. “Need you so bad, Rafayel.”

To prove it, she rolled her hips up, and met him halfway for an open mouthed kiss.

She let her legs fall open as she felt him tease against her entrance, and once he felt the warmth of her against the tip a strangled moan tore from him and he had to cling onto every ounce of restraint in him to not snap into her all at once. Easing in instead till his pelvis was flush against hers.

He stopped there, both to give her a moment to adjust and to gather as much of himself as he could.

The memories of his past lives could never compare to actually experiencing the ravenous need that almost made his vision white out nor the feel of her clenching around him as she wiggled her hips. Telling him to move with a pleading whine at the back of her throat.

One hand settling on her hip while the other gave him balance on the bed, he obliged.

Rafayel's pace was fast and hard. Inching her further up the bed with every powerful thrust. Lavishing her neck, collarbone, and breasts with wet kisses and lovebites as he chased his first release-

But he couldn't do it before she did. Needed to satisfy his beautiful bride on him to prove he was so, so devoted. So skilled at making her feel good. So worthy of her choosing him to give her a brood because he wouldn't just fill her and leave- No, Rafayel was a better mate than that. Such a better option than the men she danced with at balls who left their pungent scent on her-

His teeth sank onto her shoulder where he remembered the vile stench of a “suitor”, as the maid called them, and Her Highness groaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Rafayel lifted his head to observe the indent of his mouth on her skin. Where those idiots could only put a whiff of claim, Rafayel could mark and scent her anywhere.

A smirk curved his lips as the hand that had been holding her hip slid down to find once more that bundle of nerves. 

“So responsive for me, your Highness.” Rafayel said with utmost appreciation. Eyes half lids as he watched her jerk and gasp at his touch. Her pleasure building at the combined work of his thumb and him repositioning her leg around his waist so his thrusts hit that sweet spot within her. At the new sensation, her nails dragged against the scales on his shoulders and her whole body arched off the bed- “That’s ‘cause it’s me, yeah? You wouldn’t be this good and ready for anyone else, right?”

“Y-yes!” She nodded as tears pricked at her eyes and slid down her flushed cheeks. Palm gliding up his shoulder to lace her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck.  “Lo-oove you soo- so much!”

“HA~!” Hearing that made Rafayel’s thrusts turn more sporadic, and a few scales on his face and neck glowed a bright blue, like the nature and instincts the desert deprived of him awoke at her loving moans. ��Say it again for me, My Heart. Tell me more how you love me and I’ll be yours even more than I already am. It’s all I need to survive, ya know. Your voice and your love- you won’t deprive me of it, will you?”

”No!” She shook her head, pulling at him to get closer to her. “Love you, Love you, love you, looove-“

It descended his mind into a haze of desire to hear her sweet music, and his tongue devolved into its own symphony of words she did not understand all of, yet she preened to hear it all the same.

A mixture of love declarations as ancient as the oceans and crude descriptors of his desires to breed her till she was swelling with his children all left Rafayel’s tongue in Lemurian alongside a quickened pace of his hips.

A loud moan was quickly muffled as she bit down on her thumb as her second orgasm rocketed through her, covering her noises as much as she could from the guards outside. Seeing it was the only thing that reminded Rafayel to do the same, and he collapsed down onto her with his mouth at the juncture of her neck and shoulder as he did one final grind into her tightness before shuddering into his own release.

His hips kept moving on instinct, shooting his warm ropes to coat as deep into her as he could before slowing to a stop.

When Her Highness blinked back from the clouds, she savoured the way Rafayel was almost dead weight on top of her, letting everything sink in d e e p as they came down from their highs with shoulder heaving pants.

Having recovered quicker, she wiped sweat from her brow and took in some quick breaths before running a hand through the soft strands of purple and blue. A slightly hoarse, yet very pleased, hum trailing into the tulle canopy above.

Her tuneless song was interrupted with a squeak as a few tickling pecks at her neck surprised her. Quickly recovering, she giggled and wiggled away from the teasing lips and tongue as best she could with Rafayel still hard inside her and his arms locking her in beneath him, but she had no plan of going anywhere else, really.

“That’s one, My Heart.” Said assassin god rasped as he lifted himself onto a forearm just enough that he could look into her sparkling eyes. His bangs tickling against the bridge of her nose. “Are you certain you want to keep going?”

As he asked, he rubbed a few comforting circles into her thigh.

She didn’t even consider it for a second before her arms were around his neck, pulling him down so she could kiss him.

“I have a great excuse to have us be left alone till tomorrow afternoon,” She whispered with a smile, tracing his bottom lip with a thumb. “All you have to do is chain the door, and keep all those appealing promises you made at the end there. I do know some Lemurian, you know.”

[bessa-ta]

Bubbles and You

bf!Viktor (arcane) x reader

Summary - You decide to help Viktor relax from his stressful work at the lab with a warm bath, which leads to you two becoming intimate :)

Genre - smut, fluff, intimate, shower sex

Warnings - mdni!, unprotected sex, cockwarming. I have no idea if i should add anything else. Let me know if so.

Attention: Bessa's first post! + I'm not really fluent in english, if there are typos and mistakes just close your eyes ❤️

Midnight. Another day in which you patiently wait for your Viktor to come back home from the lab. But tonight you had something in mind - a way to spend some relaxing time together when he arrives.

It's been like that for the past 2-ish weeks where Viktor comes home really late at night, and it would be a lie if you said that you weren't pissed off by now with this routine. Spending your nights alone until late in the shared bed of your shared little cozy house, missing the presence of your loved one, isn't something that you or anyone else would wish for but sadly it's what you are put to deal with.

For the short time Viktor returns back home to have a meal, take a quick shower, and finally get some sleep for a few hours, you can see the stress he is put into. You knew he had a hard time with the new device he is working on, so you could never be mad at him. You are not this type of person, you respect his hard work and ambitions even if the lack of attention to you hurt you.

Today you had something in mind though - helping him relax with a warm bath together.

Time - 12:41AM. Viktor is finally on the front door, removing his shoes. You go running to him, giving him a tight hug and a peck on the lips.

"You are finally here." you say with a smile. He smiles back at you as he closes and locks the door behind him.

The night passed as usual until Viktor made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. You followed him there, starting to undress with him. He paused for a bit, processing your actions.

"Y/n what are you.. doing, my love?" he asked with confusion since you two have never showered nor bathed together. Why were you undressing together with him in the bathroom was a big mystery he couldn't solve right now, woah.

"Will take a bath, with you." a simple reply you striked him with, which made him look at you with wide open eyes. It's not like you haven't seen each other naked before. Oh, you did (even did the freaky, not once). But having such an intimate moment together as bathing? Haven't done it.

"Stop staring.. undress finally." you say as you were fully undressed now, but Viktor stayed as if he was frozen in time.

"Is there something wrong? You don't want to?"

"N-no, no, no, I'm undressing! Done!" and for a second he got completely naked too.

Man's heart beats fast like a rabit's. He got so excited but also shocked about the idea of bathing with you that at this point, he just waited for your commands of what to do.

You filled the bathtub with warm water, added the bubbles, and together stepped inside, you helping him. He hates bathtubs, and he never bathes because of his leg. He would difficultly step in and out of one, but with you beside him to help, it was alright.

You two sat comfortably there. Your back pressed against his chest, warm water with bubbles touching your bodies in the dark bathroom where you put a few candles to make the atmosphere more romantic. Your hand was drawing circles on Viktor's (good leg) thigh and he rested his head on your shoulder.

"I really enjoy this. Thank you..." he said quietly and leaned to leave a kiss on your shoulder. One, two, three more, and he went up kissing your neck, slowly and softly.

"You work really hard... I want to help you relax." you said and turned around to face him.

"You do it everyday already." His eyes sparkled from the light of the candles. He looked at you with a sotf smile on his face. "After all the hours in the lab, coming home to you always gives me peace. Sleeping in your arms makes me think about nothing but feel your warmth and care. I love this." he took your hand in his and raised it to his lips, giving it a kiss. "I love you." he looked into your eyes again and pulled you into his lap.

You rested your hands on his shoulders while his rested on your waist, holding you there and kissed you softly. You kissed back, leaning in more into the kiss that your chest pressed against his now. The kiss grew hungrier, leaving you and Viktor breathless. He pulled away just to move down to your neck, leaving wet kisses and bites, marking you as his. You moaned and grabbed his hair, pulling it not to harshly. This made him suck on your neck harder, forming red to purple marks everywhere around it, down to your collarbones.

One of his hands reached up to grab your breast. He squeezed and played with it as his other hand still held you by the waist. Since you were sitting in his lap, you could feel his bare hardness against you. You felt so hot and worked up already that all you wanted was to take him in.

You raised yourself slightly on your knees, which surrounded him, and grabbed his shaft so you could position it on your entrance.

"Wait babe, a condom?" he stopped kising your chest to mention the miss of protection you needed to continue.

"Not this time." you were needy and couldn't wait any longer, he waited in front of your entrance damn it.

"Are you sur-" he couldn't finish his question because you were already positioning yourself down on him slowly, taking his length just perfectly. He moaned and rolled his eyes back to the sensation, grabbing your waist with both his hands and hips slightly bucking up to feel more you. Oh, you felt so heavenly, all wet and warm, just for him. He got dizzy, and he could see stars.

You started to move up and down, your hands still on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you felt him deep inside you. Viktor being a whimpering mess beneath you, moving his hips up because he wanted to cum so bad after not doing so for days.

You continued riding him but increasing your spreed by a little. The water in the bathtub moving restlessly with your rhythm.

Viktor could feel his climax approach, making him try to rut up into you desperately. You can feel your own approach too, so you didn't stop nor slow down your moves. Thankfully, the water surrounding you helped you not feel as tired as you would feel by now.

Viktor buried his face into your neck as his orgasm was about to hit. "Close.. so close, don't stop." he murmured breathlessly but a few seconds later now he was milking your insides. Hot seed filling you up, which triggers your orgasm too, and you two come together in sync.

You still feel him twitch inside you, and you lean to give him another sweet, tired kiss. "So good..." you whisper in between and pull away to rest your head on his shoulder.

Viktor hugged you tightly as you were still there with him buried inside you, kissing the top of your head. "That was so good, love, I agree." he smiled and closed his eyes. The water in the tub calming its movement too. You two could really relax now in each others embrace.

Hello guysss hope you liked some of my brainrot writings. It's the first one i ever post so please support me for more. If this one gets some positive attention i might post another one very soon. Feel free to request too! I'm open to write about your ideas too :)

Like and Follow me yeah 😎

[vinjinssunglasses]

—————————————————————————

character: kim gitae

summary: him in a relationship w u <33

start: 23 aug

end: 25 aug

a/n: we don’t know much ab him yet, so this definitely had me thinking but he is definitely a red flag 🙏

—————————————————————————

✮ Not the type of guy to chase after people, but he was thrown off balance after you left him a bitter taste in his mouth. It stirred a yearning within that was hard to ignore. That’s when he found himself having a tendency to shadow your every move, unable to overcome the need to be near you, even if it meant watching at a distance.

✮ Gitae wouldn’t outright ask for your affection; instead he’d either catch you off guard or simply command you. Softly whispering, ‘Kiss me,’ into your ear as he’d edge his face closer to yours. You respond with a quick peck on the lips, the sudden close proximity and his soft breath against your ear sending shivers down your spine, all getting you flustered. Even after you fulfilled what his request, he’d still give you an intense, expecting look. That’s when it hits you — he’s craving more than just a small peck, he has an appetite for something that’ll leave you both breathless.

✮ Gitae takes you out in the most expensive and extravagant of dates, preferring a candlelit table and a glass of the finest wine. In his mind, a girl like you deserves nothing but the best, so he effortlessly swipes his card on whatever you ask for, ensuring you have whatever your heart desires.

✮ Gitae’s a ruthless guy who’s never shown affection properly, until you came and taught him how be loved properly. He hates how you tug his strings and push his boundaries, yet loves how you gently coax him to confide in you, bit by bit. It’s a long, slow process that’ll make any impatient person want to pull their hair out, but seeing how docile and cute he is in your arms, you remain determined.

✮ His love language is definitely verbal (as well as physical). Words like “I love you” don’t come out of his mouth easily, he only reserves them to the most intimate of moments, which is why he holds it in such high regard. But Gitae’s undeniably weak in the knees for praises like: “you’re perfect”, “I’m so lucky to have you”. These words have their own way of lifting his spirits for the rest of the day, leaving him unusually distracted as he savours their impact.

✮ Gitae struggles with emotional intimacy; telling all his deepest thoughts to another is almost impossible. Yet when you ruffle your fingers through his hair and whisper endearing words in his ear, Gitae finds himself accidentally spilling some of the emotions he’s been desperately bottling up.

✮ Gitae lacks the ability to express himself correctly, when he pushes you away suddenly you don’t even know what to think. What went wrong? You replay the events that took place in your head —second-guessing yourself and this relationship— but nothing adds up. Then, when you awake the next morning after a late night, you notice a handwritten note with a bouquet of flowers resting on your nightstand. A simple gesture like this speaks volumes louder than anyones words could — his way of expressing the words that he can’t verbalise, attempting to make things right again after he realised his own mistake.

✮ He’s terrible at cooking. After the waking up, you stumble to the kitchen, drawn the smell of eggs and bacon — but you can’t help but notice something about the smell seems off.

“Good morning.” Gitae calls out as he flips an egg, yet you just can’t take your eyes off his muscular, scarred body which was unexpectedly softened by your pastel pink apron tied around his waist. At first, you despised that apron for its childish design, but now you can’t help but love it. Putting the pan aside, he dishes the plate in front of you and leans over the counter, proud and eager to hear your thoughts. As you stare at the plate with a forced smile, a mixture of disgust and guilt churning in your stomach. Gitae’s your boyfriend, and the last thing you want is to disappoint him, however you can’t even imagine having that anywhere near your mouth, let alone near you.

✮ He can come off as controlling, especially when the grip on your waist tightens as you talk to another man, masking his sour expression with a strained smile.

ׂ╰┈➤ On that note, he’s easily jealous and possessive, and successfully hides it under his composed exterior. If he feels that another man is flirting with you, he’ll subtly assert dominance to let him now that your his —and only his. He doesn’t share, and he ensures it obvious.

✮ When he gets close to you, he starts to relax and become clingy, a stark contrast to his usual, unapproachable demeanour. He typically dislikes being in such close contact with others, keeping others at an arms length. But when it comes to you, it’s different. He finds warmth in your touch, when you run your fingers through his hair and rub his back. It’s as if his hands have a mind of their own, wandering all over your body as though possessed. He can’t help but let his lips brush against yours, pulling you in closer for a deeper embrace. ׂ╰┈➤ Despite everything, he’s still the same guy. After a night spent cuddling you wake up with an unfamiliar chill in the air, you impulsively reach out for Gitae for warmth — only to find the space beside you is empty..?

What is he even afraid of? is it getting too attached to you? Being to vulnerable around someone? Getting too attached to you? Or having you as his weakness? He disappears for a day or two, but when he returns, you can see the internal struggle written over his face as he eagerly clings to you. The familiar blend of cigarettes, alcohol and men’s cologne, a bittersweet reminder of what it felt like to have his arms around you again. Rightfully, you were angry, distraught and confused, but the relief took over as you cuddle him for what felt like hours.

Having been subjected to a live of crime, money and harsh realities, he’s learned to put walls up around him to learn how to survive in a world of deception and bloodshed. He yearns to let you in, to show you the world he’s confined himself in, yet, the walls only grow thicker and higher than before despite his hardest efforts.

[florencesf1blog]

hii

please number 10 from the smut prompt list no.3 with charles, maybe reader went out to the store or something and he is looking for one of his rings that he lost and finds her toys so he waits for her and makes her use them :)

wrong drawer

Charles Leclerc x fem!Reader

In which your boyfriend finds your…other partner.

Words: 908 Warnings: 18+, toys, voyeurism, language, poorly translated french (they do NOT teach you the dirty stuff in school)

Days like these were your favorite. The short period of time your boyfriend wasn’t occupied with training, racing or whatever media duties Ferrari put him up with. Right now, it was just the two of you.

Usually, Charles his romantic ass would try and go all out for you in the short amount of time you had together. But you assured him that a movie night on the couch would suffice.

The keys jingle as you turn the lock of the front door open, stepping foot inside your boyfriends apartment. You had gone out for a small 10 minutes to get some food, the small plastic bag hanging from your arm. You had expected Charles to be waiting for you on the couch, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Charles?” you call out, but you don’t get an answer. You put the bag down on the dining table, walking around the apartment in slight confusion. He wouldn’t have left while you were out. It made no sense.

Turning the handle of your bedroom door, you slowly open it to reveal Charles. You freeze once you notice the state of the scene. The bottom bedside drawer opened up, now no longer containing what it had before. Slowly, your eyes drift up towards Charles. The devious smirk on his face said it all. Once you opened your mouth to speak, he cut you off.

“Qu'est-ce que c'est?” (what is this?) he asks in an almost mocking manner. He knew exactly what he was holding, the sight of your tiny bullet vibrator in his hands making your cheeks flush red.

Do i lie? Tell him it’s something else? Maybe he’d believe me if i said it isn’t mine? ‘I’m holding on to that vibrator for a friend. Ha-ha’

“Mon cœur?” his voice breaks you out of your thought process, eyes drifting back up to meet this. “I use it when you’re gone. Just whenever i miss you and you’re far away and-“

“Show me.” his low, gruff voice stops your word vomit. And when you thought it couldn’t, your cheeks turn an even darker shade of red. “Show you?”

He nods his head simply, as if it is the most common request in the world. Maybe this should weird you out. Be the point where you cross the line. But the thought of him watching you, showing him that even the thought of him could make you feel that way was way more exciting than it should be.

He gets up from the bed, handing you your vibrator. This wasn’t the first time you’d use it, far from it. But all of it still felt new now that you had eyes on you. Slowly, you pull your sweats and panties down. Charles wat he’s your every move, his eyes roaming over your body. You crawl onto the bed, positioning yourself on your back with your legs up. Like a hawk, Charles watches as you slowly inch the toy closer to your center.

“Plus grand, ma belle” (wider) he commands as his hand ticks your ankle. Your legs spread further, giving him the full view of your wet pussy. You could’ve sworn you heard a growl escape him at the sight, making you feel a bit more confident. Letting the toy run through your folds, it comes to life as you press the button. A sigh of pleasure and relief escapes you as the ache between your legs is getting taken care of.

You position the vibrator on your clit, a gentle moan escaping your lips at the friction. Your hips buck upwards at the sensation, chest heaving up and down. It was a new type of pleasure, knowing you were being watched constantly. You circle it around, adding to your please as you put out a soft “Charles” to break the silence.

“Tellement jolie…” (so pretty) he nearly growls at the sight, his hard on stretching through his jeans. “Putain…” (fuck)

Knowing how much this turned him on it encouraged you to put on a show. Legs spreading wider, moans becoming louder and more frequent. You knew exactly what god him every single time.

You inch the vibrator down, slowly letting it into your pussy with a wet noise. A groan escapes as you move it in and out of yourself, your wetness dripping onto the sheets. You feel yourself get closer and closer as you let the vibrator go back up to your clit and switch in between the two. Charles knows the signs. The way your legs would start to tremble, the way your moans would become more frequent and your breathing heavier.

“That’s it bébé, jouis pour moi” (baby, cum for me) he mutters, and as you glance down at him it doesn’t take long before you do. He was basically drooling over you, his eyes so focused on the way your hand pushed the vibrator in and out of you. It was as if he was absolutely mesmerized. And it was enough to send you over the edge, a string of moans and some curses escaping you.

You let yourself ride out your high before putting the toy down, still panting from the overwhelming sensation. Charles stands back up to his full form, undoing the buttons and zipper of his jeans. He pulls them down along with his boxers, freeing his hard on.

“Nous n'en avons pas terminé, mon amour” (we are not done, my love)

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A/N: got a lot of lando and oscar requests but thought id do a charles one first for some variation. btw i got like 30 requests within 30mins so i have a lot of writing to do. hope u guys enjoyed thise one :)

[rotagnus]

who is this person? ---<3

first pac reading in a long while. a lot of things have happened in my life recently, but it should stop being hectic soon. i hope all of you have been well, make sure you rest and drink water on this soft sunday.

choose intuitively. if none of these speak to you, do not force a connection with any pile. your message will come to you regardless, in another shape or form. you can ask this for any person; it doesn't speak about their feelings for you. you can even ask this about yourself. this may not resonate. this is a vulnerable reading.

pile 1.

right of the bat, this person is one that can't really go with the flow. they're overly controlling--not of people necessarily, but of the process of life. distrusting, and they try to make sure that nothing can go wrong due to anxiety, fear of being embarrassed, etc. this is a strong energy and most likely stemmed from their childhood or a singular event in which they lost complete control of things. they're used to being alone and don't really make place for a lot of relationships in their lives. they're also kind of scared of growing close to people, and they've been misunderstood very often, especially as a kid. cast into the spotlight only to be made fun of. i think they present themselves as cool, nonchalant, but deep inside? they're still the kid who ate lunch alone.

despite everything, they still ache for the ability to just...let loose, stop caring. they may have had to grow up fast, and all they want is to be vulnerable. but they're also terrified, so this person can be a bit rude and cold for some of you. they have a sharp tongue, and they know how to use it to twist words so they can hurt. not manipulative, per se, but when they feel attacked their words are their weapons. but all they want is to just fall back and be caught in someone's arms. a very tender energy. they never really got to relax, and they seek this comfort from older figures in their life; they live life outside of themselves, trying to decenter themselves from their own life. they're very observant and don't talk too much, i think. they have a bleeding heart, though, and would do anything for the small circle of people that they have. they may have feline features, sleek and sinewy with angular faces or piercing eyes.

song: white ferrari by frank ocean.

pile 2.

this person has duality. they can be a bit mercurial at times, but i'm not getting that these sides are bad. they have strong attachments to the things that they hold dear to their heart; they invest themselves very deeply in hobbies, in people, in passion projects they start at the oddest times. very artistically oriented--they view themselves as their creations or accomplishments, completely detaching oneself from other aspects in order to see themselves as what they're proud of. they're a very bright person; i think they're the center of attention very easily, they have a very commanding presence and can be addictive because they give attention to people in a very genuine manner. they also don't stand for bullying and things like that--they have strong opinions and won't change them for anyone. they're really sensitive about what their interests are, and are prone to lashing out at anyone who insults them. a negative aspect of them is that they have to relearn lessons, like a LOT. they are stuck in the past very often and they feel like the parts of them that have died are the most beautiful ones (spoiler alert?!?! WRONG!!!).

they have a lot of dark energy; might present themselves in a darker manner, be interested in the occult or alternative scene, for example. i think for most of you this person is the youngest/middle sibling. once again, the sun comes out; before the star did. so i would definitely say that this person shines very brightly. they're the type of person you see in a gas station and can't stop thinking about. they're endearing in a very down-to-earth way; very human, and i think that their authenticity kind of makes them meet people who either leech off of them or protect them. they have a good heart and genuinely want the best for the world, but the problem is that they can be misguided and completely defend the wrong cause because they have a deep belief that it is the right one. they're very obsessive with parts of their life, and their lesson is to be able to search for peace instead of killing themselves with overfilling things with their energy.

song: all i need by radiohead.

pile 3.

this person has seen their fair share of lessons, and they've recently obtained the ability to go through them smoothly (cough cough unlike pile 2...). they're a very youthful energy; they have this young pride, but at the same time they've seen so many things and don't carry this blindly. they're also humble, but at the same time--when they do something right, they know to carry it on their sleeve. they're good at orchestrating things to happen; good at manifesting, and they're kind of the leader of their own life. they can be a bit...intimidating? they don't water themselves down easily and this can be a bit offputting for people who aren't used to realness. they have a deep loyalty for their family, their friends, even though some of those people have done them dirty. but they carry a certain tenderness to them that makes them a sweetheart; kind of a dumbass, but a sweetheart.

i got the moon, so they may be a bit on the quieter side of this reading. they're very in tune with their emotions and feelings, but they can struggle to FEEL these things instead of analyzing them. but because they're kind of comforting, they get a lot of people sticking closely to them. you can learn from them and teach them things. they have dreams, a lot of them; for the future. they wanna help people deeply but can be misguided. they're a very playful energy. people are a big part of their lives. most of the comfort that they give, and the observance that they have, comes from hard events they've faced. they have a lot of guilt, but i think that at this moment they're in a position that makes them want to amend for everything they've done. overall--they're the warmest pile out of these.

song: not a lot, just forever by adrianne lenker.

[gpcwsl]

Warnings: kissing, fake dating, very long.)

Katie McCabe x Reader:

Title: New Flame

- It’s a gray Thursday afternoon, and the café is unusually quiet. Your favorite table by the window is free, so you settle in, grateful for the peaceful atmosphere. A steaming cup of tea sits beside your open notebook as you jot down thoughts about the book you’re reading, the bustle of the world outside fading into the background.

You’ve always loved this place—the way the soft hum of conversation blends with the hiss of the espresso machine, the faint scent of cinnamon that lingers in the air. It’s your sanctuary, the one place where you can exist undisturbed.

That’s why you barely glance up when the door swings open, and a sharp gust of wind accompanies a new customer inside. But then you hear her.

“Christ, it’s freezing out there. Do you not believe in heating, or what?”

The voice is loud, distinct, and unmistakably Irish. You glance up, and your heart stutters for a beat.

Katie McCabe.

Even if you weren’t a football fan—and you’re not, really—you’d recognize her anywhere. Her image is everywhere: Arsenal star, Ireland’s national treasure, and a lightning rod for attention both on and off the pitch. With her dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her piercing green eyes scanning the room, she commands attention effortlessly.

You quickly look back down at your notebook, praying she won’t notice you.

Fate, of course, has other plans.

“Hey, you.”

The words are casual but direct, cutting through the quiet hum of the café. You don’t realize she’s speaking to you until her shadow falls over your table.

You glance up, bewildered. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Katie grins, and it’s the kind of grin that suggests she’s up to something. “Mind if I sit?”

Without waiting for an answer, she pulls out the chair across from you and drops into it, looking entirely at ease.

You blink at her, thoroughly confused. “Um… can I help you?”

“Actually, yeah.” She leans forward, propping her elbows on the table. “I’ve got a bit of a situation, and I think you might be able to help me out.”

You stare at her, still trying to process the fact that Katie McCabe, of all people, is sitting at your table, acting like you’re old friends. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

She tilts her head, studying you with an intensity that makes you squirm. “Nah, I don’t think so. You’re perfect.”

“For what?”

Katie sits back, crossing her arms and smirking like she’s about to deliver the punchline of a joke. “To be my girlfriend.”

- For a long moment, all you can do is stare at her. “I’m sorry… what?”

“My girlfriend,” she repeats, as if this is the most logical thing in the world. “Well, fake girlfriend. Just for a bit.”

You laugh, certain you’ve misheard her. “Okay, seriously—what is this about? Did someone put you up to this?”

Katie sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I know it sounds mad, but hear me out. There’s this charity gala next weekend, and my ex is going to be there. With her new girlfriend. Who just so happens to play for Chelsea.”

“And…?” you prompt, still thoroughly confused.

“And I can’t show up alone,” Katie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you have any idea how smug they’ll be? No way I’m letting them get one over on me.”

You shake your head, still struggling to wrap your mind around what’s happening. “So your solution is to drag a random stranger into this?”

“Not random,” Katie says, her grin returning. “I’ve seen you in here before. You seem… normal. Quiet. Not the type to run to the tabloids.”

“That’s your criteria? Normal and quiet?”

She shrugs. “Also, you’re cute. That helps.”

Your face heats at the casual compliment, but you refuse to let her distract you. “Katie, I don’t even know you.”

“And I don’t know you,” she counters. “That’s the beauty of it. No one will suspect a thing.”

You stare at her, incredulous. “This is insane.”

“Probably,” she admits. “But I’m desperate. Come on, it’s just one night. I’ll pay you if you want. Whatever it takes.”

Her green eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability beneath her confident exterior. She really does seem desperate.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “This is ridiculous. Why me?”

“Because I’m out of options,” Katie says simply. “And you… you seem like someone I can trust.”

The weight of her words surprises you. Against your better judgment, you find yourself considering her proposal.

“One night?” you ask cautiously.

Katie nods. “One night. That’s it. And I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

You hesitate, every instinct telling you to say no. But there’s something about the way she’s looking at you—something earnest and almost endearing—that makes you pause.

“Fine,” you say finally. “But we need rules.”

Katie grins, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied expression. “Rules. Got it. Lay ’em on me.”

Katie’s grin widens as if she’s just scored the winning goal in a cup final. You, on the other hand, feel the weight of your decision settle in—a strange mix of regret and curiosity.

You take a steadying breath and look her in the eye. “First of all, this isn’t a free-for-all. There have to be rules.”

“Fair enough,” Katie says, leaning forward, her chin resting on her hand. “Go on, then. What are the rules?”

You tap your pen against your notebook, thinking. “Rule one: no surprises. If we’re going to do this, I need to know everything beforehand—where we’re going, who’ll be there, what we’re supposed to do. No springing things on me last minute.”

Katie raises an eyebrow but nods. “Fine. No surprises. What else?”

“Rule two: no physical affection unless absolutely necessary.”

Her grin turns mischievous. “Define ‘necessary.’”

You glare at her. “You know what I mean. No kissing, no hand-holding, nothing unless it’s to keep up the act.”

Katie laughs, clearly amused by your flustered tone. “Alright, alright. No unnecessary touching. Got it. Anything else?”

“Rule three…” You pause, unsure how to phrase it. “We keep it professional. No personal stuff. This is a one-time thing, and I don’t want it complicating my life.”

For a moment, Katie’s expression softens. She studies you with a curious tilt of her head, as though trying to figure out what kind of person would say yes to this ridiculous plan. Then she nods.

“Deal,” she says. “Three rules. No surprises, no touching, no personal stuff. Easy.”

You fold your arms. “Good. Now it’s your turn to tell me why this is so important. I need to know what I’m walking into.”

Katie sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, here’s the short version. The gala is a big deal in the football world—sponsors, press, all that. My ex, Ruesha, will be there with her new girlfriend, Louise. Louise and I… let’s just say we don’t get along.”

Your eyebrows lift. “So this is about showing up your ex and her new partner?”

“Not exactly,” Katie says, shifting in her seat. “It’s about showing that I’m fine. That I’ve moved on. That I’m not the same hotheaded, impulsive idiot Charlotte broke up with.”

There’s something raw in her voice, a vulnerability she tries to mask with her usual bravado. It’s the first time you’ve seen a crack in her confident façade.

“Alright,” you say softly. “I get it. But if I’m doing this, you need to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“No games. No trying to use me to make anyone jealous or prove a point. If we’re doing this, it’s strictly for appearances.”

Katie meets your gaze, and for a moment, the playful spark in her eyes fades. She nods, her tone serious. “I promise.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Okay. So… what happens now?”

Katie’s grin returns, this time with a hint of relief. “Now? We prep. I’ll text you the details, and we’ll work out a plan. Don’t worry—I’ll make this as painless as possible.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” you mutter.

Katie laughs as she stands, tossing a few bills onto the table. “Thanks for this. You’re saving my ass, you know.”

Before you can respond, she’s out the door, leaving you with a sinking feeling that your quiet life is about to get a lot more complicated.

- Over the next few days, Katie is true to her word-mostly. She texts you the details of the gala: date, time, dress code, and a brief rundown of the attendees. What she doesn’t do, however, is give you much space to breathe.

Her texts are relentless, filled with questions about your life (“What do you do for fun? Need to make our story believable”), comments on your style (“Do you even own anything fancy?”), and more than a few unsolicited jokes.

Katie: Are you sure you’re not a Chelsea fan in disguise?

You: I don’t even watch football.

Katie: Good. Can’t trust a Chelsea fan.

By the time the day of the gala arrives, you’ve exchanged so many messages with her that you feel like you know her—or at least the larger-than-life version she projects.

That’s how you find yourself standing outside the boutique Katie insisted on meeting you at, clutching your coat and wondering how on earth you got here.

The door swings open, and Katie steps out, her sharp features lighting up when she spots you.

“There you are,” she says, striding toward you. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

“Work?” you echo, following her inside.

She smirks. “You didn’t think I’d let you show up in jeans and a hoodie, did you?”

Inside, the boutique is all sleek lines and shimmering fabrics, a world away from your usual haunts. Katie gestures to a rack of gowns with a dramatic flourish.

“Pick something,” she says. “And don’t worry—I’m paying.”

You hesitate, glancing at the price tags. “Katie, this is too much—”

“Trust me, it’s not,” she interrupts. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

Her confidence is infectious, and despite your protests, you let her help you choose an outfit. It’s strange, seeing this side of her—playful, encouraging, almost charming.

By the time you’re dressed and ready, you catch Katie staring at you in the mirror.

“What?” you ask, self-conscious.

She grins, her voice softer than usual. “You look perfect.”

- The car ride to the gala is quieter than you expected. Katie sits beside you, fidgeting with the cuffs of her tailored suit, her usual bravado noticeably muted. You glance at her, trying to decide if this is the same Katie McCabe who confidently strolled into your life days ago and turned it upside down.

“You alright?” you ask, breaking the silence.

She looks at you, startled, before forcing a smirk. “Me? Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re fidgeting,” you point out.

Katie immediately stills, shoving her hands into her lap. “I’m not fidgeting. Just… warming up, you know? Big game mentality.”

You snort. “This isn’t a game.”

“Isn’t it, though?” she says, her grin returning. “It’s all about strategy. Confidence. Timing. Same rules apply.”

You shake your head, but her words stick with you. As the car pulls up to the venue—a sprawling estate lit up like something out of a fairy tale—you suddenly feel the weight of what you’ve agreed to.

The driver opens the door, and Katie steps out first, extending a hand to you. For a moment, you hesitate. Then you take it, her grip steadying you as you step onto the red carpet.

“Ready?” she murmurs, her voice low enough that only you can hear.

“No,” you admit, your heart racing as cameras flash in the distance.

Katie squeezes your hand, her smirk softening into something more reassuring. “Don’t worry. Just stick with me.”

The ballroom is even more intimidating than the exterior. Chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over a sea of impeccably dressed guests, their laughter and conversation blending into a hum of sophistication. Katie leads you through the crowd with the ease of someone who belongs, her hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

You catch a few people staring—some curious, others outright surprised. It doesn’t take long for someone to approach.

“Katie!”

A tall woman in a sleek black dress strides over, her smile polished and sharp. You don’t need to be told who she is; the tension in Katie’s shoulders gives it away.

“Ruesha,” Katie says, her tone neutral but her smile strained.

The woman’s gaze flicks to you, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “And who’s this?”

Before you can respond, Katie slips an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “This is my girlfriend,” she says smoothly. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while now. Isn’t that right, love?”

The word catches you off guard, but you recover quickly, nodding. “That’s right.”

Ruesha’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker of something—annoyance, maybe?—in her eyes. “How… lovely. I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

Katie shrugs, her expression deceptively casual. “I like to keep my private life private these days.”

Before Rushea can respond, another voice cuts in.

“Ruesha aren’t you going to introduce us?”

You turn to see a strikingly beautiful woman join the group. She’s tall and athletic, her confident demeanor radiating the same energy as Katie’s—but colder, more calculating. Louise, you realize.

“Louise, this is Katie and…” Ruesha hesitates, clearly having forgotten your name.

“Y/N,” Katie supplies smoothly, her arm tightening around you.

“Y/N,” Ruesha repeats, her tone almost apologetic. “This is Louise.”

Louise extends a hand, her smile as sharp as the rest of her. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You shake her hand, acutely aware of the tension crackling between her and Katie. “Likewise.”

“So,” Louise says, turning to Katie. “Didn’t think I’d see you here. You always hated these events.”

Katie’s smile doesn’t waver. “Things change.”

The conversation feels like a battlefield, every word carefully chosen and loaded with subtext. You do your best to play along, nodding and smiling in the right places, but it’s clear that Katie is the one holding the line.

Finally, Ruesha and Louise excuse themselves, leaving you and Katie alone again.

“Well,” you say, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “That was… intense.”

Katie laughs, but it’s more bitter than amused. “Welcome to my world.”

- The rest of the evening passes in a blur of introductions and polite conversation. Katie is charming and confident, slipping effortlessly into her role as the doting girlfriend. You find yourself admiring how natural she makes it seem—like this really is her world, and you’re just lucky to be part of it.

But as the night wears on, you notice the cracks. The way her smile falters when she thinks no one is looking. The way her hand grips her glass a little too tightly whenever Charlotte or Louise is nearby.

It’s not until much later, when the crowd begins to thin and the band starts playing slower songs, that Katie finally lets her guard down.

“Come on,” she says, tugging you toward the dance floor.

You hesitate. “Katie, I don’t dance—”

“Neither do I,” she says, cutting you off. “But we’ve got appearances to keep up, remember?”

Before you can argue, she pulls you into her arms, her hands settling lightly on your waist. You place your hands on her shoulders, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat as she pulls you closer.

The music is soft and slow, the kind of song that leaves no room for distance. You glance up at her, surprised to find her looking back at you with an expression you can’t quite read.

“You’re good at this,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Katie chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Fake it till you make it, right?”

You tilt your head, studying her. “Is that what you’re doing? Faking it?”

For a moment, she doesn’t answer. Then she looks away, her jaw tightening. “What else is there?”

Her words catch you off guard, the vulnerability in them cutting through the practiced confidence she wears like armor. Before you can respond, she shakes her head and forces a smile.

“Forget it,” she says. “Let’s just get through tonight.”

But as the song ends and the crowd applauds, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Katie McCabe than meets the eye—and that maybe, just maybe, this fake relationship isn’t as simple as you thought.

- The car ride back is a stark contrast to the ride there. Katie is quiet, staring out the window with her hands clasped in her lap. You sit beside her, the weight of the evening pressing down on you like a heavy coat.

It’s not until you’re halfway back to your apartment that she finally speaks.

“Thanks for tonight,” she says, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

You glance at her, surprised. “You’re welcome.”

Katie doesn’t elaborate, and the silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and questions you’re too afraid to ask.

When the car pulls up to your building, she steps out first, holding the door for you. You hesitate on the sidewalk, unsure what to say.

“So… I guess that’s it?” you ask, your voice uncertain.

Katie looks at you, her expression unreadable. For a moment, you think she’s going to say something important. Then she flashes you one of her signature grins, the kind that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

You nod, feeling a strange pang of disappointment as you turn to go.

“Y/N.”

Her voice stops you in your tracks. You turn back to see her standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of her coat.

“If you ever need a favor… or just want to grab a coffee or something… you know where to find me.”

You blink at her, surprised. “Are you asking to be friends?”

Katie laughs, the sound lighter this time. “Maybe. Is that so bad?”

You smile despite yourself. “No, it’s not bad. I’ll think about it.”

She grins. “Fair enough. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Katie.”

You don’t expect to hear from Katie again, but a few days later, your phone buzzes with a text.

Katie: How’s the quiet life? Miss me yet?

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

You: Hardly. I’m enjoying the peace, thanks.

Katie: Liar. Meet me at the café later. My treat.

Against your better judgment, you agree.

When you walk into the café, Katie is already there, leaning back in her chair with a cup of coffee in hand. She looks up when you approach, her grin widening.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Hey,” you say, sliding into the seat across from her. “What’s this about?”

She shrugs. “Just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re not scarred for life after the gala.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I survived. Barely.”

Katie smirks. “You did great, by the way. Couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”

“Glad I could help,” you say, sipping your tea. “But seriously, why are you here? I thought this was a one-time thing.”

Katie hesitates, her grin faltering. “I don’t know. Guess I just… liked hanging out with you.”

Her admission catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond.

“Well,” you say finally, “I liked hanging out with you too. Even if you did drag me into your ridiculous plan.”

Katie laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Yeah, sorry about that. But admit it—it wasn’t all bad.”

You smile. “No, it wasn’t.”

For the next hour, the two of you talk like old friends, the conversation flowing easily despite your differences. You’re surprised by how comfortable you feel around her, how quickly the walls you’ve built start to crumble.

When you finally leave the café, you realize something strange: you’re actually looking forward to seeing her again.

- Over the next few weeks, your life begins to shift in ways you never expected. Katie texts you almost daily, her messages ranging from sarcastic quips to genuine questions about your day. She invites you to watch her matches, introduces you to her teammates, and even convinces you to kick a ball around with her at the park one evening.

At first, you tell yourself it’s just friendship. But as the days turn into weeks, you can’t ignore the growing tension between you—the way her smile lingers a little too long, the way your heart skips a beat whenever she leans in close.

You remind yourself of the rules you set, the lines you swore you wouldn’t cross. But Katie McCabe has a way of breaking down barriers, and no matter how hard you try to resist, you find yourself drawn to her.

One evening, after a particularly close Arsenal match, she shows up at your door, a six-pack of beer in hand.

“Thought you might want to celebrate,” she says, her grin mischievous.

“You won,” you point out, stepping aside to let her in.

“Exactly,” she says, plopping down on your couch like she’s been there a hundred times before.

As the night wears on, the conversation grows deeper, the playful banter giving way to something more serious.

“You’re different, you know,” Katie says suddenly, her gaze fixed on you.

You blink at her, surprised. “Different how?”

She shrugs, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Just… different. In a good way.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you can’t find the words to respond.

“Katie…” you start, but she cuts you off, her grin returning.

“Don’t worry,” she says, raising her beer in a mock toast. “I’m not about to confess my undying love or anything. Just… wanted you to know.”

You laugh, but her words stick with you long after she leaves.

- It happens on a quiet night, one of those evenings where neither of you plans anything but somehow end up together anyway. Katie shows up unannounced—again—this time with a pizza and a bottle of wine.

“Figured you wouldn’t say no to free food,” she says with her trademark grin, already letting herself in.

You roll your eyes but don’t stop her. “Do you ever ask before barging into people’s lives?”

“Not when I know the answer’s yes,” she quips, plopping onto your couch and propping her feet up on the coffee table.

You sit beside her, the familiar routine settling in as you eat, drink, and talk. The conversation flows effortlessly, jumping from football to books to the absurdity of life.

Somewhere between the second slice of pizza and the third glass of wine, the mood shifts. The laughter fades into a comfortable silence, and you realize just how close you’re sitting—your legs brushing, your shoulders almost touching.

Katie turns to you, her expression softer than usual. “You know,” she says, her voice low, “this is nice.”

“What is?” you ask, your pulse quickening.

“This.” She gestures vaguely between the two of you. “Hanging out. Not pretending, not putting on a show. Just… being.”

You swallow hard, her words stirring something deep inside you. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “It is.”

For a moment, neither of you moves. The air feels charged, the space between you shrinking with every passing second. Then, without thinking, you speak.

“Katie, why did you really ask me to do this? The gala, the fake dating—why me?”

She hesitates, her eyes searching yours. “Because you’re different,” she says finally. “You’re honest. You don’t care about the football, or the fame, or any of the other crap people usually care about. You see me. Just me.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in.

So is she.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though both of you are afraid to break the spell. Then Katie’s hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and the world tilts on its axis.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours.

“Wow,” she murmurs, her lips quirking into a small, stunned smile.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your mind racing.

Katie pulls back slightly, her expression turning serious. “Are you okay?”

You nod, your fingers still clutching the front of her shirt. “I think so. Are you?”

She chuckles, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Better than okay.”

The warmth in her gaze sends your heart into overdrive, but reality crashes down a moment later.

“Katie,” you say hesitantly, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Her smile falters, but she doesn’t let go. “I know. But…” She pauses, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What if it’s supposed to?”

- After that night, everything changes.

Katie doesn’t pull away. If anything, she becomes even more present in your life—texting you good morning, showing up at your place unannounced, dragging you out to watch sunsets or explore the city.

You try to resist, to remind yourself that this was never meant to be real. But the lines have blurred so completely that you don’t know where the act ends and the truth begins.

And the truth is, you’re falling for her.

It’s in the little things—how she remembers your favorite coffee order, how she always makes you laugh when you’re having a bad day, how she looks at you like you’re the only person in the room.

But it’s also in the bigger moments. Like the time she invites you to a team dinner and introduces you to her teammates as “my person.” Or the night she tells you about her childhood, her struggles, her fears—the parts of herself she keeps hidden from the world.

Every day, you fall a little harder. And every day, you wonder how long this can last before it all comes crashing down.

- It happens during another gala, this time for a charity event. Katie insists on bringing you again, despite your protests.

“You’re my lucky charm,” she says with a grin, her hand warm against yours.

The evening is perfect—until you see Charlotte and Louise across the room.

Katie stiffens beside you, her smile tightening. “Great,” she mutters. “Here we go again.”

You squeeze her hand. “Ignore them. You don’t need to prove anything to her—or anyone else.”

She looks at you, her eyes softening. “Thanks, love.”

The word sends a jolt through you, and you realize with startling clarity that you want her to mean it.

As the night goes on, you find yourself watching her, captivated by the way she moves through the crowd with effortless charm. You can’t help but wonder if she feels the same way—if this has become real for her too.

When the event ends and you’re back in the car, Katie turns to you, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Y/N,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need to know… is this still just pretend for you?”

Your breath catches, her question hanging in the air like a challenge.

“No,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It hasn’t been for a while.”

Relief floods her features, and she reaches for your hand, her fingers threading through yours.

“Good,” she says softly. “Because it’s not pretend for me either.”

- The shift in your relationship is subtle at first, like the first hints of spring after a long winter. Katie still texts you incessantly, still shows up at your door unannounced, but now there’s a softness to her—a quiet vulnerability that wasn’t there before.

You’re hesitant to define what’s happening between you, afraid that putting a label on it will ruin the fragile thing you’ve built. But Katie seems unbothered by the ambiguity.

One evening, as you’re sprawled out on your couch, her head resting in your lap while some random movie plays in the background, she looks up at you and says, “You overthink too much, you know that?”

You pause mid-stroke, your fingers tangled in her hair. “I do not.”

Katie raises an eyebrow, her smirk playful. “You do. I can practically see the gears turning.”

You sigh, your hand dropping to your side. “Can you blame me? This… whatever this is—it’s complicated.”

Katie sits up, her expression serious now. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You stare at her, your heart pounding. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I like you, Y/N. More than like you. And I think you feel the same way. So why are we making it harder than it needs to be?”

Her words hit you like a freight train, the raw honesty in her gaze leaving you breathless.

“I…” You hesitate, the weight of your emotions threatening to crush you. “I do feel the same way. But what if this doesn’t work out? What if—”

Katie cuts you off with a kiss, her hands framing your face as she pulls you in. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed, but there’s something different about this one—something that feels permanent, like a promise.

When she pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, her breath warm against your skin. “Stop overthinking,” she murmurs. “Just be with me.”

And for the first time, you let yourself believe that it might be that simple.

- The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Katie is unapologetically affectionate, holding your hand in public, kissing your cheek when she thinks no one is looking, and calling you “love” in a way that makes your heart skip a beat every time.

Her teammates notice the change immediately.

“Well, look who’s gone soft,” one of them teases during a team dinner, nudging Katie with a grin.

Katie doesn’t even try to deny it. “What can I say? I’ve got good taste.”

You laugh, your cheeks burning as you try to wave off the attention. But secretly, you love it—the way she’s so unabashedly proud to be with you.

Of course, not everything is perfect. The press catches wind of your relationship, and suddenly, your private life is splashed across tabloids and gossip columns.

“Katie McCabe’s New Flame: Who Is She?”

You try not to let it get to you, but the constant scrutiny is overwhelming. Katie does her best to shield you from it, but even she can’t control the media.

One night, after yet another article speculating about your relationship, you finally snap.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” you say, pacing your living room while Katie watches from the couch. “I didn’t ask to have my life dissected by strangers.”

“I know,” Katie says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I wish I could make it go away.”

You stop, turning to face her. “Why does it matter so much to them? Why can’t we just be normal?”

Katie stands, crossing the room to take your hands in hers. “Because nothing about us is normal, Y/N. And that’s okay. I don’t care what they say or what they think. All I care about is you.”

Her words are a balm to your frayed nerves, and you let her pull you into a hug, her arms wrapping around you like a shield.

“I’m scared, Katie,” you admit, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

- The first real test of your relationship comes when Katie’s team suffers a devastating loss in a high-stakes match.

She shuts down completely, her usual confidence replaced by a storm of frustration and self-doubt. She doesn’t text, doesn’t call, and when you show up at her apartment unannounced, she barely even looks at you.

“Katie,” you say gently, sitting beside her on the couch. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she mutters, staring at the TV.

You reach for her hand, but she pulls away, her jaw tight. “I just need to be alone right now.”

The words sting, but you nod, standing to leave. “Okay. But I’m here when you’re ready.”

It’s two days before she finally calls.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice heavy with guilt. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

“It’s okay,” you say, relief flooding through you. “But you don’t have to go through this alone, Katie. Let me be there for you.”

She’s quiet for a moment before she whispers, “I’m not used to letting people in.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But you let me in once. You can do it again.”

Her silence speaks volumes, and when she finally comes over that evening, she doesn’t say much. But she doesn’t need to. The way she holds you, the way she looks at you—it’s enough.

- The days after Katie’s apology are marked by a cautious rhythm. You both fall back into your routines, but there’s a new layer to your relationship—one that’s fragile and demands more care.

Katie starts opening up in small ways. She shares little details about her day, mentions how her coach has been riding the team harder since the loss, and admits how the pressure is starting to feel unbearable.

“I hate losing,” she confesses one night as you sit on the floor of your living room, sharing a bottle of wine. “But what I hate even more is letting people down.”

“You didn’t let anyone down,” you say firmly, reaching for her hand. “Football is a team sport. It’s not all on you.”

Katie looks at you, her eyes filled with something raw and unspoken. “It feels like it is sometimes.”

You squeeze her hand. “You’re not alone in this. You’ve got your team, your family… and you’ve got me.”

Her lips quirk into a small, grateful smile, and she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

- As Katie’s team prepares for another high-profile match, the media frenzy around your relationship intensifies. Paparazzi follow you to the grocery store, articles dissect every outing, and social media buzzes with speculation.

Katie brushes it off, but you can see the toll it’s taking on her.

“It’s just noise,” she says one evening as you scroll through another invasive article. “They’ll move on eventually.”

But you’re not so sure. Your personal life is now public property, and the constant attention makes you feel exposed in ways you never expected.

The breaking point comes when a particularly nasty headline accuses you of being a distraction to Katie’s career.

“She’s better off without her,” the article declares, accompanied by a photo of the two of you walking hand in hand.

Katie finds you staring at the article, your face pale.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her tone laced with concern.

You shove your phone toward her, your voice trembling. “This. They’re saying I’m ruining your career.”

Katie skims the article, her jaw tightening. “This is bullshit,” she says sharply. “You’re not ruining anything. If anything, you’re the reason I’m still sane.”

“But what if they’re right?” you whisper. “What if I’m hurting you without even realizing it?”

Katie sets the phone down and takes your face in her hands, forcing you to look at her. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t let them get in your head. You’re not a distraction—you’re my anchor. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

Her words bring tears to your eyes, and you nod, letting her pull you into a tight hug.

- In the weeks that follow, you and Katie work to establish a new normal. She arranges for better security to protect your privacy, and you agree to limit your public appearances together to avoid fueling the media fire.

But behind closed doors, your relationship thrives.

Katie starts taking you to her matches, sneaking you into the players’ section so you can cheer her on without drawing attention. You learn the ins and outs of football, surprising even yourself with how invested you become.

And in return, Katie makes an effort to understand your world. She reads your favorite books, asks questions about your work, and even tries her hand at cooking one night—though the results are disastrous.

“It’s the thought that counts,” you tease as you survey the charred remains of what was supposed to be dinner.

Katie groans, burying her face in her hands. “Remind me never to set foot in a kitchen again.”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “Deal. But you’re doing the dishes.”

- The turning point in your relationship comes during Katie’s next big match—a game that could make or break her team’s season.

You sit in the stands, your heart pounding as you watch her on the field. She’s a force of nature, her every move calculated and precise. But as the game drags on, the opposing team scores, and you see the frustration etched across her face.

When the final whistle blows, Katie’s team has lost, and the stadium is heavy with disappointment. You make your way to the locker rooms, unsure if she’ll even want to see you.

But when she emerges, her expression tired but determined, she spots you immediately.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft.

“Hey,” you reply, stepping closer. “You played great.”

She shakes her head. “Not good enough.”

You hesitate, then reach for her hand. “Katie, you’re allowed to be upset. But don’t forget how much you’ve already accomplished. You’re incredible, and one match doesn’t change that.”

Her eyes soften, and she pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. “Thanks, love,” she murmurs. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whisper back, meaning every word.

- The loss is a blow to Katie’s confidence, but it also sparks something in her—a determination to prove herself. She throws herself into training, spending extra hours on the field and analyzing game footage late into the night.

At first, you worry she’s pushing herself too hard, but she reassures you.

“I need this,” she says one evening, her voice steady. “I need to know I gave it everything.”

You support her in every way you can, packing her lunches, sneaking notes of encouragement into her bag, and even attending more matches despite the paparazzi. Slowly, the cracks in her confidence begin to mend.

Katie’s hard work pays off in her next match, where she dominates the field and leads her team to a decisive victory. The stadium erupts in cheers, and you can’t help but feel a surge of pride as she looks up at you in the stands, a triumphant grin on her face.

Afterward, she finds you waiting for her outside the locker room. Before you can say a word, she sweeps you into her arms, spinning you around.

“You’re amazing,” you say breathlessly, laughing as she sets you down.

Katie smirks. “I know. But hearing it from you makes it better.”

- As Katie’s career continues to soar, so does the scrutiny around your relationship. But instead of letting it break you, you and Katie learn to face it together.

You stop reading the tabloids, and Katie makes a point to shield you from the worst of it. “It’s just noise,” she reminds you. “What matters is us.”

And she proves it every day. Whether it’s through small gestures—like leaving flowers on your desk—or grand declarations, like when she dedicates a game-winning goal to you, Katie makes it clear that you’re her priority.

One evening, as you sit on the balcony of her apartment, watching the city lights twinkle below, she turns to you with a serious expression.

“Y/N,” she begins, her voice uncharacteristically nervous, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “No. But I want you to know that I’m all in. Whatever happens—whether I win or lose, whether the media loves or hates us—I’m not going anywhere. And I hope you feel the same.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you nod. “Of course I do. You’re stuck with me, Katie McCabe.”

“Good,” she says, her grin returning. “Because I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

- The years that follow are a mix of highs and lows, victories and setbacks, but through it all, your love for each other only grows stronger.

Katie continues to dominate on the field, earning accolades and respect from fans and teammates alike. And you carve out a life for yourself that feels fulfilling and balanced, even amidst the chaos of being with someone in the spotlight.

There are challenges, of course. Arguments over schedules, moments of doubt, and the occasional media frenzy. But you learn to navigate them together, always coming back to the foundation of trust and love you’ve built.

One evening, as you sit together on your couch, Katie leans over and kisses your temple.

“You know,” she says softly, “I never thought I’d find someone like you.”

You smile, resting your head on her shoulder. “Someone who puts up with your terrible cooking and late-night football rants?”

She laughs, her arm wrapping around you. “No. Someone who makes me better. Someone who makes all of this—everything—worth it.”

Tears prick your eyes as you look up at her. “I feel the same way.”

And in that moment, you know that whatever the future holds, you’ll face it together.

Because love, real love, isn’t about perfection. It’s about finding someone who makes the imperfections worthwhile. And with Katie, you’ve found exactly that.

(Woah, this was a long one.)

[moth-murdock]

Posture. (Matt x AFAB!reader)

A/n: thank you so much to @upended-jellyfish for helping me come up with this 🥴😵‍💫 I think @bunmurdock @pupmurdock @lambmurdock and @sharkymurdock will especially appreciate it too

Genre: smut adjacent?

Summary: Matt helps you fix your posture for good.

Warnings: disciplinarian!Matt, bondage, face slapping, posture correction in the fun way, Mean!Matt (I surprised myself with that tbh)

Other tags: in the new apartment :/, chest hair 😋,

Word count: 1.5k

You don't mean to slouch. You really don't. It just... Happens. But Matt notices. Of course he does. So he does what any loving boyfriend would do. He tries to help.

"sweetheart, you're slouching"

"no I'm-... How did you know?"

"I can, uh, I can hear your breathing. It's kind of labored."

"oh... Alright, thanks." You say as you straighten up.

For a while, he'd remind you like that. Polite, soft, helpful. Then he starts to get a bit tired of it the longer it goes on. He'll just clear his throat while putting a hand on your back. From there, it turns into putting one hand on your lower back and the other on your upper chest, then pushing. It's quick, and automatically gets you to straighten up.

"quit slouching, it's not good for you."

"alright, dad."

"I mean it, kid."

After a while of that, he still catches you slouching sometimes. He'll just flick the back of your neck, and you catch the message. He's just trying to help. And to your favor, you have improved.

Just not enough.

***

He had a rough day. The client was a laidback asshole who was lying left and right, with no respect for Matt or anyone else on the legal team. It pissed him off. Rubbed him the wrong way.

As he walks home, he can't help but be annoyed still. He enters the elevator, going all the way up to his top-floor apartment. He walks in the door, only to hear you slouching. He can hear you typing something on your computer, which is usually when you slouch anyway. He lets put an exasperated sigh, tapping his cane on the floor to get your attention.

"Matty? What's wrong?"

He says nothing, taking off his coat and his jacket. He folds up his cane, tapping it again on the table as he sets it down. He makes his way over to where you sit, cool and composed with measured steps. He still doesn't say anything as he reaches over and closes your laptop.

"hey! What the he-"

Smack

"Posture." He practically growls in a low, gravelly voice. Letting out a tired huff as he tugs his tie off, he quickly undoes the knot in the silk before gagging you with it, tying a tight knot behind your head.

You were still trying to process the slap, your cheek still stung and he had caught you completely off guard. You snap out of it when Matt throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, starting to carry you towards the bedroom. You start to protest, words not being an option due to the tie in your mouth.

Your next best option is physical protest, so that's what you go with. You squirm and kick and hit, which only earns you a smack on the ass so hard that you feel it even through the clothes you're wearing. You gasp out in pain and wriggle some more on his shoulder, but he can smell the truth. He can smell how wet you are, he heard your heart race.

He tosses you on the bed unceremoniously, quickly crawling over you both to avoid you getting up, and to start undressing you. You know that you could realistically give him the signal and he'd stop dead in his tracks. Just tapping that certain rhythm you agreed on. But youre in the mood to play along, so you do. You struggle against him, which is conveniently helping him undress you. Only once you're stripped bare does he get off of you, pressing a large hand to the center of your chest and holding you down.

"Stay." He commands as he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, like you're some mutt he found on the side of the road.

And like a dog, you listen. But that doesn't stop you from glaring daggers at him while he rummages one of his drawers for something. You expected a lot of things, but his white Muay Thai ropes was not one of them. The blood on them was no longer the deep crimson they were on that night, implying that he'd washed them since then.

"turn."

You do.

He uses one rope to secure your arms behind your back, wrists to elbows. The other goes around your neck, then connects to your arms, arching your back slightly.

"That's good fucking posture." He growls, tugging on the ropes to jostle you into a kneeling position, facing the foot of the bed.

"do you know what you sound like when you slouch? I can hear your lungs being compressed and squeezed." He starts as he gets off the bed, the mattress silently raising. He walks around to where you're facing, popping the first two buttons of his shirt to reveal his salt and pepper chest hair. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, the other resting on his hip.

He has a 'what am I going to do with you' expression on his face as he speaks again, pacing back and forth.

"not to mention that your back pops like goddamn bubble wrap when you finally stand up. You know that's why you have back pain, right?" He says expressively as he paces, the hand that ran through his hair now waving around and making gestures like he's in court.

You let out a whine around his tie, only for him to take two steps forward to slap you across the face again and grab your jaw right after.

"don't interrupt me. I'm not done." He says dangerously.

"I tell you time and time again to sit up straight, kid. But you just don't listen to me! All I'm trying to do is help you and you just. Don't. Listen. It feels like I'm babysitting you at this point." He huffs, taking a deep breath that was supposed to calm him, but only floods his nose with your scent.

"seriously?" He scoffs, stopping in his tracks.

"are you seriously getting off on this?" He asks, almost incredulously.

You whine and squeeze your thighs together, trying to hide your scent and relieve some of the ache between your thighs.

He steps forward and wrenches your legs open, and as if the waft of your scent wasn't enough, he runs his fingers through the mess between your thighs.

"do you really expect me to touch you, kid? After that? I'll tell you what, I have had a shit day at work today. I am not in the mood for you to be brat on top of it all. If you wanted something tonight, the least you could have done was act like a human being rather than an animal."

You want to cry. You're soaking wet, drooling onto the silk sheets and not with your mouth. You can feel your heartbeat in your clit like a drum, and you know he can sense it too. He takes another deep breath, jaw tensing and brows twitching.

"you are going to stay like this for an hour. Then I'm going to untie you and we will go to bed. Nothing else will happen outside of that. And so help me god if I see you slouching again after tonight, I won't be so kind."

You couldve cum just from that.

"do you understand me? Or did you go stupid like you always do when I don't touch you?"

You frantically nod, humming an affirmation around his tie, which is now soaked in your saliva.

True to his word, he leaves you there for another hour, your back forced into a perfect posture just waiting for him while he takes a long shower to decompress from the day and even treats himself to putting on the one lotion he can actually stand on his skin.

When he returns, there's still a bit longer left, but he ignores your whimpers and whines. You tried once to grind yourself against the sheets, but that was quickly shut down by him gripping your hair and pulling your head back.

"you said you understood me. I didn't give you permission for this. Last warning."

You whimper and nod, forcing your hips to still. After your hour is up, he starts to untie you with such tenderness that it confuses you for a moment. He tosses the ropes aside, massaging your arms and checking your neck for any signs he can pick up of strain or discomfort.

"nothing hurts?" He asks softly as he removes his tie from your mouth.

"no, Matty... I'm okay..." You assure him equally as softly despite the fact that you are still more turned on than you've ever been.

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He can tell you're still so turned on, but he told you he wouldn't touch you, and always keeps his bedroom promises. So he removes the sheet that you dripped onto and he grabs a spare blanket. You both crawl into bed, and you cling to him like he wasn't berating, degrading, and slapping you just an hour earlier. Because despite it all, he wasn't wrong.

He just wanted to help your posture.

My masterlist | fic recs

[brynnsasha191]

(Tldr at the end) Okay here goes.

People really misunderstood Callum in episode two, s7 (that's okay, the writers didn't do a great job of conveying what I'm about to say, no hate to them though) Callum did not betray Ezran

I see a lot of people criticizing Callum for prioritizing Rayla instead of Ez and saying Rayllum is toxic because it got in the way of familial relationships. But that's not what Callum's actions were really about, they weren't about "oh rayla is upset so I'm going to burn down all bridges for her" like a lot of people seem to think. His actions had a lot to do with Rayla but they also had a lot to do with the fact that Callum genuinely believed what Ezran was doing wasn't right.

(btw I'm writing this with Callum's opinions in mind, I'm not just projecting mine on Callum. I believe Runaan did something wrong and deserved punishment for it, and I believe both Rayla and Ez were both right and wrong. I am on everyone's side)

In the beginning of the episode, we see Callum trying to reason with Rayla and defend Ezran by telling her to give him a minute to process what recently happened to him. And he says "he [runaan] did kill it's king" but he never actually said he agreed with Ezran, he was just trying to get Rayla to see Ezran's side.

Ezran and Rayla's fight during the council meeting was understandable upsetting for Callum, his two favorite people were fighting. And when he tried to follow Rayla to get her to come back, Ezran commanded him to do otherwise, as the king, Ezran has a right to do that. But that moment probably felt uncomfortable and belittling and frustrating for Callum, it's the same unhealthy push and pull dynamic that I talked about in my 'why Callum shouldn't be high mage' meta. It made Callum disinterested in the council meeting, and while that's not Ezran's fault, it is the same corner that the broyals keep walking themselves into.

Callum goes outside and sees Rayla crying, that is also understandably distressing for him, but he doesn't blame Ezran at all. He apologizes for his choice in that moment, he says he should've gone after her, not "Ezran shouldn't have done that or said that", if Callum was completely choosing Rayla over Ez, he easily could've deflected the blame to him, but he didn't, he apologized for his own actions which to me shows that Callum isn't the type to blame Ezran unnecessarily.

When Callum goes to Ezran and calls him a jerk face (very uncool thing of him to say to Ezran, Ezran didn't deserve that) Rayla and Callum already finished their conversation where Rayla decided to secretly get Runaan out, there wasn't a point to try to convince Ezran to let Runaan out then. He went to Ezran, not to convince him to free Runaan, but to convince Ez he wasn't doing the right thing. As the scene progresses, Callum's voice gets softer and he starts speaking sensibly and reasonably without ad hominem attacks. He acknowledges Ezran's feelings about Katolis being destroyed but also acknowledges that that particular part of Ezran's pain isn't connected to Runaan. And Ezran has no problem sharing his true feelings with Callum, Callum doesn't dismiss them once. He puts his hand on Ezran's shoulder and validates his feelings, also not to mention he apologizes immediately after calling Ez a jerk face. And when Ezran says "he killed our father" Callum doesn't know how to respond because he isn't completely siding with R&R. He knows Ez has a point.

Rayla and Runaan could have been seriously injured during the fight with Soren and the soldiers. Aanya was going to shoot them, and Ezran was going to let her. It's really weird that this fandom seems to think Callum should've sat by and not stood up for them. Callum absolutely shouldn't have condoned Rayla breaking Runaan out without permission, he should've told her to stop and stay put until he had a chance to talk to Ezran's more. But that's not what happened, what happened was a messy game of tug-o-war between two people who love each other that nearly killed people and almost destroyed relationships. Callum didn't choose Rayla, he chose what he thought was right, and that was not Ezran at the time. People get so mad at him for not standing by Ezran's side but he wanted to, but standing by someone's side doesn't mean sitting back and letting them do something that you believe is wrong.

He gave up his role as High Mage because he knew he couldn't continue to play that role after this, for him and Ezran's sake. He can't be his High Mage but he'll always be his brother.

TLDR: Callum actually did handle this situation maturely. The problem didn't lie with Callum or anyone else. This situation was an ugly and messy one that anyone would have a hard time navigating especially a kid who the people closest to him in the entire world were actively hurting each other. He's willing to do anything for Rayla, but this isn't about choosing Rayla, it's about what he thought was right.

[fangirlingpuggle]

Very very dumb Bleach AU idea where Ichigo(at full power basically soul king level) goes back in time to fix everything ends up way further back like young captain commander time, he's able to fully kill Yhwach and prevent him doing anything at all, no sleep no future quincy war, he also gets involved in making soul society...more so just vetoing anything like central 46 because nothing involving them ended well, and should make things easier and less likely for anyone to manipulate.

He travels around for a bit making sure everything settled and no other persons gonna try to take over the world before not really knowing what to do... when he next checks in on soul society gotei 13's all established and everything seems to be going well, but when he checks in on captain commander he's like 'Well we need someone in charge'

'Isn't that you old man?'

'I can't be fully in charge of all of soul society I run the gotei 13... no we need someone else to run soul society'

'...'

'...no'

Ichigo is now on the run from all the captains who are trying to get him to take over things because a) he's insanely powerful b) he's actually good and not corrupted and will actually care about people and not just the nobles c) He has common sense.

'DON'T YOU HAVE THE SOUL KING FOR THIS?'

'Ichigo I am still convinced you are the soul king'

'I'm not!'

'You haven't aged a single day in the hundreds of years i've known you and you literally bitch slapped Ywatch into oblivion, you also seem to have all the powers..ALL OF THEM'

'...I...I...I mean your wrong... bit I do get it'

And this goes on for centuries Ichigo tying very hard not to have to rule soul society and convince people he isn't the soul king. Only her keeps ending up doing this because he keeps ending up adopting younger versions of captains and others. (It started with the captain commander sending little Jushiro, Kyoraku and a tiny feral Unohana to stop Ichigo he just went big brother mode... he is the one person Unohana will listen to and not try to murder...well when she tries to murder him it's more a game then an actually murder attempt)

Just Ichigo who ends up being big brother to like all of Seireitei, he doesn't age at all but even when the others get older them him still totally see him as their big brother. Him always having at least one or two following him around like ducklings.

Some hollows figuring out how to evolve to arrancar naturally... Ichigo was in Hucheo mundo for a while and his weird reality breaking powers might have affected things. Shinigami are totally chill with them because all of them have seen these types of hollow powers before most grew up seeing Ichigo use them casually. (Also Unohana wants to fight them)

Well until Grimmjow shows up and him and Ichigo are fight flirting just being very weird and all of seretiei are ready to give a shovel talk. Captain meetings are them plotting 'Big brother can do way better'. Captain commander is just watching all this amused.

(None of them realize Grimmjow thought process is

'Wait if I date Kurosaki I get to fight all of them... OI KUROSAKI WE'RE DATING NOW!'

'...WAIT WHAT?')

[innorogers]

Vigil

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: For a man who has faced down gods, monsters, the end of the universe, this kind of fear is new to him. It’s not the enemy outside he fears—it’s the thought of losing you, of failing to protect you. Again.

Warning: Mention of sex / Fluff & Angst / Protective Steve / Jealous Steve /

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Natasha Romanoff / John Walker

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia | 8: Lull

It ended just as expected. Steve cummed twice in the shower—once in your mouth, because, damn, he tasted amazing after cleaning up, and again inside you, because you smelled just as irresistible with that jasmine scent in your hair.

So here you are, three cups of coffee later, and about to nap on your desk. The body Hydra gave you was strong, but you’ve been in a car chase, with the Iron Army hunting you down, fought in a nightclub, and probably had four or five rounds of sex with Steve. You honestly don’t know what was more exhausting. You’d guess the mission that had gone rogue, but honestly, the sex just left you breathless.

"Oh, rough night?" Robert handed you a fourth cup of coffee, eyeing the dark circles under your eyes. "Need the adrenaline shot?"

"Um…" You actually considered it for a moment. Your body metabolized stuff like that too fast, though—it would only last for a couple of hours, tops. "Nah, forget it.” You need your brain clear to process everything that happened. 

“I’ve heard…” Dr. Lin’s voice interrupted your thoughts as he leaned casually on your desk, his eyes scanning the room where your colleagues were clearly whispering about you. “That Captain America had quite the adventure yesterday. Right after leaving the UN, too.”

He tsked and pulled out his phone, showing you a few grainy clips. Footage from CCTVs and some shaky handhelds—probably from people who had their phones out at the right moment. “A broken bridge, streets on fire, and…a fight in a nightclub? You’re gonna need more than coffee to survive this shift, I think.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Too late for damage control, huh? Is it all over the news?” You could only imagine the hell Steve was going through with Commander Hill: ‘I gave you 1,278 security protocols, and you ignored them all?!’ Yeah, you weren’t setting foot in the command room today.

“Not quite all over the news yet—mostly social media.” Dr. Lin was clearly enjoying the UN’s PR disaster a bit too much. “I think they’re working overtime behind the scenes to sweep it under the rug. Captain America gets attacked his first time outside the compound during ‘The Reconciliation of the Century’? Yeah…someone’s having a bad day in PR.”

“Anyway…as I was saying…You’re gonna need more than coffee, we’ve got company today…”

“What? Company?” You were surprised. “They’re letting people in?!” After yesterday’s security breach?

“Seems the first New Era Project agent that the UN sent was a fraud or didn’t work. And since we visited them yesterday already, today, they’re sending some new guys.” Dr. Lin looked at you, lowering his glasses: “Yikes, right? So for today, we need to pretend we’re working. ‘Cause we’re not sharing our real stuff…which will make this day unbearable.”

Oh. You grimaced after Dr. Lin turned around and began “working.” Yeah, you knew everything about how the last agent went wrong. But actually, this ‘pretend to be working’ thing was good—you needed to analyze everything that had happened.

You opened a document connected to Tony’s hub and started typing, outlining the details for him in your usual style. (It was your private little system—documents stored in The Crib, or what the three of you called the ‘Geniuses’ Sticky Notes.’) You’d barely finished bullet point five when someone in a crisp military uniform appeared beside you, smiling next to your screen.

“Hi, Doctor—whose phone number is still confidential. Nice to see you again.” John Walker said smiling, quoting the line you’d once used to refuse giving him your number.

Oh dear Lord, he really should have taken a nap with you when he had the chance, instead of those three—no, four rounds of sex you had in the dressing room and the shower.

Steve thought after suppressing another yawn, trying to focus on the screen, where Thadeus Ross was losing his temper again, explaining why the UN had nothing to do with the attack he and you got yesterday.

But who was he kidding? Steve almost smiled. Nope, no way he’d have preferred the nap over the sex. That was exactly what he needed after being hard almost the entire afternoon. And four times weren’t enough—he would have gone on if you weren’t in the dressing room.

For fuck’s sake, when is this over? He couldn’t wait to get back to your private lab-slash-home, have a light dinner, and get in bed with you.

Oh, that’s a nice thought: a sex marathon for the weekend is all he needs after this hellish week. He started thinking of your intertwined bodies, your begging moans that sounded like heaven... Yeah, okay, he needs to focus. Maybe listen to what the Secretary has to say instead of thinking about your messy hair, your heavy breath, your skin that felt like silky sweet milk, and your mouth... Yup, stop. Let’s hear Ross, so he doesn’t get hard again in the middle of a full meeting room.

He felt a glare on him, so he looked around and saw Agent Sharon Carter staring with her eyebrows raised, as if saying, “Gotcha, pay attention.” Steve suppressed a smile and looked down. Oh boy, this was going to be a long day.

“I thought your super friends were going to be attending this meeting too.” Once the screen was off, Sharon smiled at him while picking up the folders and files.

“Well... Hill and Sam are still in Fraser’s interrogation. Tony and Bruce are tracking back the security breach. Natasha and Clint took over my place in training since I’m busy with other things. So...”

Basically, what happened was that when Tony asked who would be taking this mission, everyone stepped back, and I was the only idiot at the front. Steve shook his head internally.

“In that case.” Sharon gave him the usual confident wink. “I’m glad. It’s been forever since we shared a mission.” She grinned. “Last time almost cost me my career.”

“Yeah...um...lucky, things sorted out on that one...” He was a little embarrassed but still grateful for Sharon’s help during the Civil War chaos.

“I’m kidding with you, okay?” Sharon teased. “It’s not like I almost got into federal prison or anything.” She sighed a little, lowering her voice: “Although, I wouldn’t have minded if I had to.” She said with a soft voice and a sparkle in her eyes, looking at Steve with sincerity, which made him stiffen.

“So, how have you been?” Steve nodded and asked with a polite smile, pressing the elevator button for her as they headed to the cafeteria floor. “How does it feel to be at the UN? I heard the benefits are better than the CIA, though unfortunately, you’ll need to deal with us again.”

"Ah, I don’t know what you're talking about," Sharon said with a wink, grinning playfully. "Every agent’s dream, right? Dealing with the Avengers, working alongside the great Captain America... even if, well, my boss would rather face another alien army than deal with the politics of this initiative."

“Well, that’d make two of us.” Steve chuckled, and opened the cafeteria door for her.

The hum of chatter and the clinking of dishes filled the air. The compound’s cafeteria was large, efficient, and—much to Steve’s relief—quiet at this time of day. It was near lunchtime, but still a little early for food service, so the air was full of a coffee’s aroma that lingered from breakfast. They got in line for coffee and a quick snack, and Sharon gave him a sideways glance, her expression teasing as she grabbed a sandwich.

“Oh wow, you guys have affogato as dessert? I could consider getting back to work with you guys just for your catering service.” Sharon said, breaking the brief silence as they moved along the counter.

“Well, if you consider that, I could make my best effort to get your agent’s number back.” Steve grinned, grabbing just a cup of coffee.

“Oh yes, lucky number, huh?” She stopped for a second as she laughed and said, “Remember that place we went to… Venice? What was it called, the best affogato in the world.”

“Benicio’s?” Steve nodded. “Yeah… it’s closed now. I mean, gone during the Blip, hopefully reopened now.”

“You didn’t have the affogato, though,” Sharon said with a playful hint in her voice. “Mr. ‘I don’t know how to relax since I got into a fight with Stark and we’re on the run.’”

“Hey, I was the international most wanted. I think it was okay for me just to stay out of the loop. Imagine if I got caught because of ice cream. That would’ve been…”

“Funny? Quite a story to tell? Best date I’ve ever had?” Sharon shrugged.

“...Embarrassing.” Steve said with a smile. “Or awkward, or even humiliating.”

Sharon shook her head and laughed. They found a table by the window, where sunlight poured in, and Steve took a seat across from her. He could see the curiosity in Sharon’s eyes, the slight hesitation before she spoke again.

“It really was, actually. One of my top three dates.” Her smile turned more serious, her voice low enough that only Steve could hear over the ambient noise. “Too bad it ended so… abruptly.”

Steve wanted to say, "We would never have made it too far", but he only sighed.

He didn’t want to dismiss her feelings, and he couldn’t deny that something had existed between them. It was brief, but also real. A shared history they couldn’t quite forget or ignore.

Sharon was strong, smart, and capable—someone he admired deeply and cared about. He appreciated her confidence and her courage, but that connection, though meaningful, was nothing compared to what he felt for you now.

That had been a stream. With you, it was tides, waves, the entire ocean.

“We made a good team.” Steve said with a smile, being honest and looking directly into her eyes.

Something about it made Sharon hold her breath. 

She could remember moments in the past when Steve had the same effect on her. He would just gaze at her, and her heartbeat would skip or beat too fast.

Maybe that’s why she hadn’t pushed harder when it didn’t work. If she had fallen, completely and madly, as she’d wanted to, the power he held over her would have been overwhelming.

She had risked her entire career just to help him, and they were… nothing. Just a kiss, just some kisses or dates. So what would have happened if they’d continued? She couldn’t imagine a life where she had so little discipline about her feelings, mind, or heart.

“I know.” Sharon spoke softly, still holding his gaze. She was taking a leap of faith now. Cause she couldn’t help to wonder—could it have worked?

What if…they gave it another chance? They didn’t have the menace of the universe’s destruction now, the chances of Steve (or her) being a fugitive again were none after Thanos, so what… what if…?

“But…” She began, but Steve suddenly turned as something caught his attention.

It was lunchtime, and the employees began to arrive at the cafeteria, you among them, with Dr. Lin at your right and John Walker at your left.

“Captain Walker, I really don’t need a date. I have a boyfriend, no, um… fiancé.” You said as you picked up a tray and started serving lunch on your plate, remembering how Steve just highlighted this morning that the ring was indeed, a ring.

“It’s John.” Said a very cheerful John Walker, who was not stepping back from asking you out, even though you had been determined and clear about your “NO”s and reasons.

“Well, does this fiancé have a name? And where’s the ring?” he said while picking lunch and placing food, walking backward with a gracious wink.

“OH MY GOD!” You and Dr. Lin said at the same time, your eyes widening as you noticed the ring was missing from your finger.

“Where’s the ring? D…did you lose the ring?!” Robert was panicking. Did you just lose the engagement ring Captain America gave you?!

“I don’t know, it was on my finger...” You were looking in your lab coat pockets and in your clothes.

“It’s a tracking device, equipped with the last of Stark technology, how...how can you lose a tracking device?!” Dr. Lin couldn’t believe it. 

“Your boyfriend put a tracking device on you?” John hmph'd with a laugh. “What a douchebag!” He put a hand on his chest. “I promise, I would never do such a manipulative, controlling freak thing to you.” He winked. “I’ll look out for other guys who come close, of course, but that’s another level of jerkiness. Ugh...a tracking device, what is he, a psychopath?”

“It’s an engagement ring,” you replied, frowning, though you didn’t think of giving out too much information to him. You thought back to the last time you saw the ring, which was before you took it off when you entered the UN HQ.

You pulled out your phone, wanting to send a message to Steve just to confirm.

Some strands of hair curved in front of you when you looked down, and John, who was standing in front of you, couldn’t help but stretch out his hand and brush them to your shoulder. His fingers ran through your hair, and his fingertips touched your ear as he accommodated it for you.

Before you could react, a loud crash echoed through the cafeteria, like the sound of a broken cup or mug.

Sharon stood in shock as Steve slammed his cup down so hard the porcelain shattered. His face was livid, veins bulging in his neck, and his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.

He abruptly stood, the chair scraping loudly behind him, and stormed in your direction.

"I've got it, babe." Steve said. He didn’t miss a moment of the interaction and was at your side in an instant. He took your hand, his eyes locked on John Walker, and carefully slid the ring back onto your finger. “It was in the pocket of your gear.” 

Both captains exchanged tense, serious looks. You could feel the sparks fly between them as they made eye contact, and after a long moment, Steve finally smiled.

“I’m guessing you're here as a representative of the New Era’s Project, Captain Walker?” He said, placing a firm hand on your waist, his grip tightening slightly.

“Yes.” John replied with a polite but sneering smile.

“The knowledge exchanges from R&D have been…quite enlightening. I can’t wait to see what the best of your team has to offer…to me.” He said as he raised his jaw and tilted his head toward you. You could feel Steve’s body tense, like a bow stretched to its full capacity and ready to snap back.

"Take whatever gear or armory you want, Walker," Steve said in a cold, measured voice, as the entire cafeteria fell silent, all eyes locked on the tension between the two men.

"But the best of this compound is far beyond your reach. And don’t think for a second that you could ever put a finger on that." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, teeth clenched. Touch my girl’s hair again, and I’ll cut your arm off.

"Steve." A calm voice cut through the tension as Commander Hill appeared at the doorway. She walked in with steady confidence. "We’ve got news. I need you and Dr. Lancaster in the Command Room."

Steve didn’t immediately move. His gaze lingered on Walker for a few more seconds, with unspoken warnings in his eyes. Then, without a word, he turned to you, gently taking your hand in his, and led you out of the cafeteria. The weight of Walker’s stare followed behind you both, but your focus stayed fixed on your fiance's figure.

No one spoke in the hallway as you walked toward the Command Room. You could see Steve’s rigid expression. He was pissed, his jaw tight, shoulders tense as if holding back more words.

But you were… well, trying your best to hide the curve of your lips. Just like he had back in the car when you sobbed that you’d go to Wakanda and talk to plants for the rest of your life if he ever left you to go back to his gorgeous ex.

Oh, so he was this jealous? Even a little possessive? He got this mad just because a guy touched your hair? Now, if Steve were any other guy, maybe this would seem like a giant red flag, but this was the love of your life, so…

You slid your hand into his palm, pressing your skin to his, and intertwined your fingers with his. 

Steve’s expression softened, and he looked at you, letting out a quiet sigh. He smiled when you mouthed, I love you.

Commander Hill, however, wasn’t in the mood for your lovebird moments. Her face remained stern as she waited for the door to close behind you, sealing the room.

"Agent Frazer was found dead this morning."

The words hung in the air like a punch to the gut. Steve’s hand tightened around yours as his expression shifted from softened warmth to immediate alertness.

You lowered your sight.

Somehow, you had a feeling this was coming anytime soon. It was weird, though. Agent Frazer was not your brother; he just pretended to be for some time (and then actually tried to brainwash slash attack you). But for a moment, you wished that had been true, that your brother was alive, even if he had been turned against you. So now he is dead, and you feel strangely sad.

Your way of dealing with it? Throw yourself into the facts.

“How?” you asked, almost mechanically. “Was it because… his neural synapses overloaded, triggering an energy surge that short-circuited his cerebral cortex in under a millisecond? Like… like someone or something… wired his brain to self-destruct?”

Maria’s eyes widened, and she gave a quick, silent nod.

Steve’s grip tightened, haunted by your words. At that moment, he panicked, cold sweat through his shirt, fear dominating his senses when the possibility of losing you suddenly struck hard in his mind. So, could anyone do that? Snap their fingers and cause you a brain dead? 

His body was merely processing under this thought. He felt the urge to hug you, to feel your warmth and heartbeat under his skin, to feel you entirely safe in his arms. But you were in the command room, so he didn’t move.

“Can we make sure that…” His voice trembled slightly. “What happened to Frazer…” doesn’t happen to you?

Commander Hill noted his panic, so she gave him some time to process.

“Oh no.” You noticed too, so you reassured him, squeezing his hand back: “That won’t happen to me. I’ve only been through one brainwash. It takes more than that—multiple processes, open surgery. And Hydra… they didn’t have the tech to pull it off. Not back then.”

“But…” Your mind raced ahead, piecing things together. “Whoever did this? They’re desperate.”

You rubbed your forehead, and as your hands dropped, Maria noticed it: that look on your face.

The same intense, calculating look Steve wore when he was seeing things no one else could—analyzing every possibility, tracing out the most brilliant, cunning plan, whether on a battlefield or at a table of white collars and power brokers.

“Jarvis, any chance Bruce and Tony are in the crib?” You needed to process your ideas, but you also needed someone who could remember everything you’d said.

“They are on their way here, Dr. Lancaster.” answered the A.I. “Crossing the elevator’s door at this moment.” said Jarvis as both entered the room.

“Please tell me you already have a preliminary conclusion?” said Tony, stepping into the room.

“Okay…” You stood in the middle, your mind moving faster than words as you started laying out the analysis.

“They have access to Hydra files—there’s no other way to explain it. Clearance levels that aren’t just high for regulars; files that were locked, or used to be locked, behind old S.H.I.E.L.D. encryption. And the remains of my file? Only a few could access those after Hydra was dismantled.”

Tony leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, tracking your every movement. Bruce sat at the edge of a table, hands loosely folded, but his furrowed brow betrayed his concern.

“So, leftover Hydra goons or former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents?” Tony asked. He didn't want to say it aloud, but there was also another possibility: a breach, here, inside the Avengers.

“Or both.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives who went dark when Hydra fell. People who know how to stay hidden but had deep ties to the old Hydra infrastructure.”

“Even if they had the files, they’d need money. A lot of it, if they’re working with the kind of tech that got into Frazer’s head.” Bruce said, swiping through the files on the screen.

“Yeah, this doesn’t sound like some underground merc group.” Maria said, standing beside him as she watched the files on the main screen.

“This is serious, billionaire-level investment. Whoever’s backing them has access to bleeding-edge tech. Retinal implants, memory manipulation… that’s not standard black-market operation. The kind of power they’re throwing around is something only the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. had access to—the old S.H.I.E.L.D. when they were still around.”

“So, they’re gearing up for something big, or they’re hitting a wall. What are they trying to accomplish? Why use Frazer as a puppet?” Tony followed the line of thought.

You hesitated: “I think… They’re close to something. A breakthrough, maybe. Or…” You stopped and narrowed your eyes, thinking aloud. “Or they’re failing. Desperate. They’re making bold moves because they need something critical. And that something is… me.”

Steve’s expression shifted. His fingers locked onto yours, tightly.

“The attack was directed at you. Frazer was pretending to be your brother. And to confirm your existence.” Tony sighed, frustrated and feeling a pang of guilt. He hid you all these years, thinking you would be safe. He should have let you out of the New Eras Project. The Avengers had so many ways of detecting enemies without using your powers. Fuck, he should have listened to Steve when he warned him to let you out of the Project.

“Of the twelve of you, you’re the only one with… those powers.” Steve murmured, almost clenching his teeth. He felt the urge to hug you, as if you were going to disappear or vanish in the next second.

“And a success case.” You said, not wanting to scare him but knowing you all needed the entire picture. “The only survivor, the only… prototype. Still alive. In my body is the source code for why these experiments or creations worked.”

“Wait…” Tony’s glare was fixed on you. “If the endgame is to copy your ability… What could they even use that for?” But it was a self-answering conversation. He was just thinking aloud: “…a soldier who could walk into a building and identify every weak point before the first shot is fired. Or worse, detect something we’ve built to be undetectable.”

“Why stop there, Tony?” Maria’s expression was serious and cold. “Why would there be only one? Hydra made a dozen back then, and they didn’t even have half the tech we have now.”

Bruce frowned deeper, his voice low: “If they’re that close, then we’re on borrowed time. They’ve already brainwashed Frazer, and now they’re playing with neural implants and synaptic overrides.”

“Exactly.” You nodded. “And they are so desperate, they don’t care if we know they’re out there now, because they’re so close they can taste it. Once they succeed, they won’t even fear the Avengers’ powers anymore.”

Tony exhaled sharply, his glare cold. “So, they’re building something. A super soldier, or an army of them—enhanced with tech that would let them see through just about anything.”

“And they’re not far from getting there. But for now, I’m still the key to unlocking that power.”

The room went quiet for a moment as the weight of your words settled in.

“Well, isn’t that just fantastic.” Tony applauded, the whole thing giving him a headache. “We’ve got super soldiers with x-ray vision on the horizon. And they’ve got you in their crosshairs.”

“So basically, we need to see what triggered this sudden desperation.” Bruce leaned forward, and his mind began to analyze: “We could scan for energy centralization around the globe. Human creation needs vast electromagnetic fields to power high-level bioengineering, especially when manipulating neural pathways at this scale. We need to track when or where all this is happening. But…”

His voice was tense.

“I’ve got a feeling they’re at the door already. Because whatever they’re building… they’re almost done.”

The way back home was silent. You could feel the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. Steve hadn’t said much since you left the command room. His usual warmth and quiet strength seemed overshadowed by something deeper—fear and anxiety, clunging over him like a dark shadow, haunting him at his heels.

You wanted to speak, but your mind was processing too. You were trying to remember everything you knew about yourself and your siblings, every memory, every piece of paper you’d seen in Hydra labs, every layer of analysis they’d made you go through.

The ride home was silent, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed on the road, even your house slash lab was after all the securities protocols and protective layers Maria had put, he was still alert, as if there were something in the grass and trees of the compound that would attack anytime. You could feel the weight of his thoughts, pressing down like a storm waiting to break.

"Babe there's no need…" You said as Steve moved around the house once you've arrived.

He checked every window, every door, securing them with an almost obsessive care. He paused at the front door, his hand lingering on the lock as if it was the only thing standing between you and the threat he couldn’t control.

You watched him, knowing that this wasn’t just about protecting you—it was about the fear within him.

"Steve, I'm here." You stopped him. Placing your hand on his back: "I'm here. With you."

He turned to you, his face pale. His eyes were haunted, wide with the kind of fear you rarely saw in him. He’s worried.

No, not worried, he’s terrified.

Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you like you might disappear if he let go. His grip is firm, desperate, as trying to shield you from an invisible danger that only he can see.

His breath is uneven, and you can feel the tension radiating from him. For a man who has faced down gods, monsters, the end of the universe, this kind of fear is new to him. It’s not the enemy outside he fears—it’s the thought of losing you, of failing to protect you. Again.

You don’t say anything at first. Words won’t soothe him. So you just hold him back, resting your head against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. Slowly, you lifted your hands to gently press them on his neck, cupping his face to make him look at you.

"I'm here. And we will be ok." You say softly.

These words made him tremble. Will you? How can you be sure? How could he know? What if…

He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he lost you.

“I won’t let them take you.” He said, as a sacred oath, tatooed in his soul. “I’m going to set up more protocols.” He muttered, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression one of steely resolve beneath the worry. “More security. I’ll have Tony upgrade the system. I’ll have guards outside. I’ll—”

You stayed still in his arms, feeling the rawness of his fear. His body was tense, and you could feel the tremble in his muscles, the weight of his panic pressing against you. He wasn’t just holding you for comfort—he was holding you like you were the last solid thing in a world that was quickly unraveling.

“Steve,” you interrupted softly, placing a hand on his chest. “You can’t protect me from everything.”

His eyes locked onto yours. “I can try. And I will.”

"Babe…this is the Avengers compound. This is…the safest place on earth. Or even the universe."

"It took only one protocol. One permission. Approved by me." He said with teeth clenched. "I gave him clearance. One, to bring Frazer in front of you, I won't ever, ever let that happen again." He said with conviction, his expressions somber as he remembered everything you went through.

But beneath his determination, you could see the cracks: the anxiety gnawing away at him, the overwhelming fear that no matter what he did, it might not be enough.

"Steve…"

“You don’t understand…” His voice is strained, thick with the fear that he hasn’t been able to shake since the moment he realized you were being targeted. “I’ve seen too much. I’ve lost too many. If something happens to you—”

He pauses.

“I can’t lose you.” He whispered, his voice barely audible. He was a man made of iron will and conviction, but here he stood, vulnerable and raw, stripped bare of all his usual defenses.

“Hey, hey, hey…Listen.” You said, holding his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I’m here. Right here. I’m not going anywhere. I'm here, with you, I'm safe.”

He looks at you and feels a pang of pain to your innocent even naive words.

Safe? Were you safe when he was on the other side of the wall and couldn't do anything but watch as you almost fell under Frazer's brainwash? Were you safe when you pressed a tranquilizer to yourself?

The memory of you in his arms, unconcious and slipping away was so vivid.

His hands tightened around you again at that thought, his grip shaking slightly. “I just... I can’t stop thinking about it.” He admitted, his voice strained. “What if I can’t get to you in time? What if something happens and I’m not there? What if…”

“I can’t take that risk.” He mutters, more to himself than to you. “ I can't. I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”

You pull back just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. His blue eyes are filled with a vulnerability you’ve only seen in rare moments— when the weight of the world is too much, even for him.

“Steve.” You say soft but firmly: “We’ll get through this. Together.”

For a long moment, he just looks at you, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find reassurance in the depths of your gaze. Slowly, he exhales, but he doesn’t let go. That deep-rooted terror of losing you, isn't going away anytime soon.

His arms remain wrapped around you, protective and unyielding, as though he’s made a silent vow that nothing—no person, no secret organization, no force on Earth or beyond—will ever take you away from him.

If only that could be true.

THE End but TBC

Continue to Chapter 10: Eclipse

Alright I'm SO SORRY I'm late!! 2 Full time jobs really is consuming me!! I hope you enjoyed it!! Sooooo I have a really serious question RN, could you doooo me the favor to lmk your thoughts!!

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

*can you let me know if I've missed anyone in the taglist? thanks <3

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Shadow and Paws

Chapter 6: Threads of connection Shadows and Paws

Pairing: Task Force 141 x reader

AU: Hybrid 141 x hybrid reader

Warnings: fluff, boys and Foxy talking about their future

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, i’m currently working on making another story that is also a 141 fanfic but stay tuned for that release!

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist | 1 2 3 4 5 7

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The fire flickered in the center of their camp, its golden glow painting warm streaks on the group’s faces as night tightened its grip on the forest. It had been another long day of scouting, fighting off the occasional rogue hybrid, and navigating the tension-filled balance between predator and prey. Yet, as they sat together now, there was a calm that felt almost foreign—like the quiet before a storm they couldn’t yet see.

Foxy leaned back against the base of a tree, tail resting lightly on the ground as their amber eyes flicked over the group. For a long time, they had kept their walls up, believing that relying on anyone else was a weakness. But those walls were showing cracks now. It wasn’t just the lingering warmth of the fire that settled in their chest but the presence of the four men who had, despite their differences, begun to carve out a space in their life.

Captain Price sat closest to the fire, his broad shoulders hunched as he meticulously cleaned his weapon. His movements were steady, almost methodical, but his eyes gave him away. Every so often, he would glance toward Foxy, as if making sure they were still there. Price was a man of duty, of unshakable focus, but tonight, something softer lingered beneath his usual stoicism. For all his years of command, he had never quite encountered someone like Foxy. They were wild, untamed, yet carried a sharpness and cunning that he couldn’t help but respect. And if he was being honest with himself, the idea of leaving them behind once this mission ended was starting to gnaw at him.

Gaz perched on a rock nearby, his falcon-sharp gaze fixed on the horizon even as his hands worked on his gear. He exuded calm, his usual easy confidence wrapping around him like a second skin, but inside, he felt the tug of unease. They were growing closer, that much was undeniable, but Gaz wasn’t sure how to process it. Foxy had managed to challenge him in ways he hadn’t expected—both in the field and emotionally. The thought of leaving them behind felt wrong, like abandoning part of his own flock. And yet, he hadn’t found the words to express that.

Soap, sprawled out near Price with his head resting on his hands, watched the fire with a distant look in his eyes. His usual energy was tempered tonight, though the occasional twitch of his tail gave away his restlessness. For all his jokes and lightheartedness, Soap was struggling to push down the knot in his chest. He had always been the type to dive headfirst into connections, to throw his heart into the people he cared about, and Foxy was no exception. But what would happen when they had to leave? He couldn’t shake the image of their sly grin, their quick wit, the way they moved like the forest itself had shaped them. The idea of walking away felt unbearable.

Ghost lingered in the shadows, as he always did. He leaned against a tree, his mask blending seamlessly into the dark. Outwardly, he was the same: quiet, imposing, a figure you’d hesitate to approach unless absolutely necessary. But inside, Ghost was wrestling with something he hadn’t expected. Foxy had slipped past his defenses in a way that no one else had. They were unpredictable, capable, and, to his own surprise, they had earned his trust. He told himself it was just camaraderie, that it was logical to value them as an ally. But that didn’t explain the way his chest tightened at the thought of leaving them behind, or the way his gaze lingered on them when he thought no one was watching.

Foxy, for their part, was caught in their own web of thoughts. The group had started out as strangers, intruding on their territory, disrupting the quiet life they had built for themselves. But now? They weren’t so sure. They had never let anyone get this close before—not since losing the people they once called family. Yet, here they were, sharing meals, stories, and moments that felt… safe. Foxy wasn’t used to safety. And the realization that they didn’t want this to end scared them more than any rogue ever could.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Price said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, but there was a weight to it that made Foxy look up.

“Just thinking,” Foxy replied, their tail curling tighter around their legs.

“About what?” Gaz asked, his tone curious but kind.

Foxy hesitated, their gaze flicking between the four of them. “About what happens when this is over. When you go back to your lives.”

The air shifted. It wasn’t the kind of question anyone had wanted to ask, but now that it was out there, none of them could avoid it.

“We’ll go back to base,” Price said eventually, though his voice lacked its usual certainty.

Soap sat up, his brows furrowed. “And what? Just pretend like none of this happened?”

“Would you want to?” Foxy asked, their voice sharper than they intended. “Pretend?”

Soap didn’t answer right away, his tail flicking behind him as he searched for the right words. “No,” he said finally. “I wouldn’t.”

“Neither would I,” Gaz added, his falcon-sharp gaze now fixed on Foxy. “But it’s not that simple.”

“It could be,” Foxy said softly, though they weren’t sure if they believed it. “If you wanted it to be.”

Ghost’s voice cut through the quiet then, low and deliberate. “And what about you?”

Foxy looked at him, their heart pounding. “What about me?”

“Do you want us to stay?” he asked, his gaze never wavering.

Foxy’s throat tightened. For so long, they had convinced themselves that they didn’t need anyone—that they were better off alone. But now? Now they weren’t so sure. “I don’t know,” they admitted. “But I don’t want you to go.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. For a moment, no one spoke. Then, Price cleared his throat, his expression softening. “This isn’t something we need to figure out tonight,” he said. “But whatever happens, we’re not walking away from this. From you.”

Foxy’s chest ached at his words, and for the first time in years, they felt something they thought they’d lost: hope.

“Good,” they said quietly. “Because I don’t think I could go back to being alone.”

Soap grinned, his usual playfulness returning. “Guess you’re stuck with us then, eh?”

Foxy couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing just a little. “Looks like it.”

As the fire crackled on, the group began to talk—not about the mission, not about the future, but about memories, stories, the things that made them who they were. And for the first time, Foxy let themselves believe that maybe, just maybe, they had found a place where they truly belonged.

—-

End of Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[dazailover4ever]

Title: In Safe Hands

Kuroo x reader

Summary: After you sprain your ankle during volleyball practice, Kuroo insists on taking care of you. Despite your initial resistance, his concern and gentle support make you realize it’s okay to let someone else help you when you need it.

today, there’s a small hitch in your step—a subtle pain in your ankle that you’ve been trying to ignore. You had twisted it slightly earlier in practice, but there was no way you were going to let that stop you. You’ve been through worse and pushed through it. Your team counts on you to be strong.

As you land from another spike, the pain flares up, sharper this time. You bite down on your lip, forcing yourself to stay upright, to not show any sign of weakness. You don’t want your team to worry. They’ve got enough on their plates, and the last thing they need is to be distracted by you.

You glance over at the boys’ side of the gym, where they’re also finishing up their practice. Among them, Tetsurō Kuroo stands out, his presence commanding even when he’s not trying to be the center of attention. You’ve known Kuroo for years, since you were kids running around the neighborhood. You’ve always respected him—as a player, as a leader, and as someone who understands the pressures of being a captain.

He catches your eye briefly, and you quickly look away, focusing back on your team. The last thing you want is for him to notice anything’s wrong. Kuroo’s the type to make a big deal out of it, and you really don’t need him hovering over you right now.

But of course, Kuroo notices everything.

As practice winds down, you can feel your ankle throbbing in time with your heartbeat. You grit your teeth, giving your teammates a reassuring smile as you dismiss them. They leave the gym one by one, chatting and laughing, oblivious to the discomfort you’re trying so hard to mask.

You tell yourself you’ll just ice it when you get home, that you’ll be fine. But as you start to gather your things, the pain spikes so suddenly that you lose your balance. You brace yourself against the nearest wall, sucking in a sharp breath. You hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten.

Before you can even process what’s happening, a familiar voice breaks through your thoughts.

“Hey you okay?”

You look up to see Kuroo standing there, his brow furrowed in concern. Damn it. You’d been so focused on keeping your team from noticing that you hadn’t realized he’d been watching you the whole time.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

He doesn’t look convinced. In fact, he looks even more worried. He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he studies you. “You’re limping. What happened?”

You sigh, knowing there’s no point in lying to him. “I twisted my ankle earlier. It’s nothing serious, though. I just need to ice it.”

Kuroo’s expression darkens, and before you can protest, he’s kneeling down to inspect your ankle. His hands are surprisingly gentle as he carefully lifts your foot, his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

“You should’ve said something,” he mutters, his tone a mix of frustration and concern. “You could’ve made it worse by pushing through practice.”

You swallow, feeling a little guilty. “I didn’t want to worry anyone. The team needs to focus, and—”

“And what about you?” Kuroo cuts you off, his gaze snapping up to meet yours. “You’re the captain, Your health is important, too. If you’re not at your best, how can you lead your team?”

His words hit harder than you expect, and you find yourself unable to argue. He’s right, of course, but admitting that feels like a defeat in itself.

Kuroo sighs, his expression softening as he sees the conflict in your eyes. “Come on, let’s get you to the nurse’s office. You need to get that looked at properly.”

You start to protest, but he’s already standing up, his hand outstretched to help you. You hesitate for a moment, then reluctantly take his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. As soon as you put weight on your injured ankle, you wince, and Kuroo is there to steady you, his arm slipping around your waist to support you.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, his voice reassuring. “I’ve got you.”

You nod, leaning into him more than you’d like to admit. It feels strange, letting someone else take care of you. You’re so used to being the strong one, the one who others rely on. But right now, with Kuroo by your side, you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

As the two of you make your way out of the gym, you can’t help but notice how close he’s holding you, his arm firm but gentle around your waist. There’s a warmth in his touch that makes your heart skip a beat, and you wonder if he can feel it, too.

When you finally reach the nurse’s office, Kuroo helps you onto the examination bed, his movements careful and deliberate. The nurse checks your ankle, confirming that it’s a sprain and that you’ll need to rest and ice it for the next few days. She gives you a bandage and some painkillers, and Kuroo listens intently to every instruction, like he’s preparing to take care of you himself.

Afterward, as you sit on the bed with your ankle wrapped, Kuroo leans against the wall, watching you with an unreadable expression. You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes your cheeks warm.

“You’re going to be okay,” he says eventually, breaking the silence. “But you need to take it easy. Promise me you’ll rest.”

You nod, feeling a little overwhelmed by the concern in his voice. “I will. Thanks, Kuroo.”

He gives you a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, you know. If you ever need help… or just someone to talk to… I’m here.”

There’s something in his tone, something that makes your heart flutter. You’ve always known that Kuroo cares about you, but this feels different, more intimate. It’s as if he’s trying to tell you something without saying it outright.

You look up at him, searching his eyes for answers, but before you can say anything, he pushes off the wall and moves to stand beside you.

“Come on,” he says gently, “I’ll walk you home.”

You want to protest, to tell him that you can manage on your own, but the look in his eyes stops you. There’s no point in arguing with Kuroo when he’s this determined.

So you nod, letting him help you off the bed. As you lean on him, his arm once again around your waist, you can’t help but feel a sense of comfort in his closeness. Maybe, just this once, it’s okay to let someone else take care of you.

As the two of you leave the school, walking slowly down the quiet streets, you find yourself leaning into Kuroo more than before. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and you realize that, despite the pain in your ankle, you feel at peace.

With Kuroo by your side, you know you’re in safe hands.

—THE END—

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Our Life Modding Guide

For anyone wanting to know how to either look into the game files themselves or write in their own scenes, here it is!

(Real quick, here's a link to GB Patch's opinion on modding - which is that we're free to do so - just in case anyone may be concerned about that; here's another as well.)

Preparation

I'm going to say right up front that I have the itch.io Windows version of Our Life, so your methods may vary on anything else. The Steam version is the exact same to my knowledge, however, so this should work exactly the same for it (I've had people who use the Steam version test mine for me).

While this may go without saying, definitely back up your game before anything else, both as a precaution and also to keep the original around (whether for comparison's sake, you might want to still play the original, or in case something goes wrong and you need to reinsert any of the original files). I usually keep the modded version's folder somewhere away from the original, but that's just me. You can also just make sure to mark it.

Unpacking Our Life's Files

One peek into the "game" folder of Our Life will reveal... well, not much. Some icon files, a couple images, two folders for your save files and cache, and little else. This is because everything else is packed into the .rpa files and we need to open them up. Think of it like a safe that we need to unlock, or luggage that we need to unzip.

Depending on how many DLCs you have (the only one I don't have is Voiced Names, which would be dlc_voiced_names.rpa), the amount of .rpa files will be any/all of these:

There are a few different ways to unpack these and I'll be listing multiple on the off chance that the others don't work (ordered by ease of use/overall usefulness).

RPA Extract (by iwanplays)

This is the easiest method out of all and the first I recommend you try. You can find it here.

It's a single .exe file and all you have to do is drop it into the "game" folder of Our Life, select all of the .rpa files, and drag them onto the .exe.

This will open a Command Prompt that will extract all of the files for you, and you can delete the rpaExtract.exe after it's done. Simple as that.

RPA Explorer (by UniverseDevel)

This one is useful if you only want to look at the files and not extract/edit them, though it can do that too. You can find it here. The disadvantage from RPA Extract is that you'll have to extract the .rpa files one at a time instead of all at once.

After downloading, open the program and click on "Load File" in the upper-left.

Locate your .rpa files and open one. You'll see folders and files pop up, showing you all the files inside of the .rpa file you chose. You're free to look at any of them as you please, but if you want to extract them, check the box next to the "/" folder to select everything and then click "Export checked" in the upper-left.

Locate the "game" folder in the Our Life folder that you want to mod, click on it, then click "OK".

A progress bar will appear in the lower-right and the files will be extracted. Repeat this process for the remaining .rpa files.

rpaextract (by Kaskadee)

This method is a little more complicated and therefore requires some more steps. You can find it here (you can simply download the portable version).

Rather than in the case of RPA Extract, you'll want to take the .rpa files out of Our Life's game folder and put them in the folder of whichever you downloaded. This will just make it easier in the long run.

Once everything is moved, right-click on the address above for the folder, click "Edit Address," and type "cmd" at the beginning before tapping Enter.

A Command Prompt will open with the name of the folder. You'll have to extract your .rpa files one at a time here.

You'll then type out (without the brackets):

rpaextract -x -f [filename].rpa -o game

The .rpa files will be extracted (as shown above, it will give you a loading bar to show progress then pop up the address for you to type something out again when it's done) and appear in a folder titled "game." You can then copy that folder and paste it over Our Life's game folder, combining the contents of both together.

Testing

Now that you have your files extracted, you can delete the .rpa files that you had extracted from because we don't need them anymore. The "game" folder of Our Life should look something like this:

You should also still be able to open the .exe of Our Life and load to the main menu without experiencing any error messages. Tapping on "DLC Info" in the upper-left of the main menu should also still have all the DLCs you had listed as "Installed."

If all that checks out, you're good to continue!

Setting Up Your Text Editor

You'll need a text editor for this and, for size's sake, I'm going to recommend Notepad++, which you can find here. You can just download the portable version but it doesn't really matter.

Once it's been opened, we're going to do a few steps to make it recognize Our Life's script (.rpy) files (the ones you'll be tampering with if you want to add scenes/change dialog/etc.).

Go into the "Settings" tab at the top, then click "Style Configurator".

2. Scroll through the "Language" section until you find "Python". Click on that.

3. Under "User ext. :" at the bottom, type "rpy" without quotations.

4. Hit "Save & Close".

5. Go to "Settings" again, then click "Preferences".

6. Find "Language" on the left of the window that pops up and click on that.

7. Look for "Tab Settings" on the right. It should be set to "Default", the "Tab size" should be "4", and you should checkmark the "Replace by space" box. You can then hit "Close".

(an important part of the code is indenting and this just streamlines it so that when you push "Tab" it will insert four spaces instead)

8. Go back to the Our Life "game" folder, then find an .rpy file (any will do), right-click it, then hit "Open with…"

9. Check the "Always use this app to open .rpy files" box.

10. Click on "Notepad++". If it's not there right away, hit "More apps", and if it's still not there then scroll all the way down and hit "Look for another app on this PC" and find+confirm the Notepad++.exe.

Now Notepad++ will automatically open any .rpy file that you double-click on and will treat them appropriately.

And now you're ready to go! The .rpy files are actually Our Life's script files, which can be freely opened in Notepad++ (or another text editor) to edit the game's scenes or add your own.

Happy modding!

[mintyys-blog]

Thor Odison x Reader: Thunderstruck

WARNINGS:

The rain poured down relentlessly on Asgard, the storm reflecting the turmoil within you. Despite the thunder crashing in the distance, you could still hear the heavy thrum of your heart, a sound that never seemed to fade these days. The weight of the world seemed to be pressing down harder with each passing day. It wasn’t just the storm outside that caused this feeling—it was the storm inside you. And today, of all days, it felt unbearable.

You had always been the quiet, observant type. The kind of person who noticed things—the subtle shifts in a room, the quiet glance between two people, the way a smile didn’t quite reach someone’s eyes. But lately, you had become so lost in your own mind, you weren’t sure how much of the world around you you could still process.

When Thor had arrived in Asgard, you weren’t sure what to expect. He was loud, brash, and always surrounded by a kind of electrifying energy. He was everything you weren’t. And yet, there was something about him that drew you in. Maybe it was his warmth, the way his golden laughter could light up the darkest room, or the fierce protectiveness he carried for his friends.

You had known him for some time now, but over the last few weeks, something had changed. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but the way he looked at you, the small moments of connection, had become more frequent. Every glance felt like a spark, every word spoken a thread tying you closer. But you weren’t sure if that was a good thing anymore.

Tonight, however, you didn’t want to think about it. You stood on the balcony of your chambers, looking out at the lightning flashing across the sky, trying to quiet the noise in your head. The storm raged on, and for once, you felt like it was a reflection of your own feelings—a force of nature that could never be controlled.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps behind you, soft but deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Shouldn’t you be inside, where it’s warm?” Thor’s voice was deep and rich, the kind of voice that could command attention without even trying.

You forced a small smile, turning to face him. “The storm is beautiful from here,” you replied, your voice a little too quiet for your liking.

Thor raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. His golden hair was damp from the rain, his cloak billowing around him like the storm itself. “Are you certain it’s the storm you’re admiring?” he asked, his gaze intense, as though he could see right through you.

You swallowed, feeling your stomach churn. “It’s just… peaceful,” you murmured. “In a way.”

Thor studied you for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “You are not one to lie, [Y/N], but I know that you are holding something back.” He paused, looking down at his boots before meeting your eyes again. “You know you can always talk to me, don’t you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t expected him to say that. In truth, you hadn’t expected him to say anything at all. Thor, despite his many strengths, was never one to offer solace in such a vulnerable way. His blunt honesty and tendency to charge into battle made him more of a warrior than a counselor.

But this wasn’t a battle, and you weren’t sure how to fight it.

“I’m fine, Thor,” you said quickly, your voice betraying the lie. “Really.”

Thor didn’t seem convinced. His eyes softened with something you couldn’t quite place. “You are more than just ‘fine,’ [Y/N]. I know you. And I know when something is wrong.”

You felt your chest tighten, your emotions threatening to spill over. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t burden anyone with your darkness. Especially not Thor.

The silence between you both grew heavy, the sound of the rain mingling with your erratic heartbeat.

“I—” You took a deep breath, the words getting stuck in your throat. “I don’t know how to do this anymore, Thor.”

Thor’s expression shifted, a mix of concern and confusion crossing his features. “Do what?”

“Live,” you whispered. It wasn’t a dramatic confession, but it hit harder than any thunder strike. “I don’t know how to keep pretending everything is okay when it’s not.”

Thor’s expression softened instantly, and for the first time since you’d known him, you saw him not as the mighty god of thunder but as a person who genuinely cared. He stepped closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his body, the heat of the storm that seemed to intensify with every passing second.

“You don’t have to pretend for me,” he said softly, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. “You never have to pretend for me.”

You looked up into his stormy blue eyes, the weight of his words grounding you in that moment. There was no judgment in his gaze—only concern and something deeper. A tenderness you didn’t expect from someone like him.

But the truth was, you weren’t sure you could ever allow yourself to feel that kind of tenderness. You weren’t sure if you could allow yourself to feel anything at all.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, stepping back, unsure of how to handle the sudden surge of emotions. “I didn’t mean to… burden you with my problems.”

Thor’s hand remained on your shoulder, steady and strong. “You are not a burden, [Y/N]. You never have been.” His voice was firm, yet soft, the kind of reassurance you desperately needed but hadn’t known you’d been waiting for.

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you said, shaking your head, your chest tightening with a mix of frustration and shame.

Thor’s hand gently cupped your chin, lifting your gaze back to his. “No one is perfect, [Y/N]. We all have our storms to weather. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Your breath hitched, the emotional wall you’d spent so long building beginning to crumble. You wanted to pull away, to retreat back into the safety of solitude, but something in Thor’s eyes kept you rooted to the spot.

“I’m here,” he said simply. “And I’ll stay here, as long as you need me.”

You didn’t know what to say. How could you explain the depth of what you were feeling, the endless ocean of emptiness you couldn’t escape? You couldn’t even explain it to yourself.

But in that moment, with Thor’s steady presence by your side, you realized something: maybe you didn’t have to understand everything right away. Maybe it was okay to just let someone in. Maybe that was enough.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words coming out softer than you intended, but they were the truest words you could say.

Thor’s smile was small but genuine, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “Always, [Y/N].”

The storm outside raged on, but somehow, in the quiet space between you and Thor, there was a fragile kind of peace. His words lingered in your mind, replaying over and over like an echo you couldn’t silence.

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

You wished you could believe him. That you could reach out and take the comfort he was offering. But years of carrying your burdens alone had taught you that people left. That when the weight of you became too heavy, they would eventually walk away. And Thor… Thor was a god, a prince, a warrior. He had responsibilities, a kingdom, battles to fight.

He couldn’t possibly have time for your darkness.

Yet, he stayed.

As the silence stretched, Thor didn’t move. He stood there, a steady force, unwavering. His presence alone felt like an anchor, something grounding in the chaos.

“I should go,” you murmured, stepping back toward the door.

Thor frowned. “Do you truly wish to be alone right now?”

The question caught you off guard. Did you?

You weren’t sure. Being alone meant retreating back into your thoughts, into the shadows that clung to you like an old friend. It meant facing the emptiness you tried so hard to ignore. But staying… staying meant something unfamiliar. It meant allowing someone to see the cracks.

You hesitated, and that was enough for Thor to take a step closer.

“I will not force you,” he said, voice softer than you expected. “But if you do not wish to be alone, then stay.”

You swallowed hard. “Why do you care so much?”

Thor blinked, as if the question surprised him. He studied you for a long moment before answering.

“Because I know what it is to feel lost,” he admitted. “To feel as though the weight of the world rests on your shoulders, and yet no one can see it.”

You hadn’t expected that.

Thor was larger than life, a warrior, a prince—someone who seemed so sure of himself, so full of strength. The idea that he had ever felt lost felt… impossible.

But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the truth in them. The understanding.

“What did you do?” you asked quietly.

Thor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “For a long time, I pretended. I let my pride blind me. I fought battles, hoping they would silence the storm in my mind.” His lips pressed together before he continued, “But I have learned that strength is not found in solitude. It is found in those who stand beside us.”

Your throat tightened. “I don’t know how to let people stand beside me.”

Thor’s gaze softened. “Then let this be your first step.”

His words settled deep in your chest, a warmth spreading through you despite the cold wind whipping through the balcony.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

And maybe… maybe that was enough.

[physalian]

Another 5 Character Types the World Needs More of (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

I did not expect these two posts to continue getting notes. So. Here’s some that didn’t make the cut and a few new ones.

1. Character who is immune to everyone else’s bullshit

This can either be funny or a breath of fresh air. I’m talking your drama cast of 15 all losing their minds over “he said/she said” and fixating on so many ridiculous and arbitrary problems… meanwhile Chuck over here is skinned with teflon and completely immune to tropes like manufactured miscommunication or drama, who’s juuust shy of being genre savvy to Get Shit Done like this is their second time around the block and they are not happy to be back.

The first one to pop into my head is Soundwave from TFP. He has no voice actor for 99% of the show and doesn’t have a face and is only the focus character for like, 2 episodes, but whenever he’s on screen you can just see “I’m surrounded by idiots” playing on repeat in his head. This con is brutally efficient, never messes up, and is never wrong and while everyone else is caught up on ladder-climbing and revenge quests, Soundwave is over here vibing and keeping the whole cause together.

2. The Femme Fatale, but a man

This is not sexy suave abusive asshole hero you’re supposed to root for, who’s a male power fantasy. This is literally the exact same trope, but a man. Meaning, he gets the same revealing uniform, the same “I’m letting you think you’re in charge but really I’m pulling all the strings”. Crucially, he’s straight, because most of them are gay-coded (because the man being in the submissive, ‘girly role’ is horrifying, he must be gay). This dude weaponizes toxic masculinity, making the villains extremely uncomfortable and throwing the villain’s own power fantasy back in their face.

This dude unabashedly flirts with his captors just to get in their heads, removes all concepts of personal space, and makes straight villains seriously question their sexuality. He has social engineering down to a science. I’m sure there’s one that exists, but every one I can think of is already queer-coded and that’s not good enough. So just. Black Widow. But a man.

3. Mary Sue/ Gary Stu who becomes the villain

Since these characters are the product of insecurity and lack of self-awareness… the example for this trope is Titan from Megamind. This character is absolutely the hero of their own story, practically perfect in every way. They think they’re the best at everything without trying, flawless in features and personality, and everybody loves them. And genuinely, they are just that good.

So good, that they live long enough to become the villain. Obviously people who write Mary Sues with full sincerity have no idea that anything’s wrong or problematic, but a genuine Mary Sue whose perfection is their greatest flaw without them even realizing it would be an interesting villain because I’m getting sick and tired of ���sympathetic” villains who are really starting to feel like excuses for abusers to be abusive because they were smacked around as a kid.

4. Paragon who is wrong, but also right?

Apparently I’m in a Transformers mood today. There’s an episode where the Autobots’ medic/second in command does the whole “desperate scientist tests their invention on themselves with horrible results” trope and he gains the strength and speed he otherwise hasn’t had in like, eons, and starts kicking ass and taking names (and committing war crimes) to the point where his team is like “uh, buddy, slow down a bit, you’re starting to act like a Decepticon”.

The best part of that episode is where Ratchet (medic) completely unloads on Optimus about how he’s too soft, about how he’s had a million chances to end the war and murder Megatron (which is true) and yet Optimus lets the window pass again and again still hoping for Megatron’s redemption… while in the process, countless Autobots keep dying, collateral keeps happening, all because Optimus is stubborn and won’t just get it over with.

We know Ratchet is right, because throughout the next season, Optimus is a bit more… shall we say, ruthless, in trying to legitimately end the war, Megatron’s redemption be damned. But that episode ends with Ratchet nearly dying when trying to kill Megatron himself, and understanding that the Autobots are Autobots for a reason, because they’re “good,” and sinking to the enemy’s level won’t be a good foundation for a peaceful post-war survival of their species. Point being, sometimes being a Paragon is an incredibly selfish virtue.

5. Parents who know what’s up

So, while I am a firm supporter in the dead parent cliché because parents are super inconvenient sometimes, when it’s not that kind of story and the parents are a big part of the plot… while also being idiots (like Disney and Nickelodeon sitcoms circa 2008), just to make the kids sound smarter, it’s just been done to death. Everything you could think of, your parents probably did when they were your age so having competent parents in the plot as a well-meaning obstacle that continues to surprise the hero is pretty rare in stuff like YA. Usually it’s “I must lie to them to keep them safe” meanwhile Sally Jackson is over here murdering her husband with Medusa’s severed head.

They don’t have to join the hero team, but parents painted as bumbling idiots is a disservice to the mischievous teenagers they used to be. Or just the parent who really does know the kid better than they do, like when kids anxiously come out and the parent is like “honey I knew since you were 3 let’s go get ice cream”. I didn't watch Glee but that one dad who was like "son all you wanted was a pair of sensible shoes, I knew." So yeah. Smart parents. More please.