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0mg-bird · 5 months ago

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Something Positive- S. Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem Agent Reader

Summary: 99 negative things and 1 positive. How will it ever turn out okay?

Warnings: season 7, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy fear, nausea, mention of miscarriage talks, Spencer being scared and probably says the wrong things 😭 anyway, fluffy, but also depressing themes. I haven’t finished proofreading, oops lol idc.

You’re supposed to know your body and every little change it makes because, well, it’s your body.

So blame this all on your brain that often skips over the small things that it should really pay attention to. You could have suspected this earlier if you would’ve just slowed down for two seconds, but what difference would it make if you came to the conclusion earlier?

Absolutely none.

The test in your hand would still be positive and you would still have the feeling you do now.

A mixture of fear and devastation.

Spencer isn’t in the apartment you just moved into a month ago, he’s at Rossi’s with the rest of the team like you’re supposed to be. But you played the flu card and forced him to go without you. Then you forced yourself to the corner store and bought two pregnancy tests, a back up for good measure. It isn’t needed, the two lines are almost bold as they stare at you. The dates of the calendar back it up, as well as the queasiness about you.

You’re pregnant.

You. You are pregnant.

That can’t be.

You throw away the test, all the evidence goes into the trash and you try to calm your racing heart. You wash your hands and your face, though tears just keep falling no matter what.

This really wasn’t supposed to happen, it shouldn’t be happening. You’re traveling so often for cases, and there’s so much going on with the team. Emily just came back from the dead, literally, that’s already too much to deal with, you don’t need to add anymore stress to the team. You’re no help if you’re pregnant.

Spencer won’t be any help either if his main concern is you.

Staring at your reflection, you suddenly don’t feel real. You rub your eyes and push your hair back, overwhelmed with so many feelings, you can’t distinguish one from the other.

You do know one feeling from the rest.

The urge to bolt.

Blame the hormones, but you quickly leave the bathroom and slip into a pair of shoes, then grab for your coat and keys, and just like that, you’re gone.

Wandering aimlessly, you suck the evening air into your lungs as you walk the streets, past shops and people with different lives. You’re lost in thought, no better than a zombie as you continue to wipe your eyes.

It took you and Spencer long enough to even get together, you just finished placing your things in his apartment, there’s no room for a crib. He has far too many books, he’d have to sacrifice even more space for things a baby needs. The both of you work odd hours and sleep in bad motel rooms and fly all over the country and get shot at. You aren’t an expert but that doesn’t seem healthy.

There is no room for a baby in your life. Period.

The team has only experienced pregnancy with JJ and-

JJ.

Your friend who would know exactly what to do and how to help, the friend you have given the cold shoulder to ever since you found out that she let you mourn Emily, your best friend, for weeks and weeks. She let you cry and talk about how hard things have been for and Spencer, especially Spencer, and she didn’t say a single thing that she knew Emily was okay.

You have a feeling of bitterness now to join your emotion smoothie.

Up ahead, you see a tired mother trying to pull her crying toddler out of a drugstore. Her hair is tied up, she’s tugging at the child, giving up on arguing with him.

You turn around and decide home is actually where you need to be so you don’t vomit up your nerves in public.

When Spencer comes home, you’re sitting at the bottom of the tub, cheek to your knees as the spray of the shower hits you from above. You hear him take off his shoes and coat and walk to the bedroom, more than likely changing. He’s definitely tired.

He knocks on the bathroom door, checking on you.

“Hey, you feeling alright, angel?”

You sigh. He’s so perfect, arguably the best thing that’s ever happened in your life, and you’re going to ruin him with this news.

“I’ll be out in a second.” You call back, smoothing your hands over your hair, then look at the rings on your fingers.

Sliding one from your right hand to your left, you decide your ring finger just is going to stay bare.

“They missed you tonight, Emily said that you call her first if you need anything.” Spencer says as you rub lotion into your skin while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You hum.

“I think she’s just overcompensating, but she means well.” He claims, pulling the covers back.

You can’t tell him tonight, it’s not the right time. Instead you’ll just get some sleep, laying on your side, facing the window. As Spencer lays behind you, you push away his hand that splays on your stomach.

He goes a little stiff with confusion, but holds your hip without question, then whispers he loves you, like he does every night.

You live out a routine for the next following days to come. You wake up tired, you tell Spencer that you never get over the flu easily and that’s why you have the urge to throw up at any given second. When you’re tired of laying on the couch, you go back to work where everyone shares a look at how moody you can be.

“Is everything…okay?”

You look up from the evidence photos to find Hotch.

Most of the team is out all over the town you just got in, trying to solve the disappearance of three young girls.

Hotch suggested you stay at the police station with him for a while, giving Spencer some air after you snapped at him for no apparent reason.

“Everything’s fine.” You say, looking back down at the crime scene pictures.

“Is everything alright with you and Reid?” He pushes.

“Yes, we’re fine. I just hate it when he hovers, drives me crazy.” You huff, not giving him your attention.

Hotch had always been a sort of father to you. Almost like how Gideon was a mentor to Spencer, Hotch tried his hardest not to act like it but he was always very protective of you. No one could really blame him, he helped you through many things over the years, and along the way he became your family. So it makes sense that he’s questioning you now with a furrowed brow.

“I want you to know that if something is going on and you felt like you were alone…you aren’t. The whole team would move mountains for you.” He says in a very fatherly tone, a tone that has always seemed to affect you but never in the way it does now.

You quickly blink away tears and nod. “I just don’t feel well, but I’ll be okay.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and as Hotch looks you over, he proves how good of a profiler he really is. Slowly, he sits at the table and takes the papers from your hand, which is probably good, you’ve been staring at them for too long. Your eyes lift up to him.

“Does Reid know?”

Three words, and you want to flee.

“No.” You say hoarsely.

He nods in understanding. “This isn’t something you can do alone, but I understand if you need some time away to figure things out.”

You wrap your arms around your stomach, something you’ve been doing subconsciously. “This is my job.” You say.

“And it’s really stressful, so if you need some downtime, I’m glad to give it to you.”

Nodding, you understand. “Don’t tell anyone.” You ask of him, knowing he’d never betray you like that.

For two moments, you have a sense of peace.

And then Spencer and Morgan return, causing you to slip a mask back on and pretend you’re fine.

By some miracle, you get through the case and get home without any problems. Spencer on the other hand is convinced that you’re going through a mental break.

“Still tired?” He asks gently, at the end of the week, sitting on the bed and rubbing your leg as you bury yourself in the comforter.

You wordlessly nod, then try to sort out your thoughts.

“Baby?” He calls softly, a name he hardly ever calls you. “I think we should take you to a doctor.”

“Why?” You croak.

You know why. Spencer thinks you’re depressed, which you can’t really blame him, you’ve been laying in bed most of the day, turning your nose up at the idea of food, knowing it will all just make you feel sick. Your boyfriend is a great profiler, he notices your odd behavior these past couple days but he still can’t figure out why.

“I’m…I think they can tell you what’s wrong with you- not that anything is wrong with you but…there’s something wrong, isn’t there?”

Bless him and his softness he unconditionally shows you, but you just don’t have it in you to match his tenderness.

“I’m fine.” You state, tone not meaning it.

Before he can deny it and rub your leg again, you sit up too quickly and flee him, foolishly thinking he’ll stay put. Spencer is a golden retriever, though, so he follows loyally, only for the bathroom door to be slammed in his face.

“I’m concerned about you, okay?” He calls, voice muffled through the wood. “And I get scared when you just brush it off, brush me off.”

You stand at the sink, head drooped. The tears start slow, they fall into the basin. What was wrong with you? You have a man as good as Spencer and you’re ruining everything.

You fall into a dangerous storm of negative thoughts, all aimed at you like it’s target practice. The tears fall much quicker now, hot and sticky, your hand presses to your mouth to keep the sobs away.

Spencer hears you squeak, and immediately opens the door you should have locked.

You turn to face him, dropping the hand to your stomach.

His features twist into something of sadness and utter concern, he’s standing in front of you in just two steps.

“What is it?” He questions, holding your face in his hands, thumbs wiping at your tears. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?”

You can’t. You have to say it but you can’t.

A breath shutters through you and you shake your head. “Spence.”

“I’m right here, it’s alright.” He promises, so adamant that he can help.

“I…”

“Just breathe-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You’ve never seen him stop talking so fast. His mouth hangs open for a moment, then it closes.

All the years you’ve known Spencer, he’s never been at a loss for words. He’s trying so hard to just say something and he can’t. Maybe it’s the fear in your eyes that has him drawing a blank, maybe it’s the fact that he’s come up with ninety nine possibilities and this is the one he didn’t imagine.

“Okay.” He says after a heavy silence. “Okay, that’s, well it’s definitely something.”

Your tears don’t stop, in fact they might just fall heavier now.

He’s mad- no, he’s upset. He doesn’t want this and now everything is ruined. Your fears are coming true.

You pull his hands from his face, then brush past him.

He calls your name. “Wait, I don’t mean it like that. I just didn’t think about this, I haven’t planned for this yet.”

You pull one of his sweatshirts on and slide into your sneakers, not bothering with the laces before you slip from the apartment with a sense of deja vu, vanishing just like that.

- - - -

You’re not even sure how you got here, you’re sure you look like a wreck, but it’s too late to turn back now.

The door opens and JJ’s face morphs into confusion.

“Hey, Jay.” You try to smile, but when she opens the door wider and pulls you inside so quickly, it’s hard to maintain a composure.

You ramble, she lets you. For ten straight minutes you go on and on about everything, because you’ve had all of these thoughts bottled up and now you resemble something of a ship sinking beneath the waves. You apologize, you’re so sorrowful and tell her how wrong you are for saying all the hurtful things you said to her. She sits beside you on her couch while Will is upstairs with Henry. At some point she starts crying too because that’s what best friends do when their other half is saying she doesn’t know what to do. By the end of the confession and rant, you physically can’t cry anymore and your nose is red, face splotchy, and you just look at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Slowly, she takes your hand and says your name, grounding you.

“No one is going to say this to you so I will.” She says. “You’re not a monster for being scared.”

Your lungs exhale and she continues.

“But all of these concerns are just anxiety, they aren’t real. You can still do your job, the team won’t hate you, you are capable of doing this, life isn’t going to fall apart.”

She’s so sure, you’re practically forced to believe her.

“Spencer.” You mumble, watching as she takes a breath and nods like she knows.

“Reid is…Reid has the highest IQ and still doesn’t know the right thing to say. But this is news you sprung on him and he’s never had to deal with this sort of thing. He’s scared too.” She reminds, a little more honest with her words now that you’ve calmed down.

Just as you open your mouth to say something, her phone rings from its spot on the coffee table.

She squeezes your knee and grabs for it.

“It’s Spencer.” She says before answering it.

You can’t hear exactly all the words he says, but based off JJ’s reaction, he’s clearly panicked.

“Spencer- hey, slow down. It’s okay. No, she’s here with me. She’s fine.”

You feel guilty, so incredibly guilty. You left your cell in the apartment, not bothering to bring it with you, and the idea of Spencer freaking out because he has no way of reaching you, has your stomach churning.

Or maybe it’s the fact you’re starving.

Canons of your self destruction fire off at yourself, you’re sitting with your head hung as JJ talks him down. This wasn’t her job, this was yours. He’s your partner.

What are you doing?

As she hangs up, she gives you look, knowing you’re already heading for the door.

“Be easy on him, okay?” She says, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright.”

What a simple thing for her to say and a not so simple thing to do.

You go home, trying to rehearse conversations in your head. Surely, you look odd on the subway, whispering to yourself, trying to anticipate what Spencer will say. A few people shuffle off at a stop, and the seat across from you opens up. A woman takes it, she has a baby wrapped in a sling, it’s napping with its head on her bust and when she pulls the cover back, you can see it’s perfect round head. She gently strokes its fuzzy, brown hair and hushes it softly when it stirs.

Maybe life wouldn’t be so bad if that were you, feeling your child’s warmth.

When you get to the front door of your apartment, you take in one final breath and decide you can face the music.

You open the door, kick off your shoes and are immediately feel the rug getting yanked out from under you.

“You can’t just storm out!” Spencer says rather loudly, giving the reaction you didn’t want. “And leaving your phone here? Giving me no way to reach you? I called everyone!”

He’s angry.

“I was with JJ.” You say softly.

“Well, I know that now.” He huffs.

Shrugging off your coat, you gently approach.

“I’m sorry I worried you, please don’t shout.”

At your meek tone, Spencer immediately softens, scorning himself for being abrasive. He runs his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes, trying to get himself back in check.

“I’m sorry. Can- can we just sit down and talk about this, please?” He asks, moving to sit on the worn couch.

After a second, you follow.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He wants to reach out and touch you, but given the way you seem to shrink into yourself, he just rubs his knees over and over again.

“How long have you known?” He asks, though he has some estimates.

You slowly breathe out. “A couple weeks.”

His lungs burn. A couple weeks?

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your fingernails dig into your palms. “I was scared…I’m still scared.” And all that work to avoid his eye, you finally meet that puppy dog look of his and immediately break down.

You just can’t seem to stop crying. Why are you crying all the time?

“I’m so scared, Spencer, I’m so scared.” You shudder out, and those hands he awkwardly kept to himself are now pulling you to him, cradling your head to his chest and putting your legs in his lap.

“Hey, I know, I know. And I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, I made it worse, I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair before moving his lips to your forehead. “I was surprised is all.”

“You aren’t mad at me?” You tremble, gripping his shirt. Never in your life have you been this clingy, and if the circumstances were different, you’d be embarrassed by this child like behavior. Spencer doesn’t mind it at all, he’s holding you like he’s the glue keeping you together.

“I’m not mad. I’m a little sad you didn’t tell me sooner, but I’m not mad. Why would I be mad at you?”

With his fingers in your hair, you take a few quick breaths. “I ruined everything.” You say as a cry.

He hates those words that just came out of your mouth.

Spencer shifts, pulling back to look at your face, red and tear streaked.

“Hey.” He coos. “You haven’t ruined anything, sweetheart, don’t even think that.”

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you shake your head. “My career is over, the team is going to be inconvenienced, and you- you’re never going to be able to do your job the same. All the work you’ve done, it’s just ruined, I’ve done this to you.”

He cups your damp cheek. “Stop, stop. Listen to me, can you do that?”

You shut your mouth and nod.

“Good.” He says. “Now, you haven’t done anything wrong. It takes two to tango, yeah? The team is going to be elated, Penelope is going to throw this biggest party ever. We worked it out when JJ had Henry, we can do it again.”

There’s a way he can say all these things and it just makes sense in your mind. You nod along, this makes him smile.

“And as for me..” He tucks hair behind your ear. “I would give up all my degrees, I’d throw away all the progress and work I’ve done if it meant the only thing I had in my life was you and a baby that’s my own.”

You love him. You’ve never loved him more than you do now, in this moment, starving and crying and so scared. That’s why you lean forward and press your trembling lips to his, trying to steal the oxygen from his lungs.

Spencer is willing to breathe into your open mouth, even if it meant he’s have no part of himself left that was just his. In his mind, he doesn’t want Spencer to be Spencer, he wants your imprint in every part of himself so he’s no longer just him.

He kisses your hairline and then places your back in that space between his collar bone and jaw, it’s carved only for you anyway.

“Tell me everything that scares you.” He instructs, finger circling your bent knee.

You can’t say ‘everything’, so you say what you can form into words.

“It’s so soon, we haven’t talked about this yet.” You start.

“It’s a little early, but we have a home and a stable income and I love you and I want this if you want this.” He says so simply, as if he’s bandaging a paper cut.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I could be really bad at it.” You state.

“We’ll figure it out together, I don’t know what to do either, but no one really does. But there is no way you will be a bad mom. That’s my professional opinion.”

You laugh lightly, he grins and subtly squeezes you.

“But what if it all goes bad? What if I can’t make it healthy, what if I…what if I lose it? Spencer, I don’t think I could live with myself if I was the reason you don’t get a living, breathing baby.” It hurts your chest to even say.

Spencer gently shushes you. “We won’t let that happen. We’ll make sure you’re healthy and doing everything you can to prevent that.”

You let that ease you into silence, then you wipe your eyes once more because you can’t stop crying.

“We’re not married.”

Did you say that out loud?

You must have because Spencer hums, not startled, but he mulls it over in his head.

“Does that matter to you?” He asks, genuinely curious. And you don’t know how to answer because you didn’t think it did.

But you said it, it’s been on your mind…so yeah, it might matter.

“Yeah, I guess…I don’t know.” You sigh, nudging your nose against his neck.

Spencer considers it, then hums like he does when he understands something. “Then we’ll get married.”

It’s the way he says it, so easy, makes you shake your head. “No, I don’t want you to marry me just because I’m pregnant now. Besides, planning a whole wedding is stressful.”

“That’s not why I said it, lovely. Yeah, we’re having this conversation because you’re pregnant but I want to marry you because it means something to me too. I don’t want to do life with anybody else besides you.” He states, dropping his chin to the top of your head, keeping you close to his pulse. “And a big wedding isn’t our style anyway. We can go to the courthouse right now if it’s what you want. Tomorrow you’ll have your name changed- or keep it, if that’s what you want.”

How perfect, how wonderful he is, and how lucky you are to be doing this with him.

Breathing in his scent once again, you nod. “I want to have the same last name as our baby. Oh god, our baby. That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever said.” You gently laugh.

“I like hearing it, though.” He says, a boyish smile, though he’s never been more of a man than in this moment.

You didn’t think your day would end like this, and perhaps this decision isn’t properly thought out, but the two of you want this.

You make it to the courthouse house just as they’re about to close, with the flashes of your credentials, they make a few exceptions. You don’t have rings, that part will get figured out later, and you there’s no grand catering, just Chinese food on the living room floor. It’s all perfect though, because you’re married and so in love with him and he’s giving you the last egg roll.

“You know, I didn’t think it was possible to be so hungry and nauseous at the same time.” You say, slurping up a noodle, washing it down with a Coke.

“You know, the fetal placenta produces a hormone called human chorionic gonadotropin that’s rapidly increasing, and if the mother is more sensitive to it, then they’re more nauseous.” Spencer states factually, proud that his knowledge applies to this.

“How do I cure it, Doctor?” You ask, a fond smile on your face.

“Don’t skip meals, like you have been doing. No more of that. We’re going to have to call your doctor tomorrow, and start prenatal vitamins. You know, if we push the dresser into the closet and shift the brown bookshelf over a few feet, that will free up space for a crib. You’ll want a side sleeper bassinet though, it slides right next to the bed so you don’t have to get out of bed as often.”

Having a baby with Doctor Spencer Reid was like having the next nine months planned out for you. As he rambles on with all the things that will need to be done, you laugh and lean over, kissing him to get him to pause.

“What was that for?” He asks, kissing you once more.

“I love you, that’s all.” I smile.

Tracing your jawline with his finger, he grins right back at you. “I love you too.”

After a moment, you speak again. “Am I a doctor now?” You ask.

“What? No.” He shakes his head.

“I’m technically Mrs. Doctor Reid.”

“Angel.” He laughs.

“That’s Doctor Angel to you.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid comfort #criminal minds fanfiction

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kristiliqua · 5 months ago

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[read this after reading the tags because fuck i hit the tag limit LMFAOO]

— and jason (n the bunch) definitely makes fun of him for it because holy shit you absolute tryhard (he copes and seethes every time tim manages to snipe his slow ass dynamo — which is basically every fucking time tim is there . he has to rush tim like a fucking madman in order to actually splat him , and then usually dies right after bc he rushed into their base , tunnelvisioning tim and tim only , as a fucking Dynamo . tldr he calls him a tryhard to cope)

(and do Not get me wrong ; its not as if jason’s a thoughtless or bad player [i hate ppl calling him a brute . like istg he’s smart too] . its just that dynamo vs charger is a horrible matchup for him , as the dynamo . he Does manage to get tim without rushing him sometimes , but he needs coordination with his team distracting tim or smth in order to get the advantage he needs , since theyre both equally skilled pretty much . but a 1v1 is just Hard in this matchup [said by a dynamo And charger main . trust me on this one LMAO] , and he usually just gets sniped in those situations — its either a trade or death for him most of the time . thats not a jason thing ; its a charger vs dynamo thing lol)

golly i’ve been talking abt this too long (esp abt tim and jason when tim is nowhere to be found in the og post LMFAO Uhm .! i just like them . jason n tim are my boys) . in fact im going to yap more bc i feel i havent given dami enough appreciation

jason would totally love rolling damian over while dami’s sharking him . he’d laugh in his face and clip it on his switch , before saving the clip on his phone or smth just in case damian attempts to delete it

see it as a punishment for trying to shark a dynamo as a splatana/octobrush instead of just ,,, outmaneuvering the dynamo . bc both splatana and octobrush have good enough range to easily take down a dynamo (he outmaneuvers a lot too ofc ; he just tests his luck sometimes by sharking around jason , wanting to surprise him lol)

they are a Unit on the same team tho . damian as the faster splatana/octobrush supporting jason’s slower dynamo/stamper (he’d play that too . def didnt start playing it bc it pairs rlly well with [damian’s] splatana ,, no siree ,,,) as they both kill the enemy team with terrifying efficiency . (i’d say they’d be extra good with tim making callouts in comms — bc ofc im still thinking abt tim too istg 😭 — but i also feel like neither of them would listen to him half of the time . and take joy in his misery whenever they lose , ignoring their own misery from losing in favor of making fun of tim and blaming each other for losing [like “if you hadnt died when they started pushing we could have defended successfully , todd !” / “oh MY BAD that i TRADED with their stupid quick-respawning motherfucker and couldnt paint under my feet to get away from their bomb because im a fucking DYNAMO —” (can you tell i definitely main dynamo and have experienced similar situations . WHY is it so FUCKING BAD at PAINTING UNDER YOUR FEET . MY GOD .)])

anyway holy shit thats it im done Fucking Hell . here’s your essay op ! i love the art . it has clearly stirred my love for batfam and splatoon (im sorry LMFAOAO)

is this too niche

#ohhhh op . dont even get me STARTED (as i feel my eyes literally tear up from ? excitement ? idk bro)#literally thought up a splatoon au for batfam (not necessarily the same thing but also . in terms of main weapons ? it kinda is the same)#i made a whole thread on twt ranting and brainstorming #like you do not understand the level i am on #anyway jason gives me skirmish/kill-focused vibe in terms of what role he’d play #like an uber fucking scary aggressive dynamo roller #he’d be good at chargers but find them a little boring (but will play them if needed . n its still satisfying to get snipes)#he mainly goes off on his own but can play supportive as well (he’s not a shitty teammate . despite his lone wolf shit)#dami with the good ol splatanas (its a sword . i mean cmon now)#i feel like he’d also like dualies but mainly sharking weapons ? for ultimate sneak #for example: octobrush . dami would Totally use octobrush dont even try me #(thats a joke please do try me bc idk man im still learning abt these fellas)#damian would be a DEMON (pun not intended but appreciated) on the octobrush istg #as well as splatanas . he refuses to be less than amazing in the weapons he plays #honestly these two would play similar weapons even if they were actual cephalopods in the splatoon universe #vs just playing splatoon #but methinks others like tim would b different #like he’d enjoy playing chargers if he were playing splatoon (predicting the enemies’ movement ? yea no he’s Good)#but idk if that fits his actual ‘real life’ (idk he’s a comic book character LOL but ykwim) fighting style #like if he were a cephalopod . he’d probs be Good at chargers/sniping but idk if thats his go to . yk ?#but i also havent read enough of the comics to properly be . Sure of any of that . but whatever !#anyway so nearly all of the batfam are octolings to me . minus steph (which could drive even more angst with her being an outcast ?)#and alfred can be a jellyfish bc thats funny as hell idc . (he has a little mustache)#a highly respected jellyfish ofc . who uses his (canonical to splatoon lore iirc) hivemind with the other jellies to be knowledgeable of #everything #i have more on this (trust me) but i aint airing all that out in these reblog tags #ok thats it #oh btw tim (as a player) would totally be so into competitive splatoon #he is The comp team coach of all time #and he memorizes shit like gear ability stats and tryhards like crazy

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star-girl69 · 11 months ago

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If You Lie Down With Me

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: away game shenanigans

a/n: guys have i mentioned that i’m a genius… from this ask!! i hope you all enjoy!! this is like literally so bad i cant 😭😭

If You Lie Down With Me - Lana Del Rey

warnings: I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT COLLEGE OR HOCKEY, pls forgive me for inaccuracies 😞, texting again, phone calls blah blah, but some people might hate that so here is your warning, swearing and the usual, like mentions of kissing and some suggestiveness, cringey tik tok prank idc i think it’s cute, mentions of violence and black eyes, lmk if i missed anything!!

—-

Someone’s on top of you.

It’s early in the morning, so early that you would probably be insane to call it morning. The darkness presses around you physically, keeping your eyes shut even as an alarm you barely noticed before comes into focus- blaring loudly.

“I don’t want to go,” someone moans.

Is someone on top of you? Or is that just blankets? Or maybe it’s a physical manifestation of your exhaustion.

You open your eyes, feeling like you might actually die with just that little motion, trying to roll around and stretch- but you can’t. Yes. Someone is definitely on top you.

KK? You try to ask, but you’re so tired that the only thing that comes out is a garbled “K.”

“I don’t want to go,” your girlfriend repeats, pushing her face into your neck and wrapping her arms around your body.

Your eyes drift shut for another second, the alarm fading into the background. It takes another minute, in which KK falls back asleep on top of you, for you to fully wake up and for your brain to start working. You reach out towards the bedside table, fumbling with KK’s phone until you can finally see the alarm, the time of 4:30 A.M., and the name of the alarm-

flight at 7 wake up

“Fuck,” you gasp, trying to push your girlfriend off of you. She pouts and hugs you tighter, and all of that hockey muscle is simply dead weight when she’s asleep. “KK. KK, get up, I’m serious.”

It takes a few hard shakes, but she finally wakes up, adorable pout still stuck on her face.

“What the fuck could possibly be going on?” She groans.

“You have a game, KK. Get off of me.”

She reluctantly rolls off of you, quickly shuffling around. You would be stupid to think she’s actually getting up, so it’s no surprise when she simply presses her face into your neck and wraps her arm around your waist.

“Fuck the stupid fucking game.”

Why on God’s green earth did you agree to sleep over?

You wouldn’t call Caroline overly clingy, although her main love language is probably touch, she’s more into the little things. Hand holding, your feet in her lap when you’re sitting on the couch, arm around your waist in public- laying completely on top of you when you’re sleeping.

She’s always at her worst the day before away games, forcing you to sleep over and smiling so sweetly when she asks you can’t even think about saying no. She spends the entire night with you wrapped up in her arms, trying to soak in as much time with you as she can.

It’s horribly early on Thursday morning, and she won’t be coming back until Sunday night.

And you don’t blame her. Away games are hard, but it comes with the territory of dating a D1 athlete. She was so sweet about it when you first started seeing each other, claiming she understood if it was a dealbreaker but you knew you were too far in to say no.

You thought you could handle it, just a few nights away from her, but just doing every daily task knowing that she’s so far away from you just makes everything feel wrong. And when there’s a time difference, she’s often not just a phone call away.

Caroline, when she’s away, takes it upon herself to text and call you so much it sometimes feels like she’s never really left, until you’re on FaceTime with her at the end of the night and the sound of her voice is almost enough to make you cry, because she’s almost there with you- but not really.

She kisses the side of your neck, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

You’re going to miss her so bad. But it’s hard to remember that you’re going to miss her when you have to deal with her perpetually late self.

“Can you turn off that alarm?” Oh. You forgot to turn it off.

“KK,” you sigh. She frowns against your neck. “Get. Up.”

“Noooooo, Y/N, please. Five more minutes-”

Someone bangs loudly on the door. “Turn it off and get up!”

That grumpy voice can only belong to Laila.

They’re normally very happy people, you try to convince yourself. And normally you aren’t this cranky either- but it’s so early. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss KK too.

You slowly reach out and hit snooze on the alarm.

The blaring blessedly stops, and KK smiles and pulls you even closer to her. “Five more minutes.”

“I’m going back to sleep,” you mumble.

KK’s hand slowly runs down the side of your waist until she reaches the hem of your shirt, slipping her hand under it so her warm hand is pressed up right against your skin. You shiver a bit at the feeling, and she still hasn’t wiped that satisfied smile off of her face- you can feel it against your neck.

“Okay, baby,” she mumbles back, thumb rubbing back and forth against your skin.

She’s going to be late again, you resign. She’s going to make Laila late, and then you’ll have to listen about how bitter Laila is until they make up, and then until KK eventually makes her late again- it’s a vicious cycle.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she whispers. Fuck.

Now you miss her. You miss this slow moment already, and you haven’t even left it.

“I’m gonna miss you too. I hate away games.”

“I know,” she hums, pressing another kiss against your bare shoulder. “I hate ��em too.”

“You gotta get up, seriously,” you say. Even if you dragged her out of bed right now, all of you know that KK is probably still going to be late, and Laila by extension. “You’re gonna get in trouble if you’re late again, babe.”

“Okay?” She scoffs. “Worth it.”

“No, actually, not worth it.”

You open your eyes at the new voice, too tired to question how the hell Lalia has silently appeared in front of you.

She pulls the blanket off KK, and you, causing you to gasp and shoot her a glare. She shoots one right back, before animatedly fake gagging at the sight of KK’s hand under your shirt and the fact she’s actively trying to burrow under your skin.

“Laila,” KK groans. You almost laugh at how much moaning and groaning there’s been this morning. “I’m saying goodbye.”

Lalia rolls her eyes before smiling wide, completely fake, sleep evident on her face. “Bye, Y/N! I love you so much, you’re the best girlfriend ever! I’m going to be so, so miserable without you and your lips and your attention-”

“I do not sound like that,” KK huffs.

“Oh, you do. Anyways, goodbye, Y/N. See? I just did it- not hard at all.”

“Y/N,” KK says.

“You do kinda sound like that,” you shrug.

“Both of you are assholes,” she says, finally letting go of you and sitting up. “I’m getting up, okay?”

Lalia stares at her expectantly, waiting for KK to actually get up.

You laugh as she mutters something under her breath, again being all pouty, probably cursing you and Laila out.

“Goodbye, my wonderful, very talented hockey players,” you sigh, waving before pulling the sheets back around you again. “Good luck!”

“Bye, Y/N!” Laila says, seemingly much more happy now that KK is at least out of bed.

KK smiles down at you before pulling the blanket over you, tucking it around you as she leans down and quickly kisses you.

“Goodnight, baby,” she whispers.

“Good morning,” you whisper back, unable to help yourself from wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her down into another kiss. When you pull away, you smile at her, feeling so in love that annoying as being away from her is, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. “Good luck, babe. Although you don’t really need it.”

You softly squeeze her bicep, knowing a good stroke of her ego is probably the best going away present you could give her.

“Call you tonight?” She whispers, not even gone yet but already planning the next time she can talk to you.

“Obviously.”

—-

hockey queen: r u alive

you: surprisingly yes

you: life is colorless without u and i can taste sounds

hockey queen: really bc i can hear tastes

hockey queen: anyways our flight landed

you: thank god. i was terrified

hockey queen: haha. u love me

you: 🧐

hockey queen: i hate u ttyl

you: ☹️

you: it’s been 10 mins… no answer… might die

you: ☹️

hockey queen: i’m not responding to people who don’t love me and don’t care about my safety

you: ily and i care about ur safety

hockey queen: and suddenly i don’t hate u anymore

—-

hockey queen: just got back to hotel

hockey queen: practice was hell

hockey queen: pls can i call u now

hockey queen: pls y/n

hockey queen: y/n

you: one sec sorry almost done w hw

hockey queen: ok cool idc

Incoming call from: hockey queen

Call Declined

you: I SAID ONE SEC

Incoming call from: hockey queen

Call Declined

you: omg i’m so serious i’ll block u

Incoming call from: hockey queen

Call Accepted

“You are literally the most annoying person I have ever met in my entire life.”

You prop up the phone against the lamp on your desk, seeing a flash of your girlfriend’s face in an otherwise dark hotel room.

“You know you love me.”

You resist the urge to say something mean back, remembering earlier today when she had ignored you for entire 10 minutes, despite your persistent sad emojis, she’ll probably be petty and hang up on you.

And you want to hear her voice.

“Yes,” you say through gritted teeth. “I love you!”

“Aw, just what I wanna hear.”

Finally, you look at the screen, seeing KK smiling widely at you, and your stomach does an embarrassing flip. That fucking smile.

You smile back, feeling heat rise to your cheeks with the way she stares at you adoringly.

“The plane ride was really pretty this morning, with the sun rise. You would have liked it a lot.”

“And to think, at the same time I was probably looking at your ceiling.”

She hums suggestively, and you roll your eyes.

“Fuckin’ freak. Ok, I’m done,” you sigh, finally setting your pen down and stretching your hand out.

You sigh, grabbing your phone as you stand up, stretching and not caring about what unattractive angle your phone is currently catching you in. You flip the lights off and climb into bed, thankful your roommate had decided that tonight she was taking an everything shower and would probably be gone for a long time.

“How was your day?” KK asks as you get into bed, holding the phone a foot in front of your face against the bed as you lay on your side.

“Hm, it was okay. Kinda boring, really.”

“Cause I wasn’t there?”

“…Yeah, sure.”

KK frowns. “You’re actually so fuckin’ mean to me. Laila too. I don’t deserve this, for real.”

“I’m teasinggggg,” you smile. “I love you. My life is miserable without you. I can barely function without you. I miss you so much it’s consuming me. I-”

“Babe, shut up.”

“So you don’t love me?”

“I love you,” she scoffs. “My roomie’s gonna be back soon, though. And I’m exhausted, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure. “I just wanted to hear your voice for just a little bit. I’m tired too.”

“I miss you,” KK says, dropping her voice to a whisper, making it sound like she’s admitting a deep dark secret.

You could tease her about how it hasn’t even been a day. But you miss her too.

“I know. I miss you, too.”

You stare at her through the screen, watching as she smiles sleepily at you, eyes drooping.

“You’re so pretty,” she says after a second.

“Maybe try telling me that when your eyes are actually open, babe.”

“Don’t need it see you to know how beautiful you are. I can feel it through the phone.” Now, her eyes are fully shut and if you were there with her, you could imagine hearing her breathing even out if your head was pressed against her chest.

“Goodnight,” you smile. “I love you. So much, baby.”

Your heart sometimes feels like it’s literally going to burst. Maybe you have an unknown heart condition, but knowing that KK loves you, the way she shows it, and just… KK. How beautiful she is. How she makes you feel and how you make her feel. Her loving you and you loving her feels so impossibly perfect. So good, so right. The feelings you get when you’re with her don’t even have words in the English language.

You feel everything with her, happy and sad and whatever- but under all of it there’s this layer of belonging, of calmness. You belong with her, to her, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You stare at the screen with a smile, that same smile slowly fading when she doesn’t answer.

“KK?”

Silence.

“Caroline. Caroline. You didn’t say I love you.”

Her sleeping face is beautiful, but you just want to hear her say goodnight and that she loves you back.

“Okay, fine. Whatever. Wait until tomorrow.”

—-

Call ended by: hockey queen

hockey queen: it was so amazing to wake up to ur drooling face on my screen this morning. felt like i was right there with you

hockey queen: we have a workout super early today but text me when u wake up pls

—-

you: super busy all day but i’ll text later

you: also i don’t drool

hockey queen: what r u doing on a friday without me

you: i have friends and school yk

hockey queen: ok be safe and call me later i miss ur face

you: look at a picture then??

hockey queen: i am rn but it’s not the same

you: u r actually so clingy when u go away it might fr be a medical problem

hockey queen: ur fault bc ur so hot 😫

you: thanks…

hockey queen: you’re welcome ❤️

When you finally get home after a busy day of lying to KK that you were out doing something, your friend in your first class had actually helped you come up with a good plan to get back at her.

You had actually forgotten about the fact she didn’t say goodnight or I love you when you woke up, but when you saw that she didn’t even say an actual “good morning” to you… would it really hurt anyone to do a harmless Tik Tok prank?

It would probably scare the shit out of Caroline, which is exactly what she deserved.

You put on your best pouty face, taking a picture with the filter on. It actually was a pretty convincing black eye.

You had kinda failed by letting yourself text her back like everything was normal, but the element of surprise was probably a good thing.

you: *picture*

you: 🤕

hockey queen: what the actual fuck

hockey queen: r u ok???

hockey queen: wtf who did this to you

hockey queen: y/n r u ok

hockey queen: text me

hockey queen: y/n

hockey queen: what the fuck happened

One missed call from: hockey queen

Two missed calls from: hockey queen

hockey queen: y/n i’m so serious answer ur phone

hockey queen: u can’t send that and then not answer

Three missed calls from: hockey queen

you: *picture without filter*

hockey queen: what

you: i’m sorry it was so funny 😂😂

hockey queen: r u serious

hockey queen: i actually hate u

hockey queen: i was so scared

you: ik it was so fucking funny i’m still laughing 😂

hockey queen: i’m blocking u don’t talk to me

hockey queen: why did u do this fr

hockey queen: i don’t deserve this

you: u forgot to say goodnight last night

you: and didn’t say good morning either

you: karma 🤷‍♀️

hockey queen: r u serious

you: deadly

hockey queen: and i’m the clingy one?? ur lucky i love u

hockey queen: ok i have to go get ready for the game but i’m calling you later just to say goodnight

hockey queen: i think u gave me a heart attack

you: aw ur so sweet 🥹

you: ok srsly goodbye ily ur gonna do amazing good luck 😘

hockey queen: thank you baby

hockey queen: ilyt

hockey queen: goodbye

hockey queen: ok make sure you see that goodbye my heart can’t take another stupid prank

you: yes ma’am i see it and no more pranks 🫡 maybe

—-

hockey queen: go to my place

you: huh

hockey queen: flight gets in at 11 ur gonna sleepover

you: so when did i agree to this

hockey queen: when i asked u to be my gf and u said yes look over ur contract

you: oh silly me i see it right here

you: “due to caroline’s excessive clinginess and obsessive tendencies, she reserves the right to force y/n to sleepover at any time”

hockey queen: 🙏

hockey queen: just go hang out at my place u can order dinner and i’ll pay

you: awww how sweet

hockey queen: i love my gf 🔥

—-

You wake up to the feeling of someone cupping your face, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. The feeling of someone hovering over you.

“Wha?” You mumble, stretching, opening your eyes into the darkness but seeing nothing. You eyes slowly start to adjust, but they don’t need to.

“Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Caroline whispers. She smooths your hair back, and your eyes drift shut again at the calming motion. “Go back to sleep, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

“KK?” you ask into the darkness, mind foggy.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I missed you.”

She laughs a bit before kissing the top of your head, hand drifting down to cup your cheek again. “I know.”

You unknowingly latch onto her wrist, holding her hand in place against your face. “Come to bed,” you mutter. “I missed you.”

She softly detangles herself from you, and you feel like a child about to throw a tantrum. “One second, okay, baby? I still gotta get ready for bed, I just wanted to see you.”

You groan but let go, the darkness of her room pressing around you similarly to the morning when she left. Your mind drifts back to that, to how good it felt to wake up next to her, how utterly right. You think about how mean you’ve been to her since she left, using sarcasm to cover up the way your heart literally beats crookedly when she’s away from you.

Wow, maybe you’re the clingy one.

You think about the sound of her voice on FaceTime as she’s falling asleep, and you think about how good it will feel now right in your ear. You think about your empty bed back in your dorm, sleeping lonely even in her shirts that smell like her.

You roll over onto your stomach, blankets sliding off of you as the sound of the sink running in the bathroom makes you so fucking impatient.

“K,” you groan, deciding she’s taking too long.

“Calm down,” she whispers, voice very amused, and it feels so right when you suddenly feel the covers pull back and someone slip in next to you. She runs her hand along your upper back where her last name is printed on. “You look so sexy in my shirt.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, already half asleep again and shifting around as her arms slide around you, pressing yourself back up against her. Too tired to flip back around but still needed to be touching her as much as possible.

“Was your dinner good?” She asks, kissing your neck.

“Yeah,” you yawn. “Thank you for paying, babe.”

“Mhm,” she hums, squeezing the arm wrapped around your waist. “Come closer.”

“I am closer.”

“Fine,” she mumbles, yawning herself as she settles against you. You can hear the smile in her voice when she speaks. “Goodnight, Y/N,” she enunciates.

You almost laugh at how petty it seems to prank her for not saying goodnight.

“Goodnight, Caroline,” you say back.

Maybe you’re both just really annoying and really clingy, but when you’re wrapped around each other like this, and everything feels so perfect that you can’t even imagine her ever being away from you ever again, pieces of her always carried in your heart, you can’t be bothered.

Maybe you’ll regret this in the morning, though, when KK doesn’t let you leave her bed until noon.

—-

#caroline harvey #caroline harvey x reader #kk harvey #kk harvey x reader #ncaa hockey x reader

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radgalniya · 2 months ago

Text

black mirror season 7 thoughts(spoilers)

dare i say, this is the best black mirror season. idc idc. i love every episode, so this isn’t a real ranking. every episode is #1.

1. USS Callister: Infinity

i don’t need to explain. amazing sequel. lived up to the hype. honestly could’ve been a movie on its own. so good. i loved the reveal that walton put a clone of robert into the heart of infinity and that the entire game was built upon that. that is so sick and evil i can’t even. then when i stupidly thought robert could be good, he was exactly who we thought he would be. come to think of it, if he had access to the hospital footage where nanette was, are you really telling me he was unaware of everything else that happened. yea right good riddance. and i almost felt sorry for that stupid ho too. also, i loved pixie’s character.

2. Common People

so tragic and real. the subscription service that takes away features and adds them to a “premium” service that costs more combined with a company exploiting their access to peoples brains in order to advertise combined with a company leveraging critical healthcare to maximize profits combined with a family struggling to concieve combined with people hurting themselves to make ends meet was honestly too real and so depressingly sad. exactly what i love in a black mirror episode.

3. Hotel Reverie

is it really a good black mirror season if there’s not an episode dedicated to a lesbian romance. i mean seriously. i hated that brandy didn’t tell them what she built with clara though. it was tragic when they made her go on with the story and then to see clara sacrifice herself and how empty brandy was when it was over. was crying real tears. the ending phone call of them flirting softened the blow a bit…a bit🤏🏿issa’s acting was a little awkward when she wasn’t being comedic but i didn’t care that much bc the episode was still so enjoyable.

4. Eulogy

i’m ngl. this guy pissed me off a little bit like he was being so unfair. making it seem like carol was the sole problem in the relationship as if he didn’t cheat first w the girl he told her not to worry about. then he didn’t even stop to think about her long enough to realize she was pregnant or that something was wrong. he was clearly very selfish and self obsessed buttttt also he was young. and i was still sad that they never got the chance to see things through before she passed. like he clearly loved her. also the main guy acted his ASS off, it was amazing. and i bawled when carol’s daughter played her song and he finally remembered carol’s face. rip carol dawg

5. Plaything

i feel like this is the underdog of the season. i’m agnostic so unfortunately i spend lots of time thinking about our creation and existence. this episode had me comparing the throngs to us and our creator to cameron. like do you think god has a deep desire to prove himself worthy of us like cameron does to the throngs? bc most of us have been taught that it should be the other way around. and do you think when things go horribly wrong on this planet that it’s just another higher being fucking with us for fun. maybe our god is fighting for us and losing, we can’t really blame god for that. ig i cared less about the tech part of this episode and more about the relationship between the throngs and cameron. also someone had mentioned maybe the throngs witnessed cameron and lump and decided humanity should die and wiped them out at the end lol valid!

6. Bete Noire

this episode had me losing my mind. i suffer from this debilitating disease where i’m always right and if some raggedy bitch used some tech to manipulate reality to the point where even when i’m right, i’m technically not right…i’d lose my fucking mind. maria was so valid for going crazy. like verity girl i’m sure it hurt deeply to be bullied in hs and i fully support ur right to vengeance but this isn’t even revenge anymore. it’s just diabolical. it’s one thing to mess around like just do more of the barnie’s/bernie’s stuff. but ur driving these women to the grave!!! and in becoming empress to the universe and a famous superstar, you never considered…therapy??? or going back and changing what happened in hs?? idk there’s so many solutions here and you picked not even one correct one. also maria’s boyfriend was so annoying. if ur my man, take my side! if i say fuck that ho, cosign!

#chronicles of niya #black mirror #netflix #bete noire #plaything #eulogy #uss callister #uss callister infinity #common people #hotel reverie

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angel-eyes05 · 6 months ago

Text

a line drawn in red

pairing: wade wilson x fem!reader

summary: you and your across the door neighbor have a complicated relationship with each other. things only seem to grow more murky after you invite him to a work party to embarrass your ex.

warnings: nsfw mdni 18+, friends with benefits, mentions of oral sex, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up guys), angry sex at the beginning, very sweet and tender at the end, pre-mutation deadpool cause lowkey i need to see ryan reynold's face in my mind lol, fake dating idk its confusing, wade's a bit of a rebound for a little bit, ever so slight dirty talk, wade using stupid little cringey pet names, pansexual deadpool moments because i love my canon king, you can see my wade wilson headcanons LOUD AND CLEARRRR here rip

word count: 6.8k (this is my longest fic to date are you guys happy)

notes: heyyyyyy so funny story i was meant to post this in like july/august when deadpool and wolverine came out to jump on the trend buttttt i got really burnt out as soon as i got to the smut part of this and then dropped it....BUT I FOUND THIS AGAIN AND FINISHED IT SO WE'RE ALL GOOD this is gonna get zero interaction cause the trend is over but ykw idc i really like what i did here so i hope you enjoy lol. i also did not really proofread this i was too excited to post it lol

dividers by: @cafekitsune

Apartment searching was probably the worst part of the breakup. Which was saying a lot considering how hard you took his news. Raoul and you had been together for about 6 and a half years, and had even gone as far as to move in with each other. It seemed like a good trade off, considering how much the two of you would be saving on rent. And with his parents being filthy rich and owning about half the apartment buildings in Manhattan, the two of you picked a particularly nice one.

Life seemed to be sailing by on calm waters. You had finally moved out of your shitty apartment with your shitty roommate and in with the love of your life, Raoul's stiff parents seemed to finally be warming up to you. To top it all off, you had finally scored a promotion at work. Coming from a less than steady foundation as a child, moving up in your work was something you prided yourself on greatly. It didn't pay as much as Raoul's did, but you loved what you did, and were damn good at it. That was enough.

It never was for him though. Not for his reputation. Or better yet, his parents'. Which is exactly what caused the breakup. "You know how my mother is, she's never going to be happy as long as I'm dating someone with your background." The words still rang in your ears. Your background. The words tasted like rotten fish. Just as you thought he was getting ready to pop the question to you also. He had the decency to let you stay in the apartment until you found your own, but you could tell pity was the fuel behind that fire.

You wanted a place in the city, close to work, but that proved incredibly difficult. After what felt like years of looking at "fixer-uppers" and failed bargain attempts, you finally found one. Was it nice? No. It was a tiny studio, with the only room separate from the main area being a minuscule bathroom. The view was shit, the lights flickered like a disco, and it was a mission to get hot water. But it was a three minute walk from your work building and was the cheapest room you had found so far, so you decided to settle.

You kept to yourself the first week after you moved in, only really leaving to go to work and do your laundry. Your friends had begged you to go out and explore the city with them, but you couldn't seem to drag yourself out of bed. You had been so busy apartment shopping in the past few months that you forgot to do something: Mourn your relationship. The minute you placed down the last bowl in the cabinet, the waves of grief crashed on top of you instantaneously.

Would it have worked out if you came from money? You try not to think about how the answer is most likely yes.

One late night while you're wrapped up and crying in your bedsheets, you hear the first knock on your door since you've moved in. You instinctually bury yourself further in the covers, praying the knocking will stop and whoever's at the door will get bored and go away.

It doesn't.

With a groan, you mosey out of bed, throw on a pair of pants, and answer the door. Rubbing your eyes, you find yourself looking at your neighbor. You had seen him a few times in the hallway when you would take down your dirty laundry, but you didn't pay much attention to him. He seemed to be in and out of the building, which was probably why you didn't even know his name. He was pretty tall, had light brown hair that was just long enough to not be considered a buzzcut, and a little scar slashing across his right eyebrow.

"Listen, I know this is weird and I know we haven't even met properly yet, but my microwave short circuited and I've been looking forward to chowing down on this burrito all day and I think if I don't get to eat it, I'll genuinely go crazy and destroy this entire apartment building."

You had to be delirious or something, there was no way he was jumping out of the gate with his first introduction to you like this. But low and behold, he lifted up the tin foil wrapped burrito next to your face as evidence for his dilemma. "With the power of whatever sick fuck looking down on us from up there, can I PLEASEEEEEE use your microwave?" he downright begged.

You took about 15 seconds to just stare at him and comprehend what just happened. "And you thought I was the best person to ask for this? Not any of the other ten people who live on this floor?" you asked bluntly. He scoffed at you.

"Well, for your information missy, it's a pretty well known fact that most people are away in dreamville at you know, 2:30 in the morning. And I've had a habit of noticing you like to have your tv blaring around this time of night, while not many other people on this floor do. So, using my beautiful detective skills, I came to the conclusion that you're the only other person up right now. And guess what! I was right!" This guy was weird.

You groaned and rubbed your face. "And you know, how else was I going to find an excuse to finally introduce myself to the hot girl who just moved across the hall to me." You glared at his cheesy comment, while he flashed a fake smile and waved the burrito next to his face.

You sighed, knowing you'd probably regret this. "In and out," you said, moving out of the doorframe and letting him inside. "Oh my god if you had a dick I would suck it so good right now," he exclaimed as he rushed inside like a little school boy, making his way right to the microwave and popping in the burrito. You took a second to comprehend his comment. "Yeah yeah whatever," is what you decided to reply with, not having the energy to argue with the man.

You slopped down on one of the chairs placed at your kitchen island, and substitution for a table, and let your head rest on the table while you waited for the man to leave. He leaned against the countertop while he waited for his burrito. You could feel the vibrations of his fingers tapping against the counter. "What do you want," you groaned. "How long ago?" he asked, shortly. "What?" "How long ago did they dump you?" Your head shot up off the counter. "Excuse me?" He smirked. Almost like his goal was to piss you off. "You had a partner, probably guy, definitely long term, he was rich, you weren't, parents got in the way, and you got kicked to the curb."

Clocked you from a mile away.

The sounds of the beeping microwave echoed in the uncomfortably silent room.

"Get your food and get out." "Someone's not very hospitable," he snarked. You got off the chair, walked up to the man, and slapped him across the cheek. "You come banging on my door at 2 in the morning, don't even have the decency to introduce yourself, you use up my appliances, and then you flat out insult me?!?! Kicking you out is probably the nicest thing I could do right now!" you shouted. He turned his head back to face you, staring dead into your eyes. You weren't sure if you were frightened, infuriated, or turned on by his look.

"Let me show you a better time," he groveled into your ear. Jesus, why couldn't it be daylight outside.

In the day, you have control over yourself. The sun gives you a sense of clarity, almost like the light shines in on your brain and gives you the ability to make good decisions. During the night hours, you still know good from bad. It's just much harder for you to stop yourself from going the wrong way.

He must have heard the way your breath hitched, because you could hear the slight snicker he let out shortly after. He could see you were still debating it though. "Listen. This is up to you. But just so I can plead my case, you're one of the most beautiful people I've seen in my whole life, and I work around a lot of hotties, so thats saying something." "You're losing me, tiger," you cut him off. He stutters and regains his footing. "I'd hate to see someone as beautiful as you get thrown off their game cause of some jerk who didn't know what he had until he lost it. I've seen it too many times and I'd hate to see it happen to you too."

You lean in a little, ears perking up. "I personally think, I can give you a better time than he ever could. So, we're gonna do this. If I'm better than he was, you gotta promise me that you'll get back out there. Capeesh?" You closed your eyes and rubbed your bridge. He leans into your ear. "And if you like it enough, who knows, I'd be down to make this into a thi-." "Just let me think!" you push him off you. He backs up, grabs his burrito from out of the microwave, and starts munching.

This is stupid. This is so stupid. It had only been three months since you and Raoul finished, but you were so ready to get into bed with this basically stranger. You honestly just wanted him to stop bugging you. But all things considered, at least he was an attractive rebound. And he seemed to know the situation and what this meant. You just needed a distraction at this point. From everything, and especially Raoul. This was sure to do that. Besides, what did you have to lose? Definitely not your dignity.

You looked over to see him eating his burrito. God you were so pathetic, this was actually turning him on. The way his mouth was gently moving around it. You were getting wet just thinking about the way it would maneuver around your folds. Fuck. This was really your decision wasn't it. Made by the way a man eats his burrito. Pathetic.

"Fine." He looked up from his meal. "Just this once though," you added. "Yeah whatever, we'll see how you feel when we're done," he teased. You grabbed his arm and led him to your bed on the other side of the apartment. You slowly stripped off your pants and underwear, agreeing with him that you could keep your shirt on. The next hour or so was full of pure adrenaline and ecstasy. He knew how to press every single one of your buttons as his mouth worked wonders on your pussy. You had the unfortunate feeling that you would be seeing him again after this.

Once he finished another round on your clit, he wiped his mouth and stuck his hand out to you from in between your legs. "Wade Wilson. Apartment D05." You couldn't help but giggle at the silly gesture. You then stated your name and apartment number and shook Wade's hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Wilson." "Oh please, Mr. Wilson was my father, call me Wade. And the pleasure is all mine of course." He flashed a big smile when you giggled at his joke and dove right back into your pussy. The two of you kept going until the sun came up.

The two of you made an agreement after that night. If either one of you was sexually frustrated, lonely, or just plain horny, you two would go down on each other. Friends with benefits or something like that. Cause the two of you did talk to each other outside of sex too. Wade was a funny guy. He had his sweet moments too, despite being pretty brash. But man was he annoying.

He had a problem with never knowing when to shut up. This was a pattern during sex also. As more and more sessions went on, you noticed him becoming more and more vocal. Taking breaks to talk to your pussy while he would eat you out, striking up a conversation with you while you had a mouth full of dick. "Wade, I swear to God, if you want me to actually finish you off, you better shut the fuck up," you found yourself saying most nights, wiping his precum off your mouth. "Oh trust me sweetheart, women have left me hanging in worse situations," he would tease back.

Some nights you found yourself finishing off angrier than when you started. The two of you argued a lot. Mostly over dumb shit. Wade had a knack for pissing you off. Whether it was stealing things from your apartment, being too loud with the other people he would bring to his apartment, or just being plain forgetful with plans. Almost every outing to a club would end up with the two of you drunkly screaming at each other. But man, the way he would work on your swollen pussy with his tongue afterwards. You found yourself easily forgiving him move of the time. His argument was strong after all.

There was a set list of rules the two of you followed though. For boundaries sake. "We keep it to your apartment," he added as you wrote down details on a notepad. "Ugh, why mine?" you whined. "Cause mine's too dirty and I know your clean freak ass would have a heart attack upon seeing it." True, the way he talked about his apartment made it seem like a breeding ground for a STD. "And let me guess, you're too lazy to clean it up?" you jab back. "Hit the nail right on the head, darling!" he smiled sarcastically, taking a light swipe at your chin.

"Whatever, my turn. I don't want any you know...actual sex stuff." Wade raised his eyebrow. "What do you mean?" You shrugged your shoulders, a little embarrassed. "I don't know, just like...I'd rather stick to the oral stuff I guess." Wade couldn't help but snicker. "What, you scared my dick's too big to fit in it or something?" "No, asshole!" you shouted, bopping the top of his head with the notepad. "It just feels...too personal I guess," you said, beet red.

What Wade didn't know was that going that far was just too intimate for you right now. You already felt guilty enough getting into this "relationship" with this man you barely know after just getting out of an almost seven year relationship. You didn't want Wade to feel like some kind of rebound. Even if he kinda was. You weren't sure if he even cared though. For all you know, he was just happy to get some pussy.

"Whatever, your loss cupcake," Wade shook off. "Fine then, I get my own special condition." "Hit me," you said, sitting up. "No kissing." "What?!" you shouted. "That's so stupid, thats no where near the same level as mine! Mine is at least a little understandable!" "Hey, you have your reasons, I have mine," Wade argued. "Fine....You'll still kiss up on my pussy though, won't you Wade?" you asked, grabbing him by his shirt collar and pulling him in closer to you. "Well what else is it there for, certainly not for sticking my dick in," he teased. You gave his already erect dick a smack and dragged him down into you bed, taking off his pants for your next session.

The next couple of months looked exactly like this, with a few trauma dumps in between of course. This was comfortable. You were still getting action, but nothing too much or serious. And Wade was a good guy for you. Or for this at least. Sometimes you would sit and wonder if the two of you could, you know, become more than this. An actual couple. Wade was your best friend. Yeah, he was a little shit, but he had been there for you more than anyone else before. He understood where you came from, because he came from the same roots. Him being really hot helped too you know.

But you could never be sure if he felt the same way. You weren't sure if he was the type for an actual relationship. Yeah, your crush on him seemed to grow bigger with each passing day, but this was easier for the both of you. Not ideal. But again. Comfortable.

Things started to change really fast though when a certain instagram story crossed your feed. "That bitch!" Wade heard you shout while out at Weasel's bar. "What now, someone twist up your panties?" Wade sarcastically added. You flip your phone over him show to one of your work friends with her new boyfriend.

A fourth month anniversary hard launch. "No way, is that him?" He asked, picking up the clues quickly. You nodded silently. You had failed to mention your past relationships to your friend Clarissa, so she must have thought he was some stranger or something. You had no idea how they met and started dating, but Raoul had seemed to come back into your life as soon as he left it. And you knew for a fact you'd be seeing him soon.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do about this stupid party," you repeated to Wade as you paced your apartment floor, topless. Wade sat back on your bed, sipping on a beer bottle, his pants off. "He's definitely gonna be there, it's a Holiday party for God's sake! Everyone always goes to those stupid parties! And of course everyone goes with their partners so of course Clarissa is gonna bring him!" "And why do you have to go?" Wade asked calmly. You stopped pacing. "Because Wade my promotion basically lies in the hands of me making a good impression, which means going to every work function they've got. Valentine's Day dance, Thanksgiving dinner, and especially the Winter Gala," you recited.

You flopped on top of the bed in anger, letting out fake, annoyed sobs. Wade groaned, set his beer bottle on the nightstand, and lifted your face up with his two cupped hands. "If I go with you will that shut you up?" You stopped your fake tantrum and sat up. "Um, are you being serious with me right now?" He nodded. "Is that not asking too much? I mean like...I don't know if it's typical for someone to go to a work party with their friend with benefits," you brought up.

Wade cleared his throat. "Well, we don't have to tell anyone that. As far as your employers, and especially Raoul, know...we're dating." You sat to yourself and thought for a minute. It'd be nice to have someone accompany you to the torturous party. And plus, making Raoul jealous would be a bonus. "That wouldn't be too much? Like what about the whole no kissing thing, isn't it weird for a couple to not kiss?" you asked. "Hey, couples don't kiss all the time! And plus, we can still hold hands and stuff. Just the bare minimum. But I think it could work." He watched you as the smile grew more and more onto your face. You leaped into his arms, embracing him. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you Wade! You don't know what this means!"

Wade took a second, but he tightly wrapped his arms around your back and tightened the hug. "Anything for my favorite girl," he said quietly next to your ear. Neither of you let go for a while, taking each other in. For two people who had sex with each other about three times a week, this was the most intimate you had been. You could tell how serious it was by how quiet Wade was.

His breath was calm and steady, matching up almost perfectly to yours. Your head sat perfectly on the nook where his neck met his shoulders. But as soon as you begun to tighten your grip on him, he cleared his throat and let go. "I think I'm owed a good dick sucking for my good deeds," he awkwardly brought up. It took you a second to regain what was going on, after being so thrown off by Wade's sudden display of intimacy. "Oh...Oh! Oh you bet your ass," you recovered. Wade rubbed his hands together, almost like a corny cartoon villain as you lowered yourself down to his thick shaft.

You furiously tapped your fingers on your phone as you waited for a "ready to go" response from Wade. You added the final touches to your outfit. You spent a good chunk of your savings on your outfit for tonight, dead set on your revenge à la jealousy. The red velvet dressed you purchased hugged perfectly onto each of your curves and the string of thick pearls was cherry on top. You finally got the okay text from Wade, so you picked up your small clutched and jumped out of your apartment, knocking on Wade's door.

It was a sight you had never seen before. Wade W. Wilson was wearing a suit. A warm feeling flooded into your heart, seeing him make such an effort for the occasion. The tight fitted pants he was wearing brought a different type of warmth into your body. You noticed he was staring at you in a similar way, scanning the way the dress sculpted your frame. But the look on his face wasn't the normal lust filled eyes you had seen so many times before. It was different. Before you could decipher what exactly it was, Wade cut in. "How much did that dress cost?" You paused. "...You don't wanna know."

The taxi ride there was filled with repetitions of your master plan. Wade didn't seem to be paying much attention. It didn't matter though, as long as your head was in the game, this was sure to work.

You stepped out of the taxi and took in the view of the venue in front of you. You drew in a deep breath and found Wade standing next to you. "You ready party princess?" he asked, holding his arm out to wrap yours around. You smiled up at him and lock yours in. "Ready as I'll ever be playboy."

Most of the party was filled with shallow conversations with employers, bad music, and drinking. Lots of drinking. And then you saw him. You almost sprayed your cocktail out of your mouth at the sight. Your first instinct was to start smacking Wade's shoulder. "Jesus christ woman what is it?!?!" Wade shouted. You made a pointing gesture with your eyes towards Raoul. Wade follows your eyes. "Damn, I can see what kept you locked in for so long." "It sounds like you're begging for a trip to the hospital right now," you threatened. "Sorry, he just has a beautiful ass," Wade continued to tease. "Shame he's only into broke ass girls. Like you." "Can you stop being an asshole for once and focus!"

Wade rolled his eyes, put down his drink and pulled you out onto the dance floor. "What are you doing?" you confusedly whispered. "Going along with the plan," he said, not making eye contact with you. He put one of his hands on your hip and the other locked with yours. It surprised you how good of a dancer he turned out to be. He was light on his feet, swaying along to the rhythm of the music.

You naturally fell into his movements. You took moments of your dance with Wade to look over in Raoul's direction. He seemed fairly preoccupied with Clarissa, understandably. Your frustration laid clear on your face. Wade must have noticed, because next thing you know, he's twirling you and sends you into a dip. His face lit up at the sight of your sudden smile.

You look to your right and see exactly what you wanted. Raoul staring dead set on you on the dance floor. In an ditzy stupor you turn your face back to Wade. "I need you to kiss me." "What?" "Wade please just this once I swear, he's looking at us right now." He took a second to think, rolled his eyes, and placed a peck on your lips.

It didn't feel how you expected it to. He was rough, and mean with it. He brought you back up from the dip, roughly grabbed your wrist and dragged you back to the table with your drinks. You took a second to regain your footing. Wade downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. He looked shaken, upset even. "Are you okay?" you asked. Before he had the chance to respond, you noticed his eyes dart behind you. With record timing, you felt a tap on your shoulder and spin around.

Oh my god.

"I had a feeling that was you out on the dance floor," he said, in that smug tone he always used to use. You sighed to yourself. "Hi Raoul, it's been a minute." Catching you off guard, he pulls you in to a one armed hug, and lets go before you're able to reciprocate it. "Wait you know each other?" Clarissa asked, locked in on his arm.

Raoul starts first. "Um, yeah we were-" "We hung out at frat parties back in college," you cut in. It technically wasn't a lie. You just would rather spare yourself the embarrassment from her. Raoul didn't correct you, just a simple nod. "Aw, that's so cute!" Clarissa said. "Raoul's got so many friends I can hardly keep up at this point." Clarissa's high pitched giggle rang through your ears and you tried to keep a smile plastered on your face. "Oh I'm sure," you quietly added, getting a stink eye from Raoul in the meantime. God, you wish you didn't finish your drink earlier.

Raoul's eyes moved behind you. "I'm sorry, I didn't manage to get your name," he gestured to Wade. "Oh, that's Wade, he's my-" "Partner," he cut you off, moving up next to you and taking your hand. You squeezed it tightly, as a silent thank you. "Oh my god, congratulations!" Clarissa said. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend." "Yeah, we decided to wait until six months to go around posting about it and stuff," you added. "We would've waited longer, but I was too excited to keep it to myself any longer, isn't that right my love," Clarissa said, gently patting Raoul's jawline. "That's right my darling."

Just before taking Clarissa for a long, wet, uncomfortable kiss, you could feel a split second moment of eye contact between you and Raoul. Chills overtook your body. He was so...

Cold.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to excuse myself for a moment. It was great seeing you Clarissa," you quickly spat out before rushing away from the scene. You could hear who you hoped was Wade's footsteps leading close behind you. He called out your name for attention while you ran down the stairs, into the lobby, and out the door. "What the fuck was that? You just don't talk to me?" Wade questioned as you looked out onto the sidewalk for a taxi. "Not now Wade," you pushed him off. You could barely focus. Your mind was running a mile a minute, your heart pounding like a freight train. Who knew all it took to send you back months of healing was one look.

"This was a bad idea," you said to yourself. "Anyone could've told you that," you heard Wade say under his breath. Not in control of your actions, your hand quickly reacted, whipping itself across his cheek. It left a bright red mark on his face as Wade quickly went to hold it. "That is the last fucking thing I need right now, Wilson."

You sound like your father. You sound like his too.

The two of you stood on the sidewalk in the falling snow for a good five minutes of silence while waiting. A "Sorry," managed to come out of your mouth. Both of you were mad. Saying and doing things you didn't mean. Both hurting in your own ways. You hated the way Raoul could control your emotions. Always could. Like you were in the palm of his hand. Seeing yourself in that position again brought a wave of anger like nothing else.

"Let's just wait for the taxi," Wade said. You didn't look back to see his face, but you could feel his energy radiating in the snow. You fucked up. Big time. You were too angry to fix it right now though. This was a problem to solve in the morning. All you wanted right now was to curl up in your bed and sob for the next five hours.

Wade finally waved down a taxi for the two of you, opened the door to let you in first, and crawled in behind you. The tension in the car was so thick you were sure the driver could feel it too. It felt like you were in that car for hours until the two of you got out. As the car drove away and Wade looked for his keys to open the lobby door, all your thoughts began to flood out. "I can't believe he would wave her around in front of me like that!" You could feel the eye roll Wade was having right now, but didn't care enough to stop. He held the door open for you, as you continued talking into the elevator up. "And what was that kiss about?! Talk about show off. And gross also, their saliva almost flew into my eye." Wade stayed silent throughout your whole rant.

Still talking out the elevator and down the hallway. You were so caught up in your thoughts, you didn't even realize you were following Wade up to his door as he unlocked it. "And not to be a bitch, but how can Clarissa grow to stand him? Their personalities do not fit at all." Wade opened the door, and instinctively moved out of the way as he found you pushing yourself into his apartment as you continued talking.

He sighed to himself, closed and locked the door, threw his keys on the kitchen counter and stood by the door as you talked. "You know what? He went there to hurt me. He had to know Clarissa and I worked together, so he had to know I would be at that party! Why else would he go?!" Wade threw his head back, groaned, and began to walk up to you, shielded from your attention by the tangent you were on. "You know what, next work function he goes to, him gonna walk right up to him and tell him how much of an asshole he really is-."

The very last syllable of your sentence was picked up into Wade's mouth as his lips laced their way into yours.

You stood there wide eyed as Wade's lips rested on your mouth. He let go and opened his mouth for a moment as he lowered his eyes down to yours. "You talk too much. And you know it's bad when I'm the one saying that." You didn't have the room in your brain to respond. The only thing you could focus on was getting his mouth back onto yours. You grabbed the back of his head and smushed his face into yours, his own hands wrapping around your waist and hugging you into him.

This kiss was much different from your first one. This one was also rough, but surprisingly tender, like Wade had been waiting for this moment for ever. His lips maneuvered around your mouth the same way they did to your pussy, with a certain care and art. You were the first one to let your tongue slip, making its way into Wade's mouth. He treated it lightly, and with a gentle nature.

While you were distracted by the kiss, Wade hoisted you up to wrap your legs around his hips, and walked you to his bed. He let go of your mouth to dramatically plop you down on the mattress. "Before anything happens, I have got to get you out of that dress," Wade said, lowly and seductively. It was almost like magic, the way Wade's words could soak your underwear the minute they enter the air.

You unzipped your dress with haste, and tightly squeezed it off your body, tossing it to Wade's floor like it wasn't the most expensive piece of clothing you owned. To match you, Wade also stripped off his clothes, leaving both of you completely naked, except for undergarments, on his bed. Wade lowered himself on top of you, lacing his lips back into yours. Your hands explored his back, one of them taking a particular liking to one of his asscheeks, gripping and fondling it. Wade let out sounds of pleasure into your mouth as you played with him.

After a solid time of just making out, you separated your mouth from his. "What's wrong," Wade asked, a kind concern in his voice. You took a minute to gather your thoughts as you stared at Wade's cock, throbbing and bulging through his underwear. "Wade, I want you inside me."

Wade's breath hitched and you could see his cheeks grow red at your comment. "Are you sure?" It was crazy how much of his confidence and swagger he could lose because of your words. A symptom of something deeper inside his heart. You nodded gently. "I've never been so sure about anything until right fucking now," you whispered to him. Wade couldn't help but smile like a kid on Christmas morning. He laced his lips back into yours as his hands moved up your back and unclipped your bra like second nature. You used your hands to help him take off his boxers. The way his shaft sprung out made you gasp in delight.

Wade peppered kisses over your jaw, neck, and chest as he made his way down your body with his mouth. He took special time and care with your tits as he suckled on your nipple with that special tongue of his.

Wade was very dead set on his "no kissing" rule in the past, saving it only for when he would eat you out. Nothing above your hips or below your inner thigh. So, here and now, with his gentle kisses being pressed into your stomach, you couldn't help but giggle happily, your fingers scratching lovingly at the nape of his neck. You were so happy. Happier than when you two would mindlessly hook up. Happier than when you were with Raoul. Happier than when the stars would shine down on you from above. If you could pause time, you would stay in this moment forever. Tender. Pure. Happy,

The kisses made their way down your stomach, traced out your pelvic bone, and finally made it to the border of your panties. Wade's doe brown eyes looked up and made dead eye contact with you as his teeth latched onto your underwear lace. Your pussy throbbed with delight as you watched him pull down your underwear with his mouth expertly. He was most definitely not a novice at this. Once your underwear was finally off, Wade sat up on his knees, looking over your temple of a body.

In the time you two spent together, sure you did a lot of stuff together, but there were heavy boundaries in place. One being, neither of you had seen the other fully naked before. At least one piece of undergarment or clothing was kept on at all times, be it a shirt, boxer short, or skirt. Both of you wanted to get a certain level of privacy. But now, here you both were. Completely exposed for the other to soak in.

"You're so beautiful." His face was so full of admiration. No flirty tone. No pet name to level the meaning. He was absolutely serious. "You're so beautiful," you echo back to him, with the same amount of seriousness. Before he was going to do anything else, he lowered his entire body weight down onto you, skin to skin, and wrapped every inch of himself around you.. "What're you doing Wade?" you asked, gently scratching his bare back with your nails, feeling his skin rise and fall at your touch. "Cherishing you." You had no choice but to kiss him after that comment, a gentle peck from you landing on his lips. "I'm ready," you urged. Wade nodded. "I got you, princess."

Wade used his saliva to wet up your entrance, though not much was needed to help that situation. He used the rest of it to lather up his cock. Taking it in his hand, he gave you a kiss deep into your cheek, and pushed it inside.

Both of you moaned in a loud ecstasy as his thick shaft made its way into your leaking, tight cunt. Then, Wade began thrusting himself into you, as you grabbed onto his shoulders for support. His hands squeezed and manhandled both your tits as his hips rocked waves into you. It was exactly like dancing with him before. He had a certain rhythm to him, like he was a professional. It sounded cheesy as you thought it in your head, but it was true.

"Your pussy's so good for me," he whispered into your ear. "Like it was made for me or something." Your moans filled his ears, only encouraging him to go faster and harder with his thrusts. His dick filled up every crevice of your pussy, his tip pushing just right into your g-spot. One of his hand moves away from your tit and down to grope your asscheek. Your moans grow louder and your grip on his shoulder tightens. "You like it when I manhandle you, huh princess?" he teases. His mouth attaches itself to your neck as he sucks dark bruises into it. "Go harder Wade," you gasp. "As you wish," he cheekily remarks.

You can feel your body growing hotter as his dick throbs inside your tight cunt. The bed rocks and shakes with your movements. You wonder for a split second if any of your neighbors can hear you. The thought loses its momentum when you remember how much worse you've heard come out of this apartment room.

After a solid bit of going at it, you can feel your climax start to hit. Your breath goes shaky, your grip on him gets tighter, and your moans and gasps become more scattered and desperate. "I know sweetheart, I know, don't worry," Wade lowly whispers into your ear, giving your lobe a quick nibble after he's done. You begin to rock your hips as well, clashing into his, desperate to chase the high coming rushing towards you.

The high is magnificent, better than you had ever experienced with him. Your legs and body shake as your body comes around his dick, the orgasm ripping its way through your vocal cords. Wade slips his shaft out of you once your moans stop and finishes on his own on the edge of the bed.

You stay sitting in bed silent for some time, soaking in the full experience. Wade turns back to you and leans down to your pussy, soaking and slurping up your juices. Your body shivers under his gentle tongue. He does a reverse of before, kissing his way up your hips, to your stomach, to your neck, and finding its home on your lips. You wrap your arms around him as he kisses you, wiggling his way with you under the covers of his bed.

"So...how do you feel?" He asked, kissing your cheek. "Fucking great," you giggled. "Well duh, that was the obvious answer," he snarked, pressing quick kissing into every inch of your face, getting sweet laughs out of you. "You've suddenly turned into quite the kisser." "I think I was just waiting for the right moment," he said gently, scanning your face and finding a comfortable sitting in your eyes. "I'm glad you finally found it," you whispered to him. He smiled drowsily. "Me too." Wade nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses there. You closed your eyes as you took in his touch. You could feel yourself slipping out of consciousness, making a quick note to yourself to remember this moment forever. Cherishing Wade while you did so.

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yuripoll · 6 months ago

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Okayyy propagandising <3 Sakura Namiki is a 1957 kind of... proto-yuri about girls playing ping pong; it's a decade older than the first manga to really be considered yuri, but despite it being Class S, there's no sudden tragedy, no inevitability of the girls separating, no male love interest introduced in the last minute... the romance might not be as explicit as you'd expect from a modern yuri, but for something from the 50s? It's got a good track record!

Plus, while I can't say anything for the significance of this work in particular, the author, Macoto Takahashi, was a pretty influential figure in the development of the shoujo artstyle, popularising the big glittery eyes synonymous with the genre. He did an interview with ANN about his art process that I thougth was interesting! Unfortunately, his family announced his death just this Tuesday :( I didn't intentionally drop this the same week (I've had the bracket post in my drafts for a good while) it just uh. worked out that way.

Very gauche for to say 'vote in his memory' or some shit, which is good because there's a much more compelling reason to vote Sakura Namiki: the artistry of it. More than anything, putting aside story and yuri history and Takahashi's impact on manga, I think that the way this manga approaches visual storytelling is on par with manga known for interesting panelling, like Witch Hat Atelier, and I wish I'd seen more stuff like it!

Like here, for example. I really love how the top panels express the character's feelings and the situation without purely relying on the text or the clarity of the drawings: the way the full panels are taken up by the crowd, almost claustrophobic; the jagged edges giving a sense of instability, like the crowd pushing at the boundary and might spill over; Yukiko small in the centre, giving the feeling of being suffocated; no one in the crowd is drawn with the same darker tones used to draw Yukiko, further visually isolating her at a glance. Just very well done.

Probably my favourites, though, are these pages from pink pong games. For one, that first page with the ping pong balls as text bubbles? Genius. I dont even know what I can say about it. Have you seen it? You get it. I also adore how the movement of the ball is communicated through traces of it, like you're watching the game in slow motion, versus the quickness implied by motion lines - really ramps up the tension.

What impresses me most about these pages in particular is, again, how the framing and composition impacts the storytelling. In the purple pages, Yukiko is playing against her rival. Both pages use symmetrical frames and have symmetry within those frames. To me, it emphasises the match being... well. A match. The clean trajectory of the ball and the pages' symmetry have a feeling of precision to them that expresses a cold professionalism. On the green page, however, she's playing against her crush. The central panel is at an off angle, asymmetrical. There's a wild flurry of balls, the trajectories overlapping in a chaotic mess, impossible to follow. On one hand, it's emphasising the level of skill on display - even if you, the onlooker, can't follow it, the players can - but on the other? The clearest aspect of that central panel are the two girls, even the table falls to the wayside; in stark contrast to the clarity and symmetry of Yukiko's match against her rival, you can feel the passion when she's playing against her crush.

Last thing: there's a point where the girls go to the ballet, and it details the full play, over eleven consecutive pages. Eleven pages of nothing but these two actors, the key motions of this dancem and a line summary of what's happening. Weird fucking place to bring up Chainsaw Man, but this kind of pacing reminds me of Fujimoto, particularly the montage of Fujino working with her back to the camera page after page. IIRC in one of the before CSM anthologies, he mentioned an editor's comment that he does in 16 pages what could be done in 6, and I genuinely think that's a huge strength of his work and a cornerstone of how good his stuff is. Its the same kind of technique on display here, just forcing you to slow down and absorb the ballet.

TL;DR; As much as the story itself doesn't bring anything new to the table, that's becuase Sakura Namiki is almost 70 years old, and there's plenty to appreciate about it aside from that. Let the magic of Takahashi's storybook style illustration into your heart.

UNDERDOGS ROUND 1

#this got WAY ahead of me hahaaaaaa #i've actually been sitting here typing this all out for almost two hours. is it ever that serious.#im even not as passionate about sakura namiki as all that (^^^) implies. ultimately its very old and it feels very old.#its just that it's a lot easier to talk about the technical achievements of it than most of my actual favourites which i like for #the story its telling more than how it tells it #also disclaimer: not an art expert. did art at gsce like 7 years ago. idc if im using the wrong words or w/e im just expressing my Thoughts #AND i didnt proof read it. lea me alone.#yuri propaganda #sakura namiki #also umm....... slightly haterish comments i left out of the main post:#(well. hater is a strong word. im not a hater i wouldve dropped it if i was a real hater.)#sakura namiki feels a bit old and tired and like its not bringing anything new to the table because it's literally pushing 70 #.............................................but you know what else isn't bringing anything new to the table?#dont get me wrong. there's nothing especially bad about hdigtwmcf. i like it well enough and im keeping up with it.#but its an standard yuri that ticks the necessary boxes and does not strive to do anything beyond that.#the art is good in the sense that its appealing but theres nothing more interesting to say about that other than that it looks cute #like. i could not spend two hours writing paragraphs about visual storytelling in hdigtwmcf. art is nice. thumbs up. end.#<- thats how that would go.#and tbh i wouldnt have much more to say about the plot or characters or romance. its cute. thumbs up. end.

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isa-beenme · 3 months ago

Text

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

Sooo as someone who's job is literally analyse politics, I have a lot to say about Feyre being named High Lady in the universe Sarah built for acotar, but this is not the moment so I will let you guys guess what I think about it based on what I changed here

Also, Feyre deserves a waaay better desenvolviment here, so I was thinking about a bonus chapter for her in the future? Bc here is gonna seem rushed since I'll focus a lot more on Rhys

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, Tamlin shouldn't have the possibility of a redemption arc if we are going to destroy his life, 10% book following idc anymore, mentions of PTSD, mentions of war, Rhysand 🤭

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight- Masterlist

Chapter 8: Wild Card

Lucien was pacing outside Feyre's room when you and Rhysand stepped out. His golden eye flicked between the two of you, already sensing something had shifted, that the world had just tilted under his feet.

"What's going on?" His voice was tight, suspicious. His gaze lingered on Rhysand like he was about to tear him apart, but there was something soft in his eyes when they darted back to the closed door behind you.

You exchanged a glance with Rhysand, who arched a brow as if saying “Well? Go on, little mouse.

You turned back to Lucien, heart hammering. “We're leaving."

Lucien's whole body went still. "And Feyre?"

Your throat tightened. "She's coming with us. She called out the bargain."

Lucien's chest rose and fell once sharply. His amber eye flicked between the two of you again, calculating. Then—

"I'm going with you."

Rhysand's smirk flickered, surprised, but not displeased. "You don't trust me, fox boy?"

Lucien shot him a venomous glare but didn't rise to the bait. "I don't trust anyone with her right now."

Your heart squeezed. Rhysand's violet eyes softened, just a fraction. "Fair enough."

He opened the door again and Feyre was waiting, the second she saw you again she ran and hugged you, clinging to you as if you were her anchor. Without another word, Rhysand's shadows wrapped around you all and the world disappeared in front of your eyes.

☆

The House of Wind was a breath of cool, crisp freedom the second you stepped onto the balcony. Feyre stumbled forward, clutching the stone railing, her whole body shuddering in relief. You could feel it, the way the weight of Spring had been crushing her. How it lifted the moment she set foot on this land.

Her breath came out in one long, shaking exhale. "I feel like I can breathe," she whispered, like she hadn't realized until now that she hadn't been able to before.

Lucien's face crumpled. He crossed the space between them in two long strides and wrapped her in his arms so, so gently. Like he was afraid she might shatter. Feyre froze, stiff in his embrace. But then Lucien's arms squeezed a little tighter, and a single broken sob tore from his throat and Feyre melted.

Her arms came up around him, clutching the back of his tunic. She buried her face in his shoulder and for the first time in months, she let herself cry. Lucien just held her, rocking her slowly with tears silently sliding down his own face. It was so tender — so heartbreakingly pure — you had to look away.

Rhysand was already watching you. His violet eyes glinting in the dim light, that barely-restrained ache carved into every line of his perfect face. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, like he was physically holding himself back. And for some reason you broke first.

You crossed the space between you and threw yourself into his arms. Rhysand's breath caught in surprise. And then his arms crushed you against him. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, his scent — salt and cedar and night sky — wrapping around you like a balm. His wings curled around you both, shielding you from the rest of the world. You spent the whole time in Spring trying to convince yourself that the feeling crushing you down wasn't because you missed him. But seeing him in front of you crumbled those walls faster than you expected.

"You did so well," he murmured, voice rough against your ear. "You saved her."

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting down the sob climbing your throat. "I was going to kill him."

Rhysand's arms tightened around you, "I know."

"I still want to." You admitted, almost ashamed of your lack of control.

"I know." His fingers slid into your hair, holding you closer. "But I'm so proud of you."

And fuck, you melted into him. You didn't even realize the world had gone completely silent until the first petal brushed against your cheek. You blinked and pulled back just enough to look around and find… Flower petals? Dozens of them floating through the air, glowing softly like the moonlight.

Lucien and Feyre had already separated, both of them watching the petals with wide, confused eyes. They looked at you for answers but you were more confused than them. Rhysand's brows knit together. He held out a hand, catching one of the blossoms in his palm. His violet eyes flicked to the wind, as if looking for some memory and then widened. He knew what they were.

"What are these?" you asked, heart thudding.

"This flower..." He looked at it with curiosity "It only grows here, in our territory. But they're used in the High Lord ceremony when Prythian accepts a ruler for the Night Court.”

“And why are they here?” Lucien asked, you noticed the hand on Feyre's back but decided it wasn't the moment.

“That is the weird part, because they only bloom when the power shifts to another High Lord. " You blinked at him, still not understanding. Until Lucien's sharp intake of breath echoed through the air.

"Oh," he breathed, his golden eye flicking back to you. "Oh, so that's why you were able to command Tamlin back there."

Feyre's head snapped between the two of you, utterly lost. You wish you could be in the same situation if the wind wasn't singing to you, calling you and your magic to bloom.

"What? What does that mean?" Feyre touched your hand, but something in the contact made her hand tingle, so she took her back and it was glowing.

Lucien glanced at Rhysand and you, like he couldn't quite believe it himself. But Rhysand was still looking at you, his eyes shining with something that made your heart ache. Love. Admiration. Devotion. He stepped closer, cupping your face between his hands, and whispered, almost as if he was grounding himself in the situation.

"The power of the High Lords isn't given by blood." Your breath caught. "It's given by the land to those who deserve it" Your heart started to pound. "Prythian chooses who commands its courts."

The petals began to swirl faster around you in a soft, shimmering cyclone.

"And apparently..." Rhysand's thumb traced your cheekbone, a slow, reverent touch "It chose you too."

Your knees buckled. Rhysand caught you. Held you up. Like you had done multiple times to him Under the Mountain when Amarantha got too close or his nightmares became real.

His lips brushed against your forehead, soft and steady. Yours.

"A High Lady," he murmured, and you glowed with his knowledge. Like you'd been a star all along, just waiting for someone to see you.

☆

Your heart was still racing in your chest when Rhysand led you through the winding hallways of the House of Wind, his hand firmly pressed against the small of your back, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.

You were glowing. Actually glowing. The petals were still gently swirling around you, fading little by little, but you could feel something different inside yourself, something anchoring you to the land in a way you'd never felt before.

Feyre and Lucien had been whisked away by Nuala and Cerridwen, both still too stunned to even question it. But you... You knew exactly what had happened. You just couldn't quite believe it.

Rhysand opened the door to a large, spacious bedroom — his bedroom — without even needing to touch the handle. You stepped inside and immediately froze.

Because there were... Clothes. Racks of them. Drawers stuffed with fabrics. Dresses, tunics, trousers, jackets, in every color imaginable, though most of them were shades of black, navy, and deep purples. It looked like a whole damn wardrobe had been prepared for you.

You slowly turned to face him, narrowing your eyes. "Were you... preparing for me?"

Rhysand's violet eyes glinted like the utterly shameless male he is. "Not even a little bit."

Your mouth opened—

His smirk curved higher. "All of my houses are ready to receive you, darling." He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit the smug bastard you'd missed so much. "Clothes. Perfumes. Books. Even your own shelf in the library. But—" His eyes flicked over you, a glint of sadness "If you'd prefer your own room... I can arrange that too."

You should have smacked him. You should have rolled your eyes and told him to go to hell. Instead, you kissed him.

His breath caught, just for a second, before his arms crushed you against him, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your waist like he might never let go again. The kiss was desperate, months of tension, of stolen thoughts and almost-encounters, snapping between you like lightning. You could taste the night on his tongue — stars and shadows and him. But when his hand slid down to your hip, fingers brushing the buttons of your dress.

You gasped and pushed him back by the chest. "Whoa, sir." You were breathless, dizzy, but grinning. "We have more pressing matters right now."

Rhysand's eyes glinted, like he was already making a mental list of exactly how he'd ruin you the second those matters were handled. But he only stepped back and bowed his head.

"As you wish, High Lady." A shiver ran down your spine at the title.

“I could get used to this” with one last kiss you turned to the endless clothes he prepared.

You picked out a black set from his endless collection. A long-sleeved crop top that clung to every curve, with a subtle shimmer woven into the fabric, and loose black pants cinched with silver chains around your hips. The whole outfit was comfortable, but you didn't miss the way Rhysand's eyes darkened when he turned around and saw you.

His hands twitched — just slightly.

"And I could get used to this," he murmured, voice low.

You opened your mouth to snap something back, when a loud, furious pounding rattled the door of the house.

"RHYSAND, OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

“Cassian.” Rhysand whispered into your mind.

You could practically feel the panic radiating from the other side of the wood — a thick, frantic wave of power.

Rhysand sighed dramatically. "Apparently, you're going to meet your family sooner than expected."

Your heart stuttered. Your family. You could get used to this too.

Rhys flicked his fingers, and the door swung open with a rush of night-kissed wind. Cassian and another Illyrian you recognized as Azriel — from the time he worked as the last High Lord's spy — practically fell into the room, weapons half-drawn, both of them wide-eyed and tense.

Another two females were right behind them, scanning the room like they were ready to tear the whole place apart.

But the second Cassian's hazel eyes landed on you he froze. All of them did. Because the petals were still there. Still softly glowing, swirling gently around you like a celestial storm.

"Mother above," the blond one whispered.

Azriel's shadows curled tighter around him — his scarred hand gripping the hilt of Truth-Teller like he wasn't quite sure if he needed to defend you or protect Rhysand.

And then there was Amren. You remember her from countless nights your mother had meetings with her after she was freed from the Prison. Her silver eyes narrowed when looking at you, and she smirked when she remembered who you were.

"Well, well, well," she purred. "Look who finally decided to claim her throne."

But before anyone could say another word, Lucien and Feyre appeared at the top of the stairs, both in fresh, comfortable Night Court clothes. Feyre looked like she'd been crying again, but there was already more color in her cheeks. Lucien stayed close behind her, his golden eye flicking between all the powerful beings in the room.

"What's happening?" Feyre asked, her voice small, uncertain.

Rhysand's violet eyes glinted, flicking between you and the petals still swirling through the air. He stepped forward and slid a hand down the small of your back. You shivered.

"What's happening, Feyre," he said silkily "Is that Prythian has chosen its very first High Lady."

A beat of stunned silence.

Then—

"What the fuck?" Cassian barked.

The silence stretched long and thick after Lucien's resigned sigh. Everyone still seemed too stunned to process what had just been said — except Amren, who stood there smirking like she'd been waiting centuries for this exact moment. Her silver eyes narrowed on you. And that smirk curved higher.

"And," she purred, voice sharp as a knife. "I remember you, girl"

A shiver crawled down your spine. You did too. Countless nights spent hidden behind the heavy velvet curtains of your mother's office, listening as she met with the small, terrifying female who had only been recently freed from the Prison.

They'd always spoken in low, urgent voices, sometimes too quiet for you to hear. But you'd felt Amren's ancient, lethal power even back then. You'd never forgotten those silver eyes, or the way they'd flicked toward your hiding spot, as if she'd known you were there the whole time.

"You were only a little mouse back then, who didn't know how to control your powers or your fae form" Amren murmured, tilting her head. "Seems you've grown into something far more... interesting."

Rhysand's hand slid lower down your back, warm and grounding, but you could feel the tension thrumming beneath his touch.

"Sit down, all of you" he said smoothly, guiding you toward the large, plush chair at the head of the room.

He sat first, sprawling in the high-backed chair like a lazy, arrogant cat, and then, with a flick of his fingers, he pulled you into the armchair. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. But you didn't even hesitate before settling against him, one leg casually draped over his thighs. His arm slid around your waist, fingers pressing into your hip, while his other hand rested on the arm of the chair.

The whole room went dead silent. Cassian's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, looking like he was about to blurt out “what the actual fuck”, but Azriel's scarred hand shot out, clamping over his mouth before he could say a word.

Amren's smirk only sharpened. Mor's golden eyes sparkled with barely-contained delight. Lucien looked entirely unsurprised, just a little bit pissed. And Feyre was still staring at you like she couldn't quite wrap her head around what was happening, but it was already better than the emotionless state she was trapped in Spring Court.

Rhysand's fingers lazily traced circles on your hip as he began to explain. “The power of the High Lords was never truly about bloodlines. The land itself always chose its rulers, based on worth, or destiny, or value, maybe even luck, is not set in birth.”

"Kallias, for example, isn't his father's firstborn," you murmured, picking up right where Rhysand left off. "Tarquin was chosen over his uncle. Rhysand's father was the first High Lord in his family. And it was supposed to be Keir leading the Night Court at the time, not him."

Rhysand's lips curved — almost like he couldn't help himself — at how seamlessly you fell into rhythm beside him.

You glanced at him. "You were saying?"

His violet eyes flicked down to your mouth, hunger flashing beneath the amusement, before he turned back to the others.

"It seems," he drawled, "Prythian has deemed her worthy. Probably after the sacrifice made in Under the Mountain.”

Amren's silver eyes flicked between the two of you — that knowing, ancient smile never fading. "That's not the whole story." Every head snapped toward her.

Rhysand's fingers stilled on your waist. "You've known about this," he said slowly.

"Not the whole scenario," Amren admitted, inspecting her nails. "But I did meet with your mother some time before she died."

Your heart clenched. "My mother?"

Amren's silver eyes cut toward you, sharp and gleaming. "Miss Enira started to feel the power growing in you very early on. She knew what you'd become long before anyone else did. She didn’t tell me the whole story but she was worried at the time."

Your stomach dropped. You had always suspected your mother knew more than she'd ever told you, about who you were, about the strange, flickering power you'd felt under your skin since you were a child. But she'd never said a word.

"Why—" Your voice caught. "Why didn't she tell me?"

Amren's mouth curved in that small, dangerous smile. "Perhaps she was waiting for the right moment."

Rhysand's fingers tightened slightly on your waist, but his touch stayed soft. That's what gave you the courage to ask something that had been gnawing at your chest for so long. "What was she doing in that carriage with Rhysand's mother and sister?"

The question hung heavy in the air. Amren's silver eyes flicked back to you, like she was weighing whether or not to tell you. "She was going to propose a marriage alliance."

Your heart stopped. "What?"

Rhysand went utterly still beneath you, as if even he hadn't known.

Amren's smirk sharpened. "If you'd ever come into your power, Enira planned to betroth you to Rhysand, to unite the future High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, even before the title became yours."

Rhysand's hand clenched on your waist. And your mind went blank. You stared at Amren, heart pounding in your chest. "My mother was going to... marry me off? Without telling me?"

Amren only shrugged. "You would have been High Lady anyway. She was just making sure you wouldn't be killed in a power war. Your mother and Rhysand's mother were friends, and they felt the power growing in Rhys, but felt it in you too. It would be easier to have both of you ruling than make you fight for the position.”

You opened your mouth. Shut it again. Then turned to look at Rhysand. Who was blinking at Amren like he'd just been slapped.

"Your mother was there?"

"You didn't know?" You arched a dark brow.

Rhysand's jaw tightened, but you could see the flicker of pain behind his eyes. "No. My father said there was just the crew and a few soldiers traveling with them."

A long silence stretched through the room. Until Feyre's small, trembling voice broke it. "You—" She swallowed hard. "You said a carriage accident killed your family? What... what exactly happened?"

You froze. Your heart squeezing painfully at the question.

Even after all these years, the memories were still raw — still carved into the deepest parts of you. Rhysand's fingers pressed against your waist, like he could feel the way your heart had started racing. His violet eyes flicked to you, silently asking if you wanted to keep it a secret.

You gave the smallest shake. You couldn't speak. But it was his story too to tell. Rhysand's hand slowly slid into yours, fingers threading through your own, and squeezed.

Then he leaned forward slightly in his chair, his voice low and lethal as he finally began.

"It was supposed to be a simple meeting, my father said," he said softly. "My mother, my sister, and someone else were traveling to meet my father, they didn't go flying because of their guest.” His thumb traced over the back of your hand, steady, soothing, even as something dark flickered beneath the surface of his voice. "But someone... tipped off Tamlin's father." Lucien's sharp inhale was barely audible. "He always despised my father," Rhysand continued. "Despised the Night Court. He wanted an excuse to provoke a war, to weaken the rival courts that went against him during the war." His violet eyes glittered with cold fire. "And what better excuse than a blood feud?”

Your chest ached, because you'd heard the story before. You'd pieced it together in fragments over the centuries, whispered rumors and half-truths. But you'd never heard it like this. Never from him.

"They slaughtered the entire escort," Rhysand said quietly. "No warning. No mercy." His voice never wavered — but the hand in yours tightened like a vice. "They dragged my mother's body back to the Spring Court, as a message. They left my sister where she fell. But took her wings with them."

A cold shiver raced down your spine. You remembered. You remembered the day they'd found the wreckage and when a few guards took you to the place of the accident to recognize the body, you felt the scent of blood heavy in the air. You remembered your mother's body, cold and still in the back of the carriage. Your hands tugging at her dress, begging her to wake up. You were barely a hundred years old at the time, still a child for fae years.

Rhysand's voice stayed low — dangerously calm — but his power thrummed under every word. "My father wanted revenge. He planned to slaughter Tamlin's entire family in return, his wife, children, everyone he could find in the manor." Lucien flinched, his golden eye flicking toward the floor. "But I made him promise to spare the youngest son." Rhysand's gaze locked onto Feyre, and something cold passed between them. "I thought Tamlin was innocent."

You squeezed his hand — your heart aching at the quiet pain beneath those words. He'd also been so young back then, barely a hundred years older than you. Still clinging to the naive belief that mercy could break the cycle of violence. "I begged him to let Tamlin live," Rhysand murmured. "And in return... he became my enemy."

A heavy silence settled over the room —

Until Amren's soft, cutting voice broke it. "He betrayed you the second he got the chance.”

Rhysand's jaw clenched, but he didn't deny it. “He was the one who killed my father. From his back. Not just stupid but also a coward."

Cassian was seething pacing back and forth by the window, wings tucked tight to his back. Morrigan looked like she wanted to tear someone's throat out. And Azriel just stood perfectly still, shadows curling tighter around him, watching.

"But you—" Feyre's voice cracked. "You still would have let me marry him?"

Your throat closed up. Because you could hear the hurt behind her words. Rhysand glanced at you — letting you choose whether to answer. You leaned forward slowly, meeting Feyre's wide, shattered eyes.

"I would have let you marry anyone," you said softly. "If it made you happy."

Her eyes filled with tears. You saw the exact moment her heart cracked open what Tamlin had made her close during the last three months. When she realized everything you'd done, everything you'd sacrificed, was never out of resentment. Only love. For her.

A small, broken sound slipped from her throat. And before you could move, she was in your arms. You held on tight.

Burying your face in her hair as she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

Rhysand's hand brushed over your spine, warm and steady. The bond between you thrummed softly, a low, golden thread weaving tighter around your heart. You could feel him there. Holding you both together. Even Amren's sharp, smirking mouth softened. Cassian's broad shoulders slumped. And Morrigan's eyes shone with something like sadness and understanding.

Rhysand's fingers tightened on your waist again. Like he was holding himself back from pulling you closer.

Cassian, never one to let a heavy moment linger, suddenly snorted. "Okay, great family reunion and all, but can someone please explain why Rhys is acting like this whole High Lady situation is totally normal? I mean, why are you so chill about this? Your power just got divided in half, shouldn't you be at least a little bit worried?"

Rhysand's smirk flicked back into place, lazy and smug as ever.

"Why would I be worried?" He glanced up at you, eyes glinting “Let's start with the fact that my power wasn’t divided in half. She just received more to herself. And, there's nothing for me to fear when she's my mate? She would be High Lady anyway, at least in title.” The whole room went deathly quiet. “Good to know Prythian agrees with me.”

Even Mor looked genuinely surprised for once. Azriel's shadows curled tighter around him, his hazel eyes going wide. Cassian's jaw dropped and his wings snapped open, nearly knocking over a lamp. Lucien's golden eye whirred as it locked onto you. And Feyre just whispered, "What the fuck?”

Rhysand only smirked. His thumb stroking lazy, burning circles over your hip. "It seems," he murmured silkily "Prythian made its ways long before either of us met."

Cassian looked back and forth between you two — Then groaned dramatically. "Of course she's your mate. That's just perfect. Now we have to deal with two of you."

Mor's cackle turned into a full-body wheezing fit. Azriel just kept blinking, like he genuinely couldn't process what was happening.

The room spun to you.

Mate.

High Lady.

Rhysand's mate.

Night Court's High Lady.

You didn't know whether to laugh, scream, or kiss him senseless.

But first, there was still one last truth hanging heavy in the air. One last secret waiting to be unearthed.

You glanced back at Amren, heart hammering in your chest.

"You said my mother knew I'd be High Lady." A pause. "And that she was waiting for the right moment."

Amren's silver eyes gleamed. "Yes."

You took a slow breath — "What... what was she waiting for?"

Amren's smirk sharpened —

And when she spoke, her words were soft. "For him to find you first, I guess."

Your heart stopped. And Rhysand's fingers curled possessively around you. Like he'd known the answer all along.

Mor was practically bubbling with happiness, her golden eyes bright as she all but vibrated in her seat, the exact opposite of Azriel, who sat perfectly still in his corner, shadows curled around his wings. Cassian leaned forward on the couch, arms slung lazily over his knees, but the wicked grin plastered on his face was crumbling down when he saw Mor's eyes looking at him as if she had won something.

"You knew about the bond this whole time?" he asked Mor, like the betrayal physically wounded him.

Mor just grinned wider, eyes flicking between you and Rhysand, a downright wicked glint in them. "Of course I knew. It was the first thing Rhys told me when he came back."

Cassian let out an indignant squawk. Azriel didn’t say a word, but the way his shadows curled a little tighter around him was answer enough.

"You told Mor before you told us?" Cassian pressed, gesturing wildly between him and Azriel.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone, if that makes you feel better," Rhysand said, voice utterly unbothered.

Mor only smirked. "He was very shocked and needed his favorite cousin to listen to him crying."

Cassian looked downright offended, his wings ruffling behind him. "Unbelievable."

"I figured it out too," Azriel muttered.

Everyone blinked at him. Even Rhysand.

"You did not," Cassian snapped.

Azriel's shadows shifted like they were smirking for him. "I did."

"When?" Azriel's hazel eyes flicked to you, calm, observant.

"The night Rhysand kept telling the stories of a crazy half-blood that kissed him in front of Amarantha." Your face flamed.

Cassian barked a laugh. "That was flirting! That doesn't mean anything!"

Azriel just raised a brow. "You don't speak of flirting the way Rhysand did, as if she was carrying his life in those moments unless there's something there."

Cassian's mouth opened and closed.Then he slowly leaned back on the couch, brow furrowing. "...Shit. Maybe you're right. Okay, I'm stupid, you guys can say that."

Mor laughed brightly, clapping her hands once. "Look at that! The Spymaster knows a thing or two about flirting after all."

Azriel shot her a flat look. You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling. It was... surreal, sitting here with all of them. Like you'd somehow stumbled into a family gathering you didn't even know you belonged to.

Your gaze flicked toward Feyre. But she was still watching Rhysand, eyes soft and shining. Thankful. It made something ache deep in your chest. You'd been running for so long. Hiding from yourself. Surviving for others. And now... Now you had people again.

"I suppose we should officially introduce ourselves," Mor said, beaming as if she'd been waiting for this moment. "I'm Morrigan. Rhysand's cousin, fourth in command, but I suppose I'm going back to third in command again if she is gonna be High Lady. Oh, and I'm also the one who's going to make sure you don't get too bored around here."

You blinked. Fourth in command. You glanced at Rhysand, raising a brow. He just gave you that lazy, smug grin, the one that said he'd been waiting for you to figure out what he was doing for you in his Court. Your Court.

Mor smirked, clearly reading the look on your face. "Don't worry, girl. You'll get used to him eventually."

Cassian snorted. "I'm Cassian. General Commander of the Night Court's armies, and the prettiest one here."

"That's debatable," Azriel muttered. Cassian grinned wider, wings ruffling.

"And that's Azriel. Spymaster, shadowsinger, master of brooding, protector of the walls in parties and the reason your secrets are never really safe."

Azriel just inclined his head, calm, composed, like he hadn't just been thrown under the carpet. You couldn't help but smile. Because somehow, even with centuries of blood and war weighing on all of them, they still felt like family.

Lucien shifted in his chair, clearing his throat. "You already know who I am."

Mor's grin sharpened. "Oh, we know plenty about you, Lucien Vanserra."

Lucien's amber eye narrowed, but you caught the flicker of amusement buried beneath the suspicion.

Then everyone was looking at you. Waiting. Your throat tightened. You hadn't spoken your full story aloud in centuries. But Rhysand's thumb brushed over your knuckles, grounding you.

So you took a slow breath and began. "My name is Y/N Archeron," you said softly. "I was born half-blood. My mother, Enira, was... powerful in the Night Court, royalty like. My father was a human, I never knew his name. Only that his last name was Archeron." Feyre gave you a smile. Centuries of bloodline separated you but you were family. "My mother died... in the attack on the carriage." Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to keep going. "I spent the next three centuries running. Hiding. Running to the continent. I thought... if I kept moving, maybe the grief wouldn't catch up." You swallowed hard. "But then I found Feyre, Nesta, and Elain. I hid as a human to help them." Your gaze flicked to Feyre. Her blue-gray eyes shining with quiet understanding. "And I would do it all over again if it meant keeping them safe. And you guys know the whole shitshow with Amarantha."

The room was utterly silent when you finished. Until Cassian muttered, "Shit, Rhys. She's already a better High Lady than you."

Rhysand's laugh rumbled through your chest, low and wicked. "I know."

Mor's grin practically split her face. "Oh, I am going to have so much fun with you."

You looked at Feyre, encouraging her. She cleaned her throat to get attention. “My name is Feyre Archeron. Hm… there's not much to tell, I barely lived in comparison to you. But my family lost everything when I was thirteen, so I started hunting to get money. I killed the wolf, Tamlin got me, and the whole thing with Amarantha happened. I died. I'm alive because of the High Lords… and that's it, I guess.

Even Azriel's shadows seemed to soften. “We're going to make sure you feel welcomed here, so you can live the rest of your life happily” She only gave him a soft smile.

Lucien cleared his throat then, but there was something softer in his gaze when he looked at you now.

"I hate to ruin the mood," he said carefully, "But I... I think I can trust you all. From what little I know of you."

Everyone sobered in an instant. Lucien's amber eye flicked toward Feyre, then back to Rhysand.

"Ianthe is working with Hybern." A heavy silence settled over the room. "And I think Tamlin is going to help them."

The floor seemed to drop out beneath you. Mor's breath caught, her hands clenching in her lap.

Rhysand's fingers went utterly still against your skin. But his power flickered like a midnight storm brewing beneath the surface.

"Are you certain?" Azriel asked quietly.

Lucien's throat bobbed. "Not certain. Not yet." His amber eye flicked to Feyre. And his voice was barely above a whisper when he added, "But I think... I think that's why he locked her up." Feyre went pale. “He was talking to Ianthe about how important it was to marry the Cursebreaker, so when the right time came, he would have the right to be the ruler. I just didn't understand of what.”

You couldn't stop the low growl that slipped from your throat. Your power stirring like it wanted to burn the Spring Court to the ground. Rhysand's thumb traced lazy circles over your knuckles, but his violet eyes were hard as steel.

"Thank you for telling us," he said softly.

Lucien nodded, looking more exhausted than you'd ever seen him. "I just want her safe."

Your heart was aching at the shattered look in Feyre's eyes. "We'll protect her," you said quietly.

All of them nodded. Even Azriel. Even Cassian. Even Mor. A family. Yours. At last.

“At least this one we are sure we're going to win.” Cassian mumbled suddenly. “What? We have a double threat here. Big advantage.” He said at Azriel's judgmental eyes.

Yes… you could get used to it.

Taglist: @rcarbo1 @raisam @itsinherited @romantic1stories @nebarious @mystirica-18 @willowpains @xelladarlingx @lucilia9teen @lifetobeareader @hjgdhghoe @carmenadkins78 @ireadsstuff @oiolabomdia

#Spotify #acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand acotar #reader insert

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artandbrimstone · 11 months ago

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First things first

!!!! Riptide 115 spoilers !!!!!

And if im wrong about anything i am sorry :( also this might be nothing but i need to say this somewhere

Chip and his lack of control over his own fate is so interesting to me. The guy who tells gillion tidestrider “I didn’t believe in destiny before i met you” is somehow, out of the three of them, the one who is seemingly following a predetermined path set out for him.

Gillion, whilst being the chosen one, struggles with this identity and was exiled, which may be in his destiny but was clearly not intended by the elders.

Jay has her prophecy (type thing I know its not exactly a prophecy) but it has no clear path for her specifically to follow.

Chip, however, was destined to end up back at the hole in the sea, but barely remembers actually being there in the first place, and yet when he does return to the black sea, there is a message from Rose from a decade prior knowing not only that he would return, but that he would be there looking for them after their disappearance. (i dont have the brainpower to go into how insane that message makes me so just know i think about it at least once a day). Even chips search for arlin, which was originally his own, was used against him and taken advantage of by Niklaus (with whatever the fuck he is planning im not smart enough to figure that out im just insane) making what was originally a goal into an “incessant urge to not only find the other members but also do what you [chip] were told and return to the hole in the sea”.

Not only that, there is also the compass, which is further twisting and intensifying chips desire to find arlin and return to the hole in the sea (niklaus also told chip to stop using the compass but yknow) so not even his desires, his main motivations that have led him to where he is now, arent truly his own. ( interestingly despite rose knowing he would go back to the black sea, still urges him to leave behind the legacy of the black rose pirates and do something greater)

Even his death he had no part in, no crucial mistake, nothing he could have done differently to avoid it, he was simply chosen and made an example of for the sake of making a point of how fucked they were against captain widow, yet again a pawn in something he had no control over.

And then, when they do finally reach the hole in the sea, chip is led by the compass (THE FUCKIGN COMPASSSSS) and (im getting into insane territory here) has strange parallels to captain rose. He is separated from his crew (namely the only other black rose pirate, drey), made a deal with niklaus regarding the hole in the sea has the hole in his chest (idc if its not there in canon its there to me) however what is he met with? “Welcome home”. Now what does that mean? I dont fuckign know but it makes me very insane and this is long enough already so i hope you enjoyed my incoherent chip just roll with it ramble :D

#this is so long and I dont have the energy to proofread it I am sorry #its 1am and im insane #is anything here coherent #I needed to get it out of my brain #its barely coherent in there so who knows #jrwi thoughts #jrwi analysis #chip jrwi #jrwi chip #jrwi riptide spoilers #riptide spoilers #jrwi #just roll with it #jrwi riptide #jrwi show #artandbrimstone rambles

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popcandyrainbow · 1 month ago

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A (not so) breif rant on Prince Somas skin tone

Im tired of seeing people in the comments of pinterest white nighting square enix and boot licking because theyre just grateful we got more seasons

They have actively chosen to white wash the main character of colour in kuroshitsuji for literally no good reason

dont believe that hes actually been made lighter?

have some hex codes

old seasons:

new seasons:

(i took these from the cheek of the above image to avoid shading, i used the top ones which i thought were actually the most generous)

i feel like were all smart enough to agree that those are not the same colour, and that while your skin can get lighter and darker from sun exposure or lack there of(aka being in the uk for a few years) the undertone of your skin cannot change that drastically (see the blue value in the hex codes, naturally, i am assuming Soma isnt using self tanner because that is ridiculous)

dont believe me that people are saying this?

lemme respond to them

Excuse me what does VA have to do with the fact that he’s objectively paler? yes the anime is brighter - that shouldnt change someones skin colour

isnt your “prob” because youre not impacted by racism bro. were complaining about something important bootlicker. im sorry that your favourite anime can be impacted by racism, welcome to the world sweet summer child.

This one is basically calling the old version of Soma racist? i can barely tell honestly. but it raises an interesting point. Soma is of a higher caste -

Obviously, he is a prince. Im not about to whitesplain the victorian contemporary Indian caste system to you- if youre reading this you have access to the internet do your own research and listen to Indian voices. but the implication of him being made too dark originally is an interesting point. im not sure i agree but its atleast not completely senseless

either way no one should straight up change a characters skin tone like that for no narritive or good reason idc.

and too these two

i took the liberty of checking O!ciels skin tones using hex:

skin (especially paler skin) reflects light, which is why i look super pale outside when i wear black in the bright sun versus when im in the stark light of my all white bathroom and i genuinely look a different race -im not denying skin tone can be flexible (see grid 2 of the hex image, hes in quite dark lighting)

but just look at how consistent it is

im sure you could find screen grabs that make o!ciel look red/green/not consistently white but across seasons he is consistently a pale little victorian boy

i didnt cherry pick these images either, i stole them of pinterest (i am not taking credit but im not giving it either for anonymity sake)

its not just lighting, its not just a new animation style, and the funny thing about micro aggressions is that they dont change if we dont address them and say its wrong.

crazy that i feel the need to cite why racism is bad but fuck it here we are go read a book:

Whitewashing Capitalism: Mainstream Economics’ Resounding Silence on Race and Racism. http://doi.org/10.1177/0486613419873229

Media and Public Culture: Media Whitewashing https://doi.org/10.11588/xarep.00000349

The uses of racism: whitewashing new Europeans in the UK https://doi.org/10.1080/01419870.2012.692802

(and theyre all free access, no excuses for racists)

i promise you it is this deep, and yes i refuse to spell check

i had more i wanted to share cause im aware im not the first to discuss this, but tumblr has a ten image limit so alas i might have to make another post

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #prince soma #soma asman kadar #soma #ciel phantomhive #o!ciel #race theory #whitewashing #can you tell i study anthropology #i promise you it is that deep #im actually going insane #because how is this just okay with so many people #some dodgey heads in the kuro fandom #kuro #long post

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restinslices · 1 year ago

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ALRIGHT ENOUGH SWEETNESS. LIN KUEI BOYS FIRST TIME FUCKING THEIR PARTNER 🎤 (please)

Omg y’all, my brain let me write again😃

I don’t feel like looking for gifs and my storage space is in hell so I ain’t got photos. Sorry twin

Bi-Han

I know I start his parts off with “the haters will tell you” a lot

IDC. Imma do it again

The haters will tell you he won't care and he'll do his own speed and yadyadya. No.

He's an asshole but be fr y'all

I'm gonna write this as you're both experienced but it's your first time together. If that's not what you meant then lmk but until then-

You're both experienced but he's still careful

He's the type to pick up speed fast but he's not immediately gonna be aggressive

You're experienced but not with each other so he's gonna actively try to be slower and softer

Very observant towards your needs and adapts quickly

I think he’s observant in general so I think he’d easily notice how you react to certain things

More of an action guy

What I mean is he won’t verbally say a lot. Like you know how some people will ask “does this feel good?”? (That looks ugly as fuck-) He won’t

He won’t because he’s paying attention to how you react and what gets the best reaction. He doesn’t need to say much

He’s not completely silent but I don’t think he says much in general, so the first time would especially be quiet because he’s focusing

Do I think he’s rough during sex? Yes. For the first time though? Probably not. He still feeling shit out

When it comes to making him feel good, he makes sure to let you know. He’d never be the type to lie about nutting. That’s just not him. He’s gonna make sure you do it right

Very handsy

He’s vocal when it comes to grunting and I think he’d go out of his way to make noise in your ear if it was something you enjoyed

Pays attention to both your needs

I could see him wanting to go a couple rounds before stopping

Leaves tons of marks as a reminder of what happened

Now that you’ve started now, don’t be surprised when he wants to do it consistently

Kuai Liang

Mostly pays attention to what you need

I think he’s way more verbal than Bi-Han so he’d actually verbally ask what feels good and what doesn’t

He goes slow

Lots of emphasis on foreplay and trying to set the mood

His lips are everywhere

Like legit, every part of you has felt his lips or tongue

I get it, you may think he’s very fast and intense because fire but no

Fire can also symbolize passion and Kuai Liang is a very passionate lover

Considering it’s the first time, there’s no need to rush

The type to always be pleasing you. Even if you’re talking or making small comments, his fingers are still gonna be working on you

When it comes to fucking he’s not doing it fast but how hard he’s going makes up for it

Will go faster if you ask

Is also leaving marks

Does frequent check ins to make sure everything is ok

He’s a big dude (in the sense he’s swole as fuck) so he’d probably prefer for you to be on top so he won’t crush you

If I said he pulls on hair will I be booed or cheered?

If you’re bald then ignore that

Offers to give head. Doesn’t matter if you’re laying down or sitting on his face. He’s leaving here with smth-

The ratio when it comes to orgasming is off as fuck because he’s the type to pull out and start eating you out

Extra points if it’s after you came

He’s pulling out all the stops. You’re not going anywhere after this

Doesn’t particularly care how many rounds you go for

Main focus is on how many times you cum. There’s some people that try to be sweet and “I didn’t cum but if you’re tired then-“ don’t piss him off

You’re either stopping because you’re tired or you’re shaking (or you wanting to stop but that’s not a saucy ending)

Tomas Vrbada

He’s always gonna be a sub to me, idc

He would try so hard to be big man on campus and all strong and shit, but bitch one good tug at the hair and he’s folding

Lets you take the reigns for the first time

Don’t think just because he likes being tossed around a lil, he ain’t gonna say how he feels. No

You can be submissive and still assertive. That’s Tomas

Similar to Kuai Liang in the sense that he is really focused on what you want and what feels good to you

Already moans a lot and loud as fuck but he’s especially loud once he’s finally inside you

He wants to go slow but life happens. The wind just kinda blows this way and next thing you know he’s fucking you like he’s saying goodbye. It’s the winds fault fr

Is also verbal with what he wants and wants you to be too

You’d think y’all have fucked several times with how comfortable he is when it comes to saying what he’s into. What do you mean “choke me”?

What do you mean you wanna fuck the cum outta someone or vice versa? Let’s take a breather, calm down, gather our thoughts-

Once he’s horny his brain shuts off and the whore comes out. You’d expect it’d be Bi-Han that would become this bold, but no. He’s bold all the time. Tomas gives mfs whiplash.

Like bro we were just eating dinner 20 minutes ago

Like I said, he’s really focused on what you want since it’s your first time. You gotta leave an impression

Is his brain cells shutting off? Yes. Will them bitches turn back on if he notices you don’t like something or you say something feels weird? Yes

He’s attentive

Probably came before you because he’s sensitive but he’s not the type to roll over and be like “welp, guess it’s a wrap”

He wants your brain to be as fuzzy as his and he’s determined to make that shit happen

Idk why I changed my profile to this Fear Street aesthetic when I never write for them but here we are. I wanted to change it and this is where I landed.

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han sub zero #bi han #bi han smut #subzero smut #bi han x reader #kuai liang scorpion #kuai liang #kuai liang mk1 #kuai liang smut #scorpion smut #tomas vrbada smut #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke smut #mk1 smut

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jinx-xxed · 11 months ago

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Sick Days

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Sick fics are my absolute fav thing ever!! Also idc if they didn’t have showers just let me live in this lie, maybe they’d figure it out with magic or smth idk

Summary; Ban takes care of his overworking, sick partner.

Content; Reader is sick, pretty domestic and fluffy, Ban is very sweet, Ban plays doctor basically

Wc; 1.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

It’s late morning when you trudge down the stairs in the Boar Hat tavern, one hand holding the railing to keep yourself balanced. The day outside is gloomy, the normally bright blue sky now covered by dark gray clouds threatening rain. It matches how you’re feeling perfectly.

You’d woken up feeling like shit and as much as you’d wanted to turn over, pull the blanket over your head and ignore the day, you couldn’t. You have a mission to do with the rest of the Sins and you aren’t able to just miss it, even though your head is pounding. Your whole body feels strangely cold despite the fact you’re both a fire wizard and incredibly resistant to frigid temperatures, and all of your senses feel muffled. To top it all off, your nose is stuffy.

You find your place at one of the tables within the main room of the tavern, groaning slightly at the way your body aches any time you move. You don’t know why you were feeling like this and it’s pissing you off. You have a mission to go on, damn it, you weren’t going to let some sudden illness make you stay behind.

You barely register when food is set in front of you but you were still able to mumble a ‘thank you’ to whoever had brought it. You pick at the food and take only one or two bites, the meal putting a little warmth back into your body.

Your name is suddenly shouted loud enough to pierce through the cotton in your brain.

Your head snaps up—making the pounding in your head worse for a brief second—as your captain exclaims your name. It seems you’d been so lost in your muddled mind that you didn’t comprehend him trying to get your attention by saying your name five times. “Yes?”

“Are you feeling alright?” Meliodas asks, concern creasing the features on his face.

“I’m fine.” You say simply. Before you can react, the blond is pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. He shakes his hand when he retracts it like he got burned, a wince on his face.

“Jeez, you’re burning up.” He puts his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Well, I’m taking you out of this mission then. You’ll need to stay here.”

You stand, holding back your groan at the way your head throbs and limbs ache. “What?! I’m fine, I can go on the mission. I can’t just- I can’t stay here doing nothing.” You insist.

He looks at you with a raised brow. “I’m not letting you go on a mission like this one when you’re obviously sick, that would just be irresponsible. It’s best that you stay in the tavern and rest, alright?”

Everyone currently in the Boar Hat knows that wouldn’t happen though. Even if you’re sick, you would continue to work on whatever you could. No matter how you felt, you’d keep working. You see illness as an obstacle that you simply had to walk around and ignore, despite how bad it may be. However, if you did keep working, you would only get sicker.

Meliodas was clearly a little conflicted. He wanted his teammate to rest but he wasn’t sure if anyone else could stay behind-

“I’ll stay with her.”

Ban comes to stand beside you, putting an arm around your waist to keep you stable because you’re swaying on your feet. You don’t hesitate to lean against him.

Meliodas begins to protest, “Ban we’ll need you on this mission-“

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine without me. Besides, you want them to get better don’t you?” Ban asks with a dumb smirk on his face, knowing he’s won when the captain narrows his eyes slightly.

Meliodas sighs. “Fine, you two stay here then. Everyone else, let’s get going, we don’t want to be late.”

King and Gowther follow Meliodas out where Diane is waiting. Elizabeth goes to follow as well but she briefly pauses before you and Ban. “Sir Ban, please make sure they get better! All the medical supplies are in the bathroom upstairs.” She tells him.

“I got it, princess, don’t worry.” Ban reassures her. She nods and hurries to catch up to the rest of the group.

He then looks to you who’s leaning heavily against him now, looking half asleep where you were standing. You jolt back to full consciousness when you hear the door shut behind Elizabeth. “Alright you, why don’t you go upstairs and take a hot shower? I’ll get some soup ready.” He tells you gently.

“Mmkay.” You mumble before slowly heading upstairs.

You did as he said and got into the shower, the water scalding hot. It feels nice against your freezing body, the steam rising in the room also helping to clear your stuffy nose. You stay in there for a long while.

» ☆ «

Ban understood the fact that you were probably taking a pretty long shower, as you usually would if you’re sick, but eventually it became so long that it was almost concerning. Surely the hot water would’ve run out by now?

The soup was done so he decided to go and investigate. He heads upstairs and doesn’t hear the shower running and upon further investigation, he finds the bathroom empty. He calls your name, voice echoing down the empty hallway. He doesn’t get any kind of response. Maybe you’d fallen asleep?

He goes to the ladder attached to the attic where your room is. The trapdoor leading into the attic is open so he peeks inside, looking for his sickly comrade. He finds you in the right corner of the room closest to the door where a desk is tucked against the wall. As he pulls himself up fully into the room, he sees the papers scattered on your desk that you were attempting to read over and work on.

“Seriously?” He demands, his annoyance evident in his tone.

You jump at his voice, looking over to him. “What? These papers have to get done-“

“For fuck’s sake, you’re sick.” He goes over and lifts you out of your chair by your underarms. You let out a sound of protest but don’t fight him as he sets you down on the floor. “The damn papers can get done when you’re better. The reason you’re probably sick in the first place is because you overwork yourself, you know.”

“I’m just doing my job.” You insist.

“Well, your job can be put on hold for a little while. Now go downstairs, there’s food waiting.” He orders. You sigh but listen to him, then descending the ladder. He follows shortly after and shuts the door behind him.

You sit at one of the tables and a bowl of the soup he’d made is put in front of you, steam rising from its surface. You take your first bite, the warmth spreading throughout your body. It’s delicious. It has plenty of ingredients that make the soup full of flavor but still make it perfectly nutritious for your sick self.

“Do you like it?” Ban asks as you begin eating more of the soup. He sits next to you at the table, also giving you a glass of water.

You nod, swallowing another bite before speaking. “Yes, it’s really good. As expected of something made by you.”

He smiles at the praise, resting his cheek on his hand. “I’m glad.”

You finish the bowl of soup relatively quickly and then get seconds before you’re satisfied. Now after taking a hot shower and having the warm soup in your stomach, you’re feeling incredibly tired. Ban can tell by the way your head dips a little. He stands with a small smile, “ready to go to bed?”

“Mhm.” You respond.

He lifts you off your seat with ease, holding you bridal style. You nuzzle into his chest, eyes closing as you’re carried upstairs. He brings you into his room; that way it’ll be easier to keep an eye on you and get to you if you need anything.

He lays you gently in his bed, pulling the sheets over you with an extra blanket added on. “Do you want the cold towel for your head?” He asks softly. You nod.

He quickly goes and gets the towel which was lightly dampened and then frozen. It’s folded so it can easily fit against your forehead. A small rumble escapes from your throat in thanks as the cooling sensation brings some relief to your headache.

He’d closed the curtains beforehand and turned off the light so it was a dark as possible in the room. He kisses your cheek and brushes hair off your forehead. “Sleep well.” He murmurs before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

You curl up under the covers, perfectly content in their comfort, and let sleep finally take over.

#I wanna be cared for like that fr #I love a malewife #7ds #7ds x reader #nanatsu no taizai #ban x reader #seven deadly sins x reader #seven deadly sins ban #seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai x reader #nanatsu no taizai ban x reader

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paracosmic-murdock · 4 months ago

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vigilante like me

chapter eight: we could be the way forward, and i know i'll pay for it

pairing: matt murdock x black widow!vigilante!reader

summary: nights and nights of playing the hero as if that could redeem you that easily ended up taking you to new york, where you accidentally met the man who would turn your world upside down. a vigilante like you.

warnings/tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, mentions of murder and themes explored in the past couple chapters, mentions of reader being able to wear matt's clothes but it's not specified whether they're too big/too small/fit perfectly/etc., phd in applied flirting and ma in yearning studies, some smut (minors dni), takes place sometime during the blip, when born again comes out we might find out if my decisions of who were gone were right, spoilers/references of stuff and themes from daredevil (2015); avengers: infinity war (2018); avengers: endgame (2019) black widow (2021); and hawkeye (2021), but y'all must've watched all of those already so idc, yelena belova and the themes and events from the black widow (2021) movie are very relevant in this plot, song: cowboy like me (taylor swift)

word count: 3.6K

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

“You alright?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“You're just acting weird,” you commented. “Are you sure you're alright?”

“I am, yes.”

“Okay,” You let it go, not quite convinced but also not wanting to keep him from leaving any longer. “So, you're going out now?”

“Uh, I guess.”

You pursed your lips. “Okay.”

“Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine.”

The two of you sat in silence, both clearly hiding something, neither daring to give anything away.

“You went out,” Matt noted.

Your heart jumped in its place, which made him frown. Were you that affected at the thought of him knowing what you were up to?

“How do you know that?” you asked him, almost knowing the answer already.

“I smell a different fabric softener,” he replied. “Mine doesn't have any smell, and yours is coconut. There's also gunpowder. Coffee, the good one. Those weren't here before I left.”

You nodded. “I needed my clothes. And to protect myself in case they come for me… you know I couldn't take a punch if my life depended on it.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Matt sat beside you. “I could've gone with you.”

“No,” You shook your head. “I don't want them going after you. I know they couldn't take you, but I'd rather not risk it.”

“Okay,” Matt replied. “Anything else you'd like to talk about?”

“Such as…?”

“Are you going out again?”

“I'm not,” you lied, and, for the first time, Matt heard your heart beat faster. “Are you?”

“Yes, like every night.”

You put your head on his shoulder. “What's wrong with you? You're acting weird.”

“I'm just worried about you.”

“That's not it,” You sighed. “Do you… regret what happened between us?”

He immediately turned to you. “Sweetheart, don't say that. Don't ever believe something like that, alright? I like you, and this between us, whatever this is is what I want. You're what I want.”

“Are you sure? Because-”

“I am sure,” he confirmed. “Now, why don't you go to sleep? I'll be back as soon as possible.”

“I will, yeah.”

Matt kissed your forehead and stood up, ready to get changed.

You watched him attentively. The way he hesitantly searched for his suit as if he didn't know where it was or how he stopped for less than a second to focus on you.

He eventually left his apartment, and once you thought he was far away enough, you searched for the voice messages Svetlana had sent you not too long ago.

“I found the address of the apartment they rented. They've been here for a few weeks now, so I guess they were carefully plotting how to get to you,” she began. “Let me know when you leave your place so we can meet somewhere and get there together. I'm not sure we'll find them just like that, but we'll start from there.” The first audio ended there, and you played the second right away. “Someone I know has access to security cameras all around Hell's Kitchen. I'm pretty sure he hacks them or something. I called him, and he said he'd look for them tomorrow morning so we can see if they left or what. You know he works with the Russians and they're close with the ones here, so I found one of them and mentioned I'm Fyodor's sister and to tell him I'm looking for him; gave him a burner cell number. I'll let you know what I find.”

Matt was listening to the entire conversation from the rooftop, and him suddenly going down the stairs made you flinch. “Shit, Matt! What the hell is wrong with you?! You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Are you going to kill Fyodor and Crosby?” he asked as soon as he reached the floor. Matt took off his helmet and left it on the coffee table in front of you.

You bit your lip, hesitant. “Matt…”

“I'm not gonna stop you, I just want to know.”

“What do you think I should do? Just let them beat me almost to death and get away with it?”

“I'm not saying anything, sweetheart,” He crouched in front of you. “Tell me what you and Svetlana are going to do to them.”

“We want to.”

He sighed. “You don't have to do it.”

“What do you think is gonna happen if I leave this to the justice system like you do?” you questioned. “I give them my ID and all that, they find out I'm not an official citizen yet, they send me back to Russia, and I get killed there. Then, they're taken into custody, they deport Fyodor and there he's not gonna face a single consequence because he has enough influence to be let out. And I don't know about Crosby, but I don't like the idea of him breathing.”

“I understand that,”

“Then what, Matt?” You just looked at him, and something in his eyes was just… different. “What will them in jail do for me and my peace? I need them to know they can't do whatever they want. What stops people like them from doing the crime is the punishment, Matt, and if they are immune to it, they will do whatever the fuck they want without a thought in the world.”

“Hey,” he called for your attention, and you just knew he was conflicted. His eyes on yours felt so heavy and afflicted, and you just wanted to know how to help him. “Tell Svetlana not to look for them.”

“Matt?” You cupped his face, trying to ease him. The idea seemed far too distant, but the look in his eyes, though blind, is one you know more than enough. It's like anguish in disguise pleading from behind the bars of one's pupils to be let out, figured out. Needing a peace you feel like you will never get back because you took something that wasn't yours to end with, and you must pay the price of that emptiness you left. “Did you do it?”

He pursed his lips and stayed silent.

His face spoke more than a billion words, and now you knew what was wrong.

“It's okay,” you mumbled, pressing your forehead against his. “It's alright, I'll tell Svetlana to stop looking for them.”

“Will you tell her I did it?”

You shook your head. “No, I'll make something up, okay? You're safe.”

“You can't take the blame for this.”

“Don't worry about a thing, Matt,” you assured him. “Tell me everything that happened and we'll figure it out. Just tell me everything.”

“I went to Fogwell's and Crosby was still in the alleyway where I left him,” Matt started. You took off his gloves and intertwined his fingers with yours. “I took him to an abandoned building near the dock and made him call Fyodor. When he arrived, I hit him and took him where I left Crosby. I asked them about what happened and I hit them because I had to. I knew I had to hit Crosby and make him regret assaulting you and trying to kill you, but the more he talked about everything, the madder I got. I couldn't stop, and I didn't until my hands hurt. By then, they weren't breathing anymore.”

“What did they say?”

He sighed. “That you had it coming. They insulted you and said they would do it again. Among other things.”

“Okay,” You left his couch and sat on the floor in front of him. “Where are the bodies? We gotta get rid of-”

“I threw them into the river.”

“I am sorry, Matt,” you said, feeling your heart break at the thought that he broke who he is because of you. “This was all my fault. I'm not even worth the bother.”

Matt shook his head. “Don't say that.”

“Matt?” You lifted his chin. “Stay with me tonight? Please?”

“I have to go.”

“I know that,” you murmured. “I know if you don't go out, people get hurt. I get it, but… I want you here.”

You had no idea how you could tell Matt how difficult it is going to be for him once he has to hit somebody else again.

“I can stay a little bit longer.”

“Okay,” You smiled lightly and kissed his lips. Matt smiled in the kiss and felt like everything will be fine someday. “Tell me something.”

Matt hummed, sitting beside you. “I wish I could see your face.”

“Wow, sir,” You smiled lightly. “You're not missing out on much. As for me, I wish I couldn't see your ugly face.”

“You're ruining my self-esteem.”

“Good,” You took his face in your hands and pulled him closer. “I really like you, Matt.”

“I really like you, too,” He smirked and drove his hands to your neck, stroking your skin softly until he kissed you. “Very much.”

Matt left not too long after that, not before promising he wouldn't eavesdrop anymore. So, you made the call.

“I thought you wouldn't call,” she said instead of greeting you.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was out and forgot my phone at home.”

“It's okay. Where are we meeting?”

“We're not. It's done.”

“What? Did you-”

“They knew I was at my place, so they followed me to the dock where I was supposed to meet with a guy I know who was gonna help me find them,” you began, walking around Matt's living room as you tried to relive the conversation with him. “Suddenly, they approached me, but I didn't waste a second. I shot them both. They're now at the bottom of the river.”

“Oh,” Svetlana mumbled. “How are you?”

“I'm fine, just… shaken and sick of this life. Of running and having to do shit like this despite having been out of the Red Room for so long.”

“I get that,” she replied. “I am sorry about all of this. About my brother.”

“This was for you, too, Sveta,” you mentioned. “I hope we can be at peace now.”

“I hope so, too,” You knew she smiled. “Don't be a stranger, okay?”

You chuckled lightly. “The same goes to you.”

She hung up the call and you gave yourself the luxury of sighing in relief.

You wouldn't even think about the moment somebody else comes for you again. You're not alone now, right? There's Matt, and now he is your biggest concern.

Killing someone is that one thing you can never come back from. You know that better than anybody; taking a life, whomever it belongs to, changes you completely. Matt needs you now that he crossed the line you know he swore never to.

Especially because Matt did that in your name.

Now, you were in his bed, taking in everything around you.

Silk bed sheets, the good ones. A neat pile of laundry, ready to be organized. His phone, there in the nightstand. A lamp, new. It wasn't there before. You turned it on; it was dark.

Your heart jumped in its place, and you wondered if that is what they say in the movies that teenagers feel when they fall for the first time… Is it that you are falling or have you already fallen? You don't know that anymore, and maybe will never know.

You stood up, approaching the pile of clothes. They were his work suits and each was already on the hanger, which was labeled in braille and had English on the opposite side. You checked if they were all correct and hung everything in the closet.

Walking around the room wasn't enough to ease you now. You thought, perhaps, that there were sections of the apartment you were left to explore. He made you breakfast and dinner, and you went out for lunch with Svetlana.

Outside, you saw the bag he had brought from work. Curiosity got the better of you, and you went to the dining table and opened it. Grey curtains he doesn't need for himself.

In the fridge, a six pack of Stella Artois beers, quite different from the cheap ones you always saw him drink at Josie's.

A new mug. Blue, shorter and wider than his white one, probably so he could tell the difference between that one and his.

Before you could keep looking around, you heard his steps coming down the stairs.

“You're early.” you noted.

He took off his helmet, revealing a new cut in his left cheekbone. “Yeah.”

“Is everything alright?” You walked to him.

Matt nodded, but you knew better than to believe him.

You helped him unzip his suit in complete silence.

“Are you?” you asked again, putting your hand on his chest.

He chuckled softly. “Don't worry about me, sweetheart.”

“It's too late for that,” you replied.

Matt sighed.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay, we won't,” you said. “We'll sleep now. Or maybe talk about something else.”

Matt gave you a short kiss. “I'd like to sleep now. Let me take my pillows and-”

“Take them, where?” you asked him as if you didn't know what he meant and weren't plotting a way to get him to share the bed.

“What? Do you want to sleep in my bed with me?” He smirked.

“I do,” you confessed. “And I also would like to wake up with you in it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure you want me, darling.”

“Sure I do.” you confirmed with a smile, one wide, at that.

“You're smiling,” he mentioned, mimicking your smile. “God, what a feeling.”

“What feeling?” You laughed.

“When you smile it just… it's a whole other thing,” he began. His hand went to cup your face, as if touching you enhanced that feeling he was talking about. “Your heart beats faster, but it's still calm, and your body temperature rises ever so slightly. It feels comforting when close to you, like when the sun leaks through the windows in the morning.”

“I didn't know you were such a charmer.” you joked.

“I'm sorry for hiding that from you.”

You shook your head and kissed him. “God, keep them coming.”

“You can't possibly understand how much I need you to get well so I can take you out to dinner,” Matt pecked your lips, leading the way to his bed like you wanted. “I hope you kiss on the first date.”

“It usually takes me at least five, but I think I can make an exception for you.”

Matt hummed. “By the way, how are you feeling?”

“Like I was stabbed multiple times, yeah,” you mumbled, soon cuddling in his bed. “And it hurts way more that this is something that was purposely done to me. That he knew I had to be unconscious because otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get to me like that, and that… a person I trusted did this to me, not to mention what I learned today that he did to his sister.”

“What did he do?”

“He and his father sold Svetlana to the Red Room,” you answered. “And that is shit, Matt, because… the Red Room was Hell on Earth. It was the kind of thing that makes you turn the TV off when you watch the news, it makes you want to throw up when you hear about it, or cry at the thought of your mother, sister or daughter ending up there. You grow pessimistic about humankind when finding out what the widows have done, and lose hope in this world completely when you realize what they did to us to make us do such things. They purposely gave their daughter and sister away when she was a little kid, and for what? Some pieces of paper with buildings on ‘em.”

You sighed.

“All the atrocities I've seen in this world could make you forget about the people fighting them everyday, or the people in the market selling you vegetables, or the owners of the coffee shop you pass by everyday. Or people like you,” you added. “Now that there's only half of us, you realize that there's more good people than bad people, and that it's not that simple. You know it because there's half as evil and twice as sorrow, and because you see how grief can change the path of any person for better or for worse.”

“But you're out.”

“Some days, it feels like I never left,” you confessed. “Some days, I wake up in such pain and so tired that I feel like this world isn't worth saving, that I've had enough. Those days, I decide for a little while that I won't fight anymore, but then… My neighbor's daughter is with him that weekend and she watches some Grimm Brothers cartoons about fairy tales that remind me of the messed up ones we used to watch there. I go out and step on branches, and it sounds like those bones I've broken… arms, legs, ribs, and necks alike. Fireworks sound like gunshots, history documentaries remind me that us widows took part in many of those. The ballet academy on my way to Fogwell's reminds me of those times we learned it and I was so afraid to mess up that I would have an anxiety no seven year-old should feel. The smell of hospitals reminds me of a wing in which they would take us to experiment on us sometimes, or when we got a hysterectomy done as some twisted initiation ritual. Blood, knives, guns, they go without saying. Little girls the age I was or other fellow widows were when we were taken. Screams. Darkness. Even words like target or just names, you know? In the Red Room, we were controlled by them to the degree that, to this day, we don't know which actions were ours and which, theirs. Some days, I just think that unawareness is bliss, and then… Then, I remember that a Widow is all I've ever been, and that I have no idea who I am outside a mission. I've never had a reason to question myself all that much, I just existed, worked, and tried to shut the voices in my head. Now, I feel like maybe there's hope for me. That I can live instead of survive.”

Matt kissed your forehead. “I admire you. I don't think many people who went through what you did could have the courage to be good after everything, but you do. Maybe you do fight, and it's not ideal for you, but you care. If you didn't, you wouldn't go out to help and take care of this city, you would pick fights and do bad things. As you said, good and bad… narrowing everything down to it is not simple at all. I met someone years ago, and, at the beginning, I thought he was some lunatic that mixed an intention with the worst way of execution. I thought he was insane because he killed so many people in cold blood; people who were bad, but I've always thought that justice is real. I know that punishment and deciding who lives and who doesn't isn't up to us. I think that most times, but when you are surrounded by so much depravity and evil, you question everything. He, uh- he did all of that because of his family. We know that killing the people responsible won't bring them back, but, deep down, you just know that it will bring you some comfort at least, however short it might be. He did all of that out of love and grief, and while I would never do anything like that and I would never justify his actions, I understand where he came from. Our intentions can be good or bad, but what really defines us is what we do with them… And it depends on the way you see stuff: you feel that you must fight, and you do it by saving others. Or, maybe, he saved others from the damage those people did and would keep doing, but he did it by committing mass murder. Some will condemn us or justify us, but the truth is that… it's not that simple, is it?”

“And it never will be,” you agreed. “You think you wanted me safe and that they deserved punishment for what they did, but you killed them. I think that, yes, you killed them, but I know I'm safe and so is Svetlana. You might see yourself as a murderer, Matt, but from the point of view of someone that was a victim of so much, I see you as a hero. There is so much goodness in you, and you can't let this take that from you. No matter what… you are not what you did last night, you are what you've done all these years for this city and its people.”

“I came back because, for a moment, I was there again, the moment their hearts stopped beating. First, I couldn't stop, and I couldn't keep going as soon as I came back to reality,” Matt said, finally letting out the reason that brought him back earlier than usual. “And I'm afraid I crossed a line, and that it will haunt me forever.”

“It'll pass,” You kissed his forehead. “One morning, every trace of this will be gone for good. For both you and me, and if you let me, I'd like to be there that day.”

Matt turned to you and took your hand, placing it where his heart is. “I'd love to be there with you, too. However long it takes, sweetheart, and I am serious.”

His heartbeat was steady and his eyes so telling that you wouldn't think he can't see you at plain sight. “I can tell that.”

He kissed your lips once more before holding you even closer and closing his eyes, ready to sleep. “The only heartbeat I care about now is yours.”

Wow.

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