#fluff flashback

[freifraufischer]

Fluff Flashback:  Nadia reacts (or doesn’t) to a Special Slow Motion Study of Herself.

[Timestamp 9.08]

From the 1977 Romanian Exhibition tour of the Untied States, ABC's Wide World of Sports gives us this almost quaint and rather extended fluff where they forced Nadia to watch herself in slow motion and listen to the music they had assigned to her for her reaction. Which is comically no reaction. I imagine that she is mostly going "What the fuck?"

[onsomenewsht]

now playing: Colorado

< track 2 || track 4 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 I'd choose the devil I know over the heaven I don't

The end starts with you finding the ring.

“Alexia, I swear to your good knee, if you’re not ready I’m gonna sell your Ballon d’Or”, your announcement resonating through the rooms. 

You’ve been ready for an entire hour now, beaming and excited for the opportunity to present with your teammates a special award named after your captain. The only thing missing is your perfectionist girlfriend still hidden in the bathroom.

When you open the door, you cannot believe your eyes.

Alexia’s tattooed back is exposed in the criminally low backless dress she’s in, sure, but her hair is still dripping wet and she’s fighting with a makeup brush. Clearly losing, her frown is a well known hint for you. 

She’s not ready and now you have to find your way on the black market.

“Need help?”

“No”

“Yes, vamos a llegar tarde” (we’re late)

“No voy a llegar tarde si ni quiero ir” (I can’t be late if I don’t wanna go in the first place)

Your chuckle filling the room is enough to make the blonde smirk, but you know her well enough to read the subtle lines on her face. Her worries are clear, the reasons to be discovered and a solution to be found.

Taking place behind her figure, you set your hands on her sides and plant a couple of strategically placed kisses on her back and shoulders. Her fitted form relaxes right away under your lips.

When your eyes meet in the mirror it's like a story is being narrated, an understanding of each other that goes beyond big words and great gestures but holds the deep love shared.

Your fingers move to untangle the blonde’s wet hair, taking the time to dry and straighten each lock just as she likes.

“Lo siento” (I’m sorry)

Shy Alexia is a version of her few people meet, her stance a lot less intimidating than the one she portrays on the field or in front of hundreds of cameras. 

“No tienes nada de que arrepentirte, mi corazón” (Nothing to be sorry for)

“I lost time in the gym and I lost time in the shower and I guess I just don’t wanna go”, the English sentence giving away how much thought she put into it. 

The catalan turns to look directly into your eyes for the first time all day, you realise. She really doesn’t want to go to this event, but your excitement and anticipation must have helped hide it throughout the week.

“Eres preciosa, mi amor” (You’re beautiful), she simply states, taking in the perfectly ironed black dress you’re wearing and the meticulously braided hair framing your face.

You smile at her, you love her.

“I know you don’t like the idea of this award, I know you don’t want us handing it to you with a carefully drafted speech”

“¡Lo escribiste!” (You wrote it, didn’t you?)

“Jana helped, all the team did”

Alexia’s eyebrow rises and you don't miss the fact she has a little bit more makeup on than usual, a sight she’s putting an effort.

“I supervised, don’t worry”

“No es reconfortante” (It’s no reassuring)

But her shoulders are relaxed, her frown no longer creasing her beautiful face. The blonde is calmer now and you take it as a victory she never actually asked you to ditch the all thing and hide together under a blanket with a mindless dating show in the background.

“Lo leerás?” (Will you read it?)

“Banned me to even come close to a microphone”, to be fair, it was a single accident and they should’ve not let the anchor’s line open when you just won a championship and your girlfriend’s literally glowing.

She bursts out laughing and you know she’s ready.

Almost ready.

“Take me the white heels while I finish esto”, her fingers moving somehow awkwardly around her mouth, “Y estamos listos!” (And we’re ready to go).

You place a soft but firm kiss on her lips, leaving for her shoes rack.

You’re looking for a pair of heels, one she hates to wear but well designed and a perfect fit with her dress. One she doesn’t wear much so it’s probably hidden in a box in the back of the closet.

That’s why you’re looking for a hidden box of shoes.

That’s where you notice a velvet little box.

That’s how you find the ring.

It’s a beautiful ring. Stunning cut, your precise size. A modest but expertly crafted gem complementing the simple band. It’s the perfect ring.

You don’t like shiny thing, Alexia could ask you to marry her with paper or grass from Camp Nou and you’re gonna say yes regardless.

But that’s exactly the problem.

You love her, you really do. You love her so much you gladly do whatever she asks, if she wants it enough to ask. You keep her love above your own and that’s fine, you’re happy with it. What she loves comes before what you love, naturally following immediately after anyway. 

And what she loves the most is usually you, so you never questioned it. 

However, when her love starts coming despite yours, you realise you can’t keep doing it.

The shift is difficult to perceive, coming at such a silent but excruciating pace that’s impossible to predict and devastating to take in.

The bomb dropped on you in the form of a tiny jewellery box that detonated when opened, shining ring inside.

“Està Narnia?” (You found Narnia?)

Closing the box and effectively concealing the ring from your gaze it’s a switch off. The silence that usually preempts a devastating explosion is coming after it, this one time.

“I’m ready!”

When she walks out of the bathroom, stunning as ever, you just stare. You never loved someone as much as you love her, that is obvious for a while now. 

You never loved and you will never love someone as much as you love her. 

Not even yourself.

“Estás bien?” (Are you okay?)

“T’estimo” (I love you)

Shining eyes almost give away all the meaning behind your words, but the captain fondly kisses you and it’s all good again.

Alexia takes the heels from your hands, when you manage to find them is not clear in your head, and sits on the bed. Your fingers intertwine as you bend on your knees and carefully tie the long white laces around her ankles.

“You good?”, she holds one of your hands and her stare is searching straight through your soul.

She has a ring hidden in a box, how long ago did she buy it?

“Let’s get you this award, mi corazón”

She wants to marry you, when will she ask?

Both your holds are firm and kind, she is calmed and ready. Now, somehow, she’s even happy to go to this event if you keep holding her hand like that.

If she asks, you will say yes.

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

They're Mates - with Y/N Pt 3

Summary - Y/N decides she wants to learn to fly again.

Warnings/Other Notes - This one is in 2nd person pov because the first two chapters were looking at Y/N and Az’s relationship from a source not within their relationship. 2k word chapter- Again, some of these lines/plot points are inspired by, or directly quoted from, ACOMAF. This chapter takes place prior to the first two chapters.

Injury mentioned, though not super graphically. Reader relives/remembers having her wings cut.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three

✨💫

You could feel the blade cutting into your wings. Tears spilled down your face as you screamed in pain, begging the Mother to make it stop. You were never going to fly again. The one thing that brought you unending joy, your only source of freedom, was being taken away.

“Y/N?”

The edges of your memories blurred. That voice, you recognized that voice.

“Y/N?!”

That sweet, honey-like voice called you. Something in you warmed and the pain lessened. Like you were basking in the sun.

“Y/N!”

You shot up in bed, your legs tangled in the sheets. A cold sweat dripped down your face and that same smooth voice kept saying something, but your mind was still catching up and couldn’t process them, not right now. Your chest rose and fell rapidly and then there were hands cupping your face. Not those smooth hands in the romance novels, but hands with bravery and adventure etched into them. Hands that felt like home. Your eyes shot up to meet a pair of hazel ones. Azriel.

“You’re safe. I’m here, your safe. Your father can’t touch you anymore,” the shadowsinger whispered to you. 

You nodded and leaned forward to wrap your arms around him. He reciprocated. You chased away the nightmare, remembering where you were. I’m here with Azriel. With Cassian, and Rhysand. With Rhys’s mother. Az saved you. Your arms tightened slightly around the shadowsinger, burrying your face into his muscular shoulder. His shadows curled around the both of you. His scent felt like home. The same scent that you had become familiar with every time you fell asleep, the one still lingering in the bedding when you woke up and he was gone off to train, with a promise to come back in time for dinner.

Sharing a bed with the Illyrian didn’t start right away, not on purpose. It just happened one night. Azriel never made it back to his own bed, instead he fell asleep comforting you from the same nightmare. Then it became purposeful, falling asleep and not returning to his own chambers. And one night the shadowsinger didn’t even bother finding his way into his own bed, Az just went straight to yours. You certainly didn’t mind and Rhys’s mother never said anything.

“Azriel?” You asked against his shoulder.

He placed the gentlest kiss to your temple. One that reminded you of a waltz you heard one day in Velaris. “Yes?”

You lifted your eyes to look at Az’s face. “What if I never fly again?” Your chest started heaving again. You broke away from the shadowsinger and looked away. It felt like someone had lit a fire inside you. Not one that someone makes to keep you warm on an incredibly chilly night, but a fire started out of malice, one to kill and destroy.

Azriel’s features became softer, contemplative if that was at all possible. “Impossible…because I’ll teach you.” 

Your eyes shot up to his face. “Are you…certain? Do you not need to train? I don’t—”

“I would spend the rest of my life in that damned cell for you again, Y/N.” He paused. “Don’t think I wouldn’t teach you to fly. Unlike Cass and Rhys I remember learning. Both of them would tell you to just flap your wings. I understand the fears and mental blocks of being older.”

You let out the softest laugh, wiping a drop of sweat from your forehead. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He nodded in his silence, considering something a moment. Az stood from the bed, his pants sitting low on his hips as he disappeared into the washroom and reappeared a few moments later with a damp cloth. “May I?”

You nodded and he gently pressed the cool cloth to your forehead, making the sweat disappear as if it had never happened. His shadows flitted through your hair. Whispering to you. Care. Care. Care.

The shadowsinger tried to call them back, but they had a mind of their own, especially around you. You chuckled lightly. Silly little guys, acting like a bunch of toddlers. When Az decided he had done a sufficient job of wiping your face he pressed another kiss to your forehead before hanging the cloth to dry and returned. 

You were lying down in the bed when he returned. He climbed in next to you before pulling you against him. You both fell asleep and slept soundly for the rest of the night.

The following day you went into Velaris with Rhysand’s mother to run a few errands. Her skills as a seamstress were impressive and she used it as an opportunity to occupy a portion of her time. You stopped at your favorite bakery to pick up a few things for dinner that evening. You also found a used book on diplomacy that was on sale. Rhys’s mother kindly bought it for you; well maybe more for Azriel’s shadow who seemed desperately intrigued with it. When you returned home, to your surprise, Trouble, More Trouble, and Too Much Trouble, were already there. (Nicknames you had aptly given to Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian.)

Too Much Trouble grinned when he saw you and clapped his brother on the back. “This one here got us kicked out early today for starting not one, not two, but three fights. I mean he looked like death coming to collect souls for the next life. Don’t insult, Y/N!!”

“Shut up, Cassian,” Rhys said, giving a pointed look.

“You weren’t any use, Cassian,” Azriel growled back while shoving his brother’s hand away from his shoulder. Az had a black eye and dried blood along his cheek bone. He didn’t meet your gaze but his shadows happily slithered over to you. Protect, Protect, Protect, they whispered to you. Then you understood the shadows’ need to be near you, hovering. The reason why you had a shadow over your shoulder since Az saved you from your father. A form of protection, something to keep you safe, something to report back to the shadowsinger if you were in danger. 

And that’s exactly what Azriel had done earlier that day. Defended you without remorse. 

You glanced at Cassian who had a bruise on his jaw and then to Rhys who also had a black eye. Rhys’s mother looked far from pleased. “Cassian. Rhysand. Upstairs! Clean yourselves up.” Her gaze turned to the shadowsinger. “Azriel. Sit .” His mother announced as she put the bags down from your earlier trip to Velaris. 

For all her softness, Rhys’s mother certainly had a sharpness to her not often seen. Rhys and Cass’s wings hung ever so slightly and only for a moment before they shifted again and they disappeared up the stairs. You followed them.

When you got to your room, you opened the book bought earlier that day and began reading on the bed. The sheets still smelled of him, of both of you. The shadow rested on your shoulder, appearing deeply engrossed in the words too. About fifteen minutes later you could hear the shadowsinger coming up the stairs. You knew it was him for the sole reason of his footsteps. You had learned how Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian walked. The heaviness of their feet, the pace.

You could hear Az and Rhys out in the hall. “Your mom wants you,” is all you heard before Rhys is walking downstairs and the shadowsinger is walking into your room. You closed your book to look up at him.

“C’mon.” The shadowsinger stepped towards the small balcony and opened the doors. “You can’t learn to fly in here.”

“What,” you asked him, confused.

“You think I started the third fight for the fun of it?” Azriel asked, offering his hand out to you.

You only gave him a confused look, remaining on the bed.

He walked back towards the bed where you sat reaching for your boots. He knelt down on his knees. “Sure, the moron had it coming. That doesn’t change the fact that fighting with him for a third time got me the afternoon off to teach someone how to fly.”

Your mouth fell agape. “Azriel,” you admonished and a smile came over the shadowsinger’s lips before pulling on your boots. “I am perfectly capable of putting on my shoes, Az.”

He only offered you a hand after he tied them up. You took it before he swept you into his arms. You craved his embrace, more than so many other things. Azriel walked back towards the balcony and shot into the sky.

You never imagined how some people hate this, because Gods this felt good, felt like freedom. It reminded you of your childhood when you flew whenever you could, as if flying up into the sky might take you away from all of your problems. You just hoped the next time you flew it would be on your own wings.

Azriel landed in a clearing, gently placing you down on the ground carefully, to make sure you didn’t fall. “I want you to be careful. If anything hurts too—”

“I promise I’ll tell you,” you said to him with a nod. 

“Is it…is it okay…okay if I touch your wings? For correction I mean? Should it be… necessary?” The shadowsinger asked from behind you, almost nervously. For good reason. The concept of touching someone’s wings without permission, in particular females, was beyond inappropriate. 

You nodded, you could sense the shadowsinger behind you, observing your wings carefully. You could feel his eyes scanning up and down. “Azriel?” You asked quietly.

“I can’t say I am a healer and know the anatomy well, but perhaps we start at the beginning. Test the muscles, the ligaments.”

You nod, something feeling oddly intimate about the moment. You turn to face the shadowsinger whose face had contemplating written all over it.

“Try spreading them and tucking them in,” he said as you faced each other. 

You nodded, spreading your wings as best you could. Mother above you hadn’t actually tried to do this in a while. You grimaced but managed to spread them, pushing them to your full extent, spreading your feet to offer you more balance.

A small smile of pride was clear on Azriel’s face. “Now fold inward.”

You did, slowly, afraid to tear or rip something in your wings. You couldn’t stop the smile when you folded inward with success. 

“Good,” he said with a mild amusement in his eyes. “Try again.”

You spread your wings again, your muscles ached, but that was good. That meant they were there, that meant you had a chance. 

Azriel’s eyes followed the movements, and cauldron boil him if your form wasn’t the most stunning thing he had ever seen. The shadowsinger had to put more concentration into not letting his knees buckle under him than he would like to admit. Beautiful. Stunning. Lovely. Beautiful, stunning. Lovely, his shadows whispered in his ear.

You pulled your wings shut rather than slowly closing them which caused you to lose your balance slightly, falling forward. Azriel reached out to catch you before you could land on the ground with a light amusement in his eyes before he suddenly realized how close in proximity you were to him. 

You’d been this close before. By the Gods, you shared a bed every night, but something felt different. You gently rest your hands against the shadowsinger’s chest in silence. 

“Y/N?” He asked quietly, hands shifting to cup either side of your face.

You looked up to see his face leaning down slightly. “Azriel.”

You don’t know who leaned in first, maybe Azriel, maybe you. It didn’t matter, because moments later the shadowsinger’s lips were on yours. They were sweet, and salty, and soft and warm. Like a warm biscuit on a cold night. Your fingers wound up in his hair before he pulled away. “Was that okay?”

His response was pulling your lips to his again, harder, more desperately like he had lived in a dry dessert for centuries and you were a tiny pool of water in the middle of it all.

You returned to opening and closing your wings, building the muscle until it was as easy as walking, though it certainly felt like the cauldron was burning you alive when you woke up the following morning. But you couldn’t be bothered, you were going to fly again.

Taglist: @5onedirection5

[cherry-leclerc]

may 18 at 11:59 PST

[desihopelessromantic]

JJK FRIENDLY REMINDER:

gojo probably has PTSD (Post Toji Stress Disorder)

[kjack89]

Timeless

Because it may have been almost a month, but what is time, anyway.

The air in the antique shop was thick with dust, and Combeferre coughed into the crook of his arm before giving Enjolras a look. “Remind me again what we’re looking for,” he said, picking a particularly tacky snowglobe off of the shelf without bothering to hide his look of revulsion.

“A gift for Grantaire,” Enjolras repeated for easily the twelfth time as he examined the spines of a stack of ancient books with yellowed pages.

“Right,” Combeferre said, replacing the snowglobe and sharing a knowing glance with Courfeyrac. “Why?”

Enjolras glanced up at them and away again. “Does it matter?”

Courfeyrac leaned against a shelf that creaked ominously, and he hastily straightened. “Well, it’s not Christmas,” he reasoned.

“Not Grantaire’s birthday, either,” Combeferre added.

“And no judgment, Enj, but it’s a little late for Valentine’s Day.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together, glaring a garish painting of a sad clown as if it had personally offended him. “It’s an apology gift,” he said sourly, staring determinedly away from Courfeyrac and Combeferre so that he didn’t have to see the look they inevitably gave each other.

He was already familiar with it.

“Uh-oh,” Courfeyrac said, with barely suppressed glee masquerading as concern. “What are you apologizing for?”

Enjolras sighed. “I said something stupid.”

“No shit,” Combeferre said, uncharacteristically blunt, not that Enjolras didn’t likely deserve it. “But what specifically?”

Enjolras sighed again, raking a hand through his blond curls before telling them reluctantly, “We were watching some movie, or at least, it was on in the background while I was doing work. Some kind of rom-com thing and it ended with the couple old and happy together, and Grantaire made some comment about how maybe that’d be us someday and—”

Courfeyrac stared at him, all traces of amusement vanished. “Don’t tell me.”

“I just pointed out that statistically—”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre and Courfeyrac groaned simultaneously. 

Enjolras winced. “I mean, the world’s probably going to be uninhabitable long before we’re elderly—”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes so hard it looked physically painful. “Mm, yeah, whisper that in his ear, see how it goes.”

“I didn’t realize he was trying to be romantic,” Enjolras muttered, the tips of his ears flaring as red as his favorite hoodie as he continued to avoid meeting Combeferre or Courfeyrac’s eyes. 

“Of course you didn’t,” Combeferre sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Enjolras huffed another sigh. “And now I need to make it up to him,” he said, determined to force the conversation back to something productive.

Combeferre just gave him a look. “And you decided an antique shop was the best place to find a gift because…?”

Shrugging, Enjolras picked a small ceramic ornament off the shelf, turning it over in his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell it was supposed to be. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “He loves this place, so I figured there must be something here worth getting.”

Courfeyrac made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a hastily-stifled cackle. “Pretty sure he likes the bar next door better,” he said.

“Probably,” Enjolras said, “but I can’t exactly get that for him, can I?”

Though at the rate he was going, that might actually be the only gift big enough to make it up to Grantaire.

“Fair enough,” Combeferre said, ever the voice of reason. “Why don’t we split up, cover more ground?”

Enjolras made a face. “Why does this feel like the start of a slasher movie?”

Courfeyrac smirked. “Probably because if you don’t succeed, your relationship’s going to be the first thing to die?”

Enjolras glared at him. “Thanks for your support,” he said dryly.

“Anytime,” Courfeyrac said, saccharine sweet.

Enjolras rolled his eyes as he turned to survey the assorted crap that evidently passed for antiques. He knew he should be more grateful that his friends were willing to put up with him and his now decades of emotional incompetence, but in his defense, they didn’t have to be such assholes about the whole thing.

Though, in this case, Enjolras definitely deserved it.

He scowled as he drifted somewhat aimlessly down the aisle, not even sure what he was looking for. His eyes fell on a tattered cardboard box perched precariously on the end of one shelf, or more accurately, on the neon green postcard taped to the front.

PHOTOS AND LITHOGRAPHS, it proclaimed. TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH.

Enjolras had no idea who in their right mind would buy random old photos of people they’d never met or places they’d never been, but he intrigued enough that he pulled the box off the shelf, shuffling through the untidy stacks until he pulled one out at random.

It was a black and white photo of two young men in dinner standing next to each in front of an old-fashioned car. He flipped it over and he could just make out, written very faintly on the back, ‘Before the big dance, 1944.’

He frowned as he turned the photo back over, but before he could toss it back in the box, he caught sight of the familiar half-smile the shorter of the two men wore. A smile that Enjolras had kissed more times than he could count, and without warning, he could see it in his head like a memory he didn’t even know he’d had.

“Hey, kid,” Grantaire said, giving Enjolras that little smile as he leaned against the fence.

“Don’t call me kid,” Enjolras said, breathless. “I’m eighteen, and besides, I graduate soon.”

“I know,” Grantaire said, raking his eyes slowly down Enjolras’s body, his smile sharpening. “Besides, you don’t look much like a kid tonight.”

Still, Enjolras hesitated. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. I know you’re shipping out soon, and I doubt you want to spend your time with a bunch of kids…”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “Didn’t we just establish you’re not a kid?” he said easily. “Besides, someone’s got to keep an eye on. Especially if Courfeyrac spikes the punch again.”

Enjolras half-smiled at the memory, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wish I was going with you.”

“I don’t,” Grantaire said flatly. “Hard enough fighting the Nazis without having to worry about you getting shot or blown up.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “You’ll write?”

“As often as I can,” Grantaire promised, reaching for his hand. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

It was a hollow promise – they both knew too many young men who would never return from the war in Europe. But before Enjolras could point that out, Grantaire dropped his hand, straightening. “Mr. and Mrs. Enjolras,” he said with what he clearly thought was a winning smile.

“Oh, Grantaire,” Enjolras’s mother said. “I didn’t realize you were going tonight.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Thought I’d give the kids a little treat,” he said easily.

Enjolras’s father laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “And hopefully keep them out of trouble,” he said.

“Of course,” Grantaire said, winking at Enjolras, who rolled his eyes.

“Wait, before you go, I want to get a picture!” Enjolras’s mother said, and Enjolras groaned.

“Ma, not tonight—”

“Just one,” she said, and Enjolras’s father frogmarched them both over to pose awkwardly in front of the car. “See, all done.”

Enjolras just sighed and looked at Grantaire. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered.

Grantaire grinned. “I’ll make sure I bring him back in one piece,” he promised Enjolras’s parents, who both just smiled and waved.

Enjolras and Grantaire made it all the way down the sidewalk and around the corner before Grantaire pressed Enjolras up against the side of a garage to kiss him. “Sorry,” he said. “You really do look good, kid.”

“So do you,” Enjolras murmured, and Grantaire kissed him once more before releasing him.

“What do you think?” he said, casually. “Make an appearance at the dance and then you can come back to mine to say goodbye properly?”

If Enjolras had his way, he wouldn’t say goodbye at all. But since that wasn’t an option, he settled for nodding. “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds like a plan.”

Back in the antique shop, Enjolras shook his head, feeling almost dizzy as the memory – or whatever it had been – faded, leaving a strange sort of buzzing sound in his ears. He set the photo down with trembling fingers, and then, like an idiot, reached back into the box again for another.

This time he emerged with a color photograph that looked like someone had torn it out of a book based on the caption in tiny print underneath the picture. ‘Portrait of a young man writing a letter,’ the caption read, dry and boring like any art book Enjolras had the misfortune of flipping through, ‘ca. 1650. Artist unknown.’

Enjolras frowned down at the picture, letting out a sigh of relief that it didn’t look anything like Grantaire.

At least, until he realized that it did look, at least a little bit, like himself.

Enjolras’s chest felt tight as he scanned Grantaire’s latest missive. Where most of his friends sent updates on how their efforts were going to liberate Enjolras from the cursed marriage his parents had foisted upon him, Grantaire’s alone were like a balm in these dark times. They weren’t full of hope, as Enjolras would never expect from the cynic, but they were full of certitude, of no promises but instead guarantees that no man could stand between Grantaire’s blade and Enjolras.

“Patience is a virtue neither of us possess, but I must beg you for what little you can spare me,” the latest letter read. “Dark is the night but soon we shall be reunited in the dawn. And should we fail, know that my heart will belong to you for the rest of time, and none may cleave my soul from yours when we depart this earth.”

Enjolras traced his finger over the scrawled ‘R’ at the bottom of the page, lifting his finger to brush against his lips. Only then did he sit up in his chair, straighten his shoulders, and grab his own quill to begin to write his response.

Again, Enjolras resurfaced in the antique store, and he reached out automatically to grab the shelf, steadying himself against it. His head swam, and he had no explanation for what was going on, save for the obvious that he’d finally cracked under pressure and lost his entire mind.

It didn’t feel like he was going crazy, though. He was still him, still in this cursed store, still trying to find some kind of apology gift and instead unearthing bizarre memories of, what, alternate lives?

A hysterical giggle rose in his throat and he did his best to tamp it down, instead reaching for the box to return it to its spot on the shelf. 

Instead, he caught sight of a lithograph on the top of the pile of pictures, a charming little scene of what could only be a Parisian café a century or so ago, and despite now having two very distinct reasons to know this was a bad idea, he lifted it out of the box.

He couldn’t even pretend to be surprised at what happened next.

Enjolras squinted up at the sun, too high in the sky already for how much he had to accomplish that day.

But as he strode past a café, someone hailed him, delaying him all the further. “Enjolras! Join me, won’t you.”

Enjolras scowled at the dark-haired man seated at a table outside of the café, his chin propped in his hand as he grinned at him.. “I see you are putting your morning to good use,” Enjolras said sourly. “Alas that some of us have more important matters to which we must attend.”

Grantaire’s grin widened. “And yet what may be more important than sating your hunger and thirst?” he asked with feigned innocence. “Even gods take the time to feast with mortals.”

“I suppose it is well that I am not a god, then.”

He turned to leave but paused when Grantaire called after him, “All the more reason to join me, then. As I doubt I merit the company of gods regardless.”

Enjolras sighed, turning back to again refute him, but before he could say anything, Grantaire straightened, his grin sobering into something more genuine, something that made Enjolras’s chest feel inexplicably warm. “Please,” he said, something soft and almost sweet in the word. “Would the world cease to spin should you spend a half hour letting someone take care of you?”

“Is that what this is?” Enjolras asked, forgetting to be harsh.

Grantaire shrugged. “A first attempt, at least.” His grin returned. “How am I doing thus far?”

“That remains to be seen,” Enjolras said, hesitating for only a moment before, reluctantly, sitting down across from him. “Very well. You have a half hour. Do your best.”

“For you, I always do,” Grantaire said, his voice low, and Enjolras was suddenly aware that the warmth on his cheeks had nothing to do with the sun.

At least this time, he didn’t feel like he was going to collapse upon returning to himself, which was a small sort of comfort. He did feel a little shaky, which probably explained how his renewed attempt at putting the box on the shelf instead sent it falling to the floor.

Enjolras groaned as he bent to pick up all the pictures and shove them back in the box, hoping this didn’t mean he’d suddenly experience a hundred memories at once. Luckily, he remained entirely in the present, and he hastily gathered all the photos, placing them back in the box, which he successfully returned to the shelf.

Only then did he notice a photo he’d missed, and he sighed again as he bent to pick it up, glancing automatically at it. This was a color photo, much more recent if a little out of focus, of two older men kissing, and he flipped it over to see if anything was on the back. 

In bold Sharpie strokes, someone had written ‘FINALLY! Fifty years in the making. June 29, 2015.’

Enjolras felt the breath catch in his throat. Three days after Obergefell.

He waited for the memory to overwhelm him yet again, but this time, it didn’t come, and he frowned down at it, a little surprised. Maybe it was because neither man particularly resembled him or Grantaire.

Or maybe it was because he and Grantaire had to live this memory themselves.

It was a stupid thought that somehow still had tears pricking in Enjolras’s eyes, and he shook his head, starting to return the photo to the box before hesitating.

He knew what he needed to give Grantaire.

— — — — —

“I bought these.”

Grantaire glanced up from where he was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. “Hell of an opening,” he said mildly, sitting up as Enjolras sat down next to him. He accepted the paper bag that Enjolras held out, his brow furrowing, and he carefully shook out the four pictures Enjolras had purchased from the antique store, fanning them out across the table.

He blinked down at them and back up at Enjolras, his brow furrowing, just slightly. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “You bought four random pictures?”

Enjolras jerked a nod and then took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize.”

Grantaire looked up at him, his expression neutral. “I’m listening.”

Enjolras wet his lips before telling Grantaire, “I meant what I said.”

Grantaire sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok,” he said, with something like patience, “maybe we need to first circle back to what the concept of an apology means—”

But Enjolras refused to be deterred from his point. “You and I both know that we aren’t guaranteed to get old together, let alone separately,” he said, and Grantaire fell silent, something tightening in his expression, something that Enjolras wanted desperately to smooth away with his fingertips. “Hell, we’re not even guaranteed to make it to next week, let alone past November, or five years from now or what have you.”

“Stirring oration as always, Enj—”

“But what I should have said,” Enjolras continued, “and didn’t, is that it doesn’t matter how much time we have together. What matters is that we have any time at all.” He reached for Grantaire’s hand, a little surprised when Grantaire let him take it. “Whether it’s five years or fifty years, any time that I have with you will be worth it. I don’t know if we’re going to get a happy ending, but I’ll be damned if we don’t get a happy right now with each other. And that– that’s what I should have said.”

He had faltered a little at the end, but it was worth it regardless for the look in Grantaire’s eyes, for the small half-smile that lifted just one corner of his mouth, for the way his fingers tightened around Enjolras’s.

Enjolras took another deep breath before telling him, “I went to the antique store to get you a present to say that I’m sorry, but instead I got these.” He gestured at the pictures still spread across the coffee table. “Something about them– I can’t explain it, but I look at them, and I see us.” He shrugged, a little helplessly. “I know that between the two of us, I’m the believer, but I have to admit, until I saw these, I don’t know if I truly believed that it really is me and you, forever. Whatever that forever ends up looking like.”

He squeezed Grantaire’s hand before telling him, “So I didn’t get these for you. I got them for me, to remind myself of that. Because the only gift that I can give you that matters worth a damn is time.”

Grantaire’s smile was soft and his eyes were just a little bit wet, and he shook his head. “Enjolras—”

He broke off as if he couldn’t quite decide what to say, and Enjolras added, “And I really am sorry that I didn’t say this the first time around.”

Grantaire shook his head again. “Well,” he managed, his voice thick, “you said it now. C’mere.” He tugged Enjolras to him, reaching up with his free hand to cup Enjolras’s cheek, to brush his thumb along his jawline as he leaned in to kiss him. “I love you.”

Enjolras kissed back before telling him, “I love you, too.”

Grantaire kissed him once more, his lips curving into a smile against Enjolras’s before he leaned back to ask, innocently, “So does that mean you didn’t actually get me a present, or…?”

Enjolras sighed, the exasperated, endlessly fond sigh of a man in love with the biggest pain in the ass he’d ever met. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

And for once, Grantaire did. After all, they had time to worry about presents later.

They had all the time in the world.

[sebastianstanisahotmf]

Overworked

Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

A/N This is part two of the fic too many missions. However, there is a lot of angst in this fic. Idk what happened but I got a bit carried away and it gets really sad but it has a happy ending. Also, likes comments and reblogs are appreciated. All mistakes are my own so if you notice any feel free to comment below.

18+ MINORS DNI, THERE'S NOTHING EXPLICIT IN THIS FIC BUT THE FIRST PART HAS SMUT

Summary Bucky starts to take care of you when its actually him who needs taking care of

DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER APPS/SITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings Fluff, angst (a lot) and Bucky has a flashback.

After Bucky helped you put the hoodie on, he put his other clothes back on. He proceeded to lift you up bridal style and take you to your shared floor of the tower.

“I’m capable of walking, you know,” you said while yawning.

“I know babydoll, but you deserve to be carried.”

He walked into the bathroom and set you on the counter while he turned the shower on and got it to your preferred temperature. He started to take his clothes off so you decided to take your his hoodie off (since it was the only thing you were wearing.)

Bucky turned around and picked you up again which made you giggle. He pressed a kiss to your lips and another to your forehead.

He walked under the spray of the shower and leaned in to kiss you again.

“Can you put me down please,” you asked, breathless from the kiss.

Bucky put you down and reached for his shower gel; he knew that you loved it when you smelled like him. Then, he picked up a loofah and put his shower gel on it before cleaning you thoroughly.

Once you were clean, Bucky picked up your shampoo and put some on his hand before massaging your scalp. You let out a sigh and then moved your head under the water so you could rinse the suds out of your hair. Bucky picked up the conditioner and applied it to the ends like you taught him to. You turned to face him and rested your forehead on his chest while the conditioner was being washed out of your hair.

“Thank you, baby,” you said, looking up at him with a smile on your face.

“You're welcome doll,” Bucky replied and kissed you once again.

“Let me return the favour,” you said. It was more of a demand though because Bucky loved taking care of you but still believed that he didn’t deserve to be taken care of due to his past actions- which were completely out of his control.

“You don’t have to doll,” Bucky replied, looking down at the floor.

You softly put your hand under his chin so he would look at you and you told him, “Darling, you deserve to be taken care of more than anyone else I know, especially since you’ve been working so hard lately. I know what you’re thinking and you need to stop. You’re the most amazing man I know, you’re so kind and caring and didn’t choose to do what you did in the past. Everyone knows that. Even Tony knows and we both know how much of a stubborn asshole he is.”

Bucky chuckled and his cheeks were tinted red. “Thanks, doll,”

You grabbed the shower gel and loofah and started to clean him. After that, you used your shampoo to wash his hair. Bucky loved when you washed his hair because he loved you playing with it especially when he was struggling with the memories and flashbacks of his past.

It was while you were rinsing the shampoo out of his hair when you noticed that he had gone completely still and his muscles were tensed up. His hands were shaking and tears were streaming down his face. You quickly finished rinsing his hair so you could help him out.

“Come back to me Bucky,” You whispered in his ear and grabbed his hands, “Honey listen to my voice, I need you to come back to me now.”

Bucky shuddered when he snapped out of the flashback and looked at you with the most fear-stricken eyes you had ever seen.

“I-I can still see it so vividly,” Bucky whispered.

You wrapped your arms around him and stood there for a minute or two.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here and in bed,” You grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the shower.

You turned the shower off, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your body. Then, you gave Bucky one to wrap around himself.

“Go into the bedroom Buck, I won’t be long. I just need to put a towel on my hair.”

Bucky just shook his head and stood in the doorway waiting for you to finish what you were doing. When you had finished, you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bedroom.

You grabbed some boxers for Bucky to put on and give them to him; you grab yourself some panties and nothing else since Bucky needs physical contact when he’s like this. You finished off drying your hair and brushed it through.

The bed hadn't been made yet which made it easier to get under the covers, “Come on baby,” you held your arms out to Bucky.

He walked over and crawled onto the bed. He rested his head on your chest and wrapped his arms around you as you played with his hair.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” He whispered.

“Shhhh. It’s ok. You’re so tired and overworked.”

“But I shouldn’t be so fucking broken,” Bucky’s voice cracked on the last word and the tears started to fall again, wetting your skin.

“Hey, you’re not broken. You’re a good guy who has been put through hell and back. You didn’t deserve any of it and you had no choice.” You replied, running your fingers through his still-damp hair.

You stayed like that for a while before Bucky sat up and moved to lay next to you. You looked at him confused. He rolled onto his side and used his hand to support his head.

“Thank you doll. I love you so so much.” Bucky leaned over to kiss you.

When you pulled back from the kiss, you responded with, “I love you too, so much.”

There was a comfortable silence that was disturbed by bucky when he said, “I need to finish the mission report.”

“It’s ok. I’ll explain why it’s late tomorrow. I'm sure Fury will understand.”

Bucky moved to lay on his back and moved his arm so you could cuddle up to his side.

“I definitely need the break, the lack of sleep makes everything worse.”

“Luckily, I spoke to Fury then,” you giggled.

Bucky was smiling, “I still can’t believe that you intimidate Fury. No one intimidates Fury.”

You leaned up to kiss Bucky, “Goodnight Buck,”

“Goodnight doll,”

That night, you both fell asleep quickly. Happy that you're able to sleep together after spending so long being unable to do so.

Taglist: @buckys-wintersoldier, @nicoline1998enilocin

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Also, if you want to see the things that I repost then you can follow my other account @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

[misslisamiray]

Time for a random headcanon thing!

At this point, it's widely accepted/practically canon that Diane was the breadwinner & Rick was the stay at home parent. So he would have spent the most time with Beth.

Another widely agreed upon thing (though maybe less so than the first one) is that Rick, without all his cybernetics, is/would be kinda weak & wimpy, yes? There was a popular post about this a few months back, but sadly the account it was from deactivated, so I can't link it. 😔

Little kids bring home lots of germs from school. This is a fact even non-parents like myself are aware of. If you have friends with kids, you've definitely heard at least one of them say they thought they had a great immune system, then their kids started school. If you are a parent, perhaps you've said it. I'm assuming this is all the same in the RnM world, so.....

Put all these thoughts together and you get: Young Rick was definitely that one unfortunate parent who caught EVERY bug that went around little Beth's classroom. Even when Beth herself didn't.

Is this an important theory? Nope, not at all. But it made me go "awww", and I am sure that I'm right, so I figured I'd share.

[backstabber128]

Here's some dad + daughter parallels that shatter my poor tortured heart even more👌

It's crazy to think they have so much in common despite completely different circumstances ❤️‍🩹

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Singer!FemReader

Summary: Before Venus was a multi-platinum record selling artist, writing about the quarterback that stole her heart, she was senior at LSU going through her first heartbreak. This is that story.

a/n: buckle up babes, its heavy

Chapter 16: Robbed

#Track9 Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, noncon, smut, launguage, brief description of sexual assault. MINORS DNI

Part 1 🖤

Word Count: 3.3k

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Miles was your very own fairytale prince; he was sweet, chivalrous, charming and easy on the eyes. You met while moving into your LSU apartment about a week before classes started. You were struggling with some boxes when he swooped in and safely helped you bring it up the stairs to your second floor apartment. It was then when you learned that he lived across the hall and ‘couldn’t bare the thought that you had to move in all by yourself, when a lady shouldn’t have to carry any of her stuff at all.’ It’s safe to say, he made the best first impression you’d ever seen. 

To thank him for taking the load off your shoulders, you invited him in for the only thing you had in the fridge: sweet tea and beignets that you had left over from breakfast. He accepted the offer with the kindest eyes and you proceeded to learn more about each other for the rest of the afternoon. You learned he was here on an athletic scholarship for soccer and you excitedly informed him about how your summer internship turned into a job offer at the Baton Rouge Clinic. Meeting him made the 9 hour move from home less stressful, he just had a face you wouldn’t mind seeing more of. Luckily before leaving he asked you on your first date, of which you gladly accepted. Why wouldn’t you, he was the most respectful and gentle man you’d ever met. 

If only you had remembered that fictional fairytales are the only ones getting perfect endings.

That Friday, your date went exceptionally well, so it led to another and another until he asked you to be his girlfriend. That second week of dating, after officially being his girl, you met Joe and Ja’Marr. You didn’t think you’d hit it off the way you did, but you gained a boyfriend and two lifelong friends within a few weeks of being at your new school. You were on top of the world; you had a job you loved, classes that you actually enjoyed, an amazing boyfriend and friends that’d do anything to put a smile on your face. You couldn’t ever fathom anything going wrong from here, but of course it did, without you even knowing at first.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

The first sign of the end of this moment of bliss was when you had Miles meet your friends. You and Miles were at the library on a study date when the two football players walked in for their own study sesh. They saw you before you saw them, due to your eyes being buried in your books. 

“Well look who it is, our little Psych major.” You lifted your head to Ja’Marr sitting in one of the empty seats at your table, closer to Miles. While Joe took the one closest to you. Miles quietly observed the quarterback as he instantly acquainted himself with your study snack and loosely threw his arm around your chair. He frowned at your lack of acknowledgement. Did you not see him attempting to stake his claim on you while he, your actual boyfriend, was sitting directly across from you?

“I didn’t know this was when you usually studied. I thought there was lab in the facility you used?” You asked pulling out a small bag of pretzels from your purse and giving it to the quarterback.

Before either of them could reply, Miles cleared his throat. “There is, but it’s usually crowded with jocks doing anything but homework.” His eyes flicker to the man next to you, who smirked right back at him.

“Yea well, we heard you talking about coming here yesterday. Since it’s before practice, we decided to join you. That okay?” Joe asks smiling in your direction. “Of course, it is!” 

‘What a kiss ass.’ Miles mumble under his breath, inaudible to everyone except Ja’Marr, well it didn’t take him long to get on his radar.

Unbeknownst to all the tension surrounding them, you introduce the boys and continue with the session. 

A few minutes before the guys leave for practice, you get up to go to the bathroom, leaving the men to themselves. Once you’re out of sight, Miles sits up and looks straight at Joe.

“What are you doing with my girl Burrow?” His eyes squinted and brows knitted.

Joe shrugs with a smug look on his face. “Nothing man, she’s my friend. just looking out for her.”

Miles kisses his teeth, “Nah, that was more than just lookin’ out. Just remember that’s my girl.”

Joe chuckles and pulls out his phone, “Loosen up Robinson, it’s nothing. Plus I got my own to worry about.” He lies showing him a picture of the cheerleader he hooked up with sometime ago. Ja’Marr side eyes him with a knowing look and shakes his head, before eventually backing his QB up.

“Yea, she’d be here right now if it wasn’t for her own practice. You can even ask Y/n.” He teased, watching Joe’s eyes widen for a quick moment before maintaining his innocence.

Miles tosses the phone back as you round the corner, “whatever, but I’m still watching you.” Joe raises his hands ‘harmlessly’ then goes to stand when you reach the table.

“Hey Princess, thanks for the company but we gotta get to practice.” He says going in for a side hug which is immediately reciprocated.

“Aww well, you guys have a good practice. I’ll come by the house when I’m not busy.” You smile hooking your pinkie with Ja’Marr like he would with his teammates. “We should probably get going too, right babe?” Miles was too occupied with glaring at the quarterback as he walked away to hear you.

You walk around to him and run your nails through his hair and scratching the side of his fade. “Babe.”

“Yea, it’s late.” You pack up and walk back to your apartment hand in hand, but Miles’ mind couldn't be further from the moment.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

After meeting your friends Miles shifted, to you it seemed like he just wanted to spend more time with you but it was way more than that. He started becoming more possessive of you, always with you, constantly had his hands on your body and became obsessed with making sure no other guy could take anything from you that he hadn’t already done. It was hot always being under his arm, sure you missed your friends but he’s your boyfriend. Your study dates moved to his apartment and suddenly he had an all access pass to do whatever he wanted.

It was Midterms time and you needed to finish your research paper before the test. The amount of stress you were feeling at the moment was brain numbing. 

“What kind of professor assigns a 20 page research paper and a written test in the same week? I mean isn't the paper enough, does he want to be grading for the next 3 months? It makes no fucking sense.” Miles watched as you pushed your glasses up to bury your head in your palms.

“Yea, I don’t know either.” He says eyeing the way your tits push out as you cross your arms at the computer. His gaze lowers to your bare legs, you always ran hot when it came to working, the tennis shorts you were wearing swallowed up by the thickness of your thighs. That added to fact that it was his gold jersey covering your perfect set of twins made him readjust himself multiple times in the last hour. Not like you ever noticed, but something about your oblivious nature made him crave you even more. 

When he looked back up the deep set eyes and frown that painted your beautiful face made him clear his desires just enough to position himself behind you and rest his strong hands on your shoulders. “I bet I could relieve some of that stress.” He mutters against your ear then starts kneading at the tense muscles.

“Oh, that feels good.” You couldn’t help the light moans thickening the air, just like he couldn’t help but kiss on that spot behind your ear making you melt even further into his chest. 

By the time he was done the pressure in his jeans was unbearable. His hands moved down to your waist and lips into the curve of your neck. He bets Burrow’s never gotten this far with you, he probably wishes he could have what’s his. “I could make you feel so good.” 

You hum and turn your head to kiss his lips. The force your met with takes you aback, but you indulge him for bit. “That was nice, but I need to study.” You peck his lips once more then turn back to your paper. His hands continue to roam your body, his lips reattach themselves to your neck sucking deep bruises into your skin. “Babe, please I need to do this.”

He lifts the bottom of the shirt and teases the band of your shorts. You hands grab his and pull them away from your figure. “Miles, stop.” You shuffle yourself away from him and watch his face convert from lust to agitation. “What is up with you today?”

He scoffs, “what you come over here dressed like that and expect me not to want more?”

Your head drops, “we talked about this. You said you were fine with moving at my pace.”

“Well maybe it’s time we step up the pace.” This has to be a joke, you severely want to believe that he’s joking, but the look in his eyes matches the way he looks on gameday, pure determination.

So you match his expression. “I’m not ready, if you can’t deal with that go find someone else that would love to spread their legs for you. You need to tell me right now Miles, because I’m not going to keep myself in a position that makes me uncomfortable.” 

He sucks in his lower lip then chuckles. “Princess, I want you and only you. I’ll wait as long as you want, because you mean that much to me. Now come back here, we can put on a movie and forget all about this.” The little anger you had dissipated to anxiety, he noticed as you fingers picked at your nails.

“Baby I promise, nothing like this will ever happen again. I’ve been so stressed that my body took over before my brain could reason the actions. I just want my girl back.” He seemed sincere, like he was actually sorry. It takes a lot for a man to apologize in your experience, so you slowly gave into him. 

“You promise you won’t make any more moves?” 

~

The last time a man- a boy really- got this close to you, he didn’t hide his desires at all. So you rejected him, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. You thought if you just avoided him at all costs that he’d just go away, but he was best friends with your roommate. So one night last year when she had her friends over, he made his move. She and her other friend had left to pick up dinner and he saw it as his opportunity to finally have you. He towered over you, his hands moving up and down your thighs, they were clamped shut as you continued to move away from him. He pinned you against the wall, using his weight to keep you there. You kept repeating for him to stop, but your pleas were muted to his ears. Somehow he managed to get your pants open, but just as he moved his hand further the front door opened.

~

“I would never do anything you didn’t want princess, I got you.”

Things seemed to simmer down after that, he kept his promise and didn’t try anything more than you would give. You knew it was a bit unfair to withhold that from him, but you just couldn’t open yourself up to someone you’d only known for two months. You tried to make up for it by helping him out when you could, but never wanted to go past that.

The weekend of your 3 month anniversary was packed with events. He had a game that Thursday, Joe and Jamarr had a big game on Friday and your anniversary was the next day. Not to mention you still had to work each day, so you were exhausted. Miles promised you a nice carefree night and he certainly delivered.

“This has to be the most fun date I’ve ever been on.” He smiled you leaned into him all giddy and happy. 

“I’m glad you think so cause its not over yet.” He held the door open to his car then got in himself. 

“I can’t wait to see what else you’ve got planned.” The high you were feeling off of pure vibes was incredible, he actually indulged you in your love for bowling alleys and arcades. Growing up if you weren’t roller skating you were by the lanes eating greasy food and laughing with your friends.

Miles turned on the car to warm it up some, then reached into console and pulled out a single wrapped chocolate chip cookie. “Babe in the nicest way possible, that is not going to feed both of us.” You chuckled.

“It’s not that kind of cookie, but don’t worry its completely safe and I’ll be with you the entire time.” When you locked eyes, your mischievous nature couldn’t disguise itself. The smirk on your lips added to that look in your eyes told him everything. So he split the treat and handed it to you. 

“Bon appetit, baby.” 

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

The second you got to his door, your hands were all over him itching to touch his skin. Your lips bruised due to the fervor the sloppy kisses you shared. It takes him an extra five minutes to actually get the door open. Once it is, your pushed up to the wall with his knee between your legs. You couldn't help but grind yourself on the thickness of his thigh, your high taking away all worries and just allowing you to actually enjoy the moment. 

“Fuck baby, I need you.” He breathes out as he licks on your sweet spot. 

You moan before pushing him off, “not here.” You smirk throwing off your hoodie and walking towards his bedroom. 

The weight of him on top of you in that moment felt like fulfilling a delicious craving, but its short lived as pieces of clothing are being thrown around the room. You take a second to admire the man’s physique, he’s a perfect mix of lean and muscular. His hands find yours as they run over his stomach and pulls them over your head, suddenly you’re eye to eye. You go up to kiss him when his other hand lifts up your leg. Your desire quickly turns to panic, “Babe?” There’s no way he’s about do this without any prep, right?

He looks up at your wide eyes and pecks your pout. “Don't worry I got you.”

“Wait I’m not- we can’t until- Miles!” 

Without any preamble, he pushes his length into your canal immediately being met with resistance. “Fuck you’re tight.”

He barely notices the wince you let out nor the whelmed up tears in your eyes from the intrusion. 

“Miles this isn’t, it hurts please just stop-

“Baby it’ll get fuck better.” He starts losing control of his hips and buries his face in the pillow next to you. The moan and groans are muffled by the softness, while your cries are silenced in fear. The pain worsens with each thrust, your pelvis feels like it could shatter and your walls must be coated in blood as the smell of iron wafts into the air.

“You feel so good. Baby you’re gonna make me cum.” Your gaze is locked on the ceiling, hiding your tear stained face from him. At this point you’re just hoping he’ll finish faster. You no longer want to feel the harsh thumps of your chest, the way his dick ambushes your walls, instead you find that hole in your mind that allows you to escape and jump.

Seconds later, Miles lets out one final groan before emptying into the rubber and pulls out. Too fucked out to do anything, he takes the condom off and throws it onto the floor. He doesn’t see the amount of red stained on it or even tied it off. He just slumps into the bed and falls asleep. 

It takes almost half an hour for you to come back to reality, your now pulse even but your body feels beyond wrecked.

You stared at the sleeping man dumbfounded for a few seconds trying to wrap your head around what the hell just happened. Letting out a muted scoff you grab the nearest item of clothing which ends up being his soccer jersey. After putting on the shirt you walk over to his bathroom. Each step made you want to double over, you could never look at him the same again. It felt like that night all over again, except ten times worse. Nothing made sense anymore.

Looking at yourself in the mirror isn't the same anymore. Your eyes are duller and your cheeks tear stained, and all you can ask yourself is, ‘what the fuck?’ You knew the first time wasn’t supposed to be sunshine and rainbows, but that felt like a hurricane followed by a tornado. 3 months of events that led up to the most awful night of your life. Rummaging through his cabinets you find ibuprofen and immediately down 3, you wouldn’t wish this pain on your worse enemy.

Your legs tremble as you walked back into his room and slowly slid yourself under the covers hoping he wouldn’t realize you were gone. Giving that he didn’t move an inch, you’d say you were successful, but at what cost? You could've just walked down the hall back to your apartment, but for some reason you thought that maybe in the morning things would get better.

In the morning things did not get any better. Miles’ ridiculous alarm that blared ‘Bump N’ Grind’ woke you up out of the worse sleep of your life. To make matters worse, it was 4 am on a Sunday.

“Babe what the hell?” You groan.

Miles responds with a grunt then turns all the lights on and leaves the room. 

“What a dick.” You pull the covers over your head and attempt to fall back asleep. A few minutes later he comes back in the room fully dressed for practice (minus his shirt) and yanks the blanket off of you. 

“I need that.” He says pointing to the jersey.

“Don’t you have like seven of these, why do you need this exact one?” You ask.

He rolls his eyes at your question and start gathering your clothes. “What are you doing? Miles what’s going on. Just talk to me.”

He dumps your clothes onto the bed. “Bitch just give me the shirt and get the fuck out.” You look at him stunned before getting out of the bed. 

“I know you did not just call me a bitch. Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to Miles?” Your furrowed brows and crossed arms mirror his, but you’re on a whole ‘nother level of pissed.

“Y/n I don't have time for your shit. I have practice in 10 and I’m not letting your lazy ass make me late.” Then he leaves the room again. You throw off the shirt and hurriedly get redressed before storming out of the the room and chucking the jersey at him as he makes his pre-workout shake. 

“Thanks baby, I’ll call you later.” He says seconds before you slam his door. Now he wants be all cute and lovey. Arrogant son of a bitch.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

<<<Previous Chapter | Next Part>>>

main masterlist

tag list: @light-yagami-l

A/n: soooo any thoughts😅 please share

[aftgficrec]

hi I'm so excited I caught you guys open :D

I was wondering if you guys could find some fics where Neil brings up his past in casual conversation or his past gets brought up because of something he said or did

Also I've read a lot of the older soulmate fics where they can feel each other's pain or communicate telepathically and stuff like that but was wondering if there are any new ones :)

Ty u so much <333

There is so much material here I decided to split it into 2 parts, one with fics about Neil’s past, and one devoted to soulmate aus.  Enjoy! - S

references to Neil’s past:

people Neil met on the run here

Foxes learn about Neil's past here

The Foxes react to Neil’s life here

The Foxes react to Neil’s scars here

The Foxes react to Mary’s abuse here

videos of neil on the run here

Neil’s secrets unravel here

Neil says ‘it’s fine I’ve had worse’ here

Neil shows off his knife skills here

‘The Bet’ here 

‘here I am, there you go again’ here

‘I'm not broken (I'm made for a mosaic)’ and ‘More Afterthoughts, Chapter 39’ here

‘arrivals/departures’ here 

‘TFC minifics...’ Ch 23 here

‘heavy hands, heavy hearts’ here

‘"I've endured far worse"’ here

‘it whistles through the ghosts still left behind’ here

you may also like:

Neil with languages/accents here

Neil with languages/accents 2 here

‘No straighter path than to struggle’ here

Neil also shows off his knife and language skills in ‘I Hope You Lie To Me’ here (ch. 9)

Neil’s past:

Andrew, I'm fine by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 2081 words, complete, 2023]

Andrew passes through the door into the ensuite bathroom, and he freezes an instant before he understands why. The bathroom tile is smudged red, just so. Someone bled here, and then wiped it, too quickly. Andrew wants to call for Neil, but he is suddenly unsure if he is alone in his apartment.

tw: nightmares, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: knives, tw: violence

Killer Bunny by godless_writer [Rated T, 6661 words, complete, 2023]

Neil started his second year in college thinking his past was behind him. His father was dead, Riko was dead, he was no longer running – nothing left to hide from. At least that is what he thought before six FBI agents barged into his team’s practice one day. Or The team finds out Neil had to kill some of his father’s men while on the run.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks

Bound for Error by confusedtoadd [Rated M, 22759 words, incomplete, last updated July 2023]

“You claim you’ve left your truth bare, yet you still lie, interesting don’t you think Nathaniel?” Neil was paralyzed, stuck between begging for her to stop and strangling her. They were a mix of his parents' wishes, his father's anger was bubbling over, his mother's survival instincts charged his legs with vigor. “Perhaps I should have stepped in sooner. No matter, they will know the truth soon, you did promise no more running, Nathaniel.” OR The foxes react to Neils life, pre-canon included.

tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm,  tw: violence, tw: blood & gore, tw: torture, tw: abuse, tw: psychological abuse, tw: panic attacks

Secrets by The_stars_ship_us [Rated T, 1265  words, complete, 2023]

Matt sees Neil's scars for the first time and Neil wakes up, still sleepy, and feels comfortable and safe enough to speak in his true accent

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: scars

The Best That You Can Hope For (is to die in your sleep) by Major_816 [Not Rated, 10840 words, complete, 2022]

The first time O’Malley saw the kid was in a low-level underground gambling ring, walls crawling with asbestos and next to every bastard inside armed with something sharp if not something packed with warped metal and gunpowder.  He couldn’t have been more than thirteen, but he surveyed the crowd of the room with years more experience than he should have. There were scars cutting across exposed bits of skin, sick looking in the light of the place and stretching hotel-bible-page-thin over crooked bones.  He was a wispy thing. Nothing more than a scrap of a boy stitched together. O’Malley was half-convinced a strong wind might blow him over, but the kid turned, those quick and clever eyes burning across the room and O’Malley could recognize that sort of fight instinct.  He saw him again half a year later in Northern Florida.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: scars, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation

Broken bones by All_for_the_andreil [Rated T, 1126 words, complete, 2021]

Neil gets injured during a game and freaks out. Andrew finds out what exactly happened to Neil in Baltimore.

tw: implied/referenced torture

I guess I can drop the accent now by poly_pr1nce [Rated M (we say T), 495 words, complete, 2020, locked]

Neil reveals the final thing he's been hiding about himself after the Foxes win against the Ravens and Riko's death

...'ah yes, my shirt will cover this'  by @jingerhead [tumblr, 2021]

This prompt is great, I've read some angsty fics about Neil getting hurt and they're great BUT I love the idea of Neil getting stabbed and he's just like.....'ah yes, my shirt will cover this' and everyone notices right away. I think something super angst or something more lighthearted would be equally great haha!

tw: injuries

Art

what’s life on the run like? art by @meaucrow

Thinking about all he went through trying to survive art by @microolli

[freifraufischer]

Fluff Flashback:  Nastia’s age... and her competition

[Start at the beginning of video]

NBC's coverage of the 2007 Visa Championships Day 1 we have drab and decrepit Nastia Liukin who may not make it to Beijing before her fragile body held together by hope and her father's voice in her head must face the bright and happy All American girl who has no worries and no concerns.

[filmbyjy]

TWITTER SUCKS! > thirty-one! breaking my silence

a/n: next special chapter. drunk ni-ki causes the next fight of enha😨

-

synopsis > who knew you could become famous overnight for paying $8 for a single blue checkmark? however, it does come with consequences…what happens when the actual BELIFT Lab comes knocking at your door. all because you simply impersonated your bias.

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series taglist[closed]: @lovers-szn @shiguresohmas @moonshoon @byunappetit @strvlveera @rikisly @4lythe @lalalalawon @beansworldsstuff @enhastolemyheart @jaehaki @shinsou-rii @jeanbob @sxftiell @renchai @nyfwyeonjun @invusblog @lhees01 @donghyckl @enhafika @dimplewonie @foxsunoo @run2-gyu @lvrjjun @curly-fr13s @bubblytaetae @raikea10 @ce1ight @luvlee1313 @rizzshimura @soobisrealgfnotfake @stantxtorurmissingout @l0tisflower @jseobsky @lovelickiez @liliansun @kyanmeai @nobodyshallenter @faeryhee @pkjay @mlink64 @luxurystark-jackson @aleombre @yenqa @heestrawberries @soaen @ckline35 @http-gyu @climbingmandevillas @stopeatread @y4wnjunz @aetherlol @whippedforbeomgyu @elisabeth-02

[floralembarrassment]

Let's see it (1/1) (jegulus)

Regulus was sitting surrounded by his family and friends, everyone warm and bubbly and happy. The sounds weren't too loud but the house was filled with laughter. The energy was palpable but Regulus didn't feel anything but a wonderful sense of home.

As he sat, his body remembered for him a time where he was sitting in a similar position, at a similar time, but any celebrations were clouded by disappointment and expectations so high he would waste away before he could ever meet them. A house that was so cold and callous, and the sounds were either deafening silence or screams. The fear that ruled over him in this memory crept up and up and up, until he was chocking on it.

And then he breathed. Closing his eyes he took two more steadying breaths. He opened them and looked around, taking in his present time. And then little hands were pulling at his shirt. Regulus looked down, a small smile turning up his lips.

"Papa are you okay?" Harry said with a tiny voice.

Regulus leaned down to pick his son up, already too intuitive for his own good. But Regulus held him tight and mused his messy hair, "oui mon beau, I'm okay."

"Were you remembering?" Harry asked. Regulus was proud that his son said that word finally without a stutter. It was the explanation James had given to Harry as sometimes Regulus gets pulled into a memory, and his whole body seems to return, and he often goes quite still.

"Yes darling, I was." Regulus said. "I'm okay, because I get to open my eyes and see all this love around me," he reassured. And he watched as Harry's eyes followed as he pointed around the full room. Together, they caught James watching them, and when caught decided to walk over.

"Alright?" James said crouching down and wrapping both of them in a hug.

"Yeah dad we are just looking at love, right Papa?" Harry said and then looked up at Regulus, who nodded in confirmation.

"Ahhh I see. Well there's lots to look at isn't there?" James chuckled.

Regulus leaned over to kiss James' cheek, "yes, yes there is."

[naoreco]

Localizers' Dance in Purgatory

Happy anniversary. We're doing this again.

FE15's localization has been a hot button topic on twitter for the past couple of days, which made me want to examine some more localization changes - and what better for me to use for this experiment than my other favorite scenes in the game? Having noticed that the anniversary of when I posted about that scene with Alm and Mycen was coming up, I figured the timing was just too good to pass up.

We'll be going over Alm and Berkut's encounter up until the battle officially starts, Berkut's battle dialogue, and the scene after with Rinea's spirit. So rather than having one big moment that changes the tone of the scene like last time, this one has a few of these changes along with MANY smaller expansions on dialogue that just make it too much of a pain to go through one by one. Some of these are more contentious than others!

Luckily I have a solution for this: Pour everything into a spreadsheet and throw in commentary as I see fit.

I had to write out a lot of things by hand even if I was able to copy the scripts from elsewhere so I'm so sorry for any typos 🙏 Enjoy!

[lordandladywhistledown]

wake up babe netflixlat is spoiling bridgerton season 3 again <3