#head is spinning and my body aches but it’s time to get ready for another jam packed day of work! 🤪✌️

[pepprs]

woke up and immediately started crying lol

[gtgbabie0]

Helloo can I request a sweet smut with aegon x reader where they've been apart for some time due to work and when they come together they just want to be intimate with one another

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{Aegon’s patience has been wearing thin, he soon reaches a breaking point}

!!-18//MDNI-!! Sorry this took so long I simply cannot catch a break, enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

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Since the moment Aegon sat down on his council chair he wanted to leave, to abandon the whole damned meeting and let the fools figure it out for themselves. What was the point of even being there if they overlooked everything he said?— if they did not take him seriously?

It angered him beyond belief, the way they looked at him, the snide remarks that left a stupid pain in his chest no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He sits there bored and pissed off, spinning the marble against the wooden table as their words blend into one another making one big dull noise.

He feels silly, ignored, and he doesn’t enjoy it— so he leaves, slamming his fist onto the table so hard that it causes each of the council members to jump in their seats. The marble rolls off of the table, smashing onto the stone floor as the door shuts behind him with a loud thud.

Aegon bites the inside of his cheek, trying to cool his temper down before entering your bedchambers- the last thing he wanted to do was sour your day with his mood, but it doesn’t work he can’t seem to quell the frustration that coils around his already tense body.

It's your laugh. The sound of your laughter, light and merry calms him. It clashes so greatly with the heavy weight of his heart, with the turbulence in his mind. He stands there for a moment, just outside your shared bedchambers, his anger evaporating as he listens to the heavenly sound.

With a deep breath, he opens the door entering with a relieved sigh. His lilac eyes meet your own with a tender expression that softens his features, watching your dressers ready you for bed, taking your necklace and earrings off with great care.

“You’re dismissed… leave us.” Aegon commands, waving a dismissive hand to the two ladies. They both bow courtly before leaving the room with knowing smirks gracing their lips.

You stand there however with furrowed brows, tilting your head in confusion as he draws closer to you. “I’m still in my day clothes?” You state only receiving a chuckle in return.

“I’m aware.” He smirks, admiring the way the silk of your dress hugs your curves. It drives him to madness and he can’t help but grasp at your hips as he continues to drink in the sight of you. "You don't need your dressers to get you ready for bed... I can take care of that for you."

The realisation hits all so suddenly, taking your breath away and the only response you can give him is a small ‘Oh’ which only makes him chuckle once more against the soft skin of your shoulder.

It had been far too long since he had taken you, all the interrupted moments and the long busy days had caused a searing ache between your thighs that you had tried to sate with your fingers, but nothing could compare to Aegon— he knew you like the back of his hand, he filled the spaces you couldn’t.

“What has spurred this one?” You ask, tone hushed and breathless as he leaves a trail of warm kisses along your neck and the dip of your shoulder. It wasn’t a complaint, far from it, you just wanted to know whether or not he burned for you the way you did for him.

And gods did he. Aegon's fingers work at the laces of your dress with practised ease, his touch feather-light and yet exhilarating. He watches you through the reflection of the mirror, the way the silk of your dress ripples down your body like a waterfall until it pools around your feet leaving you vulnerable to him.

“Do I need an excuse to want to touch you like this?” He whispers, lips grazing against the curve of your jaw. It’s all so dizzying in such an embarrassing way.

You lean back against him, enjoying the way his fingers trace along your waist causing your skin to break out in gooseflesh. He mumbles something about how ‘sensitive you are’ into the crook of your neck and you can feel the smirk that teeters on his lips when a breathless moan escapes you.

“No of course not— I’ve missed you.” You sigh, leaning your head to expose more of your neck to him as your fingers find his hair.

He nuzzles his nose against the underside of your jaw, humming in contentment as your sweet flowery scent surrounds him. “I’ve missed you— so much.” He breathes.

Aegon cups your jaw, tilting your head slightly to the side so he can kiss you. So slow and yet full of passion that has only been building up for the past few weeks. He groans into your eager mouth the taste of your tongue against his own going straight to his cock.

His arms wrap around your midsection, pulling you closer to him. He press his growing erection against the curve of your ass and he can’t help but rut against you slightly. He was more pent up than he realised.

He breaks the messy kiss momentarily, his breath warm against your skin. "You taste... incredible..." he whispers, his voice a low rumble, before kissing you once again.

“The wine perhaps.” The words are hushed through a small giggle. Once again his lips find yours, not breaking as you turn around in his embrace, one of his hands reaching up to caress your warm cheek.

"No," he murmurs, pulling back to admire you with a hungry look and a lazy grin. "It's not the wine." He leans back in. "It's... you," the kiss is much greedier, and his hands trace a path down your spine, resting against the small of your back, drawing you closer to his body.

You gasp, hands flying to grab his forearms as he suddenly begins to guide you backwards over to your shared bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress as you collide with the softness of the bedsheets, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Where did your manners go?” You tease him lightly, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him with desire in your eyes as he lifts his tunic over his head, discarding it on the floor somewhere.

He smirks, leaning over you, trailing his lips along your collarbones— a clash of teeth and tongue. His hips lay flush over your own as he slowly grinds himself down onto you, relishing in the sweet sounds that you make.

"My manners?" he murmurs against your chest, his eyes meeting your own with a glint of playfulness flashes through them. "They flew out the window the moment I took that dress off of you."

His gaze roams over your body, drinking in the sight of you laid out beneath him bare— hips writhing desperately. You gasp against the pillows as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak whilst his other hand cups your unattended breast, thumbing over the nub.

“Aegon— please.” The words are a struggle to get out as he’s rendered you completely breathless, but the way your hips lift up to try and press against his, desperate for attention, tells him everything he needs to know.

He hums in understanding, leaving a trail of kisses along your breasts. “I’ll get there, my love… I’ll get there.” He coos softly, his hand falling to your restless hips as his thumb rubs over the curve and dips whilst his mouth ravishes your chest in wet kisses and small licks.

Aegon slips his hand in between your thighs, watching your face intently as his fingers part your slick folds, running along the sensitive flesh before catching your clit, rubbing slow circles over the bud. He’s completely taken with the way you arch up into his touch, how your lips part, the sounds you make. All of it— all of you—causes his cock to throb.

You mewl, hips bucking against his hand as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them. “Mhm… you’re so beautiful with my fingers buried in your cunt,” He smirks, enjoying the fact he isn’t the only one who has been pent up. “So wet…” the words are muffled against your lips, your slickness coating his digits.

You brush your fingers through his hair, pulling him into a kiss as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Your free hand works deftly to unlace his breeches, the fabric falls mid-thigh letting his cock spring free, begging for attention.

Aegon hisses sharply into your ear, burying his face against your shoulder as your hand wraps around his length. “I want your cock inside me, please…” you beg him, voice strained with pleasure. The deep desire to feel him as close to you as humanly possible completely drowns out everything else in your mind, your thoughts now are only of him.

He nods his head in compliance, not having the strength the refrain himself any longer than he already has. Sliding his fingers out of your cunt, he coats your slickness around the tip of his thick shaft, the feeling sends a tingle down his spine, his skin hot to the touch.

Aegon swats your hand away gently as he guides the head of his cock between your folds, nudging the tip against your clit over and over again basking in the way his name sounds coming from you all whiny, laced with such wanton passion.

He groans as he lines himself up to your entrance before sinking into you slowly, whispering soft lovely words of encouragement against your jaw. The way you take him with ease, how your slick walls clamp around him it’s all so maddening— so mind-numbing and all he can do is huff and moan against your skin.

The stretch of him is so achingly good, the drag of his cock along your walls as he thrusts his hips against your own sends a searing heat through your abdomen. Aegon mutters on about how ‘good you feel’ and how ‘well you take him’ like some sort of crazed man, completely drunk off of your body.

His movements soon become sloppy, trying so hard to keep himself from spilling too early but the sounds of wet flesh and your moans coupled with the way your cunt squeezes around him makes it nearly impossible as he teeters closer to the edge.

“Fuck— I can’t— it’s been too long I— I won’t last.” He whimpers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. His hands pin your hips down to the bedsheets as he continues to fuck himself into you, moaning hotly against your flushed skin as you wrap your thighs around his waist to hold him closer.

“I- I’m close… don’t worry.” You reassure him, your hand grasping at his white hair. The tightness deep inside him eventually snaps, spilling his warm seed inside you with a broken cry of pleasure, panting and whining into the crook of your neck as apologies fly from his lips. You grab his face, kissing him greedily as you come around cock, milking him practically dry.

The pair of you go boneless against the comfort of the pillows, catching your breaths with dazed expressions. Aegon’s fingers trace a soothing line along your spine as you instinctively seek out the warmth of his arms.

“Sorry-” He rasps with a lazy grin, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek. "It's been too long"

“Mm… don't apologise, we'll never go that long apart again.” You reply earning a weak nod and a hum of agreement from him. You rest your cheek against his chest, allowing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm your own erratic one.

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[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hello!

If possible could you write a fic with reader and matt in an established relationship and he hears something when he's around them and it starts driving him nuts and then he finally realizes is a tiny heartbeat bc reader is pregnant but doesn't realize it, and he's like overjoyed?

sorry this is my first time requesting lmao

hii!! this is very cute :( very happy to be first to write one of your requests☺️ thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

HEARTBEATS.

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count. 481

Recently, whenever Matt was near, he wore an expression you couldn't quite place, looking as though he was concentrating - like his brain was preoccupied. You knew he often had a lot on his mind, so you waited the questioning - wanting him to come to you when he was ready, though he never did. 

Another week had passed, and he continued to model that same sceptical face around you, still no closer to the route of his confusion.

-

You're lying on the sofa, basking in the early evening sunset, nursing your nausea and awaiting Matt to return home from the store. He told you he'd briefly pop out to pick up some things for dinner - that he'd get something to help with your sickness bug, something to ease the upset in your aching body.

You hear the keys jingle in the door, indicating Matt's return home.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls out, closing the door behind himself. "Sorry about the wait. Was so busy out there," he continues, placing the bags on the counter. He makes his way to you on the couch and takes a seat on his knees in front of you. "How you feeling?" he asks, slipping his hand into yours.

"Gross," you simply reply between a soft breath, closing your eyes. You were starting to feel it again - like the room was spinning. 

His thumb circles over your skin, attempting to ease you. "I'm sorry, angel," he coos, speaking gently. 

Matt props himself higher on his knees, extending to reach himself over your middle. He places a light kiss to your stomach over the fabric of your top and then carefully rests the side of his head in that spot - trying to comfort you. He keeps hold of your hand and laces his fingers between yours, playing with your hand as if to distract you. 

You peek down at Matt on your stomach, watching his brows furrow, seeming like he was focusing - that same darned face again. You extend your spare hand towards his head and nestle your fingers in his hair, soothingly stroking over his scalp. "What is it?" you ask, your confusion mirroring his.

He faintly shakes his head and shushes you softly, a smile growing. 

"Matt?" 

"It's not the flu, honey," he beams at you, lifting his head from your stomach abruptly. "It's not the flu," he repeats, the words almost catching in his throat.

"What do you mean?" you question, following his movements.

"Sweetheart," he coos, drawing out the petname with a gentle nod - like he was trying to prompt you.

"No?" you whisper, speaking in disbelief.

He nods once more, his features softening and melting upon hearing the news. His grip tightens in your hand, and he brings it to his lips, placing another kiss where the last one dried. 

"We're going to have a baby?"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

some reason when I was writing this it reminded me of when vision said “yes, my love,” to wanda when she got her baby bump🥲 now im sad

[kingkatsuki]

— release

Don’t mind me, just feeling self-indulgent today💕

Being Dynamight’s PR manager you were used to getting him out of trouble, it’s only fair he show you some appreciation.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, piss.

Word Count: 1.2k.

“Spread your legs.”

“What?” A fierce heat flooded to your cheeks as you tried to ignore the throb between your thighs at such a blaze request.

Your fingers stilled against your keyboard as you looked up at your boss from across the room. City lights illuminated the empty office as you were the only two left on the floor, the last minute mission reports were almost complete and your body ached from hunching over your computer for so long.

Each time Dynamight faced a destruction of public property charge it always meant staying late, his PR team working overtime to try and arrange reparations. And as his PR manager it meant staying later than the rest of your employees, who were long gone. You’d expected the phone to stop ringing during office hours, but after just getting off the phone with another disgruntled civilian at past ten, you were proved wrong.

“You heard,” He stepped towards you as he carded a hand through his messy hair.

“I should be giving you orders right now, Dynamight,” You hissed, “Do you realise how many complaints I’ve had to address today because of you?”

“People always got shit to complain about,” He scoffed, “I got the guy, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but maybe you could do it without totalling a building next time?” You sneered.

“I thought you liked staying late in the office with me,” He grinned, walking around the edge of your desk, “You were pretty happy when I had you pressed against my window last month.”

Your heart raced at the memory, your breasts pressed against the cool glass as he pounded into you from behind. His agency was one of the tallest buildings in the city, but there was still a chance that someone could’ve seen you.

“I think you like when I do this shit.” He pressed.

“Oh yeah, I really love spending overtime being berated on the phone.” You rolled your eyes.

“Just hang up on those fuckers,” He shook his head, “They’re always the first to complain when shitty Deku’s not there in time.”

“Unless you’d missed it, my job is to get you out of shit,” You smiled, “Not to make it worse.”

“I thought your job was to do whatever I say.” Large palms pushed your computer chair back from the desk, spinning you to face him.

“My job is to keep you out of trouble,” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Which is why you seem to enjoy making it hard.”

“I think you’re the one that likes making me hard, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes at his crass humour as his lips curled into a smug grin, “So spread your legs.”

Bakugou’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he watched the way your cute skirt rose further up your thighs as you obeyed, revealing your plain cotton panties to his debauched gaze.

“Good girl.” He growled. You were always so obedient, so easy. The way you were ready and willing to do anything for him at the blink of an eye.

But you needed this too, especially after the day you’d had. You deserved it, and Bakugou was more than willing to give it to you.

“Been thinkin’ about this all damn day,” He groaned, “I shoulda called you into my office earlier.”

“I really need to use the bathroom first, Katsuki.” You mumbled.

A request which fell upon deaf ears as Bakugou settled himself between your plush thighs, broad arms shouldering them further apart as he nuzzled your clothed crotch. Breathing in the scent of you as you involuntarily bucked your hips into his touch, your core throbbing with desire and need.

“So pretty,” He hums, ignoring your request as he places a chaste kiss on your sensitive clit through the fabric, grinning when your body jolts in response, “You been waiting for me all day?”

“Shit,” You whined, hands blindly reaching out for his messy mop of hair as he began to lap at your folds through the thin material. Watching it darken from a mixture of your slick and his spit as your pelvis began to tighten. Trying to chase the pleasure he was giving you and ignore the dull throb that pulsed inside you, desperate for relief, “Katsuki, I really have to pee first.”

You could coax him to the bathrooms, let him pound you over the sinks as he’d done so many times before after you’d given yourself the relief you were craving. Being sat autonomously at your desk for so many hours as you tried to repair the mess that Dynamight had created, you’d lost track of time and basic human needs. His warm hands smoothing along your inner thighs reminded you of just how desperately you needed to go.

If Bakugou heard your pleas, he chose to ignore them. Palming himself through his slacks as he lapped at your sensitive clit through your panties.

You were certain you wouldn’t be able to hang on for much longer, trying to close your thighs around his head in a feeble attempt to hold yourself back for a little longer— to stop yourself from humiliating yourself in front of your boss.

Bakugou’s fingers curled beneath the fabric as he pulled them down your thighs, leaving them settled around one of your ankles as he spread you apart with his thumbs.

“Kats,” You groaned, your cunt clenched from the throb in your pelvis, “Please.”

“Ain’t no one stopping you, sweetheart.” He rasped, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against your puffy clit.

The contact with your bare cunt had your hips jerking, throwing your head back against the headrest as you felt your pelvis throb. All conscious thoughts swirling from your mind as you finally allowed yourself to relax and succumb to the desire. The euphoria almost mind-numbing as a warm stream began to trickle from between your thighs.

“Oh fuck, baby. That’s it—” Bakugou groaned as he watched through half-lidded eyes. His cock throbbing beneath his slacks as he watched you relieve yourself in front of him, “So pretty.”

Bakugou smoothed his thumb along your slit, following the warm stream as your hole clenched around nothing from the contact. Embarrassment had your heart pounding in your chest as your eyes clenched shut, your hands gripping onto the arms of your chair as you tried to close your thighs.

“Don’t,” Bakugou snarled, slapping your cunt as the wet sound echoed around the empty Office. You gasped at the contact as your eyes snapped open, “Look at me.”

The painful throb was now replaced with white hot bliss that coursed through your veins as your eyes rolled back, your lips parted in a desperate whine as he pulled back to watch you with his intense crimson gaze.

“Oh fuck,” You bit down on your lower lip hard as you emptied your bladder, finally beginning to feel your body relax as the intense throb from your clit took over. Desperate for any kind of contact as you rolled your hips into Bakugou’s touch.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” He hummed, his fingers brushing along your wet slit before pushing inside your tight core, stealing all the air from your lungs, “My dirty girl.”

[pablitogavii]

Best friends little sister Pt. 4

It was another EXHAUSTING week!! Faking it all in front of Pedri who really took a liking of Jacobo, Pablo who hated him more than any madridista and even my family who came into town for Ballon Dior..ugh fuck!

"How are you explaining your fake boyfriend why he's not your date tonight girl??" Masa teased cause she was the only one who knew the real truth..I was doing all this to get Pablo's reaction obviously!!! I turned the music up so nobody downstairs can hear it.

"He's technically a real boyfriend, you know that right???" I chuckle as she finished my makeup spraying some perfume onto my chest.

"Not the kind you let between your thighs!!!" she laughed loudly and I rolled my eyes looking in the mirror thinking of the last time I was intimate..it was with Pablo obviously..and it made my head spin..fuck I missed him!!!

"Shut up loca!!!" I push her and we both laugh dancing to the music until my mom called from downstairs wanting pictures..surely Pablo arrived too. I wondered what he might say when he sees me in this dress..it was looking stunningly perfect on my body.

y.n.gonzalez tiktok

Ballon D'ior ready💗

comentarios:

pedrisister: she's stunning 😍😍😍

ballond'ior: gorgeous ❤️

masa.babyy: my makeup slaysss!!!

gavira.babyy.girls: @pablogavi do you think she's beautiful? liked by pablogavi

gavi.pablo: omg he liked!!😳😳😳

jacobo_bru: mia bebaaa!!

gavi.y.n.cute: shut up she doesn't even like you!!

gaviragirls: she matching pablo's suit??🤔

gavibabyy: omg you're right!! pedri wears black and gavi blue 😳

I walked down the stairs in my high heels and Pablo stood there utterly mesmerized..he looked at every curve on my body smiling when he saw my blushed face..damn why was my heart racing so much!??

Just as I was about to step off the last stair, I almost fell but Pablo caught me saying "careful pequeñita" while Masa giggled excusing herself and leaving home. Damn did I really fall straight into his arms!?

After a few pictures and me freaking out every time Pablo's arm wrapped around my waist, did I walk with my mom to the kitchen while we waited for the limo.

"Princesita mia..your heart aches for that boy" she said and I thought she was talking about Jacobo telling her to stop teasing me but then she held my hand and I looked at her gaze towards Gavi. I gulped..was I too obvious?

"Mom, that's Pedri's best friend..and I'm with Jacobo" Isay as she raised up my chin caressing my soft cheek .

"Jacobo is a good boy..very kind..but it doesn't matter what this tells you.." she touched my temple and then rested her hand on my heart "if this doesn't agree.." and then they called my name to join them.

"I love you mama" you say and she smiles nodding and watching as you left with the two boys for the ceremony.

I were sitting between them the whole night feeling Pablo's stare on me most of the times. He was shamelessly looking like I still belonged to him..it pissed me off..but it also made me wet underneath my dress.

"How's Jacobo?" he whispered during a break when Pedri went to grab some water and I rolled my eyes clenching my jaw in annoyance. He's playing with me on purpose but I wasn't gonna let him win!!!

"He's absolutely fine, thank you for asking!" I sass but Pablo was only encouraged to move closer resting his chin on my shoulder and whispering into my ear. I froze from that familiar manly scent and his warm breath.

"I'm sure he's fine..but what about you nena??? I know how your beautiful dark eyes sparkle..when you're satisfied" he whispered the last part under his breath and I fought an urge to moan..damn he was good at this!!!

"Hmm I love looking into your eyes so much..but my favorite is the way they shine just as you're about to cum..holding onto me tightly and begging..papi please don't let me go..hmm and I wouldn't..I wouldn't let you go for anything in the world cielo" the more he talked the wetter I got slowly closing my eyes and enjoying myself. When I heard the last part, I sobered up..I moved away from him.

"But you did let me go..remember?" you say and he pouted about to reach for your hand but you pulled away.

"Cielo..." he said but my eyes were once again becoming sad...I need to stop playing with him...I just end up hurt every time.

"No! I need to use the bathroom!!!" you say getting up and passing Pedri as Pablo followed after you.

"Where are you guys going??? It's starting again soon!!!" he said but Pablo said he needed to use a bathroom really quickly...he couldn't handle you crying again!!!

I came out and someone grabbed me and glued me against the wall...I knew who it was...and I refused to look up into his eyes. I was so tired of all of this...I keep lying...and I just want him to let me go now!!!

"Please...don't touch me...let me go Pablo...stop playing with me finally!!!" I screamed not caring where I was and his hand covered my moth as he rested his forehead against mine.

"Do you really think I like this!!? Seeing you with that idiot when you're meant to be mine!!? You purposefully sitting on his lap when I'm there...but not even commenting on your pictures together!!! Stop doing this to me cielo...please" he whispered the last part removing his hand and holding my chin instead.

"What do you want!??" I say feeling his lips on my cheek as his hand moved down my dress into a slit on my thigh...I felt a shiver move down my spine...his touch felt so familiar, so right and I didn't have the strenght to stop him.

"You cielo...only you...fuck!!! You're drenched!!! Let me hear you moan my name one last time preciosa..I know how much I make you lose control..." he started massaging circles around your clothed clit and you moved closer whimpering into his ear until finally you weren't able to hold it any more.

"P..Pablo" you moaned throwing your head back but he caught it in his big hand before you could hit the wall smiling while kissing your forehead. You heard the audience applaud pulling away as you both rushed knowing you were just late to one of the most exclusive events in history!!!

When Pablo won something in me melted and tear left my eyes...despite everything I was so proud of him. The entire time he spoke he was looking straight at me smiling when he saw me crying happily.

While waiting for Pedri, Pablo took my hand and us two danced in the middle of the parking lot like two idiots laughing like it was the very first time we met...I missed this...missed him.

"Congrats on the award...i always knew you were amazing" I said afterwards and he stopped moving snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me closer.

"Please forgive me..I'll explain everything" he said looking straight into my eyes and I don't know why but I believed him...I wanted to believe him remembering my mom's words...Pablo is the only one my heart aches for.

There was no second guessing in what came next. I moved closer and kissed his lips as he held me tightly in his arms...this was right...this is where I belong!!!

After the event, you came back home never happier only to find Jacobo in your room with a grim expression on his face. Well, fuck!!!

pablogavi

Ballon D'ior Ceremony

Thank you for everything @ballondior ❤️❤️❤️

comentarios:

pedri: congrats hermano! i swear she cried when you won 😂😂😂

y.n.gonzalez: I did not!!!

pablogavi: I saw you did pequeñita!!!

gavirafans: look at them!!!😍😍😍

gavi.pablo: it's clear she's happier with you !

gavithebest: say bye bye @jacobo_bru 😂😂😂

aurorapaezg: I love the dress 😍😍😍

y.n.gonzalez: thank you💗💗💗

"Jacobo, it's really late...and I am..." I couldn't even finish the sentence as he was already throwing a phone into my face.

"Tired!!? Sure you are! Hooking up with Pablo Gavi!!!" I almost choked when I saw what's on the screen. It was an older picture...but it was me and Pablo kissing behind the bleachers...it was after El Classico when I wore his shirt. What the fuck!!! Who took this picture!???

Pedri heard Jacobo from his room clenching his fists and rushing to Pablo's house. Never before did he doubt, but now he was aching for a fight if it was true!!!

"Where did you get this picture???" you ask but Jacobo was in no mood to explain grabbing his phone rather roughly.

"I should have known!!! I asked you if you ever had anything with Pablo Gavi and you lied to my face!!! It makes sense what people online are saying!!!" he was yelling and I trembled really wanting him to just leave at this point.

"He's my brother's best friend, so I couldn't say anything about it but we ended things when I got into a relationship with you" I said trying to defuse the situation.

"Some relationship this is! You won't even let me touch you!! And Pablo Gavi surely already did that!!!" he was starting to get closer and I didn't feel good about it...no I felt uncomfortable...nervous...scared.

Meanwhile, Pedri was banging on Pablo's door being met by half asleep Aurora asking if everything is alright. He rushed inside as Pablo came down the stairs in his pajamas and messy hair.

"We need to talk!" he said and Pablo led him upstairs into his room while his sister retreated back to sleep.

"What happened hermano???" Pablo asked as Pedri sat down running his hadn't nervously through his hair.

"Jacobo and Y/n are fighting...over you" he said and Pablo nodded being patient to see what made his friend came all the way over here...but more importantly he disliked that Pedri left you alone with that idiot!!!

"I'll only say this once Gavi, she's my sister...she's off limits" Pedri spoke calmly although Pablo could tell he was just ready to explode...this was not the right moment for truth...so he did only thing he could...he lied.

"I would never do anything to hurt you or Y/n hermano..." was all Pablo said hating himself internally although it was partially true. He never wanted to hurt Pedri but what he felt for me was undeniable...something he couldn't let go off even when he tried pushing me away.

"Bueno. I should go back then..." just as he said that his phone rang and I was on the other line crying.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!!!" Pedri yelled telling Pablo what happened as they both went back seeing me crying in the corner of my room with a prominent bruise on my cheek.

"How did this happen hermana???" he asked while Pablo sat on the floor applying ice pack onto my cheek as I held his hand.

"He came closer and when I tried to push him off he pushed me and I fell and hit the nightstand...I just saw blood on my hand and called you" I explained crying in Pablo's arms while Pedri was ready to hunt Jacobo down in that moment.

My parents came back from their dinner and I begged Pedri to tell them while I get decent before coming down. He left and Pablo stayed helping me to the bathroom. WhenI was finally alone, I hugged him tightly crying into his chest while he held my head against him reassuring me that everything will be fine.

"I know about the picture Pablo..." I whisper looking up at his surprised eyes as we both knew this will sooner or later have to come out scared of the outcome.

[yuujispinkhair]

cant stop thinking about sukuna treating me so good while on my period…. 🤭🤭

Awww your boyfriend Kuna will make sure you feel better ♥️

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + some mentions of smut Word count: 500 Warnings: 18+, reader is menstruating, small mention of blood, period sex if you want (only as an option), making out. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Modern boyfie!Sukuna cannot stand the thought of having no control over this thing that causes you pain and puts you through an emotional rollercoaster every damn month. He is so worried when he sees you burst into tears over the smallest things. The only tears he wants to see on you are those of joy when he says something sweet to you or brings you roses or when he has you on his cock, and the tears spill over because it feels so good. It is unacceptable that your period makes you feel so bad!

And so your boyfie Sukuna does anything he can to make you as comfortable as possible. You are his princess, so you will also get treated like one!

"Why are you getting ready for work? Come on, princess, stop doing all that shit and lie down!"

"But I have so much to do, Kuna!"

"No, you aren't going anywhere today. Fuck work! I will write an e-mail to them saying you are sick!"

You have to admit that he is pretty cute when he is so indignant. And it makes you feel so loved to see this protective side of Sukuna. You aren't immune to the warmth spreading through you when you see the unveiled worry in his maroon eyes. And those strong tattooed arms wrapping around you and hugging you to Sukuna's tall and very warm and comfy body are very convincing, too.

Of course, you stay at home. You slip out of your work clothes and put your sweatpants on again, smiling when Sukuna hands you one of his comfy hoodies.

He makes sure you take painkillers and that you rest on the bed. And Sukuna is right next to you. One of his large hands is on your tummy the whole time, rubbing soothing circles on it.

He picks your fave show to re-watch with you and brings you sweets and cooks for you. He is so caring that you can't help but fall even more in love with him. Especially when you see his boyish grin when he is like,

"See? It was a good idea to stay home and let me look after you. Sukuna 1, stupid period 0."

And then Sukuna kisses your neck, being a tease once again, running his pierced tongue slowly over your sensitive skin, licking you, kissing you, sucking on your pulse point until he has you squirming needily and your hand lands in his soft pink hair to pull him into a deep kiss.

A long makeout session with Sukuna is the perfect way to forget about your cramps. His tall, muscular body lies half on top of you, warm and comforting. And his tongue in your mouth feels so good that it makes your head spin.

And if you need more, Sukuna is very willing to give it to you. He isn't squeamish about the blood or about periods in general. If his princess feels better with his cock in her aching pussy, he will make sure to have you on his cock for hours, trying to fuck your pain away.

But whether you want sex or not, what Sukuna will definitely provide to you are cuddles. He is softer than usual, sweeter. Holds you even tighter than on other occasions, snuggling against you like the world's biggest heating pad. Your back is pressed to his chest while Sukuna's muscular tattooed arms are wrapped around you, one hand rubbing your belly and the other holding yours, making you feel warm and taken care of.

You can't stop smiling when Sukuna murmurs sweet nothings in your ear. That sexy, low voice laced with so much affection. There is still some of his usual teasing, but always followed up by a sweet "I love you, princess." Not wanting to risk another emotional outburst and instead just make you feel loved and taken care of.

I hope this could make you feel better if you are on your period atm <3<3 Kuna being so adamant about making you feel better and "win" against this menstruation thing is so funny to me aahahhaa I love him so much!!

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments would be very sweet <3

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.lii // Aftermath of Blood

Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

His first half-conscious impression is that of choking. An internal pressure down the front of his neck, down into his chest, like there’s an obstruction in his airways.

Choking, but also not, somehow - his lungs are moving regardless. He doesn’t have the strength to lift his hand to his mouth. He bites down on something, body screaming as he weakly arches his back, and then he tries to speak, but can’t. No groan, no whisper, not even the sound of air leaving his throat.

A hushed voice above him, the low-light blur of a silhouette when he manages to pry apart eyelids that feel stuck to each other. “Relax, kid, you’re good. You’re getting all the air you need, just try and relax.”

His eyes struggle to focus on the face, finding a gentle expression set in dark skin, and a casual, raised brow.

“Ready to breathe on your own, are you? See if you can squeeze my hand.”

His limbs buzz, whir, like wind spinning around his skin. The hand wrapped in his own is barely noticeable. It takes conscious effort he only barely possesses to make all fingers bend simultaneously.

Shaun grimaces a little, still keeping his voice low. “Normally I’d require a bit more than that, but you’re uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

Renee can see the edge of something blue at the bottom of his vision, something that stays in place when he shifts his head. His teeth dig into it, but it’s hard enough to withstand the bite despite his jaw’s ache at the effort. Fingers making a loose fist in the covers.

Maybe he blacks out, maybe time just passes. Shaun takes hold of the object in front of Renee’s mouth, his other hand firm on his shoulder, and tells him to try to cough. For a few seconds, Renee thinks he might’ve forgotten how to do that, and his uneven gaze seeks the other, silently begging for clues.

Finally, as if by chance, his diaphragm contracts, and he discovers he can make it do that on his own. Shutting his eyes tight, he pours all feeble effort into coughing.

What follows is the bizarre, oddly relieving feeling of the pressure leaving his throat from the bottom up in one, rapid movement. Even after the tube clears his teeth, he can’t stop coughing, a weak effort by his body to make sure his airways are clear – it finally makes a sound, then, hoarse and ragged. Fills his chest with pain, and his stomach with the sense of seams being pulled taught. Wheezing air in between attacks with every fiber of his being, grunting involuntarily against agony. A hand tilts him sideways by the shoulder, while another supports the back of his neck through it. Words of reassurance he can’t make out. The smell of his own sweat, laced with something chemical.

Eventually, it fades into heaving, which fades into deep, rapid breathing. A sense of warmth flows through his body, relieving the pain. His vision blurs and blurs.

The heavy dark brings him back down.

💵

“He’s sleeping every few hours.”

“I noticed.”

“And you don’t find that alarming?”

“It’s a reprieve, I suppose.”

“It’s a symptom, Kit.”

“That, too.”

“You know where this kind of thing ends if y—”

“Yes, I know. I’ve considered it, I’m aware. It crossed my mind.”

“So you just don’t care, is that it?”

Silence.

“I figured I was wise in keeping my nose out of your business, but the more I glean from this, the more I’ve realized I can’t ignore my moral repulsion.”

“What happened to loyalty?”

“It was tied to whatever false front slipped when you talked to my wife yesterday.”

Silence.

“I think I’ve made up my mind, Kit. I won’t stick a knife in your back when you leave. I’ll stick it in the front if you come back.”

Silence.

“Understood.”

Silence.

“You manipulated her too, you know.”

💵

The room has a different atmosphere. Different ambient sounds. Different smell, as if the brighter light against Renee’s closed lids somehow changed anything. Less biting, more pleasant.

The bed has been raised to prop up his back, not enough that he’s outright sitting, but he finds he’s lying more comfortably. His eyes flicker open, missing against brightness, walls that spin around him for several long moments.

Renee flexes his hands, although one doesn’t quite respond. He looks down at it. The cast for his elbow is back, from upper arm to thumb, joined by a splint around two fingers. Shifting its heavy weight reveals gauze following a curve down the side of his ribcage, and two red tubes sticking out of his stomach, joining with a mess of other wires. Under the covers, all he wears is a pair of boxers, but he’s pretty sure they’re not his own. He lets his head dump back down.

It's curious, there’s almost no pain this time around. Just a warmth, a pricking, senseless feeling all over, an iridescent sheen to the world, a barrier. A thick cloud in his head that makes his thoughts slow, then indiscernible after a certain point. Floating in warm mud, maybe.

Shaun approaches the bedside, half-leaning against it and offering a smile that’s blurred in his vision. “How are you feeling?”

Renee squints up at him. “’m high.”

Shaun nods, raising a brow. “Very.”

Swallowing thick, Renee’s eyes drift across the rest of the room. Off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, Davin dispassionately approaches to watch them. So does Conrad from a bed next to his, just a pair of eyes sticking out from the blanket covering his thin frame, idly watching beneath a mess of curls. Renee manages to move his tongue around, and it’s only then he realizes how dry his mouth is. Dry enough to burn if he wasn’t numb. His voice is so rough, he barely gets vowels out. “Do you h-have… water?”

Shaun smiles politely, backing up toward the door. “’Course. Sit tight.”

The sight of Davin should fill Renee with loathing, and he recognizes it on a distant, clinical sort of level, but the weight of that emotion is lost in the mud.

“You lost a kidney,” the man greets him.

When Renee blinks, even that feels sluggish, delayed. “… kidney,” he repeats.

Davin nods. “You know what a kidney is, don’t you?”

Renee nods a little. Frowns. “Why…?”

“A third of it blew out your back, I’m guessing, and the rest was so frayed it wouldn’t have healed on it’s own. Shaun had to cut out a small chunk of your liver, too. Minimal muscle damage, that’s the good news.” Davin sniffs. “There’s a second incision in your back where we fixated four of your ribs; one was poking at your lung but somehow didn’t penetrate. That’s just the notable stuff. I’ll give you the rest of the list, if you want it.”

Renee grimaces, in lieu of having enough energy to shake his head.

“You realize you got lucky, right? From now on, you’re living on borrowed time.”

Reentering with a glass of water in his hand, Shaun shoots him a look. “Let him gather his bearings, Kit.”

Davin snorts, casting his gaze down. “We’re a bit past courtesy,” he says under his breath.

Renee can’t lift the glass on his own, but he’s too exhausted to feel humiliated when Shaun brings it to his lips for him. Swallowing down the cold liquid finally triggers pain strong enough to break through the drugs, a rawness in his throat, as if the muscles involved are shredded. Still, he drinks hungrily, the nails of his good hand close to scratching at Shaun’s to pull the glass closer.

“Nice and easy, kid.”

The effort leaves him winded at first, panting hoarsely once the glass is finally empty. He sinks back against the pillow, head spinning.

It doesn’t suddenly crash back into his head, but instead flickers in his memory one drop at a time, moments here and there, out of order and hard to distinguish. Parts of it, whole sections, are gone entirely.

A trace of that feeling comes back – the one that’s marred the totality of his existence for what feels like an eternity. Maybe it’s triggered by physical cold water hitting his gut. It’s similar to panic - energizing, in a strange way, although it probably won’t last. With some effort, Renee hauls his upper body forward, pushing with his good arm until he’s sitting on his own. It dawns how wrecked he is – bar being drugged enough to see the world in far too many colors, moving in any significant way sucks the air out of his lungs, and even sitting like this, he can barely keep his balance.

Shaun’s hand is on his shoulder. “Try to rel—"

“I’m fuckin’ fine,” Renee bites out.

Just sore as hell. It doesn’t feel like he’s missing an organ, but then again, he’s not sure what that’s supposed to feel like. There’s mainly pain in his back, side and core, all mostly on his right side. The cast already has him curling an arm around it. He drops his head, letting his body adjust to the new position, breathing through it.

Davin clears his throat. “Fine enough to talk?”

Renee lets out a rough laugh. “Not to you.”

“I’d like to think I’m owed some clarity.”

Baring his teeth, Renee looks up at him, breath ragged in his throat. “Owed… You fucking started this.”

The way Shaun stiffens in his periphery isn’t lost on Renee, and Davin notices it, too. His jaw works for a moment before he turns his head towards him, inhaling deep through his nose. “Leave the room.”

Shaun grits his teeth. “If you’re going to—”

“He’s safe,” Davin says. “Leave the room.”

Shaun draws in a deep breath as his gaze travels the room, from Renee to Conrad and back to Davin. He looks on the verge of speaking, but instead sets his jaw, shaking his head. He brings the empty glass with him when he walks out.

Davin waits until the door has clicked shut before he takes a deep breath, shifting from one leg to the other. “I thought about double tapping you in the parking garage,” he mutters. “Took quite a bit of effort to view you as anything other than a loose end. Now I’ve compromised my own safety to save your miserable life. Don’t make me regret that decision.”

Renee sits tense, eyes locked on his lap. He can barely get the words, or the unsettling ease with which Davin says them, to make sense in his head, much less sink in fast enough to respond. Numb, shaking hands tighten and release, that’s all that happens.

Way too casually, Davin uncoils his arms and walks over to the side of Conrad’s bed, taking a seat on the foot of the mattress. He doesn’t seem to mind the way Conrad first coils his legs up further, then stiffly crawls up against the wall to increase the distance between them.

“Honesty for honesty, hm?” Brushing a chunk of hair behind one ear, Davin folds his hands, giving Renee an imperative look. “Mind explaining why your face has made national headlines?”

Even Renee’s hands stop fidgeting after that, reduced to subtle trembling as his fingers slack. He closes his eyes. “I don’t really… want to talk about it.”

“Too bad,” Davin says, matter-of fact. “News have been talking about an informant. Who was that?”

Renee frowns. “Inf…?”

A shock of cold water. His gaze snaps up, before he tries to reel his reaction back in, teeth gritted against the pressure threatening to loom in his chest. “He’s okay, right? He’s…? Is he… has he said anything?”

Davin eyes him for a moment, pursing his lips. “No, he hasn’t,” he mutters. “What’s his name?”

Renee shakes his head. “I don’t want—”

“News already described him as your source, if that’s what you’re worried about. The rest, I’ll find out eventually, you should know that by now. Cat’s out of the fucking bag, Renee. I’d like you to tell me who that guy is and what you told him.”

Renee winces, curling slightly over himself. Why would they release his details like that? Fucking drama-hungry—

“How did he find out?”

Ducking his head, he runs his working hand over his hair, grabbing his neck tight. Compressing his torso only agitates his injuries, but he can’t keep still in the overwhelming feeling of dread. He’s not ready to consider how fucked Laz’s life is going to be - or his own, or everything – after this. His voice is barely above a whisper. “God fuckin-… what was I even…?”

“Focus, Renee.”

“I stabbed him.”

Davin doesn’t sound the least bit taken aback by the confession. “I know,” is all he says. “What did you tell him?”

Letting out a terse breath, Renee looks up, although his shoulders slump. “I don’t fucking know, dude, I don’t—I wasn’t paying attention to…”

“Walk me through the conversation, if you have to.”

Renee shakes his head, teeth bared. “It doesn’t fuckin’ matter anymore.”

“Oh, yes it does.”

“Why?”

Davin snorts, raising a brow. “Did you tell him about me?”

Through the fog in his head, Renee remarks how bizarrely funny it is, the timing of Davin flashing his actual priorities every single time it might be relevant. He lets out a tense laugh. “I fuckin’ hope I did.”

Davin doesn’t react outward, but he’s silent for a bit, eyes locked with his. But contrary to the layered threats Renee expected, when he finally breaks from the staring contest, he smiles politely, tilting his head to the side. “Were you guys dating?”

Renee blinks, then lets out a bitter snort. “It’s not…”

“You seemed awfully concerned a minute ago.”

“What the fuck do you care?”

The slight curl to the corner of Davin’s mouth disappears, as he looks down at his hands. Something about the rapid shifts in atmosphere makes Renee indulge the silence, if nothing out of confusion – he can’t quite keep up. There’s a somber note to Davin’s voice when he speaks. “There’s something you should know,” he says.

The tone isn’t alarming, but a tiny movement in Renee’s periphery makes him glance at Conrad. Teeth locked, body pressed against the wall, as if he’s been trying to make himself as small as possible for the past five minutes. Renee catches him mid-wince, but he looks away the moment their eyes meet, brow creased in silent apprehension.

Renee swallows, frowning. “Wh…?”

Davin absentmindedly taps his thigh. “Police department did a briefing this morning. Officially confirmed you’re a suspect in Conrad’s case, but they did also give a recap of the events leading up to the chase. And I know they have incentive to embellish the truth, but…” He clicks his tongue. “There’s some things they have no reason to lie about, I suppose. They had EMS waiting near that building in case of an emergency. That cop you shot – Carla something – she was picked up by an ambulance and taken to the nearest trauma center. About an hour later, the news reported her death.”

The temperature in the room seems to instantly drop. Renee’s mouth opens, he’s staring at Davin with wide eyes. Not sure what to think, or if he’s even able to comprehend what was just said.

Davin’s jaw works. He leans back before he continues. “A couple paramedics stayed behind to tend to the informant, but he died on scene. You killed two people yesterday, Renee.”

On the other bed, Conrad has clasped a hand over his mouth, but even that doesn’t muffle the awful little sound he makes. It makes Renee turn his head again, distantly confused, but the guy’s eyes are shut tight now. He looks like he might be sick.

Brows furrowed, a slight curl to his upper lip, Renee gives a minute shake to his head. “Wh—I don’t… Are you talking about Laz?”

Davin nods. “Unless they forgot to mention a thirdperson you tried to kill, then yes, Laz the informant is dead.”

Breathing veering more superficial, Renee shakes his head again, blinking rapidly. “What… do you mean?”

“There’s not a whole lot of ways I could phrase it, Renee. You killed him.”

“I didn’t try to… It’s not…” He lets out a hard breath. “I didn’t hit his heart. You don’t die from, from—”

“I don’t know the specifics, but he’s dead. News have been circling footage of a body bag. I’ll show it to you, if you want to see it.”

It’s unnatural, the sensation washing over Renee, as if he can physically feel the blood draining from his head from the top down. His scalp, forehead, eyes and ears, mouth, jaw. Down and down. “You c-… There’s no way. There’s no way. He’s not—”

His throat closes, and he rocks forward,

Disjointed fragments of images, stuck in a loop, like an endless attempt to process the same piece of information over and over and over again. The sound he made when the blade punched into him, the look of shock in his eyes. The fact that he didn’t push Renee away, but instead drew him closer. Those can’t have been his last moments. They can’t, it’s not possible.

It hurts to think, physically hurts. Head, chest, stomach, agony. It’s paralyzing. Makes his body seize up, makes his breathing sound strangled to his own ears. Several moments pass, in which he can’t see anything. Or he can, but he can’t.

Can’t think for an eternity. Feels like he’s being deafeningly loud somehow, but when he finally manages to gather enough wherewithal to pay attention to his surroundings again, it’s silent. Conrad has ducked his face between his knees, shielding his head with his arms. Davin is just looking at him with an impassionate, but still vaguely curious expression.

Something like a whine escapes Renee’s throat. “You’re fucking with me. You fucking lying bastard, there’s no way—”

He’s halted in his tracks when Davin sighs, pulls out his phone and begins searching for something.

Renee holds up a finger, sneering. “Don’t fucking do that, don’t – I don’t care – I don’t give a fuck what they’re saying, do you hear me?”

With a hand on his thigh, Davin pushes himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders as he approaches the bedside. Renee feels himself recoiling, shaking as he , eyes fixed on the phone in the other’s hand. “I’m not gonna let you show me whatever the fuck—”

As soon as Davin is close enough, Renee kicks at him. He partially sees it coming when Davin catches his leg by the ankle, but what he doesn’t expect is for the man to lean his whole body into yanking backwards, pulling enough of Renee’s body from the bed to send him toppling over the edge.

Wires dislodge in the fall, coiling around his limbs, and IVs are ripped from his skin. The half-scream Renee lets out is painfully coarse and abruptly silenced when the floor knocks the air out of his lungs. He lands on his bad side, curling over his wounds before the pain even has a chance to flare, rolling over on his stomach. Above, the piercing blare of alarms from the machines that no longer detect his pulse.

He hasn’t even heaved in a breath before Davin’s knee is on his back, and a hand pulls his head sideways and presses his cheek into the floor. Vision sailing, he lets out a frantic grunt, struggling to will his lungs to inflate. “Ng—gh—”

“Stop it.” Conrad’s voice, a weak hiss.

Davin snorts. “I fucking hate denial.”

When he brings the phone down in front of his face, Renee instinctually shuts his eyes, wheezing through his teeth. The force on his head increases, as Davin leans his upper weight on the hold.

“Fucking look at it, Renee. You think I’m lying? I’ve never lied to you. Not once.”

Spit flies from his teeth as he bucks, half-conscious from agony, and pushes at Davin’s arm with his good hand - now streaked with blood from the ripped-out IV, plaster barely holding on by a corner. His eyes still find the screen, news B-roll taken outside of Lazarus’ apartment building. Yellow barrier tape – POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS – flutters between light posts, dozens and dozens of people in uniforms, some of whom stand in groups talking, others walking to and fro. Center frame, a gurney is rolled down the tiled path from the front door to the parking lot.

“See that, mh? About the size of your dealer?”

The top of the gurney is covered in a white sheet, but the wind has knocked a corner up to reveal the black tarp-like plastic underneath.

Renee can’t process anything. He lets out a broken sound, another, another. Doesn’t quite know or understand what they are. Hitching, rough from his chest, bits of words and outcries, fragmented by sobs that won’t stop coming, mostly unheard by his own ears. Long after Davin gets up and lets him lie there, Renee’s eyes are fixed on the spot in the air where the white sheet was. His whole body shakes. He doesn’t feel human.

He doesn’t even feel like an animal anymore.

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[nariism]

can't take my eyes off of you

pair. itoshi rin x gn!reader

content: fluff, strangers to lovers, slice of life, angst/comfort for one part, itoshi brothers' relationship isn't as awful

synopsis. rin has never been good at remembering faces. but as the seasons change and the years pass, he can't help but think that yours might be his favourite. or - the times rin couldn't take his eyes off you

wc. 8.5k

itoshi rin never misses a shot from 15 metres out.

he's absolutely positive he never has. nope. not even once. so when he ends up on the ground, chest heaving, sweat pouring, and eyes looking toward the sky, he's confused.

he replays the last couple seconds in his mind, hears his teammates cheering and certain victory is about to come. then he receives the ball, dribbles a little as he always does to kill the spin on it and gets ready to unleash another perfectly parabolic goal, when...?

he blinks up at the sky. looks to his coach sitting on the bench with a scowl on his face, to the score, 2-3, and he gulps loudly. had he scored they would have went overtime and he's confident he could have gotten another after that.

so here he is on the turf with his muscles aching from use. it’s early january and starting to snow; he has to blink the snowflakes out of his eyelashes. his teammates are pulling him up to his feet and clapping him on the back: "nice shot, itoshi," even though he missed. he supposes that in their eyes any play he makes would be godlike, but he feels vile being congratulated when he couldn't even score.

in his current haze, he can't seem to remember where his mind was when he shot. he just remembers the heavy clang of the ball against the metal post, cheering from the opposite side of the field, and the whistle. it takes him 32 minutes to discover why he missed. he's sitting in the changeroom, a towel draped over his head and waterbottle in tow, when it comes back to him.

itoshi rin doesn't pay attention to faces all that much. he could tell you what his mom looks like. what sae looks like ("annoying," he scoffs). he knows what his teammates look like - he has to so that he knows who to pass to in split second decisions. other than that, he doesn't bother.

he thinks hallways look too crowded when he tries to discern what people look like. he doesn't like feeling suffocated. he sits in his homeroom, obediently listens to the teacher, packs up, and leaves without sparing anyone a second thought. there's someone who always sits in front of him in class, but he can't put a name to the face. in fact, he can't seem to put a face to the rest of their body. the back of their head is familiar, the same one he’s been looking at for a long time now.

he's a bit stunned when he catches your eyes from the bleachers.

you're sitting there looking rather plain and talking to a different classmate he also can't name. you seem a little disinterested in the game, if anything. you're just another figure in the crowd. nothing more than one body among dozens. but for some reason he sees you, perhaps for the first time ever, and the breath is stolen from his lungs.

your eyes only meet for a moment, but the hair of a second that he looks at you is all it takes, because his ankle doesn't turn enough and he collides with the ball at an angle he doesn't mean to.

so he sits there, annoyed, leg shaking, heel tapping against the tile floor of the locker room. he's usually good at seeing through people and pretending they don't exist, but now all he can see when he closes his eyes is your stupid face and stupid smile and stupid expression and the way you jolted slightly in your seat when you met his eyes.

it irks him to no end.

you're restless in class. not because you're bored, or need to use the bathroom. not even because you had one too many cans of coffee from the vending machine before showing up to school today.

no, it's because, crap, why is rin glaring holes into the back of your head right now? without even looking back at him you can feel that he's leering at you with intense focus.

the teacher dismisses the class and you hurry to gather up your books into your arms hoping to escape his death stare, but much to your dismay he taps your shoulder lightly with the end of his pencil. you turn sheepishly in your seat, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"what's your name?"

what.

you stare at him blankly, slightly flabbergasted and unsure whether or not to feel offended that he doesn't know your name despite sitting behind you for the entire semester. in fact, rin has been in your class almost every single year since you were in grade school, not that he ever bothered to care apparently.

"um..." you drawl out lamely. he quirks a brow at you, and you lament, telling him your name begrudgingly. he seems oddly satisfied despite how bitter you sound.

"okay," he says, and goes back to putting his books into his bag. you blink at him incredulously.

"...o...kay?" you shift in your seat uncomfortably. he doesn't even dignify you with a response, slinging his bag over his shoulder and brushing past your desk without a second glance.

you fume silently from your spot as you watch his retreating back. you're sure he's heading to the field to train, and you have half a mind to stop him. but then your friends approach you, slightly starstruck, and ask you why the itoshi rin was asking for your name.

you think it's a little weird how excited they are over this. star or not, he's still an asshole.

the next day, rumours are already spreading like wildfire about you and rin. were you secretly lovers? dating? arranged marriage?

your head spins at the thought, not only because - um, ew? - but because this all sprang from a single ten second  interaction. if you were dating, why on earth would he ask for your name?! regardless of all simple logic, your name is thrown around in quiet whispers and laughs.

you decide to sulk today at your desk, head in your arms as you rest your eyes and try to drown out the obvious staring from your friends and classmates. you feel as though they're waiting for you to come forward and say something, anything, to confirm their suspicions. sure, rin was quiet and didn't really bother with making friends, but seriously! all he did was ask for your name!

you're half asleep when he stops beside your chair. the smell of his cologne makes you dizzy (in a way that makes your stomach turn and - damnit, why does he have to be so attractive?!). you squint and side eye him, though he can't see it with your face buried in your arms.

"good morning," he deadpans, and the entire class erupts into hushed gossip. you whip up, back straight, and glare at him. he seems a little surprised at your reaction, blinking innocently and infuriatingly oblivious.

'read the room!' your expression screams at him, but he doesn't falter. not even a little. your cheeks burn when he stands there, staring, waiting for you to say good morning back to him.

you finally relent after a good 5 second pause. "...good morning, itoshi."

he again seems satisfied with your interaction and takes his seat behind you, his chair screeching impossibly loud as the entire room watches with bated breath.

you want to wither away and die on the spot and have the floor swallow you whole and- oh come on! why on earth is he burning holes into the back of your head again?!

it’s mid-spring.

rin goes about his days normally. he doesn't stop to say goodbye to anyone in class - including you - when the last bell rings, instead scooping up all his belongings and rushing out the door to get to the field first. he feels that saying good morning to you every day is sufficient enough; it scratches that itch in his brain that bugs him when he thinks about you.

he also thinks you're avoiding him for some reason, because whenever he sees you in the hallway at lunch you turn heel and bolt in the other direction, even though he knows your locker is only a couple down from his.

you're actually very pretty, he admits now that he can remember your face. it's annoying that it distracts him a little when he tries to pay attention in class, but he figures it's fine since he already knows how to introduce himself in english anyways.

but he doesn't like seeing your face, pretty or not, in a crowd. there, it's too distracting. in class it’s less of a problem, but on the field is an entirely different story. it gets to the point where it's almost aggravating, the way he wants to search for your eyes among the plethora of students who come to watch them.

your friends seem to admire him, he discovers, when they give him shy waves and bright smiles as he kicks the ball and glances in your direction. (so that explains why you show up to his games so often despite avoiding him like the plague in school, he thinks). once again he's instinctively looking for you, to meet your eyes, even though his kicking accuracy has dropped from 98% to 97% this season because of it.

he likes to watch you still in your seat when he looks at you. it strokes his ego in a way that football just can’t. his brain is good at instantly tuning out and ignoring all your friends who are vying for his attention.

you can tell he's looking at you. at you, specifically. it makes a shiver run down your spine.

you decide to be brave one day after a couple months spent agonizing over whether or not you should try and ignore him for the rest of your life. it's raining a little. your friends are all huddled under a fortress of umbrellas you built together. he thinks it's endearing in a way, and as he's taking a swig of water from his bottle, he ends up staring a little more intensely than he means to.

he must be acting too obvious because all your friends notice him looking their way and start clamouring again, waving in his direction trying to get him to say hello back. but he isn't paying them even half a mind.

you meet his eyes. you smile gently at him. for the first time ever.

he nearly chokes on his water.

it's a free period in class today, time given to allow the students to finish up whatever remaining work they have before the break. he watches you pull out a math textbook, then english, then japanese literature, and try to decide which you should do first.

he ends up scooting his chair over to your desk when you choose english.

"can you help me?" he asks. you look unconvinced, lips pursed. eventually you agree, because he looks uncharacteristically sad when you point out that he had the highest score in class on the last test.

he feels a little dumb sitting there pretending not to know the difference between an "-ou" and an "-au" sound, just to hear your voice. he’s already proficient enough in english, specifically to understand gameplay commentary from famous overseas teams. he doesn't even know what compelled him to pull his chair over here. his legs are too long to be cramped beneath the desk along with yours, and the table itself is too small for both your books. he stays anyways because he likes the way you sound trying to explain to him the basics that he already learned years ago.

("no, itoshi. here, this is how you spell it."

"you can’t just replace ‘c’ with ‘s’, that doesn’t even make sense here!"

"are you doing this on purpose?"

"itoshi. pay attention.")

he deflates a little when the period ends, because that means it's one period closer to officially being spring break and he won't get to see the way your face lights up when he looks at you for a whole week. he blinks when you extend your hand out to him. your phone is lit up, the contacts app open and the prompt "add new contact" is selected.

he freezes. he's so still you're afraid you might have just killed him.

you look like you're about to retract the offer, face flushed in embarrassment because ouch, getting rejected by itoshi rin? that's rough, buddy. but he stops you, one hand gently grabbing you by the wrist while the other snatches the phone from you with urgency that's amusing.

he hesitates when deciding what name to put for himself in your contacts before handing your phone back to you and you fluster a bit, wondering why he's suddenly on a first name basis with you even though all you've done is exchange polite smiles and glances every so often and say good morning for a couple months.

he leaves for a while after that, asks to go to the bathroom and doesn't return for so long that everyone is suspicious he's taking a massive dump. when he does come back, he saunters up to your desk, contemplates something with a strange expression on his face, then plops whatever he's holding onto your table and rushes to sit back down at his desk looking so flustered that you wonder if you’re dreaming.

it's a juicebox from the vending machines outside. there's a sticky note attached to it.

thanks -r

you don't muster up the courage to message him until three days into the break. it's so late that it almost feels mortifying and you're worried he'll think you forgot about him. in truth, he's essentially haunting you and your mind. him and his stupidly gorgeous face.

hi rin! how's your break? :)

only a few moments pass while you stare at your screen waiting for the grey typing bubble to pop up when he replies.

hi good

you aren't sure why you're surprised in the slightest that rin is the driest texter in the world. sinking into your mattress, you groan quietly. two texts in and the conversation dies. you poorly attempt to revive it:

what have you been up to?

he doesn't even respond fast this time, leaving you on delivered. you're bored and lonely and oh god. you kind of miss the way rin looks at you. okay, so maybe you’re a bit delusional thinking that he might have a soft spot for you. (you’re not.)

tossing your phone to the other side of your bed, you decide to stop moping around in your room and meet with your friends that had invited you out earlier in the day. your phone buzzes as you put your first foot out the door.

football

you huff silently, pocketing your phone without responding because he's being the worst at texting right now. rin waits patiently for a response, phone in hand as he drinks some water between pants. it's a nice day out. cicadas chirp loudly around him.

sae, who he'd been absentmindedly kicking a ball around with, approaches him. "who's that?" he asks while he rudely snoops the screen. rin twists it away from his sight.

"mind your business," he replies. sae just laughs, as all older brothers would.

"interested in someone? mind not on football lately? no wonder your passes have been so shitty today."

rin gives him a sharp glare. he's worried sae will never let him live it down if he brings you up, so he doesn't, and instead throws his phone back into his gym bag when he figures you've found him too boring.

not that he cares. not at all. not even slightly. no siree. (his hands are itching.)

he quickly realizes in horror that sae is right, his passes are shitty today, so half an hour later he calls it a day and abandons his horribly confused brother in the park to go home and think. it's late at night by the time you get home, kicking your shoes off and making a beeline for the shower. you finally decide to check your phone again and almost pass out.

hope your break is good kind of miss your dumb face

you're not sure what kind of evil possesses you to come here, but somehow you end up standing behind the fence at one of rin's spring break soccer games.

it's quieter than usual. you're not surprised - all of rin's adoring fans have gone home and stayed home for the break, and yet here you are watching him play as you always do. you feel like his doting partner and the thought makes your stomach churn.

he looks the best when he's on the field. his face is less serious. less doom-impending. his eyes are sharp on the ball, on his teammates, on the enemies, and he's quick on his feet. his muscles flex with every movement. you find yourself gawking at him rather unceremoniously.

at halftime, he plops himself onto the bench and gasps for air, catching his breath before he's inevitably sent back out to the battlefield. his breath hitches in his throat when he sees you.

"hi rin," you wave at him, handing him a fresh and icy cold water bottle. he accepts it without hesitation, downing almost the whole thing in one go.

"you came," is his curt observation when he closes the bottle back up. he had invited you, of course, but when you didn't reply he figured you weren't interested.

"might as well be here to show my support. school spirit and all," you muse with that smile on your face that drives him absolutely crazy.

"yeah. sure." he drapes a towel around his neck and the conversation dies there. you seem content just admiring him from where you stand, and he seems content letting this feed into his ego.

when the whistle blows again, you get ready to bid him goodbye until next week when you're back in school, but he stops you before you can get a word out.

"wait for me, okay? i won't take long."

you're a bit shocked but promise him you'll stay behind after the game. and you do so, sitting there on the bleachers obediently as the whole team walks off into the locker room. you stay there for a while, watching everyone else pack up to leave. some people hang back to meet their partners and friends on the field. it feels awkward being the one waiting for rin.

he emerges from the building 15 minutes later. his hair is dripping wet from his shower and he's dressed rather sloppily considering he's usually prim and proper. there's a gym bag slung around his body. it’s unfair how pretty he looks even when he’s dressed so mundanely.

"hi," he greets you on the field, and he doesn't elaborate more than that. you seem dissatisfied.

"so, what's up?"

he makes a funny face, you think. it's always hard to tell what exactly he's feeling, but he almost looks... embarrassed? his eyes divert somewhere off to the side as if he's finding it hard to meet your curious gaze.

"let's get food," he finally says, still unable to look at you. if he had, he wouldn't have missed the way you bristle at the suggestion. and although you had plans to sit around in your room and relax today after this, you find it hard to deny him.

so you end up at a casual spot. the only thing on the menu is variations of onigiri that he eyes disdainfully. you laugh at him. "are you sure you want to eat here? we can find somewhere else," you tell him. he was the one who chose this place, after all. you dont mind following him around some more if he doesn't seem interested.

"here is fine," is all he replies with before he steps into the little shop.

you've never seen the way he eats, but you're not surprised that he doesn't speak when he does. he just shovels the rice into his mouth without skipping a beat, mouth closed while he chews, and looks at you occasionally as if making sure he’s not just hallucinating that you’re sitting across from him.

you're not sure how to talk to him. everytime you try the words seem to die on the way out because holy shit he's insanely breathtaking. so instead you eat in silence with him; not exactly what you'd call an ideal first time hanging out, but you're comfortable sitting there with him nonetheless. you liked that about him.

he walks you home after that. you miss the way he jumps out of his skin when your knuckles brush together as you walk. you're not sure how to say goodbye to him when he stops a few feet away from your front porch.

he's looking at you again, in the way that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. you wonder if he feels the same when you look at him. (he does.)

"rin," you call out and it sounds just a little breathless. maybe he's just imagining it.

what he doesn't imagine is your sudden lunge forward, a soft kiss on his cheek, and then the front door slamming behind you before he can even blink. he stands there for a bit - completely, utterly, hilariously frozen in place.

sae leans against the doorframe that night, arms crossed over his chest and an annoyingly amused expression on his face as rin lays there, face down in bed and buried under the blankets. the younger brother looks up, eyes pleading with sae not to ask what happened. of course, he does anyways.

“i’m guessing things went well today?”

rin screams silently into his pillow.

when school comes back around, you settle into a routine. rin meets you at your locker in the morning, watches as you shuffle your books into place, then walks to class with you. at the end of the day, he takes you home because "it's raining out," or "don't you want my coat?" or best yet: "i would be sad for you if you got mugged."

he likes this routine a lot. he gets to see your face more often since he usually spends most of the day just staring at the back of your head. the days seem to blur past him faster and faster as graduation approaches, but he’s blissfully ignoring the passage of time just to bask in your presence a little longer. summer passes in a whir. you take up so much of his memory space that he starts seeing you in his dreams. it drives him insane.

it’s late autumn. he feels like he’s on the precipice of something big, something grand, but he can’t put his finger on it exactly.

rin is halfway through a bite of a pork bun when-

"are you guys dating?"

you squeeze your juicebox a little too hard and it squirts down your throat. rin looks at you funny while you cough. his leg bumps against yours mindlessly under the desk where he has decided is your usual lunch spot. together.

"no," he replies simply. the guy standing at your desk seems to chipper up.

"okay, then, do you have any plans later?"

you don't respond at first, because you're almost positive he's looking at rin when he asks (because who wouldn't be? he's the star of the school and every guy wants to be his right hand man). but he isn't looking at rin. he's looking directly at you.

rin's eye twitches.

"yes," he replies for you just as you start to notice the guy is still waiting for an answer. your classmate looks unconvinced.

"i thought you guys weren't dating?"

"we are," rin corrects quickly even though not 10 seconds ago he was saying the opposite.

okay. that kills you. he watches with a glimmer of humour as steam leaves your ears. you swat at his arm. "n-no! we are not!" you manage to stammer out. you can't help but notice that rin frowns at this, but maybe that's just wishful thinking.

"i was kind of hoping, if you don't mind... did you want to grab dinner with me after school?" your classmate shifts in his spot and sheepishly rubs his arm. rin's eyes tear between you and him. there's a gross feeling of jealousy growing inside the pit of his stomach when you look like you're considering it.

he chooses to ignore the pure look of pity in your eyes, as if you were looking at a lost child, and instead sulk in his spot, back sliding down the chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

the guy is practically pleading for your number in seconds, and while you don't know him all that well you relent anyways because, well, what's the worst that could happen?

that's how you end up 6 hours later at a place much too fancy for your liking. it's cramped and stuffy and orchestral music is blaring over the speakers. you're pretty sure you've only seen places like this in western movies.

you suddenly miss the quiet comfort that sitting with rin brings you. the realization tears through your heart violently.

your classmate is trying way too hard to impress you, you think to yourself, because every word out of his mouth sounds like a brag. the highest grades, first choice university, tallest in his family; you're getting bored to death listening. so you slide your phone out while he's in the bathroom, stamp out "S-O-S" to rin, and hide it away again.

rin is out the door in minutes, leaving sae in the living room confused and wondering whether or not he should press continue and finish whatever horror movie is playing on his own.

your classmate insists on paying for your meal. you decline with fervour, worried that you'll feel a little indebted to him for paying for such an expensive dinner - one certainly too expensive for students - and pay for yourself. he even offers you a ride home which you also turn down because you know rin is a few minutes out.

he considers it a successful date, to which you have to kindly explain that while you had fun, you’re not interested. he seems angry when he slams the door to his car, muttering about how he shouldn’t have messed around with ‘rin’s property’. you seethe.

there's a particularly chilly breeze tonight. you end up left out in the cold, clothes thin because you were told to dress for the occasion, shivering where you sit on the street bench. rin tosses his coat over you.

"have fun?" he asks sarcastically. you glare at him and he averts his jealous gaze.

"as if," you bite back. he doesn't respond after that, only tugging you to your feet and putting an arm around you. he's walking in a direction away from your house, but you allow him to drag you along anyways.

"was your night any better than mine?" you ask him when he stops in front of a convenience store. he’s reading the advertisements for popsicles despite the cold nipping at your skin.

he thinks for a moment. "no, my brother was being a pain."

you laugh a little at this. "i thought he was going back to spain soon for the next season. don't you want to spend some time with him?"

"no." not when you're here, he wants to say, but he doesn't. you snort at his quick answer.

he's staring too intensely at you again - he actually realizes it this time - but for some reason he can't look away. it's always been like that with you, ever since he caught your eyes from the crowd in that very first game. you’re like a plague on his mind.

his expression contorts a little and you giggle. the sound makes him feel like he can't breathe. suffocating, but not in the same way as when he’s walking through a crowd. drowning, but he can’t get enough, drinking in everything about you even if it kills him.

snow drifts down and catches in the loose strands of your hair. the first snow of the season. he didn’t know it was possible, but you somehow look even prettier.

"why are you looking at me like that, rin?"

"you're pretty to look at."

"yes, i know-" because he tells you that all the time, "-even though i also have a quote-unquote 'annoyingly distracting face'."

he only nods in response. your cheeks grow warmer when he starts closing the distance between you, twisting to meet your eye level. your heart is ready to pound out of your chest when he's so close you can feel the exhale that leaves his mouth. it wavers.

"it is annoyingly distracting. how can you expect me to just ignore you?" he asks, but it doesn't sound like it's a question directed to you. the way he's looking at you, eyes impossibly soft and face scrunched up in confusion, makes your knees weak. he doesn't look at anyone else like that. he just doesn't.

"you're getting too close, rin," you whisper but there's no attempt to back away from him.

"i don't care," he grumbles.

it’s late autumn when you have a comically terrible first date that rin never stops bringing up, even years later. it’s late autumn when he hears how his heartbeat roars in his ears when he looks at you. it’s late autumn when he realizes how much he’s in love with you.

he kisses you first.

it’s spring, and your graduation day.

well, it's also rin's graduation day, but one of the games in his competitive league got moved to today so you're forced to attend alone. you had tried to convince him: "rin, please, you only get one high school graduation in your life. can't you miss this game?" sounding a little exasperated. he looked at you almost with offense at the very idea of skipping out on a game.

it upsets you that he won't be here celebrating with the rest of the seniors (what you mean to say is with you, because itoshi rin couldn't care less about those people he can't even name). you're a little mopey for the better part of the morning, feeling only slightly better when your friends find and join you in the crowd. the ceremony is supposed to start soon and your heart aches.

why you feel so hurt is beyond you. maybe you're just upset over the reminder that soccer will always be rin’s first love, but it's not fair. this was supposed to be a special day for both of you, and he bailed.

you're about to follow your group of friends into the gymnasium where everyone is to be seated when a hand captures yours. you startle before the rough and calloused skin soothes you. familiar. rin.

he's out of breath, shoulders rising and falling rapidly with each inhale he rakes in as if he'd just sprinted here. and though he'd never tell you, he did sprint here after feeling all too guilty at the game and leaving halfway through. he smells like sweat, and he's not dressed even slightly for the occasion, but he's in front of you holding flowers and looking extremely guilty.

"rin?" you balance him with your hands on his shoulders as he doubles over to catch his breath. "what happened to your game?" his stomach turns when he realizes you don’t sound even an ounce mad at him, only slightly confused and worried. how did he ever get so lucky?

you try to pry but he opts to ignore your questions. he looks at you through his lashes, completely focused, gaze sharp and loving and so intense you're afraid you'll melt into a puddle. it's only then that you realize:

oh. oh. rin is choosing to be here. here, with you, and not playing soccer.

"congratulations," he finally pants out and shoves the flowers into your arms with haste. this makes you laugh and his heart throbs in his ribcage. oh god, he might actually pass out. you look too nice draped in your graduation gown and cap. the school colours always did suit you.

"rin, it's your graduation too," you remind him. he feels your free hand cup his face and guide him back up to look at you. you're so close he can practically feel your laugh rumbling in his own lungs. you kiss him gently and he falls apart.

it’s been over a year since he first learned your name, but he worships it anyways, repeating it over and over against your lips.

"congratulations," he sputters again clumsily when you pull away from him.

"congrats," you echo.

when you choose to go to university, rin follows.

"are you sure you want to go there?" you ask him while you sit on the floor of your childhood home and pack your things neatly into a box. rin lounges on your bed, watching. "i'm pretty sure there's other schools that have better soccer teams than this one..."

"shut up," he bites before sliding off the bed and helping you stuff things into the moving box. "any team i'm on is the best."

you smile at him because you know what he really means is that he'll worry so much about you if you're apart that he won't be able to focus on soccer anyways. but if you ever told him you knew that he would deny it as if his life depended on it, so you keep your little truth unspoken.

"did you find a place yet? or will you just be staying in the dorms like me?"

he grimaces. "don't you think the dorms are a little unsanitary?" you only laugh at his mild disgust, as you always do when he's being a drama queen.

"come on, it's the college experience!"

"the college experience is... going to college," he argues weakly.

"yeah but you meet more people that way. so, you did find a place then? where is it?"

his eyes tear away from you as he closes the box. "if you're staying in the dorms, so am i."

you blink before laughing again. it makes his heart race. "what, are you jealous that i want to make some friends? i can't keep talking to you and only you forever, y'know."

he only pouts slightly at this, looking away with a red tinted face. "... what if that’s what i want?"

you drop the book you're about to pack in surprise, eyes a little wide. he groans when he realizes his error, a grossly smug grin spreading across your cheeks. “you mean that?”

“no, i take it back. rot.” he quickly refuses.

you look like you’re about to open your mouth to protest, so he reaches over and pinches your cheeks together to stop you. you glare at him softly, mumbling something unintelligible with your lips squished up from his fingers.

“sorry, i didn’t catch that?” he looks annoyingly victorious.

you swat his hand away from your face, sighing. “i’m just saying, it would be cool to meet some new people, maybe even have mutual friends!”

“i have enough friends.”

“rin, i’ve seen the contacts list on your phone.”

“ouch.”

you merely giggle in response, standing and grabbing the moving box into your arms. rin quickly follows, snatching it from your hands as if he’s offended you didn’t ask him to take it for you. he places it among the countless other boxes in the corner of your room, ready to be moved tomorrow morning.

your room is so empty, it fills you with quiet sadness. you grew up here. know every nook and cranny like the back of your hand. know where the spiders like to make their webs. know every suspicious stain you made as a kid.

rin seems to notice your change in demeanour, because in seconds he’s standing in front of you with his brows furrowed. “what’s wrong?” he asks and you can’t help but smile at how attentive he is.

“nothing, it’s... it’s stupid, i guess. i’ll just miss this place. feels like the end of my childhood, you know? moving out of my parents’ and into the real world, alone.” you don’t realize you’re rambling until you finish, flushing a bit in embarrassment. “sorry, i should stop.”

his head tilts to the side and confusion is written all over his face. his hand comes to your cheek, thumb grazing the skin gently. your heart nearly stops in your chest.

“but you’re not alone.”

there’s a stifling silence in the room. he’s waiting for a response from you, but you’re not sure what to say. your room is only illuminated by a couple lamps, one on your night table and the other on your desk. they cast an orange glow on rin’s face that makes him look ethereal. like an angel sent from heaven itself. and his gaze doesn’t waver, soft and filled with adoration as it always is even though you’re nearly in tears from the nostalgia ripping through you.

you swallow the lump growing in your throat. “what if that changes? what if we change?”

“why would we change?”

“i don’t know, rin. don’t you think the person you were in highschool is gonna be a lot different than who you will be a few years from now?”

he thinks for a moment, eyes finally leaving yours and drifting to the floor as he contemplates. there’s a finality in his expression when he studies your face closely again. “maybe. but i know i could never look at anyone else the way i look at you. that’s something that could never change.”

your breath hitches so loud you’re sure he can hear it too. there’s not an iota of dishonesty in his voice, not a single tell that says he doubts his claim in the slightest. “how can you be so sure?”

there’s silence again. deafening. you can hear your own blood rushing in your ears. then he kisses you, the same as he always does, but there’s something else behind it.

“i love you,” he tells you for the first time. three words reserved only for you. three words that he’d been waiting for the right moment to tell you. three words burning in his mind since the first time you took his breath away, though back then he tried his best not to entertain the idea. but now he’s never been so sure of it. “don’t you know that?”

both his hands cup your face now as you blink at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, totally speechless. he all but drags you into his body, arms draped around you and holding you closer than you think he ever has before. he sighs in relief when you nod.

“yeah, i-...” your arms circle his waist as you melt into him. “i love you too.”

he knows. he’s always known, just as you have.

it’s really no surprise when rin gets scouted for a team in europe. france, to be exact.

you’re in your third year of university, and though you love rin and know that he loves you, you can’t help but have some doubts about long distance. you still have god knows how long until you graduate completely, and it’s not exactly like you can uproot your whole life and education just to follow him all the way to france.

the prospect of asking him to stay and turn down his dream doesn’t seem all that much better, so you stand in the airport at 2am with him waiting for his flight. it’s an abysmal hour to be waiting for the plane, but it was the only one that would get him there at a reasonable hour to ease his jet lag.

“i’ll call you,” is the last thing he tells you when he kisses your forehead, the words mumbled into your skin like a promise. it makes your heart sink, and you can’t find a response in your throat that wouldn’t immediately turn into a sob.

the gate closes behind him. it’s only been seconds and you’re yearning to look into his eyes one last time.

life goes on as usual, but not. there’s a rin shaped hole in your life in places you never considered you would miss him in. you feel the heavy weight of his absence when you wait in line for your starbucks order, where he would usually stand and judge other people’s drinks with you. you feel it when you instinctively reach for two boxes of juice instead of one when you stop at a convenience store. you feel it especially when you try to stay awake a little later, a little longer, just a bit more, waiting for him to come home from his practices but failing when the time difference catches up to you.

it’s an ungodly hour of the night when your phone buzzes by your head. you groan quietly, hand thudding as you reach to turn it off until you freeze in place. there’s a picture on the screen - it’s of rin. you stole it when he was looking particularly cute while he watched you study in the library one day, and though he was incessant that you erase it from existence you couldn’t help but make it his contact photo much to his dismay.

you blink the grogginess from your eyes when you accept his call. he frowns when you flinch, adjusting to the sudden brightness of your screen in your otherwise very dark room.

“did i wake you?” he asks, brows furrowed, even though he can tell right away. he’s been craving to hear your voice all day. sue him for being a little selfish.

you huff with laughter. “no, it’s fine. i was waiting for your call.”

he gulps loudly when he hears how genuinely happy you are to hear from him. you were always so patient even with his short temper and busy schedule. you were too good to him.

“sorry. i know it’s late, i just…” he goes quiet for a moment, “i missed you.”

you nod, head sinking further into your pillow. he smiles when the duvet pulled over your body drowns you. it must be cold in japan right now. “i miss you too, rin.”

“is school okay?”

“a little boring, but i’m working on a proposal for my final year so hopefully it picks up soon. how has football been?” you ask him despite watching all the streamed games you possibly can. you know what a superstar he’s become, taking PXG by storm and making a name for himself among the starting lineup.

“busy. tiring. i miss you,” he says again, distracted.

there’s a rustle of wind that blows his bangs into his eyes. he quickly swipes the hair away, but you seem completely enamoured by him. he’s sitting outside, probably on the balcony of his incredibly pretty and expensive european style apartment. you can hear the faint chatter of people and cars passing just below him.

“i wanted to show you something,” he coughs out when there’s a beat of silence that passes on both ends of the call.

your eyes narrow from the brightness again when he flips the camera, adjusting you over the ledge of his balcony so you can see over it and across the streets of paris. the sky looks beautiful from this view, deep pink and gold as the sun sets.

“you’re so lucky,” you sigh contentedly. he was always good at reminding you that he was still thinking about you.

he blinks at his screen, eyes drifting away from the sky to settle on your image. he could watch a thousand sunsets on his own anyways. you’d always be prettier. he takes the opportunity while his camera is flipped away from his face to look at you, to examine you closer, to see if you’re really doing fine in japan, without your scrutinizing eyes calling him out.

“i’ll show you one day,” he blurts out. “in person, i mean.”

there’s laughter on the other end of the call, music to his ears. he can feel his body melting in relaxation from the sound alone. “only if you pay for the ticket,” you jest.

rin rests his head in his arms, leaning against the stone railing of his balcony. his phone stays extended past the barrier, held still so you can admire the sunset from a different part of the world. he suddenly feels violently homesick, even though you sleep under the same moon as he does.

you take note of the hush that befalls him, mirth dying in your throat. “rin. turn the camera back around.”

“why?” his voice is quiet again.

“i want to look at you.”

there’s another pause, and you think that he’ll be stubborn some more like he always is, but to your surprise the camera flips back around so that you can see him. the lower half of his face is still buried in his arms and his eyes shift away from you. the setting summer sun paints him in warm light.

you smile. “come back home to visit soon, okay?”

‘you���re my home,’ he wants to say. he doesn’t, because he’s worried he’ll throw up.

“right. soon.”

“hey,” your voice is soft and comforting. he almost wants to cry, but itoshi rin never cries. his focus shifts back to you and your expression is unwavering. adoring. “want to hear what the lady in front of me ordered at starbucks today?”

“lay it on me.”

“grande iced matcha with two pumps of raspberry syrup, four pumps of cinnamon dolce syrup, and cinnamon topping. she swore by it too, said it tasted like one of those fancy jelly-filled donuts you get from a bakery.”

he sneers in amusement. “sounds terrible.”

you both laugh, and for a moment it feels like he never left. he watches you roll around in bed a bit, flipping over so that the moonlight illuminates your face. his breath catches in his throat looking at you, so peaceful and warm. he wishes he was there to hold you. homesickness creeps up his spine again.

“whenever you come back…” your voice is gentle. loving. “i’ll be waiting for you with open arms.”

he stands up straight, eyes dragging all over your tired face through the facetime call. how was it possible for someone to be so breathtaking even in the dim light of their bedroom, expression heavy with exhaustion and smile fading with the lull of sleep? he’s so fucking lukewarm, allowing himself to be so enchanted with you when all you're doing is resting.

“i love you,” he tells you anyways. not like the words even needed to be uttered when he’s looking at you so longingly. that’s something distance could never change.

you were right, rin thinks. a lot of things had changed. his 27th birthday has come and gone, he’s about to finish his first contact for a professional team, and he’s packing up all his things to move back to japan. permanently.

despite all the moving parts in his life, you’ve remained constant. the person he can always depend on. the person who picks up his calls no matter the hour. the person who’s been sending him care packages with all his favourite japanese snacks that he so dearly misses.

some part of him is relieved that you’ve stuck with him all these years despite the painfully few and far between visits home, and the other part of him is crawling with the idea of not wasting another breathing second being apart from you.

it’s why when you meet him at the airport, all smiles and hands and kisses, he decides that he’s had enough of waiting.

“rin, wait-” you’re staring at him completely bewildered, as if you had just imagined his words. made them all up in your head.

“marry me,” he insists again. he doesn’t even have a ring. he’ll kick himself later for it, but right now you look too beautiful.

oh god. you might collapse. he’s boring into you so intensely, eyes sharp and serious but there’s so much emotion swimming in his expression that you would fall over if he wasn’t holding you upright by the waist.

there’s a crowd starting to form, because ‘oh wow, honey, look. it’s itoshi rin’ and ‘is he proposing?’ and ‘is now a bad time to ask for an autograph?’

he doesn’t care.

rin thinks you’re taking too long, or maybe he’s just being too impatient, because he opens his mouth to say more. but he’s cut off, perhaps by the single greatest word known to man.

“yes,” you breathe.

you’re in his arms in seconds, pressed so tight into his chest you could suffocate. you’re giggling regardless, bubbly and shaky and it makes the heart in his chest squeeze painfully with how much he missed you.

you still smell like the brand of shampoo you liked to use even before he left for europe. he can feel your shoulders trembling against him as you babble on and on about how happy you are with laughter on your tongue. he kisses you, and suddenly he’s eighteen again. it feels like home.

your hand reaches up and his heart leaps into his throat when you brush the hair out of his eyes, fingers delicately ghosting over his forehead. “of course i’ll marry you.” your voice is quiet, words for his ears only.

your sweet moment is short-lived, because there’s paparazzi surrounding you in seconds. they bombard you with question after question and you shrink away despite being abnormally used to the press. you are, after all, standing beside one of the most talented soccer players in japan. you realize he’s being unusually quiet, even for him, and when you turn to look at him again your breath catches.

he’s not paying anyone else a lick of attention. he’s never been good in the spotlight. never been good with faces. never been a people pleaser. in fact, you’ve joked multiple times that he has a special talent for ignoring people and exuding ‘leave me the hell alone’ energy. but he’s always looked at you the same, and you count yourself lucky that he saw you that day. had he made that shot, would your lives be any different? or would you always just be the person who happened to sit in front of him in class?

it doesn’t matter. none of it matters when he’s looking at you with his lips tugged into an impossibly wide grin for a man of his nature, eyes soft and face a little red. you nearly have the wind knocked out of your lungs.

he presses your foreheads together. “i’m home.”

you laugh. he’s heard it a thousand times, but he could never get tired of it.

“welcome home, rin.”

it’s starting to snow outside, but that’s okay. you always looked so pretty with snowflakes dusting your hair, anyways.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[cowgurrrl]

La Golondrina

Pairing: Javier Peña x CIA!reader

Author’s note: oooooooohhhh bitch plus disclaimer: I do speak and write Spanish and have for several years and will do so as I see fit for this series!! That being said, it won’t always be a perfect translation as I’m working off my grammatical knowledge and handle of the language. Please be patient :-)

Summary: The prologue [1.1k]

Warnings: backstory before the story, canonical type violence, torture

The heat of the room is suffocating. There are no windows, no fans, no fresh air. Sweat rolls down your back and sticks to your body. It's dark and dank and smells like cigarette smoke and mildew. The only light in the room emits from the crack under the door, the only indication you have of how much time has passed. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark as much as they can, and you can just barely make out the blood slicking the floor and the stained tools in the corner. 

This has been going on for so long. Maybe a few days. A week? You're really not sure. You don't know where you are, but you know the names and faces of the men who've taken turns busting their knuckles across your face. They've taken their time with you just as promised, withholding food and water as they bleed you out. You've done your best not to scream and cry, to not show weakness, as they tortured you for information and shoved a camera in your face to taunt the Agency. You've stayed strong. You've relied on your training. You've done everything you were supposed to. But you're so tired. You want to be done. 

Your head feels like it weighs a million pounds, and all you can do is let it hang dejectedly with your hands behind your back, metal digging unforgivably hard into your wrists. You swear you're burning from the inside out, but that could be the circular burns pressed into your skin. Your ribs ache as your lungs rattle to fight for breath. When will they come back? Did they leave you here to starve? Where the fuck is your team? Are you about to become collateral? The room spins around you, and your stomach churns from the bright pain dancing up your body. 

Unconsciousness dangles in front of you like a shiny carrot, and you're about to make the leap when a loud bang sounds somewhere in the building. Automatic gunfire, screams, and loud orders called in Spanish follow closely behind. The cuffs on your wrists keep you from moving to a safer position to protect yourself from stray bullets. Of course, I would survive being tortured by the cartel just to catch an American bullet, you think. You try to shift your feet in a half-hearted attempt to get down, but the floor is too slippery. You'd laugh if your ears didn't feel like they were splitting in half and your sore body wasn't tense with fear. 

The gunfire gets closer, and you can barely make out a handful of different voices, but you don't know if you recognize any of them. You don't know when the last time you heard a voice that didn't belong to a loyal sicario. You don't know what the fuck is happening. You let your head loll to the side in defeat and wait for the scale to tip. However this ends, you hope it's quick. 

A few more rounds find homes in bodies and walls before the building goes silent. Ringing takes over your senses, and you're almost positive there's blood dripping from your ear. The doorknob jiggles, and you can feel yourself shaking hard. You don't try to stop the tears from rolling down your face anymore. You're too tired. Your body is too weak. You're too ready. Another boom, and you scream as the door crashes down and officers swarm the room. Sunlight floods in and nearly blinds you as you squint against its intensity. Golden bullets wink at you, and barrels swing past you as they clear the room. Nobody gives you a second glance as you sit there, bleeding and trembling. 

"Soy CIA! No dispares!" Your voice doesn't sound like your own, all crackly and deep. You repeat it over and over again and hope that you're not hallucinating when you catch the Colombian flag on someone's vest. A hand lands on your knee, and your body jerks painfully to escape it. You kick at the person kneeling in front of you and let out a choked sob, unable to distinguish if the hand is friend or foe. 

"Hey, hey," a familiar voice says. You blink through tears, find his brown eyes boring into yours, and slump in relief. "You're okay. We're gonna get you outta here." Javi murmurs. He moves hair out of your face and wipes blood from the side of your head. You lean into his touch and let out a shaky sigh. 

"Are they dead?" You ask in English, hoping nobody but him can understand the cruel question. He nods and glances at your own handcuffs, forcing your hands behind you. "Javi, I need you to say it. I need to hear the words. Please." You beg. His hands gently frame your face and make you look at him as his eyes scan your injuries.

"They're all dead. Every single one, okay? You're safe now." He says, and you nod. Steve steps into your eyeline just enough to show you the key in his hands before he moves behind you to unlock the cuffs. Everyone is silent as they watch you. Based on the looks on their faces and how bad you feel, it's a miracle you survived. 

"I'm gonna have to maneuver them to get you out. It's probably gonna hurt." Steve warns. 

"Just do it." You urge and clench your jaw. The metal starts moving, and a pathetic moan slips from your chapped lips. If it weren't for you crying in pain, you would be able to hear a pin drop. Javi keeps you upright as Steve works at the cuffs, and the second the metal drops from your wrists, you fall into Javi's chest. 

"I've got you. You're okay." The words are soothing, and the tone is kind, but you sob anyway. You cling to him like a liferaft as the shock takes over. 

You don't remember exactly what happened after that. You know what they've told you. You know what's written down in a classified folder postmarked for Washington and forever relegated to the White Room. You know what injuries sent you into emergency surgery and which would cause aches for years. But the only thing you can say for certain about that rescue is that you heard Javi's radio chatter in Spanish and English, demanding an update. Steve tried to say something, but Javi beat him to it. Your eardrum was perforated, but you heard his words loud and clear.

“La Golondrina está libre.”

[strawberryforks]

your favourite nuisance // red hood x vigilante!reader

summary: you have another run-in with the red hood. this time you’re the one doing the annoying—defeating his target before he even gets to the scene. your vigilante name is striker!

warnings: violence, swearing

word count: 1036

a/n: striker!reader is such a fun character to write and i will probably continue to do so! that said, request/asks are open and encouraged as always!

you get the villain red hood was after. by the time he arrives to the fight, they’re being carted off by police. they’ll be headed to arkham, instead of carted off in a body bag destined for the morgue and the red hood–you add a ‘the’ because it makes his name sound more threatening, and right now, stalking towards you, he looks threatening. at least a head taller than you and wearing that stupid mask that should make it infuriatingly easy to hide his emotions–but he wastes that opportunity. his body language gives him away every time and you swear you can almost see steam billowing out of his ears like some ready-to-explode, red-with-rage, cartoon character. “red hood,” you acknowledge. “nice to see you.”

he starts shouting and you ignore him. you turn into an alleyway, keeping your back to him as you walk away. in gotham, there are very few people you would trust to stand behind you, to watch your back and not jam a knife in it. you’re really surprised when you realise red hood, the red hood, is one of those people you trust. you laugh a little, shaking your head all the while. glancing into a puddle, you see red hood’s reflection storming after you, getting closer and closer. you don’t change your pace. you aren’t trying to avoid a confrontation, you actually don’t care at all. as far as you’re concerned it’s inevitable. you knew what you were doing taking down a villain red hood laid claim to. you knew what would happen, how he’d react and you did it anyway. You’re not trying to avoid confrontation, you’re just trying to move it away from the reporter who had been lingering beside your crime scene, wanting the scoop. you happily gave her the details you could, but didn’t want your generosity being a mistake.

you didn’t want to go home and find yours and red hood’s faces in the paper. not for fighting. not for anything else. drama was something you tended to stay out of and this was different, okay? you weren’t being dramatic, you were simply having fun. red hood was as much a rival as he was a friend. you would never ever voice that, but it made it no less true.

in another puddle you see his hand raise. Before he can grab your arm and force you to look at him, you spin around. you face him but only because you want to (not because, never because, if he really wanted you looking into his eyes he would be able to make you and that could be incredibly embarrassing)

you smile up at him, all fake-niceness. you pat his shoulder, “aw, don’t worry red. i’m sure you’ll get ‘em next time. if not, i left some of the small fishes for you.

“what the hell striker?”

“get over yourself, red. you’ve ruined my day more times than i can count, it’s time you see how it feels.”

he scoffed. “more times than you can count? you’re going to have to go back to school sweetheart because vigilantism doesn’t pay the bills and if you can’t count to twenty eight not even the supermarket near crime alley will hire you.”

“twenty eight? has the red hood been counting our encounters?” you laugh, being flooded with all sorts of ridiculous mental imagery–red hood scribbling in a pink notebook, red hood writing with a dry erase marker on the fridge, red hood, get this, looking forward to seeing you. jeez, you’re laughing so hard your stomach aches.

“do you journal? ‘dear diary, today i saw striker for the fifteenth time! i stole her thunder, ruined her night, and she went home and cried into ramen. ah, such a productive day fueled by tears, the blood left on my suit from the needless slaughter i just love to partake in, newspaper headlines, and assholery!’ is that about right?”

“shut the hell up.”

“i don’t think i will. besides, you don’t want me to. you’d be bored and have nothing to write about.”

“i wouldn’t be bored. there's a clear difference between bored and peaceful. also, i don’t write about you. i don’t even like you, striker.” okay, ouch. the big guy might as well have punched you in the nose because that one hurt a surprising amount.

you recovered quickly, never letting your mask (metaphoric) fall, your actual mask you didn’t need to worry about. it was as secure as secure got. covering your nose and mouth, all that could be seen was your eyes and on nights where you knew things would get messy, you wore goggles, rose tinted ones, that blood couldn’t stain, that you had commissioned from a seller on etsy. “you do too! i’m your favourite nuisance.”

“you aren’t.” he says immediately. hating you is one of his reflexes, how sweet. “you’re like my third favourite nuisance.”

you raise an eyebrow. just one. it’s as accusing as it is amusing.

“second…” he trails off. “alright, goddammit. yeah, you’re my favourite nuisance. happy?

“fucking ecstatic, actually red.” you grin and if you had to guess–he rolls his eyes.

“that villain,” back to business, as always. you straighten your spine and prepare for the scolding of a lifetime. you tilt your chin up and glare at his mask. “that was my target and you know it. that said, you did a good job.”

“if he hangs himself in his cell at arkham i’ll know it was you. i’ll be pissed–wait, red, there’s no way that you just said that. that was so a compliment. the only thing missing and making you seem awful was the fact you forgot to say ‘thank you!’ wow, regardless, i’m proud. honoured, even.”

“next time let me handle it.”

“you’re welcome!” you say in a sing-song voice. one that’s way too cheery for the other vigilante’s liking.

“striker?”

“yeah?”

“you really are a nuisance.”

“i like to put the emphasis on ‘favourite’ but sure, that works.” you slide past him in the alleyway, heading out. you stop on your tippy toes to whisper your goodbyes and don’t miss the blinding camera flash or the gawking reporter at the entrance of the alleyway.

[aeondelirium]

Here is my gift for the White Oliphaunt event! Have a lovely, healthy, happy new year. ❤️

Frodo had been intrigued by the elf since he first saw a glimpse of his injury; a thin sliver of greyish flesh spotted between the the cuff of a sleeve and the trimming of a glove. Illness was rare among the elves, and it had begun to make a small loneliness in Frodo’s heart that grew as Bilbo went from old to ancient and he himself was getting on in years. Master Elrond was a healer of great skill, nor was he the only one eager to see to the comfort and health of the hobbits; still he could not halt the march of time. Frodo felt that it pained the elves to witness the slow failing of their mortal bodies. More than once he had seen their neighbours flinch or quickly avert their eyes when Bilbo struggled to rise from the bench outside his home, or when an indrawn breath gave away a sudden pain in his joints. Frodo felt reminded of an old yellow tomcat who had liked to sleep on the warm cobblestones by the well outside Bag End, and the way he had flinched to see him limp away in the evening as his days drew near their end.

The elf with the injured hand drew similar looks of mingled pity and distaste, though Frodo had been made to understand that he had earned the latter. He found it difficult to picture soft-spoken, withdrawn Maglor either as a joyful minstrel or a ruthless warrior; rather he felt as though an invisible hand had plucked kin strings in their souls, and loneliness sung in both of them.

One afternoon, Master Daeron’s beautiful harp had been carried out to the shore by no fewer than four strong elves, and the hobbits had spent a delightful time listening and singing until Bilbo’s rhymes reduced most of the audience to tears of laughter. Frodo’s smile had grown somewhat fixed when he found he was no longer certain that the merriment stemmed from his uncle’s cleverness, rather than the jolly nonsense of his wandering mind. Frodo’s gaze lingered on Maglor, who had not laughed along with the others.

“Does it hurt still?” he found himself asking. Maglor did not turn his eyes on him, but his burned hand twitched inside its glove.

“The hurt is less a thing of the body and more an ache of the soul” he said softly.

Frodo nodded. “I’ve some of those hurts myself.”

“I miss my harp” Maglor confided, his eyes still fixed straight ahead as though he were speaking to himself. “That is perhaps the greatest hurt of all.” There was a silence. Frodo knew no comfort to give the elf.

“Pimpinella Bracegirdle”, said Bilbo beside him, stirring from a brief rest against his shoulder, “loved to dance.” He fixed his watery old eyes on Maglor with an intensity that finally forced the elf to turn his head and acknowledge him. Bilbo manoeuvred himself upright with a huff and a puff and wet his lips, ready to spin yet another yarn.

“Now the trouble was”, he continued, “her dear Hugo was lame in one leg whenever the weather was about to change, an old injury from when he was a lad … I seem to recall he’d stepped on a bee and rolled down the hill up near Sandson’s farm …”

Frodo felt a slow flush creeping up his neck and put a gentle hand on his uncle’s arm, hoping to dissuade him from his tale. Bilbo, however, was undeterred. Maglor simply looked at the old hobbit, his face betraying neither amusement nor disdain. He listened with the careful attention of a minstrel.

“Now, a little further down Bagshot Row lived a hobbit who didn’t care much for dancing, despite having two good feet at the end of two good legs. We called him Daddy Twofeet, if you can believe it, for he’d more sense in his toes than that foolish head of his, heh. So on every other feast day, if the weather was about to change, and Pimpinella wanted to dance, Hugo would limp over to Daddy’s hole, and borrow his good right leg, on the condition of course he’d have it back by morning. And then he and Pimpinella would dance the night away, and they didn’t care who knew about it.” The old hobbit finished with a snort and a shake of his grey head.

“Oh Bilbo”, Frodo sighed. 

His uncle bristled. “Don’t you take that tone with me, young hobbit! Hugo and Daddy were my neighbours for many years, and every word is true.”

“Bilbo-”, Frodo began, but the old hobbit shook his hand from his arm.

“Why, I ought to send you to bed without your supper!” he sputtered, now truly querulous in a way only the elderly can muster.

“To bed, yes”, Frodo agreed wearily, and made to rise. “Perhaps it is time for bed.”

“Perhaps you ought to listen to your uncle, Master Baggins.”

All three of them stopped and looked up to where Daeron was watching them, a twinkle of merriment in his bright eyes.

“I think there is some wisdom in his tale”, he went on, and raised a graceful hand in beckoning. Beside the hobbits, Maglor stiffened where he sat, not unlike a rabbit hoping to elude the hunter’s searching gaze.

“Come, Maglor. Sit with me.” Daeron’s voice was gentle, yet brooked no argument. Maglor rose, but doing so cast a sideways glance at Frodo, who could not help but feel he had done the elf a bad turn.

“Show me”, Daeron said as Maglor settled himself on the smooth rock next to him. He opened his hand in invitation, and received Maglor’s own in return. None around them spoke or even shifted as Daeron gently peeled the glove away, a shadow of pain passing over his features at the sight of the marred flesh.

“The skin has hardened”, Maglor said in a voice barely above a whisper, forcing the words out quickly as though they hurt him. “The fingers are too stiff to play.”

Daeron hummed a soft note of agreement, turning the hand over and gently extending the scarred digits. “Yes”, he said at last, “that hand is hardly fit to pluck my harp.”

His finger’s tightened around Maglor’s wrist to prevent him from drawing away. Daeron removed from his shoulders his own lovely blue scarf, and, resting Maglor’s hand in his lap, gently pulled the soft fabric over it.

“Between the two of us we have three good hands to play.”

The tune was halting and strange at first. Taking half of two famed minstrels did not, Frodo thought to himself, make a whole one of outstanding skill. Yet there was not a face in the audience that did not smile, or shed a tear, or both.

Beside him, Bilbo rested his wizened head back on his shoulder. An elf maiden draped a soft woollen blanket around him against the evening chill. And when the old hobbit begun to hum along in his faltering voice, the music was sweeter than any that had been heard on that shore in a long time.

[katyawriteswhump]

The power of love, part 10 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near-death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 11 Part 12

Contains mild kink (under-negotiated and going slightly wrong—all for plotty purposes, honest!)

(also on AO3 here)

...

Steve POV continued

“You sure about this, Stevie?”

“What part of ‘let’s do this’ do you not get?” 

Steve unwinds himself from Eddie. He peels his sweater over his head then glances down at the bandages… Screw it, can’t think about it now.

“Damn,” breathes Eddie, apparently drooling too hard to care. “I totally dreamed about this, when I luuuuurved to hate you. Okay, hate is kinda overkill but—”

“Yeah, I was a douche. Blah, blah, blah.” Steve shivers lightly, pitches the sweater at Eddie, who totally fails to catch it. “If this is some freak show revenge kink—”

“Wasn’t like that—seriously, you have no idea. It was, uh…” Eddie ventures closer. Under the quivering beams of the flashlight, his dark eyes seem impossibly large and liquid. “I used to watch you in the pool—you were so disgustingly squeaky clean. I wanted to drag you into the deepest, darkest recesses of my dungeon-master mind and, ahem…”

“I needed bringing down a peg?” Steve gets right in Eddie’s face.

“Not even that.” Eddie’s deadly serious. “Just wanted you aaaaall for myself.”

Steve smirks—best way to disguise the candy-ass swirl of butterflies in his belly—then steps back and spreads his arms. “I’m all yours. Knock yourself out.”

Eddie gets some rope, hooks it over a high beam, and climbs on a crate to fasten it in place. He then plants a palm on Steve’s bare chest, backing him up against a wooden post. Steve smirks harder than ever, if only to distract himself—and Eddie—from the heart hammering insanely beneath Eddie’s hand. Jesus Christ, don’t think! Focus on the hotness.

Eddie reaches up to grab one end of the rope, loop it around one of Steve’s wrists. Steve tugs himself free: “You do know what you’re doing here, right?”

“Believe me, my uncle is worse than any overgrown boy-scout leader. Not sure he taught me knots and shit for exactly these purposes, but… anyhoo.”

“Okay. Got one condition. You get shirtless too.”

Eddie’s grin makes Steve ache in all sorts of fun places. “Guess I can indulge you, Babe.”

“Babe? I was a brat five minutes ago. Make yer mind up.”

Eddie flips the bird, turns away and strips. Steve lolls against the post, despite longing to drag his tongue over every salty inch of Eddie’s torso. Jesus, he never knew he had a shoulder and back kink, because… Gnnng! And those tats, stark against Eddie’s pale skin? As Eddie turns back, Steve drinks them all in. Even the goddamn bats, which should be scary as hell these days, are beyond intoxicating, and seem to dance and spin and…

“Ready now?” Eddie grabs the rope.

Steve fakes a yawn. “Getting old waiting, Munson.” 

“You really are a brat, you know that? C’mon, gimme your hand.”

Eddie ties Steve’s right wrist with a loopy, hitchy knot. He tugs another part of the rope, suspending Steve’s wrist in the air above him.

“How ya doing, big boy?” Eddie grazes his fingers, feather-light, down the light stubble on Steve’s cheek.

“Never better.” 

Steve swallows hard, offers Eddie his other hand. The exquisite concentration on Eddie’s face, the tip of pink tongue at the corner of his mouth, is hilarious. Eddie’s half-naked body is totally smokin’, and yet…

Steve’s eyes drift closed. Those butterflies in his stomach are fast transforming into a horde of angry wasps. He’s had his hands tied before, by the Soviets and… Dammit, is this really distracting him from anything? I DIED IN 1978. I DIED! His breaths come faster, shallower. Nevertheless, he bites his lip against asking Eddie to stop, to slow down even. Don’t spoil this, Harrington.

“Stevie, you sure you’re okay?”

As soon as his gaze meets Eddie’s, Steve’s anxiety fades a little, and he nods. He tugs lightly at Eddie’s handiwork, now complete, and a snigger he genuinely feels tugs the corner of his lips. While the ropes don’t dig in, he doesn’t think he could easily yank himself free.

Okay, this is definitely kinda hot. Like the channel of air between their bare chests, which honestly, steams like a sauna. He’s always been in control in sexual relationships, always taking the lead. Lately, yeah, it’s felt kinda dull almost, as if he’s been going through the motions. Now, his nerves still jangle, but simply losing himself again in Eddie’s soulful eyes, he’s getting a goddamn semi. He peeps down, and the strain at Eddie’s fly suggests he’s suffering the same.

“What you gonna do next, Munson?” he husks.

“Stevie, I… I…” Eddie steps back, plows all eight fingers deep into that lush hair. “Seriously, now I got you like this, I have no clue, other than I want to kiss you so bad.”

“I want that so bad too.” 

Eddie kisses his own knuckles, dusts them across Steve’s lips, setting Steve squirming, keening even. His heart and his every goddamn fibre strain madly toward Eddie. Then an unexpected rumbling noise clamps those same fibres super-tight.

“Fuck!” Eddie’s half-lidded eyes stretch wide. “More choppers?” 

“No… No. Sounds like a truck or something.”

“How?”

“Robin said there was a track, remember? Shit, shit, shit! Turn the flashlight off. Now.”

Eddie obeys. Pitch darkness slams down. “Fine,” says Steve, struggling to keep it together. “You gotta untie me, man.”

“Right. Yeah.”

Cold sweat carves rivulets down the back of Steve’s neck, soaking the hair as his nape, while Eddie fumbles at the rope. Eddie’s frantic, singsong voice unsettles Steve further: “Nooooo. Can’t see what I’m doing.”

“You tied the dumb things? How hard can it be!”

“Stop struggling. You’re making the knots tighter.” 

“Oh.” Steve hadn’t realized he was doing that. “Sorry. Sorry.”

Eddie switches the flashlight back on. 

“Are you insane?” hisses Steve.

“Not the expert I thought I was, okay? I’m gonna have to slice them. Don’t wanna slice you.” Eddie retrieves a flick-knife from his back pocket, starts hacking above Steve’s right wrist. “Aaaaargh! You blunted this thing slashing your way through that goddamn jungle.”

“Somebody had to carve a path for you two great wusses. Just… Don’t be a klutz.”

“Aaaaah, I suck at this, Stevie. I don’t like this. I don’t like this.”

Neither does Steve. An engine revs and grinds, waaaay too close. “Turn the stupid light off. Go! Warn Robin. She’s a heavy sleeper.”

“But—”

“DO IT!” Steve’s furious desperation hits home. Eddie kills the flashlight, leaving Steve tethered by the wrists. Totally helpless.

Calm down, calm down. Focus, Harrington. Free yourself and then you can help them.

He grits his teeth, tugs again at the ropes. They simply bite deeper into his flesh. Nevertheless, Eddie has sawed partially through the rope above his right wrist. He throws everything into that, shoulder and biceps burning, until…

Snap.

His right wrist flies free, and he slumps forward into the darkness. Which makes the bonds around his left wrist snare super-tight, like he was caught in an animal trap.

Ooow! Oh great, just great.

He staggers upright to slacken the remaining rope, gives it a single strenuous tug then pulls short, gasping. At this rate, he’s gonna squeeze his own goddamn hand off.

He hears murmured voices—Eddie? Robin? Two beams of dusky white light streak through the small windows of the cabin—headlamps!?! 

His increasingly feeble struggles dry up. Whoever is coming is nearly here, and he wants to punch something, to kick something. Anything! He’d do anything to protect Eddie and Robin. Anything… Anything.

Giddiness swirls through his body like a mist. He’s nearly bent double, before the wrench through his shoulder revives him. Ow, Jesus! He scrambles to find his footing, to lighten the burden on his shoulder socket, though he’s still light-headed, his chest tight and shuddering. Are the army here? Have Robin and Eddie been taken? Oh God, oh God!

Something that feels like a mini lightning-storm consumes his brain, echoed by a deafening clap of thunder, and then…

Nothing.

…

Eddie POV

Eddie dips around the wavering beams of the slowly approaching headlights. He dashes into the bunkroom, where Robin is asleep.

In the gloom, he grabs her shoulder, shakes her. “Robin!” 

“Mind the kittens… Huh? Shit, sorry, dreaming. What the—”

Eddie flattens his hand over her mouth. “Someone’s coming,” he hisses.

“Shit-birds, what do we…” Robin sits up, slides to her feet. Her attention swings to Steve’s empty bunk. “Where is he?”

“Long story. Listen, you gotta run. Now. Hide.”

“Where? There’s only one way out.” Her arms flap everywhere. “Where’s Steve, Eddie?” 

“Gonna get him. Come on!”

They sidle out of the bunkroom, keeping tight to the cabin and the shadows. The revs from the vehicle are hard-by. “Hide in the trees,” says Eddie. “Go.”

“Not without Steve! Where is… Oh my God, oh my God.” 

Two headlight beams dazzle, as the vehicle enters the camp. A few fleeting heartbeats later, lightning forks across the sky, echoed by a deafening thunderclap. As Eddie and Robin charge deeper into the shadows, the heavens literally crack apart and a wall of rain slams down. Eddie sprints for the cabin where he left Steve, already soaked to the skin, no idea if Robin followed.

“Steve?” he whispers. “Steve! Shit! Shiiiiit!” Blundering in the dark, he discovers Steve’s completely out of it, dangling limply from one wrist. Eddie’s clumsily bracing his weight, when a flashlight sets him squinting, and a large figure blocks the doorway.

It’s all over.

Somebody roars, “What the hell is going on?” 

It sounds like Chief Hopper.

Eddie’s so stunned that he almost lets Steve drop. Fortunately, Hopper is already there—or, at least, some tall, lean, mean-looking dude that resembles him. Whoever he is, he gets his arms around Steve, while elbowing Eddie out of the way.

“Eddie? What? Why? What did you do to him? How could you? HOW COULD YOU?” Robin, holding the light, sounds ten times angrier than the thunder.

“It… uh, it wasn’t like that.” Eddie wrings his sopping hair. “I can explain?”

“Save it, Munson,” mutters the Hopper-look-alike, who’s already produced a vicious-looking blade and is hacking Steve free. Then he scoops one arm under Steve’s knees, and with a grunt, he picks him up.

“You got beds somewhere?” asks Hopper. Robin nods, before leading the way out into the easing rain.

Part 11

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 11

[plussizeappreciationfics]

OS: Cozied up

Requested?    Yes  l   No

By: Yours truly

Pairing: M'baku x Plus sized reader

Summary: a serious decision was made by you and your husband

Warning(s): NSFW, 18+ONLY, unprotected sex, oral sex

Picture(s) found on: Pinterest/Google

A/N: Just bear with me please, it's been a long ass while....

"Baby..." you moaned, resting your head against your pillow while your eyes focused on the giant ceiling mirror. The sight of M'baku lying in between your spread legs, his head buried between your soft and big thighs made another delightful shiver run down your spine.

Your lover moaned your name, lifted his head so he could see your reaction and let out a soft chuckle when realizing that you were admiring the deliciously naughty view . In a blink of an eye, he was back to devouring you, his soft plump lips sucking on your wet folds while humming gently. You couldn't help but grin while continuing to moan and shiver in delight.

"My queen, you are a true beauty" the King spoke, having released your drenched inner lips before licking all over your swollen and sensivitve clit. "If it wouldn't be for these damn royal responsibilities, I'd feast on you all day".

Your husband moaned before taking a break and gently ordering you to look at him. "Yes, my love?" you innocently asked, silently being relieved for the small break as the sensational pleasure was slowly becoming too much for you.

"There's a war ahead, and I don't know whether I will come back..." his furrowed eyebrows instantly made you worried as you knew where this topic was going. "My king..." a sigh left your lips as you collected your thoughts, "I know what you're trying to say and...I am ready...I want this just as much as you want to..." you confessed while your heart skipped a beat, waiting for your husband's worried facial expression to change.

It took him a few seconds to let your words sink in but once they did. his eyes sparkled with pure joy and excitement while he climbed his way back up to you. "Marvelous!" M'baku happily exlaimed befor wrapping his giant arms around your thick waist and getting comfortable in between your spread legs. He leaned his head down before his delcious lips melted against yours, moving in such a delightful yet intimate way that it made your head spin for just a second. You felt the love radiating off him while wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer.

You knew that your decision would help your kingdom as much as your husband, but was also a wish you had been keeping a secret for a little while. But now, Wakanda was on the point of being destroyed completely, it was only a matter of time before your kingdom would suffer the same losses and damages. You only hated that the decision couldn't wait for at least another year as you didn't want to go through it all alone, mourning...

"Please come back to me, my love" you whispered once your lips let go of one another, a painful ache suddenly taking over your chest. "Please promise me that we will do this together".

"Of course I promise this to you, my life. I want to do this with you, it will be a beautiful time for us. I promise, my queen".

Hearing those words alone was enough to reassure you that your husband would fight for his life and return to you, your home and your family.

"Let's do it" you whispered, your voice shaking a little bit as your emotions were getting more intense by the second.

"Honour me, yourself and our kingdom with an heir. Our child" you begged desperately before smashing your lips together, the lust and love taking over you while your hands slid down M'baku's back to his buttcheeks. You squeezed them tighly while his hard cock already was wriggling its way between your entrance and clit, the motion making you moan in his mouth.

"Fuck me" you begged in between the heated kisses, pushing your whole body closer to your husband's, not a piece of paper being able to fit in between. "Your wish is my command, ,my queen" was all he whispered before aligning the tip of his cock at your entrance, pushing in quickly and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Yes!" you screamed when your inner walls happily welcomed the stretching, every inch sinking inside of you until you were completely filled. Your juices gathering around the cock, sucking it in and warmly holding it hostage deep inside of you.

Your eyes slowly opened and focused on the beautiful view again. It was glorious and almost addicting being able to feel and witness this intimate and loving moment with your husband while admiring his beautiful body tangled together with yours.

M'baku let out a soft hum before he started moving his hips, snapping them against yours and making the tip of his cock meet your G spot with every movement. The pleasure was almost overwhelming as you held onto him for dear life, closing your eyes and throwing your head back while arching your back to take him in even deeper than before. He belonged to you and you belonged to him. You were made for each other, made to expand your family of two to three.

"Don't stop, you feel so good" you begged desperately, the sounds of your loud moans and whimpers echoing through your bedroom but you didn't care as nobody outside of the room would be able to hear it. This was your moment, your worship.

Your husband was a moaning mess too, trying to delicately lick his way up and down your neck and cheek while huffing and puffing, describinng your pussy in the most naughty, yet amazing way. Shudders kept overwhelming your body, the ecstasy rippling through you and helping you to reach that high.

The motions of two of your bodies together only increased by the minute, the two of you being desperate to reach your highs and hopeful conceive your child.

Without any warning, M'baku shot up and flipped you over on all fours. The surprised gasp didn't was quickly replaced by a loud moan of yours when you felt him slip inside you again, your juices dripping down your thick thighs.

"You're so beautiful, look at you" your husband praised while he plowed away, his strong hands having a tight grip on your wide hips. All you could do was try to match his hectic rhythm by moving your hips against his but you failed, miserably. Tonight, he was gonna fuck you and not give you a chance to play your own tricks on him.

"I-I'm close" you whimpered once you felt your inner walls tightening up, a delicious knot forming in the pit of your stomach while your G spot was being spoiled all that time. Your legs started shaking as the pleasure started to tingle from your head all the way to your toes. The helpless pleads for your husband to fuck you harder edging him towards the high too.

It wasn't long after your warning that you suddenly felt breathless, the delightful knot only becoming tighter before it snapped, your orgasm rippling over your body and mind. "My king!" you wheezed weakly, shaking intensly with every tight clench of your inner walls while you felt the warm squirts of cum fill you up. This is magical.

"I love you" the two of you kept crying out to one another while your bodies tried to get through the intense orgasms, the spasms and tingles exploding. The sweatbeads had made their way trickling down your damp skin. By the time M'baku had slowly slipped out of you and admired the creamy mess that was leaving your open entrance, your head already had hit the pillow and you were trying to catch your breath, silently hoping that your baby was conceived.

"Rest my love, we have a few more rounds to go tonight" was all you heard while the warmth of the silk sheets surprised you as your king tucked you in. Your legs felt like jello and fatigue was already taking over your body as you hummed in response before slipping into unconsciousness being so happy.

[sister-lucifer]

Asmodeus Can Be Cruel 

Contains: AFAB he/she Asmo, male reader, dom Asmo, sub reader, overstimulation, crying, Mommy kink, CNC (the overstim messes with readers head, but don’t worry, Asmo always has a safe word for you:) ), reader begs for mercy, Asmo in heat, riding 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio! 

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors

It wasn’t at all unusual for Asmodeus to act up during his heat, but this was beyond what you were ready for. 

She had been riding you for who knows how many hours, never resting for even a split second. You had begun to squirm beneath him after the third orgasm he pulled out of you, but by now you lost count. 

Tears ran down your hot cheeks as you gripped her thighs, weakly holding on to the soft skin. You tried to push him down, to make him still, to get even once moment of relief but you didn’t have any strength left. Your legs kicked and trembled as you desperately tried to get away from the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Mommy, please!” You yelped, “Please, g-get off me! I can’t do it anymore!” 

Nearly every other word was interrupted by a sob or broken hiccup, your voice broken and shaking, just like the rest of you. You could hardly look at him, your vision blurred by tears. 

Asmodeus clicked his tongue, cooing down at you in reply. 

“Oh come now, you can give Mommy one more, can’t you?” 

“Nooo! I don’t have anything left to give you!” You insisted, nails digging into her thighs. 

You weren’t lying. You were sure you had been dry orgasming the past few times at least. You simply couldn’t give any more. You had been worked past your limit and then some, but she needed more. 

He leaned down, bracing his hands on your chest as his eyes locked with yours from above. 

“C’mon, Mommy just needs one more, just one more, then she’ll be happy…” 

You winced at just the thought of another orgasm, throwing your head back with a pathetic cry. You’d already cum about as many times as he’d said “just one more.” You didn’t believe it for a second. 

A dull ache thrummed in your stomach and your loins, as if you needed another reminder of your merciless lover. 

“Please, Mommy, please…i-it hurts!”

“Shhhhh…”

You weren’t getting through to him. If it were any other situation Asmodeus would’ve at least granted you a break, but her heat was clouding her judgement. All she knew was that she needed more, and that you were going to give it to her.

You didn’t even realize your next orgasm was fast approaching until it was almost too late. Your body was nearly numb at this point. Your hands moved from Asmo’s thighs to the sheets, clawing at them desperately as you begged. 

“Please, please, not again! I can’t, I-I—!” 

You squealed at a particularly hard bounce, your entire body tensing beneath your lover. He purposely squeezed around your twitching cock, making sure you hit every spot inside her soaking pussy. 

“Please, y-you have to stop before I cum again, please! I can’t take it, Mommy!”

You pleaded with all of your remaining strength, but your words fell on deaf ears, and soon your voice was fizzling out into unintelligible wails and whines. Your chest heaved with each heavy, strained breath you took, sweat dripping down your forehead and making your hair stick to your skin. 

You tried to hold off your orgasm, to at least give yourself time to brace for impact, but you couldn’t. You screamed Asmodeus’ name for the last time as your hips bucked up into her, your back arching off the bed. In return he called out to you, constricting around your length once more as he too found his release. The feeling of her tightening around you was a pleasure like no other, making your head spin and heart skip a beat. 

Asmodeus’ brows furrowed when she didn’t feel your warm seed fill her. He had had plenty already, sure, but it was an odd sensation—or rather, lack there of. You had really given him everything you had. 

Finally he had come to a stop, allowing himself to catch his breath as he laid on top of you. 

You could feel every small movement she made from the inside. Even the smallest shift made you grit your teeth. The pleasure was still ringing in your body, gradually dying down. 

Asmodeus placed a soft kiss on your chest, brushing some stray hair out of your face. She hummed to herself as she stroked your face, and you happily nuzzled into her soft touch. 

“Mm…there you go…you gave me one more…what a good boy you’ve been for Mommy.”

The words were soft, just barely reaching your ears, but you heard.

“I had no idea you could take that much…maybe next time I should tie you up, play with you a little longer, hm?”

[strnilolover]

Rough Day - Matt Sturniolo

In which... you’ve had a bad day at work and Matt comforts you when you get home. (No use of y/n, slight crying)

Blue - Matt : Pink - Reader

Pairing: bf!matt sturniolo x gf!reader

Warnings: none just fluff :)

a/n: this is my first time posting any writing ever, so please bear with me. I know it doesn't have much detail but I'm trying ��🏻

———————————————————————

It was a rough day. Sitting in your car after your twelve-hour shift, trying to breathe the best you could as you struggled to keep the tears from falling down your face. Your hands gripped the steering wheel as you looked at your face in the small mirror to your right, your eyes puffy and slightly red from those tears that did escape. You exhaled, putting the car into drive and made your way home.

Trudging in through the front door, you kick your shoes off to your right and make your way towards the kitchen to set your things down on the counter. Matt being nowhere in sight, you figure he’d be in your shared room doing who knows what.

You make your way up the carpeted stairs in your home, wincing slightly as the change of texture makes your sore feet ache. Once at the top of the stairs you turn beelining for yours and matts bedroom, pushing the door open, matt sits there at his desk playing games with presumably his brothers.

He doesn’t notice you, too wrapped up in the game they’re playing. Insults being spat at one another as one of them fucks up in what they’re doing. You take a deep breath and slowly make your way over to Matt, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and setting your head down on them, closing your eyes.

He smiles, bringing one of his hands up to grab your arm. “Hello sweetheart.” He coos softly at you, his thumb rubbing your arm. “hmm” You hum in response, your brain catching up to your exhausted frame as you slouch more against him. He reaches for your arms, pulling them off him as he spins himself around to face you. “How was your day sweet girl?” he asks, taking you and tugging you softly onto his lap. Your legs landing on either side of him the best they could as he was still in his game chair.

You shook your head, the words on the tip of your tongue, but refused to move past your lips in fear of letting yourself break loose. Though, you’re sure it would happen either way. Matt frowned, “Rough day huh baby?”, You nodded, your head falling forward onto his shoulder as you started to feel the sobs rack through your body. The tears fell down your face as your body shook, soaking matts shirt in the process.

He brought his arms up to wrap around your frame, one hand rubbing circles on your back, the other stroking your hair as you let your sobs break free. “It’s alright baby I’ve got you,” he says, the hand on your back pulling you tighter to him, “let it all out, it’s going to be okay.” You wrap your arms tight around him, your body melting as the rest of your energy leaves you. “It was such—a bad day matt, so bad...” You choke out between the remainder of your sobs. Pulling away, he looks at your puffy eyes and tear-stained face, frowning more as he comforts you.

Matt takes a breath, bringing his hands up to caress your face. “How about I help you get ready for bed sweetheart? Would you like that?” He questions, holding your face in his hands still. You nod, “Please.” It comes as a whisper, but he smiles softly. Turning his head to his computer, he says something to his brothers and then shuts his pc down. He turns back to you, eyes growing soft as he slowly stands up, carrying you with him.

He sets you down on your shared bed, crouching Infront of you as he looks up at you. Reaching for the hem of your shirt he looks at you, “Can I take this off?” He asks and you nod your head, lifting your arms up for him to slide your shirt off and to unclasp your bra. He reaches for the top of your pants next, tugging them down as you lift your hips for him to do so, leaving you in just your underwear. He then stands up, walking to your closet, grabbing one of his shirts for you and walking back over.

You smile at him, your eyelids hooded as you try your best to keep yourself awake. Lifting your arms up again, he slides the shirt over your head, and you feed your arms through the holes. You sigh, matt sitting next to you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it in the direction of the laundry basket. He grabs you and leans back, pulling the covers over the both of you as you snuggle into him. Your head on his chest as his arms are wrapped securely around you, and you look up at him. “Thank you, matt.” You whisper softly, your voice still a little hoarse after crying.

He looks down at you, “Anything for my baby, now let’s get some rest yeah?” He says, pressing light pecks to the top of your head, his hand rubbing circles on your back once more as they did earlier. You nod, your body melting into him as you felt sleep take over you for the night.

Word count - 870

Time count - 145 Minutes

[drabblesandimagines]

Congrats on 200 🎉🎉 I got here through Kitty, but I'm staying for everything else. As for the prompt maybe LoZ, Link x reader, 8, dusk? Can't wait to see more of your writing!

Oh, thanks, anon! So glad to see you stick around :) Lil' drabble for you - hope you enjoy! Link x reader (established relationship) 8. "They won’t take you away from me ever again.” -

You don’t know how long you’d been there. You’d had an awareness of the passage of time since the beginning of your captivity, but not in designated segments such as day or night from the confines of your cell. It’s dark and dreary and cold – underground. Food had never been on offer, but once every so often a footsoldier came in with an oilskin full of water, yanking your head back by your hair and forcing it down your throat, doing the bare minimum to keep you alive.

Your wrists ached, chained above your head as if you were ever much of a threat. Your lip had been split in the scuffle and aching ribs from a kick or two… They hadn’t been delicate in their capture of you, despite always having the upper hand. You’d been in your beloved kitchen, brewing tea when there’d came a great thunderous crack as the door had been kicked down and a group of towering figures, dressed in red and black with a horrifying mask adorned with an eye swarmed in, blades raised, hands grabbing for you. You’d tried desperately to keep out of their grip, scrambling up on the counter, ready to hurl yourself out of the window in the hopes of something, but all that had resulted in was your jaw being smashed upon the counter, the blood bright red against the wood…

You hope Link didn’t see the stain, that he just saw the disarray of the place when he got back and knew something was wrong.

Muffled words penetrate the fogginess of your mind – your gaze hazily rests on your lap. At some point, you’d noticed the rusty blood stains upon your white floral embroidered tunic, one of your favourites. It’s been too hard to keep your head upright recently. You’d tried to keep a steely gaze in front of you, waiting for a flash of blonde and blue, but it had become harder. There’s a loud metallic clang and your wrists fall down into your lap – the sensation is odd, like your arms want to float back up. There’s a hand on your chin, gentle, tilting it up. Through blurred vision, you recognise the concerned blue eyes staring intensely at you, his mouth is moving but the words don’t make sense. There’s fresh blood splattered across his face, dark circles under his eyes but a tentative smile on his lips. You lean into his touch, though something doesn’t feel quite right… or maybe it's that you don’t. Is it a hallucination? Are you about to die?

“Link…” your voice hoarse from non-use, seeking confirmation. An arm hooks around your back, another under your legs and as you’re picked up, the world goes black.

-

Something is being wrapped around your wrist as consciousness returns. You try to roll away, wanting to return to the comfort of sleep but firm hands push down on your shoulders gently to hold you in place.

“Easy. You’re safe now, my love.”

Your eyes snap open – if you weren’t being held down you know you would’ve flung your body upright too. Link is kneeling besides you, still looking weary but the blood is now dried onto his skin, almost like face paint. In what appears to be a makeshift campsite, there are bandages and pots of salve to his side and a fire crackling a few metres away in the early evening light – the air smells of the stewing apples. Whenever you were sick, he’d always make them as a gentle meal in the hopes of getting you to eat something.

“Am I dreaming?”  

“No.” He releases your shoulders and shuffles behind before he helps you to sit upright, supporting you with his torso, his legs slipping either side. You’re grateful – the upward motion has sent your head spinning again. He presses a long kiss upon your head and his hands wrap gently around your stomach, grasping the fabric of your tunic. “It has felt like a nightmare to me, though, as I’m sure it has for you.”

“Who were they?” You hadn’t recognised your kidnappers, nor had they ever revealed any information about themselves.

“The Yiga Clan. Despite their dwindling numbers, they held quite a grudge against me.”

“Held?”

He doesn’t hear, or maybe he chooses not to answer. “You trust me, don’t you, my love?” He slides his hand over your own, squeezing it gently.

“Of course.”

“I promise they won’t take you away from me ever again.” There’s finality in his tone and perhaps if you weren’t still a little light-headed, you might’ve noticed that his other hand grips your tunic a little too tight, that he squeezes your hand a little too firm this time, that there’s a dark edge to his voice when he uttered the phrase.

Instead, you sink back into his lap and exhale.

-

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi Details for my event celebrating 200 followers.