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manuscrypts · 3 months

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝒟𝐼𝒮𝒯𝑅𝒜𝒞𝒯𝐼𝒪𝒩 — a.wesker

warnings + tags — MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DNI, female reader, tentacle / monster fucking, dub-con, swearing, slapping (face and ass), double penetration, forced oral (you’re choking on a tentacle), creampie, p in v sex, nipple play, biting, marking, 2.8K words

authors notes — so this is a short rewrite / repost of an oldish fic, but I just love dbd, wesker, and tentacles, so what better to rewrite than that? it’s a lot shorter than the last version though, we got straight to the fucking.

the shockwave boomed through the air as yet another friend was sacrificed to the entity. that made two of them already gone, leaving just you and dwight to do the remaining three generators that were left.

the terror radius pounded in your ears from all sides making it nearly impossible to tell where he was, and there was no sign of dwight, no sign of him being in chase or doing a generator. you crouched down behind the sofa as the killer dashed through the building, checking on the objective closest by.

“shit, that was close…” you let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“hey,” dwight whispered from the open door at the back, “you okay?”

“yeah, I’m good, are you?”

he nodded in reply, biting his nails as he looked around nervously. he was terrified and it wasn’t hard to see that, he always was, no matter how many times he was in a trial. you sighed to yourself knowing that nothing would get done if your teammate was too scared to do anything for the remainder of the trial.

“dwight?” you shuffled quietly toward him, “go do the generator down the end of the street, and I’ll go distract wesker, okay?”

the hesitation of your friend was obvious, the way he slowly opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again, he gave you a sad nod and started carefully sneaking towards where you told him to go. you took a deep breath and shook your head, wondering how you always get yourself into these stupid situations for the sake of other people.

you quickly vaulted the side of the house window to make as much noise as possible, running in a straight line to the other side of the street and as far away from dwight as possible. it didn’t take long for you to hear your heartbeat getting louder and louder in your ears, so much so that you could barely hear anything else.

“there you are,” the familiar snarky voice spoke from the other side of the car from where you were standing.

you gulped at the sight of him, your legs going weak at the knees but you knew you had to distract for as long as you possibly could, no matter what. you knew deep down you had no chance of keeping him in chase for three whole generators, especially because you knew dwight would hide the second wesker and yourself got a little too close for his liking.

without a second more hesitation, you turned and took of into the house at a full sprint, running through the living room and vaulting out the kitchen window to the side — it didn’t give you much distance considering wesker’s dash meant he caught up to you almost instantly. you ran the same loop as much as you could, vaulting the window and going back through the door, and he followed just the same.

the entity finally blocked off the windows to you, and you didn’t notice until you were being slammed up against the wall next to it. you let out a gasp and cough, and stumbled through the living room, completely winded from the hit — you swore he managed to crack a few ribs from the way you were slammed against the cabinets. there weren’t any pallets left on your side of the map, most of them used from your now dead teammates, so instead you chose to run upstairs even though you knew that was probably the worst idea you could make — you’d stand a better chance running around the cars outside.

wesker gained on you instantly, dashing past you in the bedroom and stopping just shy of the window, blocking your escape route. he gave you a devilish grin, his eyes glowing menacingly behind his sunglasses — it was over, one generator hadn’t even popped and he’d already caught you, sure you could run back down the stairs but what was the point?

“doesn’t seem like your friend is doing much, does it?” the killer spoke, taking a step closer to you and making you take one back in response until your back was flat against the wall, “I know you were just running from me as a distraction. had you made a deal with him, hm?”

there wasn’t much you could do, he was stood toe to toe with you, staring down into your eyes with a finger hooked under your chin to force you to look up at him. he was right on the money though, that so called deal you made with dwight that didn’t exactly seem to be working out in your favour. it was obvious he’d been hiding, you know you’d been running long enough for at least one generator to be completed, and it didn’t seem like he’d been messing up and blowing it up at all.

“so why did you bother chasing me if you knew I was just trying to keep your attention?” you questioned, venom laced words because you didn’t have enough courage to spit at him.

“you’re telling me you’ve not noticed? I thought you were smarter than that, dear…” he trailed off as his finger ran down the middle of your neck and halted part way down your chest, a quiet chuckle escaping his throat.

“notice what?” your voice was barely noticeable, too embarrassed to speak as his other hand rested beside your head, caging you into the room, obviously in response to him noticing you oggling the doorway and stairs.

“never you mind.”

wesker leaned in closer to you, his lips ghosting yours for only a second before he leaned down to your ear, “why is your heart beating so fast, are you that scared of me?”

you held your breath and squeezed your eyes closed, you couldn’t even reply, it was like your throat had closed up — even if it hadn’t, you still wouldn’t be able to speak, there was nothing you could say in response. every nerve in your body was on fire, your stomach began doing flips, and you couldn’t help but get that warm sensation between your thighs that made you have to squeeze them together. you gulped and shook your head to yourself, you couldn’t get turned on, or even think about anything like that. he’s a killer, an evil man who takes pleasure in hunting you and your friends down and sacrificing you to some spider-legged being.

“I don’t take kindly to being ignored.”

his words pulled you from your thoughts, making you gasp for the air that you’d been depriving yourself of, “yes, I’m scared of you.”

he smiled, “good.”

his breath was hot against your neck, and it made the hairs on your skin stand on end. his hand moved down from your chest and brushed against your hip, just at the gap where your shirt rode up a little bit and exposed your skin. his leather covered hand pushed under your top, slowly working its way around until he had a firm grasp on your waist.

“wait, what’re you—“ you began to speak out against his actions but were sharply cut off by his lips meeting yours.

it was surprisingly more gentle than you’d expect from someone like him, yet there was still force behind it, a hunger that he needed satiating in that exact moment. his hand tightened against your side while his other hand interwinded in your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss you easier. you couldn’t pull away from him seeming how pinned you were against the wall, you pushed your hands against his chest in an attempt to protest but it didn’t make a difference — he was infinitely stronger than you, and you knew that he’d get what he wanted one way or another, whether he take it from you or you submit to him.

“were you not being a distraction for your good friend to complete the objective?” he barely pulled away as he spoke, his tongue trailing along your bottom lip, ready to plunge itself into your mouth the second your lips parted.

you wouldn’t kiss him back, and you surely wouldn’t let him stick him tongue in your mouth, but he had his ways. one harsh bite of your bottom lip forced you to gasp and part your lips for just an instant, giving him the perfect opportunity to move in. he let out a satisfied hum as his hand moved further up your side, his other hand joining to help push your shirt further up your body until your chest was exposed to his touch.

“wesker, we can’t—“ you managed to stutter out between his incessant kisses, his hands wandering and groping at your chest continuously, pulling and twisting at your hard nipples.

“yes we can.”

finally the echo of a generator being completed in the distance sounded, and your heart skipped a beat, a little smile creeping across your face. you were surprised dwight had managed to pluck up enough courage to even complete one generator, but it meant there was a chance you could both escape…you just had to keep wesker distracted long enough.

wesker grabbed a hold of the back of your neck and threw you to the bed that was beside the window, you yelped at the impact and it wasn’t even a second before he grabbed your ankles and flipped you onto your back, dragging you down the bed towards him all in one fluid motion. his hands worked quickly at stripping you from your clothes, not giving you much chance for protest. before you could move your hands to cover yourself up, he was already on top of you, kissing up and down your neck while he slotted himself between your open legs.

“don’t fight me, you know you won’t win…” he whispered in your ear with a mocking tone which made your stomach twist around itself.

the familiar squelching sound of his tentacles sliding out from the sleeve of his coat filled the otherwise silent room, and he responded with a chuckle when your eyes widened at the realisation of what he was about to do.

you shook your head and made an attempt to close your thighs, but his body made it impossible to even try. the tendrils slithered up your thigh, leaving a cool, wet trail behind them — you whimpered quietly to yourself as you felt the tip of one of them rubbing up and down your cunt, and you couldn’t help but shudder. you didn’t want to feel good, you didn’t want him to do this but the feeling of them touching you in a way you’ve longed to be touched was too much almost immediately.

“w-wesker,” a quiet moan, “please don’t.”

your begs fell upon deaf ears, after all he could tell by the way your legs quivered at his touch that you wanted this just as much as he did, maybe even more than he. the tentacle rubbed up against your throbbing clit, moving round in circles as much as it could to stimulate you while another prodded up against your hole. you winced at the feeling of it slithering its slimy way into you, stretching you out just a little too much for it to feel good straight away — but the feeling of pain quickly subsided as it began pumping in and out of you at a calm pace, pushing itself as deeply into you as it possibly could, the other tentacle still rubbing at your clit to distract you.

“fuck—“ your back arched from the bed and your hands found their way to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his leather coat.

wesker leaned down and kissed at your neck, biting and sucking to leave his mark while his uroborus fucked into you, gradually speeding up the more your cunt tightened around it. the knot in the pit of your stomach was building up too quickly, but he wasn’t done with you, as his lips met yours, another tentacle slipped into you; this time it was in your ass. as you gasped his tongue pushed its way into your mouth, moving and exploring just as his tendrils did to your holes.

the sounds of moaning and your wet cunt being fucked started to fill the room, as much as you hated yourself for giving in and letting yourself be used like this, it felt too good to care. his tentacles all moved quicker at a different pace to one another, burying themselves so deep into you, you didn’t even know it were possible.

“that’s it, submit to me.” he leaned back and kissed down till his mouth latched around your nipple, his free hand tugging and pulling on the other.

“wesker—“ your back arched and your pussy clenched around the tentacles, his name continuously falling from your mouth as you finally came, hard.

before you could even register your orgasm, the tentacles retreated back and wesker slotted himself between your thighs more snuggly. he teased his cock up and down your wet slit before pushing straight into you, not giving you a second to adjust to the girth difference before he was pounding into you. he fucked you with an ungodly speed, another proof that he wasn’t a human, he was something a lot more than that.

“fuck…” his voice was nearly inaudible, but still you managed to hear him say something you didn’t think he’d ever say.

he pushed your legs up to your chest and held his hands against the back of your knees, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you. every thrust had the tip of his cock kissing your cervix but it didn’t hurt, because every single thrust had him hitting that gummy spot inside of you that had a moan being forced from you against your will. it didn’t take much longer for his tentacles to reappear, multiple of them wrapping themselves around your legs and arms — two pushing themselves into your ass while two teased your tits. as you opened your mouth to beg wesker to slow down, a tendril forced its way into your mouth, pushing its way deep down your throat and making you gag with each violating thrust.

your eyes watered, you were overwhelmed and overstimulated but wesker and his power showed no signs of stopping. he was going to break you, mind and body, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

the sound of another generator popped in the near distance and you couldn’t help but whimper, there was still a chance. your eyes were looking out the window toward the sounds as you felt a stinging pain across your face.

“do not take your attention from me, from this.” he pounded into you with almost brutal force with each word he spoke.

tears began rolling down your cheeks as you came again, you could barely breathe, barely see, barely even stay awake. your entire body ached with every hole being abused so brutally, so amazingly. you looked up at wesker the best you could but you couldn’t keep your eyes open. you could hear him laugh at you and say something, but you’re not sure what he said, you couldn’t concentrate enough. he used that moment to flip you onto your knees, his hands gripping tightly at your hips while he pumped into you, his tendrils still not moving from what they’d been doing all along.

your upper body collapsed against the mattress, only your hips being help up by weskers grip on you. the sounds of your muffled moans, weskers panting, and the slick sound of tentacles abusing you was definitely loud enough for dwight to hear if he came anywhere near the house, but in that very moment you couldn’t care less. wesker slapped your ass with every few thrusts, his leather gloved hand making it sting just that bit more, but he intended for his hand print to be left behind long after he had his way with you.

you couldn’t tell how much longer he was fucking you for, how many times you came and had your juices running down the inside of your thighs and onto the mattress below, how many tears you shed into the pillow your face was buried into but finally the final generator popped. it didn’t take wesker much longer to coat your womb with his cum when he heard that familiar sound — he wasn’t happy.

his tentacles slowly removed themselves from your stretched and abused holes as he stepped away from you. you instantly crumpled into the bed and coughed, catching the breath you hadn’t been able to get for as long as his tentacle was shoved down your throat.

“you stay here, I have someone else to deal with,” he stood and sorted his clothes out before brushing his hair back out of his face, “then I’ll be back to finish what I started here.”

#ꕤ 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 ⌨️#albert wesker x reader #dead by daylight #resident evil #dbd x reader #dbd albert wesker #resident evil x reader #albert wesker x female reader #tentacle fucking #monster fucking

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kisses4hannii · 10 months

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Dates with Skz 🤍

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Yet another brain dump late at night when I’m struggling to sleep, I hope you enjoy this one lovely’s 🩷

This is not proofread!!

Minors, ageless/blank blogs dni, you will be blocked !

Stray kids x reader (no gender specified)

Read warnings: non :)

Chan:

Chan would definitely take you on a day trip, whether it be to the lake, the mall, or to a museum I think he could turn anything into a date. He’d be so happy to even be able to spend a whole day with you, he’d want to make it memorable. He’d buy you things he caught you looking at just a while longer than others at certain stores. He would walk a little behind you so that he can take so many photos of you that he could look back in whenever he’s sad :( he would take you to a simple cute restaurant he found for lunch before continuing the day. The date would probably end sitting in a park watching the sunset.. well, you would be watching the sunset, he’s to busy looking at you <3

Minho:

He would take you out for breakfast. He probably found a cute little cafe that instantly made him think of you. When he found himself with a day off, he was up early and out the door to wake you up. Once you were awake and aware you were thrilled to be able to spend the morning with Lino :) he would definitely sit across the table from you and hold your hand the entire time, even when your little breakfast pastries arrived he wouldn’t let go. The entire time he would be so nervous you wouldn’t like his new find, but he was pleasantly surprised when you asked to go back soon when you left. You would spend the rest of the day at your place wrapped up in a blanket on the couch sleeping watching whatever movies that sounded interesting.

Changbin :

Drive in movie. I love the entire idea of Binnie taking you to a drive in movie. It would be at night of course, per his request to add onto the romantic factor. Would insist that you move to the backseat to cuddle, practically begging you to cuddle him, how silly of him to think you’d ever miss a chance to wrap around his body. You had no idea what the movie was even about, to busy staring at Binnie with the most lovesick smile and 😭 he would get so shy when he turned to look at you only to find you already looking at him. Yk the shy smile he does and how he hides his face, that’s what he did 😭 he would giggle and ask what you were doing and awkwardly try to find something else to look at, hoping that you couldn’t hear his heart beating out his chest. You’d respond with a giggle and a soft kiss to his cheek as you curled into his side.

Hyunjin:

He would take you on a walk, probably to a park or to the river. He’s been an busy lately, you’d guys spend the time catching up with one another while stopping every now and then. He’s another one that wouldn’t let go of your hand, he’d hold it the entire time, thinking you’d disappear if he let you go for even a second. He doesn’t think that dates have to be this fancy occasion or a dinner. He was just happy to spend some much needed time with you. He would definitely pack you guys some lunch and have a small picnic in a comfortable silence. Afterwards he would lay his head in your lap and you’d unknowingly start to thread your fingers through his hair looking down at him. After a few minutes you lean down and kiss his forehead, it was so soft he barely felt it, but you knew he did when a smile took over his cheeks.

Han:

You’d both suggest to stay in and do something. You guys would definitely pull all your blankets and pillows to the living room and make a fort to watch movies in. You would be in the kitchen making snacks for your laptop movie night while Han would situating everything on the inside making sure it would be as comfortable as possible for the both of you. There would definitely be enough room for you both to lay down side by side, but he insisted to lay on top of you. Once you set everything up and got yourself situated Han would be sitting at the entrance of the fort sitting on his knees and looking at you expectantly waiting to join you. You gave him a thumbs up and he dove right in. Settling in between your legs with his head on your chest and a blanket to cover the both of you, he reached over and pressed play on whatever movie you picked out. Needless to say, you both fell asleep during the first movie. :)

Felix:

Felix would take you to a museum, watching your face light up at all the art, and sculptures brought him joy. Also one to keep his step behind you to take way to many photos of you, but what can I say.. he takes loads of selfies so you didn’t even notice. You’d be the one to take his hand and lead him from place to place, pointing out all the differences and details of everything while he just smiled and listened. He would buy you lunch and whatever gift you wanted from the gift shop by the entrance of the museum. Take you to a photo booth afterwards so you both had some pictures to take home with you. His favorite part though, was probably when you got home, you guys both did your nighttime routine and tangled up in bed together. Only to repeat it the next day but at an aquarium.

Seungmin:

He would probably be another one who’d want to stay in so you suggested baking! He agreed and you both searched the internet for the hardest recipe you could find, both of you up for a challenge. One you found the perfect one you got started. The confidence you had at the beginning quickly dried out as the instructions got longer and more complicated. Both of you confused tried your best to figure it out. One of you poured way to much salt into the mixture without noticing. When you finished and tasted it both of your faces scrunched up in disgust at how salty it was, wondering how on earth you could’ve messed it up so badly. Playfully accusing each other of misreading instructions, you gave up and just bought cookies from the closest corner store.

Jeongin:

He loves to feed the ducks with you. It’s such s thing that happens so often. You feel so old whenever you do it. You’d watch him put on his shoes and grab the leftover bread from the kitchen and you IMMEDIATELY knew what was happening. Practically running to get your own shoes on and join him before he got to far from the house. It would be an unspoken date with how often it happened it was simply something that you both did weekly and didn’t enjoy without the other person, trust me he didn’t find it as fun without you he went one time. He would simply just watch you crouching at the edge of the river throwing small pieces of bread to the ducks with a smile on his face. Yk the closed eye smile he has, that one 👆 he would also sneak a few photos and make one of them his Lock Screen, holding hands and making jokes with you on the walk back home.

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Once again hopefully you enjoyed if you made it this far, any feedback would be much appreciated ! Stay lovely 🤗

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agirlwithbigdreamsforher · 2 months

Note

Had an idea for a image for the nanny where Andy gets sick with a fever and becomes a big baby 🥺❤️✨

I'm so sorry it took so long to answer this. I saw the annon and tried to write it but I had so much work to do. And then when I finally had the time I was blocked and had no idea what to write! But I finally have it, I hope you like it. Trust me I did my best!

THE NANNY: ONE SHOT

BABY ANDY

Pairing: Andy Barber x Annie Johnson (OFC)

Summary: After Lily got sick, Jake followed and of course it was only a matter of time the head of the family was sick too.

Warnings: None, I think.

A/N: English is not my first language and I was tired when I wrote this, so I’m sorry for any mistake this may have. Enjoy!

Word count: 1612

Disclaimer: I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, used, translated nor reposted anywhere else but here on this blog. Do not steal what you didn’t work for. Minors and ageless blank blogs don’t interact with me or my works. Reblogs and likes are always welcome. Thank you for reading this work of fiction.

GIF'S NOT MINE, you can find the credits underneath it. If you are wondering why the gif is a bear, it's cuz Andy is one hehehehe.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

After Lily got better, Jake got a cold. Contrary to her sister, Jake didn’t have a fever, but he had a stuffy nose and his eyes were watery. The little boy had to stay home a couple of days to rest, but after that he went back to school brand as new. Annie knew it was the weather, it was the beginning of December after all, the wind was colder and of course it carried diseases.

Everything was fine for a couple of days until Andy woke up one morning with a sore throat. He didn’t think too much of it and he didn’t mention anything to Annie. He had his usual morning routine, drank his coffee and went to work. But as hours passed he felt more and more sick. His head was pounding, he began to cough and he had a runny nose.

“Mr. Barber?” Meghan, his assistant, knocked softly at the door as she opened it, she had been calling him for a while without getting a response from him. She found Andy drifting off in the middle of the day. “Andy.”

“What?” He lifted his head and Meghan saw his eyes and nose were red and his lips were completely dry.

“My god, go home.”

“I’m fined.” He sorted the files he had on the desk.

“No, you’re not. If Lynn sees you she will send you home. You know how she is when someone is sick.”

“I’m not sick!”

“Really? Then what are those?” Meghan saw the many tissues he had on the desk. “Go home, or I’ll call your wife.”

Andy stared at her not really believing she will do such thing, but Meghan was not joking, and when she saw Andy didn’t move, she went to grab the office phone.

“Fined! I’ll go! But I’m not sick!”

“This is the second time you said “fined” with a very mark D at the end.”

“I don’t like you right now.” Andy said as he stood up and grabbed his things.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll tell Lynn you went home.”

“Danks,” he said, noticing the way he pronounced the word. “Fuck!”

Andy was always very careful so he barely got sick, in fact he hated when he got sick. Andy came back home, his headache was worse than when he left the office and he felt extremely hot.

“Honeyd… this is fucking ridiculous. Babe!” His head and the back of one of his eyes pounded when he screamed his wife’s name.

“Andy?” Annie came out of the kitchen carrying a laundry basket, “My god, you look awful!”

“I love you too.” He said as he walked to the couch and let himself fall on to it.

“What happened?” Annie left the basket on the coffee table.

“Meghan send me home cuz apparently I’m sick.”

“Well you look like crap and your cheeks are flushed, so yeah you must be sick. Let me…” Annie put her hand on her forehead, “You are burning. Go to bed. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“I’m fined!” He rolled his eyes, “Fucking cold…”

“Go to bed and don’t get near Lily!”

“What? That’s abuse!” Annie looked at him with a severe stare and Andy only nodded and went to their room.

By the time Annie walked into the room, Andy was already under the covers and she could only see his hair. She put the glass of water, pills and syrup on the bed side table.

“Andy?” His eyes were closed, “Andy, baby. I need you to sit down so you can take the medicine.”

Andy groaned and sat down, “Ow,ow,ow,ow!”

“What is it?”

“It hurts when I moved.”

“Where?”

“Just…” Andy pointed to his nose and forehead, “all over.”

“Does it hurt here?” Annie put her finger in the small part between his nose and his eye and put pressure.

“OW!!!! Stop that!”

“Don’t be a baby, a barely touch you!”

“Don’t yell! Ow! Fuck.”

“Alright, take these two.” Annie handed him two pills and the glass of water. She saw how Andy chugged them, “And now open wide.”

“For what?”

“The syrup.”

“Na-ah.”

“Open.”

“I don’t want to.” He covered himself with the comforter and whined just like Jake did when he was about to throw a tantrum,

“If you don’t open your mouth I will get a funnel from the kitchen and I’ll stick it in your mouth.” Andy kicked his legs and Annie waited until he finally opened his mouth, she stuck the spoon in his mouth.

“That’s gross.” Andy gagged, “that’s… oh god!”

Andy jumped out of the bed and ran to the bathroom; he kneel in front of the toilet and threw up.

“Are you serious?” Annie said not believing this grown ass man threw up because of a cough syrup. She kneeled next to Andy and rubbed his back. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Shut up.” He spit onto the toilet. “I hate those things.” He gagged again when he tasted the flavor on his tongue.

“You’ll have to take the pills again.” Annie said in a soft tone and Andy nodded, “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Once in the bed, Andy took another two pills and Annie helped him to arrange the pillows so he could be almost sited on the bed so he could breathe better. Annie kissed his temple when she heard Lily on the monitor.

“Try to rest. I’ll be back later.” But Andy grabbed her wrist.

“Where you going?”

“Lily is waking up, and I need to finish some things before I leave to pick up Jake.”

“What?”

“No, you can’t leave. You can’t leave me alone.”

“Why?”

“What if I die?”

“hehehe I don’t think you’re gonna die.”

“I feel like I’m dying.”

“Andy it’s just a common cold.” She kissed his temple again, “I’ll be in the room next door. If you need anything, just scream.”

“My head hurts when I yell.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Annie went to the bathroom to wash her hands before going to Lily’s room who was now fully awake kicking her chubby legs in the air.

“Hello, princess.” She said as she lifted Lily up, “Guess what?” She kissed her chubby cheek, “Your daddy is sick. So we must be quiet so he can slee…”

Her monologue was interrupted by the sound of some sort of bell.

“What the hell?” Annie said and turned to see Lily, “Sorry.” The sound filled her ears again, it came from their bedroom. She walked there holding Lily and saw Andy under the covers, with his arm lifted holding his phone.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Andy uncovered his head and looked at his wife.

“It worked.” He sniffed, “I need you.”

“How does your phone make that sound?”

“It’s an app.”

“You should be sleeping, not searching for app of bells.”

“Pleeeeease.”

“No.”

Andy moved her phone and the bell began to sound again this time louder and Lily did not like the sound at all. Her face scrunched and a loud scream came out of her mouth.

“Nice job, Andy.” Annie began to bounce Lily, “Shhhh, let’s get out of here.” She took Lily to her nursery until she calm down, put the pacifier on her mouth and left her alone to come back to Andy.

“She is calm now.” Annie said as she walked into the room, “I can’t believe you search for an app with a bell sound, I am not your maid! I have things to do and you are acting like a fucking child!”

When she turned she was met with Andy’s watery eyes, who sniff before tears ran down his cheeks, “Oh god! Andy I’m sorry.” She climbed on her side of the bed. Andy was fully crying, “Don’t cry.”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yes,” He sniffed once more, “you do.” He cleaned his nose with the back of his hand, “I’m dying and you don’t care.”

“Oh my god.” Annie rolled her eyes, “I don’t hate you, and you’re not dying. You need to sleep. I’m sure that you’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.”

“If I sleep you’re gonna leave.”

“uh, yes cuz’ a have things to do.”

“See!”

“Ok, alright.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, I’ll text Sophie, “She took her phone, “and ask her to pick up Jake, she’s picking up Louis anyway.” Andy saw how she send the text and smiled to her. “Happy?”

“I want cuddles.”

“Of course you do.” Annie hugged him and began to hum a tune. “Close your eyes, and try to rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.” She kissed him on the cheek and soon after Andy’s eyes finally shut down.

7 p.m. Annie was in the kitchen cutting potatoes for the dinner.

“You promised you be there when I woke up.” Andy said making Annie turned.

“I told you I had things to do.” She smiled when she saw Andy looked a bit better than earlier. “How is my big baby?”

“I need more cuddles.”

“You think you can wait till after dinner?” Andy nodded with a big, tired smile on his face, “Cool! I’m making you a special noodle soup.” Andy smiled lovingly to her. “On the meantime,” Annie went to the fridge, “Here is some string cheese and a juice, go watch TV.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Ok, then. Can I get those back?”

“No, they’re mine!”

“Dinner will be ready soon.” She smiled and saw Andy walked to the living room, “And don’t get near the kids!” A small groaned was all she heard before Andy disappeared in the hallway.

#andy barber fanfic #andy barber #annie johnson #andy x annie #andy x reader #andy barber x reader #the nanny fic #jacob barber #andy barber fanfiction #the nanny au #lily barber

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manonamora-if · 6 months

Text

Weekly check in. Some little stuff, some bigger stuff.

Current word count: 23.323 (Ch.5), >8k (Ch.6)

And we're finally back on track with Harcourt, babyyyy. After a month of eh from both me (with the editing) and MelS (writing the next chapter), we both managed to break through our respective blocks.

As of a few days ago, I sent back the edited Chapter 5 to MelS, so he could answer my comments and check the changes. I finally got to read the missing bits (and they are creepy and yucky)... Can't wait to code all of that when it is ready. We definitely need another round of MelS editing the text and me checking it, before I can add that to the file.

Until I get the file back, I'll focus on other projects.

Like...

Yerup... I ended up finishing it. A little binksi with more vibes than story. Click if you dare :P

Making a binksi (or a bitsy/bipsi) had been something on my bucket list for a while now (almost a year actually), and I finally got to make one for realsies!

Honestly, the hardest part in all of this... was making the tiles/sprites in 8x8 pixels ;-; Anyway, the code is freely available on itch and my GitHub.

Fixed some accessibility issues yesterday:

textbox not getting in focus properly

links/buttons not changing state when in focus but not hovered

added image descriptions to pictures in French/English

Also added the logos of Twine and SugarCube when the game loads. Those are clickable too.

I have worked a tad more on the UI/missing elements. But not as much as I should have.

Next week, the final update should be out.

This is what I'll be fixing this month. Officially reopened the code files, stared at it, and cried. It's so bad. It's such a mess...

Not looking forward to it, but it needs fixing! (I've asked the Forum for help too in the commands...)

ALSO, I've decided there will be a hyperlink version of this game. Instead of the commands, click on words. It will be in the same file, and you get to choose at the start.

I’ve finished reviewing the EctoComp entries (except the Spanish-only ones because I suck at Spanish...) and have started reviewing the Bare-Bones Jam entry. An updated version of the reviews have been queues on the IFDB and @manonamora-if-reviews. I will probably go back to the IFComp entries after that (probably after the voting deadline... I've done 40 already...).

-_-

I've made a completely new intro post with all of the place I'm at (if you'd rather not be on Tumblr). It was a long time coming, and now I have clear channels of where I'm posting about stuff. Just need to be consistent...

I've also started migrating old dev logs and posts to my blog, especially the longer ones where I have a lot to say. Since the search function and archive on Tumblr is eh, I get to keep the important ones (not all of them are) in a more organised place. They are still on Tumblr, btw. It's not gone, just copied. It's been nice to revisit old dev logs, and see how far I've come (it's been a long way). It's pretty humbling (especially the typos, omg... I fixed so many of those).

-_-

The IFComp and EctoComp, are always looking for players/voters. If you want to play a few short-ish games, take advantage of that! There is only a few days left for the IFComp and a few weeks for the EctoComp.

The @seedcomp-if is always looking for inspiration (text, images, code, etc…) in this current first round. If you have half-baked ideas or anything, really, come submit something!

Over @neointeractives, ShuffleComp! is looking for playlists and participats :)

-_-

And that's it I think...

#dev log #progress #update #ttateh #lpm #tos #trnt

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andypantsx3 · 7 months

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Hi Andie!

I've been on tumblr for a while now (though still a newbie compared to others) and I think you're the most logical, unyielding creator who isn't afraid to speak your mind and be yourself.

In this month alone, 3 of my favourite creators have talked about the discourse on their blogs (hate from other writers, drama, death threats even) and the prospect of archiving/deactivating, 2 of which have already done so. Many creators have also talked about how tumblr is different from before and from what I see, some people on this app can get really petty, hostile, insensitive and straight up delusional. I initially joined this app because of all the fics and thirsts, but knowing the nature of some people here makes me disappointed.

With all this negativity swirling around, I was just wondering, how do you handle any hate you receive?

p.s. can't wait for updates on sitw!

Hello my love! I'm sorry to hear you also feel like the vibes are off!! I think we've all sort of been feeling this way lately, and I know it's all made especially unmanageable by the dark cultural moment we're in. This is supposed to be a fun, safe, collaborative space, and instead many of the writers I know are being plagiarized left and right, receiving totally batshit anons, or going on hiatus because of burn out.

And I appreciate you saying that I speak my mind, because I do on occasion. But honestly barely a fraction of the things I feel make their way onto the dash because I try to keep the vibes fun here. I'm still sort of formulating my own ideas on how I think we as a community can collectively deal with the bad vibes on here, but I think it's a spicier take and I want to take the time to get it right before I say anything, if I say it at all. Because it might not be worth it in the end, and it might just be better to keep trying my best to add fun to the space instead!! But we will see!!

As for how to deal with individual hate, I really do think it's up to the individual what their comfort level is in addressing the things that come their way. For me, there are two types of mean messages I think you can get: people out to take their own issues out on you, and people who express themselves badly but have a genuine question or concern. And to me, I think possibly those messages are worth addressing in separate ways.

For the first type, my main m.o. is basically just to delete and block anything I get. For every anon you have seen me address, there's probably ten times that amount with far meaner messages that I've just blocked, deleted, and then bitched about in the group chat lol. In cases where they've made it obvious they are another writer or at least associated with another writer, I will also go block that writer. I think it's important to protect your individual space from people who don't mean you well, and it's honestly usually not worth giving them your energy. Because their end goal is just to upset you, not to express any sort of genuine concern, and any energy you direct into that is just feeding into what they want. So in my opinion the best way to stop this particular type of anon in their tracks is to just ignore them.

The anons I usually end up addressing publicly are those that I think have phrased things badly but might actually mean to ask a genuine question or express an authentic concern. Those to me are possibly worth the time spent digging into their concerns, although to be honest this can be exhausting as well because people can be extremely caught up in their own feelings and get incredibly nasty. I wish this wasn't such a common method of interaction these days, but it is what it is.

If you can stomach it, I think addressing these sorts of questions can help you learn about things you yourself have done badly (see: that time I utilized common smut phrases to try to clarify an ask and ended up sounding like I was making fun of smut writers :/) or help the anon understand where you are coming from if they feel you're on the opposite side of a particular issue. It doesn't always end positively but it has for me more than once, and I think it's worth it in the interest of fostering a patient and good-faith culture of interaction on your blog. I think it can also help prevent such interactions in the future if people come to understand you are trying to be open and trying your best.

Anyway that's what I think is best done on an individual level. Unfortunately, I think real, wide-spread change is going to have to come from a collective mindset shift but again I'm not ready to address that in full. I don't even know if it's possible because I think a lot of the issues we see in the community are direct results of hyper-competitive, materialistic, individualistic capitalist culture seeping down into the fandom. But I'll think on it more and maybe share my thoughts if I think they're worth it after some careful consideration.

In the meantime I am forcefully beaming you good vibes in hopes that they mitigate some of the crap we've seen on here recently!! I am manifesting a nice, calm, healing weekend for you and everyone who reads this!!!!! ❤️✨🌴

#ask andie

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wewontdieunbloomed · 2 years

Text

14.08.2022

hello my fellow sufferers upon this glorious earth. i am back. not to be dramatic but i have had the most horrible of times especially the apst week has been hellish: i have had some inopportune revelations that left me incapacitated and unable to do anything but mope for pretty much the entire week.

prelims schedule just came out, practical exams are in 4 days, the first paper starts in 2 weeks, and i am zero days into revision. oh what agony. i honestly have no idea what im doing except doing the bare minimum for the next day’s lessons, knowing full well i have nothing in my head and am very screwed if this continues so. i guess my point is that i have to get ny shit together (which is ALWAYS the point).

im coming back to the blog! to be frank this a levels prep and being dunked into these waters ever since may? june? has been pretty horrible: i have had many fun moments with my friends but at the same time i havent felt like myself in ages, havent felt fully alive and making use of time properly. i always say i want to feel alive and live in the moment and i do that and end up not doing work sometimes so. not ideal. anyway i will get back i am in the process of it - blocking out all my moping and sad playlists and making sure to align my goals for at least the next 3? months or so. things will get better i just have to get through this with the healthy dose of living that i strive for.

recent positivity/things that made me feel alive: the entire revelation i had this week was intense and a little inconvenient but honestly it reminded me that i have not become a robot in my feat to study and do well you know. two sides of one thing i guess. also on friday i ran my fiest 10k run and it was such bliss and so fun i thoroughly enjoyed myself and might just do it again soon.

#daily log #productivity #motivation #studyblr #100 days of productivity #studyspo #study inspiration #studying #studywithme #studyinspo #self improvement #school #student #students #yes im back #august 2022 #a levels

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kaedeakeshisworld · 4 months

Text

Benimaru Shinmon

gist: Airport shenanigans... Also who doesn't like a good old soft teddy bear?

Benimaru is such a gentleman, Y/n somehow ends up comparing him to a certain someone.

After eating brunch, Y/n and Benimaru get a lil' frisky (next chapter for the nasty stuff, you know?)

c/s: Next chapter is smut. I know I left it hanging but I'm whipping the good stuff, trust me on this one.

Oh, hi there everyone!! Pleath, do not fret, I haven't forgotten about the series. Actually, I haven't forgotten none of them. Work is doing a splendid job at whooping my ass (pardon my french if you will). Between teaching kids English, going to work and hitting the gym at 6 am, I'm a little ～ debordée ～ like French folks say. Anywho, I'm alive (barely making it) but yeah I'm going to dedicate myself to these fics for the festivities period of the year. Merry holidays/ celebrations to anyone who does them this year and also happy new year(quite frankly speaking I don't know if I'll be able to write that much 'cause I'm helping my fam out too with Christmas and whatnot for 2024).

Blank/Ageless blogs/MDNI, I will block you!

As soon as we got to the airport, a team of men in black take our things.

“We still have a couple of hours ahead before our flight so we’ll take our sweet time right after we do check-in. Is that okay?"

“Good for me."

It’s been a little over two years since I’ve been at the airport. Several changes have taken place. One store catches my attention and I make a beeline towards it.

There are so many teddy bears here!! I feel like a little kid who’s met with a shit ton of candy.

I touched one and it’s so soft. I would really like to have it.

The shopkeeper asked me:

"Good morning! How may I help you?"

"Good morning. I was just looking around and it looked like the softest material ever."

"It sure is… you’re currently holding our bestseller, the beige teddy bear. The store also has blankets, robes and house shoes in this material."

"I would love to check them out."

"Please, follow me."

As you’re checking out the items the salesperson showed you, Benimaru snucked inside the store to join you. He watches your expression change from pure bliss to amazement. He seems thrilled by it all, when you put the items down he wonders what went wrong.

Honestly, you’re feeling how soft the materials are. You shouldn’t be adding more luggage to this trip. He startled you when you least expected it.

"Why won’t you get them?"

"Excuse me, since when…"

"I got here a tad earlier. I was watching you doing your thing."

"To answer your question it’s because we already checked in."

"That’s not a problem."

"Oh… really?"

"Absolutely!"

He demands the shopkeeper:

"We’ll take all the items she kept eyeing intently."

"I’ll put them right away."

"Y/n, when you’re with me you shouldn’t be worrying about getting anything. I got it."

Oh, you sound like somebody I used to know… I don’t like this feeling

"Okay, Benimaru. " You quietly added

"Would it be possible to get an extra blanket and house shoes?"

"Of course."

Benimaru and some of his men carry your bags while you wander from store to store.

"Y/n, I don’t want to urge you but we have a bit less than two hours now. I suggest we eat before getting on the long flight."

"Why are you in a hurry now? I thought we’d take our time…"

"Yes and no. Pick somewhere you’d fancy eating. I trust you."

Brunch

After mindlessly browsing the menu for a while, you decided to settle for

a savoury buckwheat toast with jamón ibérico, benedict eggs, avocado, and some spinach on top, a raspberry mimosa while he picked a brocoli ricotta salmon quiche with a red sangria to cool him.

"May I have a bite of yours, please?"

"Don’t you have yours to eat, he sharply spits back."

"So, I can’t get a taste?"

"Yes, you can I just thought yours looked better."

Oh, I get it!

"You can have mine too, Benimaru! You just had to ask."

I think I’m ovulating. Benimaru looks so good dressed in a white button up tee with black slacks, some comfy velvet sliders and his cheekbones are sharper than my knife. I want to touch it. I know I should let him enjoy his meal in peace. He can have some dessert too…I mean I can personally provide it to him if you get what I’m sayin’.

"You look really good or I should say," you bit your lower lip "fine as fuck!"

"Thank you baby, I try."

"I’m your baby?"

"You don’t like it, I can stop. Whatever floats your boat."

"No, it’s okay. If I’m your baby, I hope you take good care of me."

"Always the best for you."

My foot goes up and down his leg. I’m testing the waters now. Trying to see if I have a freak with me or not.

He chuckles and says under his breath:

"It’s a suggestion don’t start what you can’t finish. When I’m done with you, you will know better than to do this."

"Do I hear a threat? My goodness, I’m so scared!" You dramatically exclaimed.

Come and get me!

He finishes his plate and orders a bottle of champagne for himself.

"What are we celebrating?"

"You!"

"Oh, celebrating me? Why such honour, may I ask?"

"Nothing too crazy, I just got a good feeling this trip will be phenomenal!"

You’re probably right.

"I’m hungry!"

"Then eat up. You can order anything you’d like."

"It’s not that kind of hunger…"

"What is it then?"

"Don’t play dumb, Y/n! You know what I mean."

"I don’t, Benimaru. You might have to remind me…"

Promptly after I’ve finished eating, Benimaru told his men to look after our stuff while he dragged me somewhere.

"Where are we headed? May I know…"

"We’re going to fix something you broke."

"When did I break anything? I don’t remember."

"It’s not that serious but walking with a hard on in public is uncomfortable."

"What do I have to do with it?"

"You caused it baby. Therefore, you get to take care of it."

"What happens if I opt out?"

"Nothing but I doubt you’d say no to what I want to give you."

We get to a unisex bathroom, he quickly glances around to check if people have followed or keep their eye on us. And he drags me into here.

"Is it a quickie or something else?"

"We’ll see. If I change my mind, you won’t have to do anything."

"Great, let’s get going."

"Right! Boarding is in fifteen minutes."

Chapter 5 of After all, it's not a bad idea to get a sugar daddy

Any kind of interaction is widely welcome!!

Translations/ modifications/replicas/property of my work are strictly prohibited. Do not repost/ recommend/ share it elsewhere!

#sugar daddy leonard burns #leonard burns smut #leonard burns x black reader #black reader smut #poc reader #reader insert #enn enn no shouboutai smut

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celestialking · 2 years

Text

Green forest hums

◇ NSFW 18+ only ◇ Minors/Ageless blogs DNI◇ You will be blocked ◇

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: amab, chase/predator/prey, smidgen of degrading, throatfucking, implied dumbification, let me know if i missed anything

A/n: Manhunt George :D also shhhh i rushed a bit >w<

The laughter was quiet and gentle, but you had never heard such haunting giggles. Not directed towards you at least. The trees carried the sound around you, echoing. A snap of some twigs nearby made you flinch and then a soft coo, a whisper of your name. He was teasing you, playing around like a lion with a bunny. Maybe his mother had never told him to not play with his food, or maybe she had, but how could he resist with prey as sweet and delicious as you.

There was no time to stop and gather your thoughts. Every time you gasped for air behind a tall tree you could feel the ghost of a hand wrap around your wrist, hot breath at the back of your neck, and if you listened closely maybe the pounding of his heartbeat. All of the above sending you tumbling back into the forest green.

"Why don't you stop by the river, take a drink, you're thirsty," he spoke as you waded through the water and into the spruce forest ahead.

You thought maybe you'd lose him quickly; the brunette was known for being silly and loud during manhunts, hardly a worthy opponent. You had severely underestimated him.

"You look so tired," pout evident in his tone. "Just stop running,"

How on earth could Dream do this? Fear and adrenaline pumped through your veins keeping you going. You could barely focus on the task at hand.

Just as you considered letting him catch you an arrow caught the edge of your shirt. Luckily it went right through the fabric. He giggled at your surprised noise. How he got that bow you didn't know. You weaved through the trees, looking for a good spot to hide, just catch your breath for a few moments before you continued the hunt. Both of you had been running for so long and the only achievement you had received was getting wood. It was then you made the worst mistake possible, turning into a nearby cave.

"Come out come out to play," he laughed loudly following after you.

George was so much closer than you had anticipated he sounded just mere inches away. You traveled deeper and deeper into the cave, slipping on wet rock. Your foot kicked pebbles over as you landed at the bottom, a metallic noise sounding through the dusty cave air. There were rails under your feet, a mineshaft.

George was silent as you traveled through the corridors of abandoned minecarts and wooden support beams. You assumed he was making advancements to hinder your progress towards the ender dragon. You opened a minecart finding a few golden apples they'll be useful for later. There was lots of ore along the walls as well, plenty for a suit of armor at least.

Rocks shifted behind you making you turn slightly. Your heart lurching at the noise. There was nothing there yet- "Boo!" George appeared out of nowhere making you flinch. He laughed behind you as you ran from him. He didn't seem to have a lot of iron, but it was more than you. Up ahead was a dead end, leaving only one way to run, left.

"Hehe," a high-pitched giggle you had heard so many times before sounded behind you. You thought nothing of it. Although He always did it when he was up to no good, excited for something only he knew.

You realized far too late that it was a trap; your feet getting stuck in the webbing of a spider. You wouldn't be going anywhere, at least not quickly. "Dirty trick Georgie," you huffed trying to pull yourself free.

A body pressed against your back; one hand slid around the front of you to fiddle with the waistband of your pants, the other to gently grasp your throat. George scoffed lightly behind you.

"But I still won,"

"You did,"

"And I do believe you offered me a prize," he murmured, pressing a single kiss to your neck. You gulped softly. You had indeed offered George a prize. Well sort of. George had been the one to come up with the prize and you had agreed; never thinking the brunette would catch you. Definitely leave the manhunts to Dream from now on, you weren't cut out for this. The prize in question was that you would finally bottom. George wanted the chance to ruin you and now he had it.

Lost in your thoughts of defeat you hadn't noticed George had freed you from his trap and was now slowly pushing you to the ground. "Knees love," he said softly.

You lowered yourself to the cave floor, staring up at him.

"I think I quite like you here. You look like you belong there," your eyebrows knit together. "Ah- don't say anything silly now," George grinned. "In fact why don't you put your mouth to better use, remember I'm in charge today,"

You slowly undid his pants tugging them down slightly along with his boxers.

"That's good enough," he said when they were pulled down just enough for you to pull his cock out. Your tongue ran up the side of it. He seemed worked up from his hunt with you, but you had to admit you were as well. Your lips wrapped around the tip before sliding his cock in further, letting it weigh heavily against your tongue.

George let out soft noises as you worked; your hand pumping what you didn't take deeper. It felt heavenly but George wanted more. He had let you take your time before growing impatient. George took over rocking into your mouth with a soft hum. "Oh darling, I know you can take more than that," Your hands flew to his legs surprised.

Slowly his hand pushed on the back of your head; making you take his cock deeper into your mouth. The tip kissed the back of your throat making you whine. He gave a small snap of his hips. You choked surprised, looking up at him with blurry tear-filled eyes.

"Aw, did you choke? I'm sorry love, I'll be gentler," he cooed with fake sympathy. Your hands gripped his thighs tighter. George tilted his head back groaning as he started to fuck your throat. His hand now had a tight grip on your hair keeping you right where he wanted you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let George use your mouth as he pleased. Salvia dripped down your chin.

"What a good boy for me," George hummed, his grip loosening.

As tempting as it was to cum down your throat George forced himself to pull out. You were a mess. George looked down at your slick lips and messy hair with pride. The only thing that would make this sinful scene hotter is his cum across your face.

"Lay down all nice for me, love," George began digging through his inventory. To say he planned for this would be an understatement. He expected he would win.

"You sure you don't want me to fuck you? Not like you could fuck me better," you huffed. His hand tugged your hair, not too harshly but enough to be a warning.

"Don't start bratting now, love. You've been behaving so well for me. It would be a shame to have to punish you slut," the whine that left you was pathetic and shocked both of you. George's lips curled into a victorious smirk.

"I'll keep that in mind," The name burned you. Slightly embarrassed you laid down for him.

"Good boy," he hummed triumphantly. George slowly tugged down your pants. His fingers were cold, making your cock twitch as they glided across it.

"Poor thing," he laughed softly. You were painfully hard, the tip drooling. George gave you a few strokes before getting the lube to prep you.

"Can't believe you brought that with you," you mumbled. He said nothing in response before slowly pushing a finger in. You squirmed beneath him as he worked you open for his cock. George leaned down pressing kisses against you. Some were gentle, others turned into harsh nips.

Once George was satisfied, both at prep and his array of hickey he scattered across your skin, he positioned his cock at your hole. He grasped your hips to help him push in.

"Fuck your unbelievably tight," he groaned. You swore his fingers would leave bruises, not to mention you had never felt so full before. George's hips were now slotted with yours, his dick snugly fit inside you. It was a dizzying moment for him to be fucking you instead of the other way around. Maybe he'd fight for this more often.

George gave a few experimental thrusts before starting a medium pace. You couldn't look at him, a wave of shyness falling over you. Seeing you turn your head to the side; George snapped his hips and then stopped.

"Look at me, or I stop," you whined before looking back. "Good now keep them there," he warned.

You were so obedient and responsive for him. His hands slid under your knees holding your legs open. You didn't stand a chance as his thrusts began to pound into your prostate. Your brain went fuzzy as he railed into you harder, crying out his name.

"And here you were, complaining that you wouldn't like it," his hands spread your legs a bit further. "Tell me how good it is. Tell me how much you're enjoying falling apart on my cock,"

Not a single word could leave your lips. You clutched onto George, gasping and moaning as his hips slammed against yours. These hot sinful noises were the only ones that echoed for miles.

A power rush washed over George making him shiver. He liked being the reason you had gone dumb. The way your eyes rolled back into your head, back arched as his cock fucked harshly into you. His hands had long moved to your hips. It was hot and desperate, part of him using you for his pleasure.

"You take it so well, whining so prettily on my dick. Such a good whore," he cooed. You felt like heaven around him. You barely had time to warn him as your cum spurted across your chest, squeezing around him.

"Harder," you managed to hiccup. You were overwhelmed by the thick cloud of pleasure consuming you. Tears dripping down your cheeks.

George gasped cumming inside you. "O-oh fuck love," his hips continued to fuck the cum deeper into you slowing down as he did. George rocked gently as he leaned down to kiss you.

"I'm letting you win everything from now on," you mumbled. He laughed in response before slowly pulling out. "As you wish,"

Reminder: DNI = Do Not Interact

If you are a Minor/Ageless blog, Do not follow. Do not comment. Do not reblog. Do not like. DO NOT INTERACT.

Either add your age to your bio/pinned, message me in private, or DNI.

#celestial:scribbles #celestial:gnf

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randomperson351 · 2 years

Text

Comic book store (Part 2) - BH

Summary: Billy's concern for Max when she is late leaving the comic book store could lead him to the best decision of his life.

Note: ~~~~ means time skip.

Do not repost or rewrite any of my works. Minors and ageless blogs get blocked.

Masterlist

Part 1

~~~~ The next morning. ~~~~

It was another quiet morning at the comic book shop, but Inanna's mind span with worry about Max from the day before. She was on the front desk this morning, looking over the shop while the other employees restocked the shelves and the regulars were in scouting for the new releases before anyone else.

The doorbell chimed as someone walked in, making her move her gaze to find Billy. She could feel her face drop into a scowl as she watched him approach her hesitantly.

"Hi." He began hesitantly as he reached the desk she was stood behind.

"Hello. Anything you need?" She asked him curtly, deciding to just treat him like a customer instead of a shithead step-brother with anger problems.

"Uh yeah, Max mentioned you were holding some comic books for her to buy. I was wondering whether I could have some of them."

Inanna held his gaze for a while, crossing her legs and what seemed like analysing him; all Billy could do was stand there and hope she said yes since he really needed to get back on talking terms with Max and fast before his dad noticed.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Why do you want some of Max's comic books? You've never taken an interest before and I somehow doubt you've gotten into X-Men overnight, you don't strike me as the type."

"I just...need some of them. Please." Billy tried explaining himself without telling her his plan to win Max back.

"Why?"

"Look if you're not going to let me have any of them then just tell me so I can stop wasting time here and go somewhere else." Billy told her at the end of his wits. He didn't have a lot of time before he needed to go and pick her up from the arcade.

Inanna looked him up and down with sharp eyes before responding. "Wait here." She left him at the front desk for a moment, leaving to the backroom before coming back with a handful of books.

"How many do you want?"

"How many can I get for 20 bucks?"

"10, 2 each." She replied. "Which ones do you want?"

"Which ones do you recommend?" Billy asked being completely clueless about the world of comics. Inanna almost felt sorry for how clueless he was, and decided to take pity on him.

"She loves these-" She handed a set of five to him- "and these ones. Give them both to her and she'll be so happy she could hug you."

Billy took the stack and handed over his twenty dollars. "Thank you Inanna."

"Well, it's my job." She countered, taking his money and putting it in the cash register.

"No, not just that. For taking Max in yesterday and making sure she was okay. I know I can be a really, colossally shit brother and if she didn't have you, she wouldn't have anyone, so thank you for being one of the only people she can rely on in this deadbeat town."

Inanna didn't know what to say. She felt minorly uncomfortable at Billy's outburst as she kept her eyes down and thought about what she should say.

"You're welcome, but there's nothing stopping you from being someone she can rely on too. It doesn't take much, just communication and patience. Try it, trust me. Then maybe you two wouldn't be arguing so much."

"Thanks." Billy said again, giving her a nod and taking his leave to his car parked just outside. He put the books down on the passenger seat and started his way over to the arcade where he knew it was almost time to pick Max up.

He had just pulled up and was sat outside waiting, choosing to hide the comic books he'd just bought in his glovebox so that they'd be a surprise for Max when they got home. Right on time the redhead reluctantly stormed out of the arcade in her usual way and flung the door open to Billy's car, sliding in the seat and gently closing the door.

Max chose not to initiate conversation considering Billy usually had his music up so loud she could barely hear anything anyway, but today he didn't even have it on. Billy slightly tilted his head over to look at his step sister, but revealed nothing about how her silence was eating him alive with regret, guilt and nerves, having learned to mask what he's feeling from fear of his father.

Billy sat up a bit straighter and started the car, veering off the pavement and onto the road at too high of a speed but not caring all too much.

"Arcade busy?" He asked her curtly, tightening his hands on the steering wheel as he waited for a response.

"No more than normal." Max replied in an equally short tone but with a hint of curiosity at why her douche of a step brother was suddenly engaging her in conversation when normally he couldn't wait to be away from her.

Sensing Max's confusion over his actions, Billy tried to cover it up by being more like the version of him that she knew. "Cause you're actually out on time today."

"I know you have things you'd rather do than take me to and from the arcade all the time so just do them and I'll skate home and tell mum you picked me up if it's such a burden for you." Max quipped, having enough of hearing Billy complain all the time about how she's late and hanging around the 'wrong people' and stopping him from seeing his friends; however that was not the direction Billy wanted to go in.

"Yeah I know I can go and do what I want to you little shit, I don't need your permission." He retorted without really thinking through his response.

"Good."

"Fine."

The car lapsed into an uncomfortable silence much like the day before, neither sibling looking at or talking to each other, Billy focused his energy on driving and Max kept as far over her side of the seat as she could and looked out the window at the blurry trees, giving her a sense of calm in the constant storm of her step brother.

After what seemed like an excruciatingly long drive home, the two siblings arrived and as always, Max took off into the house as fast as she could without waiting for Billy. But today, that is what Billy wanted.

He reached across once he saw Max go inside and opened the glovebox, putting his hand in and taking the stack of books out. Billy leisurely stepped out of his car, swinging his door shut when he heard shouting coming from inside the house.

In confusion and a spike of butterflies that swarmed in his stomach, Billy hid the comic books in his school bag that he kept in his car and hurriedly made his way inside to see what was going on.

"Look I'm sorry okay, I was busy!" Billy heard Max shout from the kitchen as he opened the front door. He closed it as quietly as he could and slowly made his way to the source of the commotion.

"Busy doing what? Hanging around people you know you damn well shouldn't be? Or is it that group of boys you're always around becoming a bad influence?" Chills ran down Billy's spine as he turned the corner and saw it was his dad arguing with Max.

"They aren't a bad influence, I just forgot okay?" Max retorted. Billy walked around and came into full view to see what was going on. Max had forgotten to do her chores for the day because she was at the arcade for so long, and Billy took the back way home by accident which made the journey home take longer.

"This is not acceptable Maxine, and you know it! When I ask for something to be done, I expect it to be done!" Neil kept screaming at Max, getting closer to her with each word and stopped directly before her, using his height as an advantage and looking down at her.

"You disobeyed me Max." Neil said quietly, which, if anything, was scarier than him shouting.

Billy flinched slightly as soon as those words left his father's mouth knowing he'd said the exact same words to Max before.

"Do you want to know how I get people to obey me? Ask Billy." Neil jolted his head to where Billy was stood behind Max in the doorway, but Max didn't move.

"Punishment has always proven effective-"

"Dad." Billy tried to stop him, not wanting what happened to him to happen to Max. She wouldn't be able to take it, she was so much smaller than Billy, and younger.

Neil grabbed Max's jacket and pushed her against the wall, like he'd done to Billy many times before, and kept an iron grip on her.

"Dad stop!" Billy exclaimed, taking a step forward but at the same time feeling frozen. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Max's terrified face, knowing he'd be useless if he did.

Max tried to pry her step father's fingers off but instead he took her wrist and twisted it so that she couldn't move.

"You will do everyone's chores for the rest of this week, you will go to school and walk straight home, no skateboard, no arcade and most importantly, no comic books."

"Dad, I can still drive her home." Billy tried something but to no avail.

"No Billy, you will drive Max to school and then she will walk home, no matter the weather or the weight of her bag. And she will follow these rules, because if she doesn't she will be getting more punishments for each rule she breaks. I think that's fair, isn't it Max?" Neil turned his head to Max who was on the verge of tears and waited for her to nod her head, which she did eventually.

"No dinner for you tonight. You haven't earned it." Neil finished, letting Max go and watching passively as she ran to her room with her skateboard and slammed the door shut.

Billy didn't know what to do. He knew he couldn't tell his dad not to do those things to Max because of the state he'd end up in, but Neil has never done anything like this to Billy. He hit him yes, but he was still fed and never did his chores.

"Go Billy, dinner is ready in twenty minutes." Neil dismissed him, turning back to the cooker and stirring whatever he'd made.

Billy stepped back and made his way to his room, the silence of it meaning he could hear Max's wails through the walls. He considered calling Inanna but figured she wouldn't pick up because she was working and wasn't at home, not that he even knew her number.

Perhaps Susan would help Max, she is her daughter after all. But the answer to that came when she arrived home a few minutes later and was more concerned about the food than she was about her own daughter.

Dinner came fast and Billy sat uncomfortably next to his dad, facing Max's empty seat and picking through his food while Neil and Susan chatted about something stupid.

Max still hadn't come out of her room after dinner was finished. She had stayed locked in there since she got home and was led on her bed, crying silently and holding her burning wrist as she wished for her dad back in California. She would've climbed out to see Inanna, but Neil put a lock on the outside that she didn't know how to undo, so she was stuck inside, clinging on to her memories of the California sun and waves that she could go to when she needed to get away.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on her door, but she paid no mind to them considering none of her supposed 'family' even tried to stick up for her. If they wanted her out of their sights so badly then she'd do exactly that and stay out of them.

The knocking kept coming though, until finally Max had had enough.

"Go away!"

"Please open the door Max." Billy's voice came softly through the door, surprising Max.

"No." She said quietly, turning on her side and facing away from the door.

"Alright then." Billy responded quietly, letting Max think he'd walked away when actually he'd gone to get a pin from his room to pick the lock. Billy knelt down and fiddled with the pin a little, at last hearing the click he was looking for to signify he'd successfully unlocked her door. Slowly, he twisted her door handle and let himself in to see her led facing away from him.

"Max?" He said gently so he wouldn't spook her. She lurched from her led down position and flung her head in his direction.

"What did I just say, get out! I don't want to see any of you ever again, just leave me alone! Go away!" She screamed at him, but he kept advancing towards her nonetheless.

"Max just calm down. Calm down! Stop it, stop, come here. Come on, that's it, just calm down." Billy advanced towards her and pulled her into him as he sat on the edge of her bed and she was wrapped in his arms, pressed tightly to his chest. She cried loudly and clung to his arms as he rocked the two of them back and forth.

"It's okay, lie down now." He coaxed, letting her go and standing to shut her door so their parents couldn't interrupt the moment. Billy came back over to where Max had led and sat on the edge of her bed, one hand reaching into her hair to comb it out of her face and the other holding her hands tightly to try and comfort her.

"Easy kiddo, its okay, you're alright. You're okay." Billy calmed her down, stroking his hand down through her red hair and shushing her every now and again whenever her cries picked back up.

"You feel a bit better now?" He asked once Max had calmed herself to sniffles.

"A little I guess." She murmured, her voice cracking from all the hours of crying. Billy noticed the way her wrist was red and purple from earlier and beckoned Max into her bathroom.

"Come on, lets get you cleaned up." He pulled her up gently from lying down and led her to sit up on the ledge next to the sink, taking her hand and pulling her injured wrist towards him gently. Billy took Max's flannel that was draped over the side and ran it under the cold water, hoping to soothe the burn that was evident on her injury.

"Does it still hurt?"

Max nodded in response, sniffling a little once the rough material hit her wrist, making it sting and flare up slightly. Billy tried to clean it as quickly and painlessly as possible, not wasting any time before wringing out the cloth and putting it under the tap again to wipe Max's face of the dried tears and snot that was left from her crying fit.

Billy left the bathroom so Max could change into her pyjamas and went to get the food he'd sneaked from his dinner and the comic books he'd bought from Inanna to try and cheer her up, even if it was only a little bit.

When he re-entered her room, she was sat on her bed with one of her old, but favourite, comic books in her hand, flicking through it aimlessly.

"Why're you looking through that old thing?" Billy asked her teasingly, going to sit next to her on her bed.

"I don't have any new ones you moron." She quipped, feeling a little better.

"Who says?"

"Your dad."

Billy shook his head and reached behind him, pulling out the comic books and presenting them to Max, secretly loving the way it made her eyes widen with both shock and glee. He went to hand them over but before she could take them pulled them out of her grasp and fixed her with a stern look.

"Now, lets make one thing perfectly clear. I don't know about these if you don't."

"Know about what?" Max asked playing along, making Billy nod his head and had them over, along with the food he'd snuck out for her.

"Billy, I really appreciate you doing this for me, but I don't have anything to give you in return." Max told him through a mouthful of food, the poor girl was starving.

"Oh yes you have." He said with a suspicious look in his eyes that had Max slightly on edge.

"What?" She asked hesitantly, making Billy grin.

"You know that girl at the comic book store, Inanna?"

~~~~ The morning after. ~~~~

"Inanna!" A voice exclaimed excitedly, jolting her from a semi-sleep state.

"Max!" Inanna said just as excitedly, coming round from behind the shelves she was restocking and bending straight down to give the redhead a hug. "Oh my god, are you okay? I feel like I haven't seen you in so long! Are you in trouble? Is it Billy again?" She rushed out all at once, feeling the rising panic she had for the child come to a brink and disappear all at once when she saw her stood in front of her.

"I'm fine! Promise." Max giggled at Inanna's outburst.

"Wh-what happened to your wrist?" She asked, looking down at Max's arm and seeing the angry red mark left there by her step father. "Did Billy do that? I swear to God I'm gonna kick his fucking teeth in." She threatened, walking back to the front desk to see the one and only stood there smug as ever.

Just as she was about to lay into Billy, Max came into her view and stood in front of him.

"Inanna! Billy didn't do it, my step dad did. Billy cleaned it and bought me some more comic books to have. He's not a bad guy, I promise." Max insisted. "In fact, he has something he'd like to ask you." She hinted, turning around to look at Billy before scurrying off to see the new merchandise.

"Well?" Inanna prompted, crossing her arms and walking behind the desk.

"Uh I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to the movies tonight...with me." Billy asked almost shyly, something that rarely happens. Inanna squinted her eyes at him questioningly.

"What's the catch?" She asked, knowing that Billy Hargrove would never ask a girl on a date unless he wanted something in return.

"Nothing. Just a thank you for taking care of Max." He said, holding his hands out in front of him in a surrender motion to add certainty to his words.

"Alright Hargrove, you've got one chance. Don't waste it."

~~~~Three months later. ~~~~

"Billy stop!" Inanna told him through laughs. He'd woken up early and since he didn't have a shift at the pool and instead of sleeping the morning away, he decided to go and visit her on her early morning shift at the comic book store.

Ever since that first date at the movies they'd practically been inseparable. Inanna actually saw Billy as his own person, not 'the annoying step-brother', and needless to say she liked what she saw a lot. That being said, there were many other things that definitely aided the bonding between the two.

The first thing being Inanna's closeness to Max before Billy even knew who she was, the two therefore already had a good foundation and now that Inanna was dating Billy, the girls were practically sisters; because of that foundation, Billy's dad and step-mother took to her in an instant having heard good things from Max prior to Billy.

"I can't help it, you're too good to leave alone." Billy's voice was muffled by her hair as he engulfed her in a loving embrace from behind, making her scoff and his heart flutter from the sound shortly after. She turned to face him after stacking the last comic book and wrapped her arms around his neck, still managing to make his stomach turn with butterflies when she gave him the semi-chastising look with a little smirk she was giving him now.

"Billy, my shift is over in ten little minutes. That's all. I'm sure you can wait that long." She told him in a patronizing voice, almost teasing him.

"That's the thing, I can't wait that long, I need you now." He continued whining, pulling back from the hug but leaving his hands around her waist so he could keep her close while he swayed them from side to side. "Just imagine; you and me, my room, cuddled up under the covers, basking in the warm sunlight coming through the curtains, hmm? I put clean sheets on my bed last night."

Inanna hummed, content with the image Billy placed in her head, eyes closing softly to bask in his words, wishing for them to come true. "That does sound nice, I must admit." She spoke gently.

"What are you waiting for then love? How much damage will a couple of minutes do to your...sterling reputation? Just come with me and we can do whatever you want, I promise."

Inanna's final straw broke and she gave into his pleas instantly, leaving his arms to clock out and racing him out to his car, driving down the roads at much too fast of a speed but being too desperate to live out that fantasy to care.

#randomperson351 #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove angst #mentioned max mayfield #good sibling billy hargrove #angst with a happy ending #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x oc #do not repost #comic book store part 2

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dyketubbo · 3 years

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EDIT (10/7/21, og post made in August)

editing this post since apparently people are still finding it but anyways while im not going to take the post down because i personally just dont like deleting posts and i still agree with some of the things said id prefer that if you find this post that you just. didnt interact with it, at least not if youre not going to be respectful. this post is from august, before the clip of phil saying hes fine w qpr hcs (even if i have complicated feelings on that clip, i dont want to risk getting into discourse about this shit again).

it started a giant discussion and got me people harassing me and talking behind my back, one person even telling me people had groups talking about me, it got me being called arophobic, anti-polyam, claimed i was calling people racist and misogynistic, i got told i didnt have friends, i had people vague me and misinterpret what i said and meant, and through it all i had a total of maybe two or three people at most that disagreed with me and were respectful about it. everyone else that disagreed either resorted to vaguing me (or others that stood by me) or they insulted me to my face (in some cases insulting me then blocking me so i couldnt respond).

many of these people were adults. i had recently turned 16 the month before. i dont mean to pull the whole "oo im a minor and neurodivergent" card but the shit that came from this post, that had at the time barely even reached over 500 notes at the discourse's height, genuinely made me relapse in a way that i just. couldnt handle. i was on meds, i took care of my pets, i distracted myself, i talked to my friends, even talked to my therapist, and it didnt help because every time i came back i found another person giving me shit for it. one of my friends tried to defend me and got people targeting them, insulting them and saying increasingly concerning things about me, and they had to leave the fandom for a bit because of it.

i dont trust a good portion of the fandom because of this mess. i dont trust a lot of big blogs or aeduo fans or techno fans or phil fans because of this. its genuinely concerning to me that a post like this caused harassment, even in places i havent seen, maybe even to people i havent seen. even if this post is still vaguely accurate to how i feel about the situation (mainly, how i feel about it all overshadowing kristin and phils relationship) and i still stand by my idea that qprs count as shipping and that because they arent strictly platonic for many people that i cant be comfortable with qp aeduo, i just. dont want people interacting with this, at least not unless you just want to spread the info in this edit or because you want to say something respectfully. otherwise, i just. want this to be left behind me. even to this day i still get paranoia spikes and nearly panic remembering everything that happened because of this post, and being reminded of it just. sucks. if you want to clear anything up feel free to contact me in some way, but if you see this in the tags while browsing somehow, sorry for the long post, and thank you if you read all of this. have a good day

End of Edit (all text below unedited from when the post was originally made)

btw since kristins been confirmed to be canon multiple times over the past like few months and philza has expressed discomfort with shipping content that isnt him and his literal wife can we as a fandom agree to fucking quit it with treating c!emeraldduo as anything other than friends/family ^^ thatd be great. and yes i mean even the fuckin "platonic" marriage shit, even qpr hcs, just let them be friends.

please god stop acting as if a m/m relationship is inherently better than a m/f relationship especially considering how fuckin shittily the fandom treats kristin already, constantly making her out to be some skinny white girl instead of the fat woc she is. just like. let c!emeraldduo be besties, let c!phil and c!kristin be in a happy marriage, quit going against the cc boundaries because you prefer to ship two average white dudes rather than just accept that ones canonically married to the self-insert of his actor's wife. yall all about minorities until ones actually involved and then suddenly its all about your precious white cishet dudes. my god.

#the marriage/qpr stuff was already ehhh bc again. boundaries. but now its just even worse bc kristin is literally canon to the smp #philza #technoblade #emeraldduo #kristin trixtin #mumza #dsmp #discourse #mask mews #tags after this are edited in #negative #long post #ask to tag

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seijorhi · 3 years

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Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

Me attempting a multi-part fic?? More likely than you think! I wrote this fic because this blog started with Hawks and Dabi and kinda got a bit of traction with soulmate au’s so to me it made sense to post it for my first anniversary. I hope you guys like it! 💕

Touya Todoroki (Dabi) x female reader, Keigo Takami (Hawks) x female reader

TW canonical character ‘death’, a little angst and maybe a slight hint of dub-con (if you squint your eyes a little)

Part I, II

You’re eleven years old when your parents take you by the hand, sit you down on the couch and tell you that your soulmate is dead.

It doesn’t make sense. There’s a hollow ache inside of your chest like something important is gone but you were with Touya only yesterday. You had the rest of your lives together, you were gonna leave with him, start something better…

You feel empty and you can’t understand it. He can’t be dead, that’s not how it works. You find your soulmate and you get to ride off into the sunset. You get to be happy, everyone knows that.

But it doesn’t sink in until you’re kicking and screaming by his grave and Endeavor won’t so much as meet your eye and your parents are pulling you back because there’s no body.

There’s nothing left of Touya Todoroki.

And there’s nothing left of you without him.

—

They call it the bloom. A simple touch, the first from your soulmate’s hand, and the mark appears on your skin like drops of ink spilled into water. You’ve always thought it beautiful, the delicate black pattern imprinted on your wrist.

You can still remember the heat you’d felt when it happened. Not the burning kind you knew him capable of, but like the warmth of a fire seeping through you. And you remember the way those bright, blue eyes had widened as you’d tripped and fell, taking him with you. His mark was over his heart; Touya always was stupidly smug about that.

You were just kids. Angry and scared and lost, but you had Touya and Touya had you.

(Not that that counted for anything in the end. He still died alone.)

They say it’s rare to find your soulmate before adulthood, but you’d been one of the lucky ones.

Lucky.

The word tastes bitter on your tongue now. It’s not that you disagree exactly – even now, years after his death you’re glad that you had time with him. You would’ve been grateful for a minute, for a mere glance at his face. Two and a half years with your soulmate was a gift, but having him, losing him so young only meant that you had more years of your life to struggle on without him.

And sometimes you catch yourself staring at your mark, lost in thought. Touya was the one with all the plans, you were always just the tag along, happy to go anywhere so long as he was the one leading you. You wonder what he’d think if he could see you now. Not the Hero you’d let yourselves imagine, though you suppose you both knew deep down that was nothing more than a pipe dream for someone like you.

Gazing around your cramped, messy apartment, debating exactly how badly you need this shitty, barely-enough-to-scrape-by job, you can’t imagine he’d be impressed.

God knows your parents are disappointed, but that’s nothing new. The Quirkless daughter of two mid rank heroes – well, the only thing you ever had going for you was being Enji Todoroki’s future daughter in law, and everybody knows how that one ended.

But part of you likes to think that maybe Touya wouldn’t judge you too harshly for it. You’re doing the best you can. You’re surviving, all on your own, that has to count for something, doesn’t it?

There’s a text message awaiting you when you roll over and grab your phone.

Happy Birthday x

Natsuo never forgets. The rest of the Todoroki’s – you ceased to matter to them the day they buried an empty casket for their son. Natsuo’s the only one who bothers to check in on you, make sure that you’re keeping your head above the water. It’s usually just a message here and there, and he calls you on Touya’s birthday. And on the anniversary of his death.

It’s painful for him, but you suppose you’re the only tangible connection he has left of his brother.

You stare at the message for a moment longer, a strange feeling tugging at your heart. Typing out a quick reply, you set your phone down and fall back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh.

Today of all days, you’d honestly rather just roll over and let the hours pass you by, but your boss isn’t that forgiving and as much as you hate to admit it, you need this job.

The hotel’s already abuzz by the time you clock in, your manager’s jaw tight, a frown pinching at his face. As much as you don’t like him, you can’t exactly blame him for the bad mood – in less than three hours, the ballroom will be filled with a media circus and a plethora of pro heroes. Some big promotional event before the hero rankings are announced; you honestly don’t care.

It just means that everybody’s on edge, you’re gonna spend all day stuck in heels, smiling blandly while you serve people who won’t so much as look twice at you.

And then there’s the real reason you’re dreading today. 6’4”, blue eyed, broad shouldered, currently burning holes into you from across the ballroom while you carry around a platter of canapés. The last time you’d seen Enji Todoroki in person was two weeks after the funeral, and he’d ignored you entirely.

That was years ago; you weren’t even in your teens. Half of you had hoped that in his infinite arrogance and the complete lack of care he’d shown since his son’s death he would’ve forgotten about you entirely.

From the way he’s spent the last twenty minutes staring at you while bulldozing past reporters, though, you’re not feeling all that confident.

And for the life of you, you can’t figure out why your presence seems to be disturbing him so much, considering you’re really only there to serve and then fade into the background. It’s not like you’re chasing after him, demanding an autograph much less any kind of acknowledgement – you’re not exactly thrilled to be here either. Things work just fine with the two of you pretending the other doesn’t exist.

Does he think you’ve planned this? Some big ‘fuck you’ to try and mess with what you’re sure will be an announcement of his retainership of the number one position? Even while Touya was still alive, his father didn’t have a place in your life – he was off training his youngest, you barely saw him and you were glad for it.

While he might have hated him, some part of Touya still idolised him, craved his approval, but Enji had never been anything to you but a selfish, unfeeling monster. A bully.

But now he’s staring at you, slack jawed and wide eyed like he’s seen a ghost and it’s harder than you thought it would be to keep that smile plastered across your face knowing he’s watching your every move.

Your cheeks feels hot, and it only gets worse when you realise that Endeavor’s less than subtle behaviour is slowly but surely drawing attention from others in the room. A few curious reporters have shot you odd looks, heads cocked for a moment before dismissing you as just another waitress, hardly headline worthy.

The other heroes are less quick to brush you off. Mirko, current number five, elegantly clasping her glass of champagne in a gloved hand keeps shooting furtive glances between you and Enji, Gang Orca’s beady eyes following you across the floor, a flicker of what you’re fairly sure is concern maring his face.

It’s mortifying. Your smile is stretched and painful, your throat tight and you feel utterly exposed, but there’s nothing you can do. The flame hero doesn’t seem to care about the attention he’s drawing, or that with every passing minute it gets harder and harder for you to maintain that professional, customer service demeanour you need for this job.

And you’re beyond caring if he’s embarrassed to find his firstborn’s soulmate has sunk so low in his absence, you just want him to stop staring so you can finish your shift in peace. But it seems like the flame hero has other plans, because you’re just beginning to seriously weigh up your chances of keeping this job if you just up and walk off right here and now when Enji’s limited patience finally reaches its threshold.

He doesn’t bother offering excuses towards the poor reporter trying to pry an interview out of him, he just abruptly sets his drink down and starts stalking towards you. Rationally, you realise that with all these people here, he can’t make too much of a scene.

It’s just that even the thought of having to talk with him, to look into those blue eyes that are so painfully familiar yet wrong–

You can’t do it.

Not today.

And so you spin on your heel, stomach lurching. The silver tray in your hands stacked high with champagne teeters and falls, crystal glass shattering on the marble floors drawing gasps from the crowd. Endeavor calls out your name but you block him out, desperately weaving your way through the stunned mass of people.

Most of them give you a wide berth, likely due to the oversized hero barrelling after you. He calls your name again, louder this time. It’s not a scream, or a yell – it almost sounds pleading, though you can’t possibly imagine why. Endeavor doesn’t do pleading.

Your cheeks are burning; there’s too many people staring and hot tears begin to prickle at your eyes. A flash of red blurs past your field of vision and you start, a sharp squeak slipping out as a figure lands before you, blocking your exit.

Handsome with bushy eyebrows, dirty blonde hair messily brushed back and golden eyes gleaming; the hero in front of you would be impossible to mistake, even if it weren’t for the sweeping blood red wings sprouting from his back. Hawks, the current number two pro-hero and the only man standing between you and your fumbling escape.

Your body’s slow to catch up with your mind though, and as you try to stop, backpedal and side-step him at once your foot catches on your ankle. It’s instinctive, the way your arms fly up, wildly trying to catch yourself before you fall on your ass.

Just like you suppose it’s instinctive for him to rush forward to do the same.

It happens in a split second, your fingers brushing the skin of his neck just above the collar of his shirt, his hand grasping at your waist to steady you. Beneath his gloved hand a familiar burst of heat warms your skin.

Time slows to a crawl. The ballroom, all the gathered heroes and the press, your co-workers, they all fade into the background as your eyes dart to your fingertips, resting gently on the side of Hawks’ throat. There, a soft, inky black mark begins to unfurl spreading up to his jaw, disappearing below the collar of his turtleneck.

Over the quiet hum of the classical music playing in the background, you hear his breath catch.

He has you dipped, the two of you frozen as if in a dance and for a moment you dare to meet those piercing golden eyes. There’s a clicking sound, a camera shutter you distantly register, but while it makes your heart jump, Hawks pays it no mind.

He stares at you with impossibly wide eyes; open, vulnerable and raw.

And then he blinks, and that glimpse is gone, his grip tightening as he slowly sets you right. He doesn’t let you go, however.

“Hawks,” Enji’s tone is low and gruff, a warning this time.

Tension, thick and crackling with electricity hangs in the air between the three of you, amplified by the crowd of onlookers. All those journalists, chomping at the bit with the realisation of a juicy story playing out right in front of their eyes. Your name’s called out again, not by Endeavor, but by the reporter he’d cut off before – eyeing you now with an eager leer that has you recoiling back into Hawks’ embrace.

It’s enough to jerk the winged hero into action. His mouth finds your ear, his thumb sweeping soothingly along your side as he speaks low enough for only you to hear.

“You wanna leave, baby bird?”

You don’t remember nodding, but you must have, because in the space of a single heartbeat Hawks has you hoisted up in his arms, those powerful wings spreading wide – and you’re flying.

—

“I don’t think I have a job anymore,” you laugh drily, staring down at the city lights twinkling on the horizon.

Beside you, Hawks snorts in agreement, “Hell of a way to make an exit, though.”

He’s not wrong. You can only imagine what the tabloid headlines will say tomorrow ‘Pro Hero sweeps hotel waitress soulmate off her feet’ ‘Hawks mates for life; Endeavor jealous?’ Even if by some miracle your boss wasn’t intent on firing you on the spot, you’re not sure you can even bear to show your face there again.

It’ll be a pain though, trying to find a new job while your face is plastered across every less than reputable news outlet.

Perched atop the rooftop of Hawks’ hotel, halfway across the city, the wind ruffling gently through your hair, everything feels… surreal almost. It’s your birthday, and instead of crashing through the door of your apartment, exhausted and aching before falling face first onto your bed and not moving for the next few hours, you’re here. With the number two pro hero. Who, incidentally, is your second soulmate.

Having more than one soulmate, it’s not unheard of, just… rare.

And your hand’s entwined with his, his gloves long since discarded, his fleece lined jacket draped over your shoulders. Touya’s mark, long since blossomed across your inner wrist lies starkly between the two of you, unignorable.

“It was his son, wasn’t it?” he asks eventually, breaking the fragile silence as he toys with your fingers. When you nervously risk a glance up, Hawks doesn’t look angry or upset or even that jealous. Those golden eyes study your face with an odd kind of curiosity, but there’s no trace of resentment there. “Touya, the one who died. He was your soulmate.”

It’s not a question, but you find yourself nodding anyway. A part of you’s almost surprised he put it together so quickly, but you guess being a pro hero of that calibre requires a little more than just having a strong quirk.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, because what else can you say?

You can’t possibly imagine how he’s feeling right now, what thoughts are running through his head. You’d accepted a long time ago that while you’d love Touya Todoroki until your dying breath, he was gone; that chance of a fairytale happily ever after going with him. Another soulmate wasn’t something you’d ever considered, much less wasted time longing for.

And yet here you are, another mark inked across your skin and it feels wrong somehow, yet also completely right. Imagining being on the other foot; putting yourself in Hawks’ shoes – a pro hero soulmated to some insignificant, quirkless waitress, and not only that, but finding out she has another soulmate, somebody she loved before you, a ghost of a memory you’ll always be competing against… you honestly don’t know how you’d feel.

“Look at me,” he whispers, calloused fingers coaxing at your chin. Heart thrumming like a hummingbird's you comply, letting out another soft squeak as Hawks takes the hand still entwined with his and lifts it to his neck, right above his mark.

He smiles, nuzzling into the touch as your breath stutters. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” Again, you find yourself nodding without even really being conscious of it. It doesn’t seem to matter to Hawks though, whose smile widens at the sight of it. He leans in closer, his breath fanning across your face as molten pools of honey drink you in. You wonder if he can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, mixed emotions warring inside of you as he cups your cheek.

“And I’m yours. That’s all I care about, baby bird.”

He’s drawing you into a kiss before you can even comprehend the words, soft lips moving against yours. Gently at first, but that sweetness gives way to a burning urgency as he pulls you closer, holds you tighter.

Hawks kisses you like your lips hold salvation, and it’s frightening and thrilling and it feels like every nerve in your body is electrified when his teeth catch at your bottom lip and he moans your name.

There’s some part of you that realises that you’re moving too fast – soulmates or not he’s practically a stranger – but as you break for air, panting and breathless and Hawks looks at you with those burning, beautiful eyes; you’re helpless to resist.

“Keigo,” he tells you as he lays you down on his bed, crawling up between your thighs with a gleaming, hungry smirk that’s nothing less than predatory, “Call me Keigo.”

#yandere bnha #yandere hawks x reader #yandere dabi x reader #yandere keigo takami x reader #yandere touya todoroki x reader #tw character ‘death’#tw dub con #soulmate au #I’m not even sorry #except I am #lmao last one I promise

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Note

Hey!

Feel free to ignore this if this isn’t appealing to you, but honestly I’m simping over Carol Denvers and could really go for some steamy fluff with her x reader.

Maybe just a dinner date gone dirty talk? Do whatever you want with this! :) Have a great day.

Completely Yours

Relationship: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Steamy, but not smutty

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: amazingly, I actually already had a piece I wrote last year that kind of falls into these suggestions! i tweaked the ending a bit from my original writing to hopefully make it more on the steamy side. and there's an element of jealousy/protective Carol. So, I hope this works okay! I immediately thought of it after reading your request :) Also I absolutely love Carol, one of my favorite MCU characters <3 I have a few pieces already written for her but only published on ao3 (and a previous writing blog)

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You stared at your lipstick collection, completely baffled by the choices. Was the red lip too bold for your lacy black dress? But was the pink lip too simple? Maybe the dress was the problem…

"Stop it," you mumbled to yourself and grabbed the wine red lipstick. You were nearly humored with your brain’s antics. There shouldn’t be anything to overthink given the fact you’ve been on countless dates with Carol. Heck, you don’t even remember being this nervous for your very first date, but, perhaps, the fact this was an anniversary date was maybe getting to you a bit.

You two were two years into the relationship but you still wanted to give it your all especially on such an occasion. You both had been so busy with one thing or another for your first anniversary so there was a lingering duty to make it up — and that’s exactly why the glam had to be perfect, no matter how many times Carol insisted you were gorgeous without it.

A knock came from the bathroom door as you were finishing with the lipstick.

"Babe," Carol called out. "Almost ready?"

You gave your hair a quick glance over and exited the bathroom. You were greeted by your stunning girlfriend all dolled up and looking as lovely as ever.

"All good," you smiled, shamelessly eyeing her.

She gave a knowing smirk, "You look so beautiful."

"Maybe we both clean up well," you teased, shrugging.

Your girlfriend just rolled her eyes at your antics and motioned towards the front door. You grabbed your purse and started heading ahead of Carol. But being the cheeky girlfriend she is, she couldn’t let you get far without giving a teasing tap on your behind. Now it was your turn to shoot her the eye roll which she just laughed away, following you out the door.

***

The restaurant was a busy scene tonight and upon noticing the patrons and their seemingly wandering eyes, Carol was on you in full protective mode. This could’ve been expected no matter where you two had gone and you’ve had to come to terms with that. Carol was quite the protective type and typically you adored it but honestly, it wasn’t necessary in your eyes. There wasn’t a thing — or person — in the world that could whisk you away from your love.

Choosing to ignore her change in demeanor, you pushed through the crowd to the hostess table.

"Thank gosh we made reservations," you said as the hostess left to check on the table.

But your girlfriend didn’t quite hear you. She gave a hum in response while fixated on something at the bar in the corner of the restaurant. You tried figuring out what held her attention but couldn’t pick anything out. Maybe she thought she saw someone she knew? But you dismissed it as you saw the hostess motioning you to follow her to your reserved table.

The two of you settled in and started flipping through the menu. Carol seemed to be occupied by the food selection, which gave you some sense of relief. Fingers crossed whatever had her captivated before had vanished. At one point she even grabbed your hand for a bit, running her thumb on the back of it lovingly as you two browsed.

It wasn’t until the waiter came by for the drink order that you realized she had her guards up the entire time.

"What can I get you two to drink?" The waiter asked.

"Glass of Pinot Grigio for me," you said, turning back to the food items.

When you didn’t hear Carol’s lovely voice responding with her drink order, you glanced up to find her still staring behind you.

"Um, could you give us a second?" You asked the waiter. They just gave a polite smile and headed towards the kitchen.

You sighed, slamming your menu on the table. That got your girlfriend’s attention.

"Carol, what is going on? Is there a galactic threat behind me or something?"

"Honey, no," Carol sighed. "It’s just… This guy at the bar keeps looking at you."

Your jaw dropped. "That’s what this is about? You’re gonna be distracted our entire anniversary dinner because you think some guy is looking at me?"

Carol’s once rigid expression quickly turned soft at your tone. She grabbed your hand across the table, trying to soothe your rising anger. Shaking her head, she said, "No, babe, that’s ridiculous of me."

You put your other hand on hers, nodding. "It is ridiculous. There is nothing worth ruining this night over, okay? You’ve got me, baby, I’m not going anywhere."

"Forever?" She smirked.

"Forever," you mumbled as you leaned across the table to give her a kiss which she happily leaned into.

***

The dinner went very well after Carol calmed down. Drinks helping to ease any worry. You two flirted and giggled as if it was the first all over again and, boy, did it feel magical. Pasta was eaten, wine was sipped… and even kisses were stolen like lovestruck school girls. The man at the bar had been completely forgotten by both of you.

After you two finished your dessert (with a side of Carol’s cheeky comments about dessert after the dessert), you had to run to the restroom. Carol nodded and said she’d wait for you at the front of the restaurant.

With a quick kiss, you departed from the table. In the restroom, you did some make-up retouch up. The night was just heating up in your eyes and you still wanted to look like an absolute dream for your woman — not to mention you were quite antsy from the constant teasing.

After a quick powder and recollecting your items, you reemerged from the restroom. You were fumbling for your phone in your purse, making your way to the restaurant exit, when you slammed into something hard.

A bit dazed, you look up expecting a sudden wall or pole, but instead you were met by some handsome, well-dressed man uncomfortably close. He was smirking down at you, making your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

"Sorry, sir. I wasn’t looking where I was going." You said, giving your fakest, most polite smile.

Apparently, it worked too well because the man’s smirk turned into a smile with his eyes curiously watching you.

"Trust me, sweetheart, it’s all good."

The pet name made your stomach turn, red flags waving. You let out a breathy laugh and tried stepping around him, but he blocked your attempt.

"Sir, I have someone waiting-,"

"Oh, the girl you were with?" He asked. You gulped realizing this wasn’t any man, this was the man Carol had been nervous about. You really didn’t think there was any man staring at you and that it was just Carol's paranoia kicking in. But no, your girlfriend had been rightfully cautious and you were kicking yourself for being doubtful.

"Sir, really-,"

"I think your friend wouldn’t mind waiting," he said, not only cutting you off but blocking you again with his broad body, his hand coming near your side as if trapping you.

"She’s my girlfriend," you snapped back, blood boiling at his game. "So, I’m not interested."

"Oh, a girlfriend! That could make this a lot more interesting-"

"Hey!" A voice boomed from the dining room entrance. All heads turned towards your clearly pissed-off girlfriend, heels hot marching towards you. She was steaming — well, maybe nearly glowing — with anger. "Get away from her."

"Ah, it’s the girlfriend-,"

"You’re damn right it’s the girlfriend," Carol snapped, eyeing him quite intensely. You knew there wasn’t much stopping her from taking him down this second. "And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take my girl home."

She didn’t even let him get in another syllable before grabbing your hand and leading you to the exit. Patrons eyes were still focused on the rampage occurring but you were way too focused on your girlfriend. You weren’t sure you had ever personally witnessed this side of her. Sure, you two had arguments before, but this was… A lot. She was scared, angry, frustrated… A bottle waiting to explode.

When you two made it back to the car, you went to console Carol but she never gave you a chance. Within seconds you were pressed against the passenger side door, her lips hot and ferocious against yours. She moved with such anger, such passion, you almost let yourself get lost in it but you knew it wouldn’t solve anything like talking would.

"Honey," you gasped for air, pushing Carol gently off of you. You cupped her face with shaking hands. "Hey, I’m sorry."

"No, it’s just…" She pulled away, arms flailing in defeat. "I knew it! I knew that asshole would… God! Why do you have to be so beautiful?"

You sighed, your gaze drifting to your hands, picking at your nude nail polish. "I really didn’t think there was anyone looking at me."

"You innocent, gorgeous woman," Carol chuckled in disbelief. "I feel like I’m always shooing men away from you."

"It shouldn’t matter," you said, grabbing your girlfriend’s nervous hands. "I’m yours, honey. I am yours."

Carol hummed in appreciation and moved closer to you. "Mine?"

You nodded, watching her go from frazzled to lusting. She closed the gap, nearly towering over you as you leaned against the car. Her sweet, strong face was barely illuminated by the streetlights but you saw the love come back to her eyes.

"Really mine?" She asked again as she effortlessly dipped her head and started kissing up your neck. Her hand began making its way down your side, past your hips, where it began caressing the inside of your thigh.

"Yes, Carol, yes!" You giggled, squirming under her actions.

Her kisses made their way up to your face. She whispered so lovingly in your ear, "Maybe, we should get home, then, and you could show me." She paused. "Because I'm definitely itching to show you just how much you mean to me, baby. You wouldn't believe the ideas running through my head."

Briefly, her fingers lingered over your clothed core. You sighed.

"Maybe we should just find somewhere private around here?" you whispered back, motioning towards the backseat door. "I don’t know if I can wait."

And that was very much true. You could already feel yourself soaking through the material of your panties.

"You little minx," your girlfriend laughed, placing a needy kiss on your lips, her thigh subtly grinding into you. "You’re going to kill me one day."

You moaned, pressing yourself against her, your body burning with need. "Not if you kill me first."

230 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

Emma Swan, Olympian is not a phrase Emma Swan, totally normal person, ever expected to hear.

But she never expected one night at a party hosted by her college's baseball team to change her entire life, either. So, it should really come as no surprise that Emma Swan, Olympian, is now something of international sensation. Or that her husband has become a bit of a social media star.

——— Rating: Teen with sports feelings Word Count: 7.5K AN: As promised and because of who I am as a person, I wrote Olympic fic. I can neither confirm nor deny that there is an actual plot here, but there is a surplus of fluff and sports-based feelings. So, that’s something. Thanks to the Detroit Lions, specifically, for posting this Tweet and to my husband who is very much aware of what content I want the internet to provide me. Operation: Make Killian a New York Yankee as often as possible continues.

|| Read on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

———

No one told her the questions would start to blur together.

That would require media training, Emma imagines. And no one is giving a first-time Olympian in a sport that only a handful of people marginally believe warrants notice from the IOC any sort of media training. She got, like, an orientation packet. With a lopsided staple in the top left corner. On her commercial flight. That she booked herself.

Twenty-plus hours crammed into a seat that she’s only a little concerned did permanent damage to her right knee, with a meal that was so chewy Emma was about four seconds and one exasperated, entirely exhausted exhale from asking if it was, in fact, made of plastic.

Mostly, the staple is what’s still managing to frustrate her. As frustrated as she can be at the Olympics. No one is supposed to be frustrated at the Olympics. Not really. Not while experiencing the pinnacle of athletic achievement, the calluses on Emma’s fingertips some sort of badge of honor that she’s wearing with at least a modicum of national pride, and everything is fine.

Her qualifying time was absurd. Where absurd is a compliment and very close to a record she’s suddenly determined to shatter.

So, she’s alone.

Big deal. So is everyone else. This Olympics, at least. Plus, Killian wouldn’t have been able to come no matter what the state of the world was. Even so, the quiet stands are admittedly weird. All these empty arenas with empty seats, the distinct lack of a roaring crowd no more obvious than when the world’s best athletes step to the line. Staring at the climbing wall in front of her four hours earlier, Emma swore she could hear every single beat of her heart echo between her ears.

And that’s—well, solitude is par for the course with an adolescence like hers, half-filled suitcases and brand-new faces in brand-new towns, but she’d gotten used to one town, and the town is actually a city, and the city has long since felt like home, and her fingers reach for the rings dangling above her Team USA t-shirt. They did give her an absolute shit ton of t-shirts, so that was nice.

Except—

Something keeps tugging. Nagging at the back of Emma’s consciousness, almost like she’s forgotten her keys on that flea market table they found in Park Slope two weeks after they moved into the apartment. Because for as well-versed Emma may be in that singular sort of existence, she’s also well-removed from wanting it, and at least three of her knuckles crack. Curling around her rings.

Muscles in her cheeks stretch, another nod and quick blink to avoid the threat of blinding via camera flashes. Someone really should have told her about this. She probably should have assumed. Human interest is the driving force of at least three-quarters of the stories in sports, and Emma’s not used to being the story, per se, but even she has to admit most of hers makes for a good one and they are still asking her questions.

Emma blinks again. Hopes she doesn’t look like a serial killer or the weird blonde, slightly sweaty cousin of the Joker, her smile starting to feel as if it’s painted on her face. She nods. Hums. Listens to questions that are startling in their tonal similarity to Charlie Brown’s teacher, and Emma wonders if Charlie Brown ever got a different teacher or what the school structure of the Peanuts’ universe is and, God, how old was Charlie Brown, even? To withstand that sort of consistent bullying. Was Linus the same age as him? No, right? How long did he carry the blanket around? Was Linus the same age as Sally? Why didn’t the red-headed girl with curly hair get a name?

She nearly falls out of her chair.

That might make the front page of several blogs. Possibly even the back page of a New York tab.

Careful to keep her feet on the ground, Emma lifts her head, directing her eyes toward the source of a question that must have been asked several times if the note of amusement mixing with deadline-based exasperation is anything to go by. Her smile definitely makes her look like a serial killer.

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma mumbles, and none of the oxygen she does her best to inhales makes it even close to her lungs. “I, uh—what was the question?”

The reporter grimaces.

“I wanted to know if you’d seen the video of your husband yet.”

Ice runs down her spine. Every single drop of wholly disgusting sweat falling in rivulets down either one of her cheeks freezes. Oxygen disappears from the room. Or so Emma assumes, what with the crushing feeling pushing down on her lungs and whatnot.

Her mind whirs. Races through possibilities and pitfalls with a speed that would be impressive if Emma weren’t already so close to that record, and she is going to break that record. Somehow she manages not to fall, though. From her chair or the metaphorical climbing wall in her brain, ignoring the sudden dryness of her mouth and the increasing size of her tongue.

Her nails are going to leave little half-moon creases in her palm.

“I don’t—” she starts, and eventually she will wish she was more articulate. For what turns out to be a very nice story.

Standing up, the reporter’s seat creaks as she moves toward the desk they deposited Emma behind after even. Several Olympic officials move to block her, but Emma shakes her head again, and she’s not exactly high-priority on the list of defensible athletes, anyway. So, none of them flinch when the reporter slides a phone closer to Emma, her crazed thoughts briefly lingering on how many phones a reporter could possibly need, but then her eyes drop, and she’s not sure if her ears can actually perk, but Emma certainly tries because she hears him yelling before she sees him.

Her smile shifts.

And the cameras flash again.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s collegiate life, because Anna demands it.

She’s only half-listening, so Emma can never be entirely sure what it was, exactly, she was agreeing to, but in her experience, the agreement doesn’t matter so much as the action, and her roommate’s younger sister is unstoppable when it comes to action. So, Emma is dimly aware of a plan. Something about the baseball house and that one left fielder is in a handful of her classes.

David—something.

He’s got a girlfriend, too. A nice one. Who always smells like sugar when she slides into the seat next to David whatever his last name is, sitting in the row in front of Emma during their Tuesday-Thursday statistics class.

Emma hates statistics.

She doesn’t hate Anna, though. Or her roommate, one of the better college-based surprises, and either Anna has magic or Elsa is an enormous pushover because somehow all three of them are ready at the same time, and the walk to the baseball house isn’t far.

First-year players guard the door — passing out color-coded wristbands that absolutely do not do their job because it takes about six seconds of well-meaning flirting and batted eyelashes between Anna and a mountain of muscle masquerading as the team’s starting catcher to get them inside. With purple wristbands and two tickets for jungle juice instead of the keg.

“Victory,” Anna cries, twisting through the crowd. Half of it is already teetering on the edge of drunk, the rest free-falling into the pit of imminent hangovers, and Emma isn’t sure she’d classify their drinks as a victory, but it’s definitely better than watered-down beer.

And it doesn’t take long, really. By Emma’s shaky count, it’s not even a half-hour before the muscle — who introduces himself as Kristoff, and really is pretty cute, actually — returns, standing unnaturally close to Anna’s left shoulder, furtive glances shared out of the corners of their eyes. Emma rolls hers. Elsa’s appear perpetually stuck to the ceiling. It looks oddly sticky up there.

“Go,” Elsa says, and it’s not an instruction. Barely counts as more than a whisper, really. Anna lights up all the same. Like an alcohol-fueled Christmas tree.

Who does not need telling more than once.

Hands reach and smiles widen, Kristoff mumbling something that sounds like it was nice to meet you before he’s following Anna back to the beer pong table, leaving Elsa and Emma standing in the middle of a sea of raging hormones. All of which want to be there way more than either one of them does.

“Well,” Elsa mutters, “that was polite.”

Emma snickers into her glass. A mostly empty glass. That’s surprising. “Got that going for him.” “Plus, his on-base is nuts this year.”

“Say that again.” “On-base percentage,” Elsa repeats, making sure to do it slowly for maximum sarcastic emphasis. Emma’s eyes are going to fall out. That won’t end well. There are too many shuffling feet in this room.

“What does that mean?” “How often he gets on base.” Opening her mouth does nothing. Closing it does even less. Elsa looks overjoyed. “I know things,” she shrugs, “and I’m pretty positive Anna and Kristoff have been not-so-secretly dating since the start of the semester, so—” “You stalked your sister’s secret boyfriend?” “Stalk’s a very dirty word, don’t you think? No, no, there was no stalking. There was light research. One Google search and a single click to the team’s roster, and now I know he’s from Minnesota, too.” “Awfully convenient for the romance of the century.” Humming, Elsa takes a larger-than-usual sip before scrunching her nose in displeasure. At her empty cup. Emma has no idea how they ended up with empty cups so quickly. Suddenly the baseball house feels a bit like a time warp. Enter and drink and find the love of your life. Or something like that.

“I got next,” Emma says, ignoring Elsa’s laugh because she is not the sort of person who says things like that. It’s this house. This place. With its music and its happiness, and she’s not really a sports person. Can only marginally understand the joy of watching other people accomplish something. She has no idea what on-base percentage is.

Still.

Her feet move. Fingers curl over the rim of red solo cups, like the most cliché version of her college self. Her drinks get refilled. And it’s just as Emma’s about to let herself wonder if, maybe, sports aren’t all that bad and might even possess a bit of inherent romanticism, she slams into something.

Someone, more like.

Taller than her, he has to peer down his nose to glare at Emma. That’s fair. They’re both far more damp than they were ten seconds before. Some of that moisture ensures that the hem of his shirt sticks to his stomach. A very flat stomach. That draws Emma’s eyes because she’s human and slightly intoxicated, and it takes quite a lot more than she’s willing to admit to lift her chin, but then she’s glad she does. Even with the understandable glare.

“Shit,” she breathes, “your eyes are stupid blue.”

He narrows them. She hates that. Which is about all it takes for her to get royally pissed off, too.

“Can you pay attention to where you’re walking?”

The stupidly blue eyes blink. Darken a shade, like all his frustration is centered directly around his pupils, and the shirt he’s wearing is team-branded. Another baseball player, then.

“You ran into me!” Oh, Oh. Well, that sucks. He’s got a good voice, too. Eyes and voice and the few strands of hair that fall toward those eyes when he continues to glare at Emma likely aren’t supposed to make her stomach flip.

It’s the alcohol’s fault.

Or sports. Like, in general.

“Because you take up so much space,” Emma snarls He leans forward. Looms, really. Over her and around her, smelling like punch and body wash. It’s gross and absolutely wonderful. “Gotta pick a lane, love. Either I ran into you, or I was in the way.”

“It can definitely be both and there is nothing resembling love here.”

“So I can see. You have a name, wrecking ball?” “My shoes are never going to unstick from this floor.” To his credit, he does waver. His lips twist — which makes it all too obvious how much Emma is staring at his lips, but, seriously, the alcohol. Plus, it’s so hot in this house she can barely think straight. She wonders where he buys his body wash. He smells better than he should in this house. So, it's clear he considers. Ponders, even. Until his hands dart out and those hands are somehow warmer than every person in this house combined, heat scorching through Emma’s t-shirt as he lifts her off the ground.

Only to deposit her approximately fourteen inches to her left.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” “Look,” he grins, “you’re unstuck.” “Bastard!” “Eh, not technically.” “What?” “Not technically a bastard. Orphan, I suppose. But that’s kind of a mood ruiner, don’t you think?”

Emma’s fish impression is really going great. The grin becomes a smirk. Her stomach refuses to stay still. “Is there a mood to ruin?” “Might be if you tell me your name.”

Emma wavers, that time. Considers and ponders. Weighs the pros and cons while laughter drifts past her ears, consummate collegiate experiences that she’s only ever let herself be passably jealous of. A dark-haired girl’s talking to Elsa in the opposite corner.

And the hand hanging in front of her wiggles its fingers.

It’s still ridiculously warm when she grabs it. “Emma Swan.” “Killian Jones.”

Anna’s secret relationship becomes a real relationship no less than sixteen hours following what Elsa begins to call the Drink Incident.

And they become—

Baseball people.

Becoming baseball people is not bad. Not really. Emma likes the baseball team. She understands what WHIP is, now. Kristoff adores Anna, so that’s good. David, who does, in fact, have a last name, continues to be as nice as assumed, and his girlfriend sort of quasi adopts Emma. Mary Margaret Blanchard brims with positivity and an innate sort of joy that would usually annoy Emma, but most of that joy also serves as a direct counter to the snark that Killian Jones appears flush with. So, it’s something of a wash, really.

Plus, he’s a very sore Monopoly loser.

And Emma finds it endlessly entertaining.

“Stop that,” he grunts, glaring at the board with the sort of force Emma’s become accustomed to in the last few months, while she taps on the space in front of her, “I know how many spots it is.” Emma smiles. “So move, then.” “I’ll be bankrupt.” “Capitalism does that.” “Tell me more about capitalism, Swan.”

She doesn’t startle, so there’s that. Not much else, though. Not when a noticeable bit of equally familiar heat skitters down her spine. Her head tilts. His head remains frustratingly still, staring at the board like the spaces will change or Mary Margaret will tear down some of her hotels on Marvin Gardens.

Neither thing happens.

The heat pools. At the small of her back, inching dangerously close to that space between her hips, like it’s trying to tether her to this spot and this moment and its people. Baseball people. People who so clearly care about everything so much that even the cynic in Emma can appreciate it. Plus, they’re all ridiculously competitive.

David had to take a walk when Mary Margaret bankrupt him earlier.

“That’s about the extent of my capitalism knowledge,” Emma admits with a shrug, “I sucked at economics.” Pulling his gaze away from the board, Emma’s less prepared for the force behind Killian’s eyes than she was for the appearance of a nickname that might not warrant the title. It’s just her name, after all. But it sounds like more than that. Sinks under her skin with alarming ease, the precise tone of it wrapping its way around a variety of internal organs until they’re all beating at the same tempo and— “Move my piece for me.”

Kristoff groans. Mary Margaret chuckles. Elsa looks far too sure of herself. Knows everything, indeed.

And it’s not really a command, but there’s that same sense of something that found its way into the sound of Emma’s name and Killian’s voice, and he catches her by surprise. On a variety of levels. His fingers jump the moment hers reach out, all heat and an alarming size difference, his brows lifting when she turns her head.

“You’re taking this game way too seriously, you know,” Emma says. What she doesn’t say is more important, though. Because they’re not friends, really. They’re—acquaintances. Some kind of appropriate metaphor regarding a planet’s many moons and the tendency of those moons to orbit something far bigger than them. But they like each other, too. As much as they dance and twist, do their best to avoid getting hit in the batter’s box, Emma’s more comfortable bantering with him than just about anyone she’s ever met, a challenge in every conversation, and she’s rather loath to realize she’s memorized the different ways the blue in his eyes flash.

Now it feels a bit like a spotlight.

“Matter of pride, Swan.” “Is it just?” If there are other people laying on their stomachs in that living room, half-empty glasses by their hands and equipment stacked in various corners, Emma forgets about them. Quickly. Immediately. Killian doesn’t move his fingers.

He nods.

And Mary Marget only kind of gloats when she bankrupts him.

She dances when she wins, though.

It’s embarrassing. It’s absolutely, goddamn wonderful.

Realizing that baseball is a game of statistics ruins kind of Emma’s day. It makes Killian laugh. Her favorite sort of laugh. Where he throws his head back, an arm around his middle, and his shoulders shaking. Those same strands of hair she noticed that first night fall back toward lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting in an angle Emma is sure she could determine if she just didn’t hate math so much, and it takes about four seconds, her head tilting back and forth twice and one swipe of her tongue to lean forward on the couch they're sharing, tilt her head up and press her lips to his.

Press is a vast understatement.

Crash, more like.

A bases-clearing double into the left-field gap.

She knows so many baseball terms now, it’s ridiculous.

It’s because she keeps going to games. With Anna. Without Anna. With Elsa. Without Elsa. With Mary Margaret every single time. And it creeps on so slowly, she’s practically a Jane Austen heroine, but then Emma finds she cares as much as everyone else. Screams herself hoarse at every crack of the bat. Jumps and fist bumps with startling regularity. Experiences the flutter of butterflies in her flip-prone stomach before ninth-inning rallies.

She memorizes statistics. Killian’s statistics, especially.

Because the Draft is a week away, and the nerves rolling off him are even more potent than his body wash. Bought in bulk from a locally-owned company, she learns.

Killian hates capitalism, too.

Which is only part of the reason she likes him, but right now all of the reason is centered around how it feels as if the world is shifting on its axis and what, precisely, he is capable of with his tongue. Quite a lot if this first time at bat is anything to believe.

Emma laughs.

Joy bubbles from the very center of her, pushing at the seam of her lips, and it’s not much of a seam when her mouth is open to accommodate tongue, but it’s enough of a sound that Killian pulls back. No glare. Definitely eyebrow movement, though.

“That’s not the best confidence boost, you know.” “I’m straddling you,” Emma counters, nodding toward the knees on either side of his, and she has no idea when her fingers found his hair. It’s very soft.

“How did that happen?” “What was that about confidence?”

Dropping his head, she gets a different sort of laugh, one that’s just as potent in its ability to settle into her bloodstream and the empty spaces around her heart, and sports have turned her into a sap. “I like you a lot,” Killian murmurs. Emma’s heart explodes. Metaphorically speaking.

“Good.” “Expand on that, for me.” She pinches his side, almost prepared for the way it leaves him bucking beneath her. Less prepared for the mutual groan it causes. Killian’s eyes widen. “I like you a lot,” Emma repeats, and his arms tighten, and her heart knits itself back together, and the second time through the kissing order is even better.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s nearly-adult life, because Anna demands it.

“I just think it’ll be fun,” Anna says, not for the first time. And, not for the first time, she ignores the pointed look Emma and Elsa exchange. Elsa’s lips have all but disappeared behind her teeth “Think about it,” Anna continues, “we need something to do before the game, anyway. This way we’re—you know, staying active.” Emma’s eyebrows jump. Fly. Soar into her hairline where the level of her disbelief sits, all too aware of the ring hanging around her neck.

A Draft Day gift. As much as a family heirloom can be a gift. But Killian claimed it was good luck, his brother’s ring, because turns out that snark is at least a partial product of a wholly depressing childhood, and Emma supposes there’s something to be said for common ground. Understanding, too. Stories shared over weeks that turned to months that turned to years and seasons in the minors, and it absolutely figures Killian’s Major League debut is happening in Cincinnati. Where Kristoff plays.

It’s ridiculous how in love with him she is.

Killian. Not Kristoff.

Anna is still talking. “There’s nothing else to do in Cincinnati,” she reasons, which seems unfair to the city itself but not entirely untrue, and even the concept of chili on spaghetti grosses Emma out. “Also,” Anna adds, sounding as if she’s reached the final bullet point on her list of possible arguments, “I’ve got a Groupon deal for this place.”

Elsa blinks. “I didn’t realize Groupon was even still a thing.” “Surprise!”

Emma’s laugh isn’t entirely honest, but her sigh of acceptance is and—

Turns out she’s pretty good at it.

Goddamn fantastic, actually.

At rock climbing. Indoor rock climbing. Her feet push her up the wall with ease, the steady ache in her arms welcome and wonderful and a slew of other alliterative adjectives. That leave Killian grinning like a maniac, but it’s been a weird and equally wonderful day, without a hit, but two walks, so that ups the on-base, and Emma’s really, seriously in love with him.

“I don’t know what it was,” she says, preening just a bit under Killian’s stare. Hotel lighting casts shadows on his cheeks, slumped as he is against every pillow they could find. Even the ones in the closet. He’s not supposed to be in here for much longer, both of them aware of the team-ordained curfew hanging over them, but the pre-game nerves are long gone. Replaced instead with exhilaration and endorphins, the kind that could win Elle Woods a headline-making case. “But,” Emma continues, “I just kept moving, and the guy said it was, like, a course record. Is course the right word, you think?” Killian lifts a shoulder. Even as it’s covered in ice and tape. The play he made at third is going to show on loop. On TV. In Emma’s memory. She’s never yelled that loud before.

People took pictures.

And then she cried. Like a giant sap.

“This is your show, Swan,” Killian chuckles, pride infusing the words. As if she’s the one who deserves the pride today. It’s entirely possible she cried for multiple minutes after that play. They definitely showed that on the YES Network. Mary Margaret texted her no less than forty-seven times.

“I was really fast.” Killian hums, fingers fluttering enough to make it clear he wants her closer. Emma doesn’t argue. They’re a mess of limbs and mouths and that tongue thing they’ve collectively gotten better at giving and receiving over the years, hands that warm with the sort of confidence borne of repetition. Some joke about BP and finding your swing.

“Plus,” he says, a soft laugh at Emma’s noise of displeasure when talking means far less kissing, “becoming a rock climbing savant means more upper-body work, and you know how I love your arms.” Guffawing the way Emma does is not particularly romantic. Doesn’t matter. The sound comes, and the joy remains, a steady stream pumping through all her extremities and clouding her thoughts. In the best way possible. Before Killian, Emma didn’t know this could be that. Fun and easy, not quite simple, but something she’s willing to work for. Athletes are notoriously determined, after all.

Part of her wonders if a proclivity to rock climbing makes her an athlete, too.

“Please,” she says, laughter clinging to the letters even as she finds herself moved directly over Killian’s outstretched legs, “provide, in detail, everything you enjoy about my arms.” “I didn’t say enjoy.” “Were you misquoted, Jones?” His eyes flash. Glow, honestly. At her and because of her and athletes also know how to work their opponents. Goad them into making mistakes. Something about a pitcher’s duel and a battle in the box. Where the box is this bed. And Emma’s winning.

“I love your arms,” Killian says. Dragging his mouth against the column of her throat leaves goosebumps on Emma’s skin. Her back arches. His hand flattens. The compliments continue. Turn into promises. Guarantees. Of a future that’s spread out at their feet now, if only they reach for it.

Turns out Emma’s pretty good at reaching for things. When she wants them.

“This isn’t, like, free-scale, though, is it?”

Her heart cannot be expected to handle much more of this.

“Don’t worry,” Emma says, “all proper safety precautions were taken. Plus, I wouldn’t fall off the wall.”

Killian’s expression shutters. Not in any of that frustration Emma so clearly understood when his shirt was damp, and her shoes were unsalvagable despite his best efforts to get the school’s equipment manager to dry-clean them. No, it’s—it’s something big and important and unspoken, and Emma pulls his hand up. To rest directly over the rink that’s still tucked beneath her t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

It’s got his last number on it, at least.

“Would you catch me if I fell off the wall?” He doesn’t answer at first. Doesn’t mention the absurdity of a question that does not make sense, but those literal and metaphorical clock hands are ticking, and if they don’t replace his ice soon, they’re going to destroy these sheets. “Every single time, Swan.” “Right back at you.”

Killian doesn’t miss curfew, but it’s pretty close.

And Emma wakes up to twelve texts with links for indoor rock climbing gyms in the greater New York City area.

“Holy shit, this is hard.”

Grunting more than laughing, Emma’s fingers curl around the rock in front of her. Chalk cakes itself on the pads of those fingers, stuck beneath her nails and, somehow, the bend of her elbow. “Are you not an All-Star?” she asks, glancing at Killian.

“I do not see how that factors into this at all.”

“Huh, weird.” “Suspiciously sounds like an accusation.” “Weird,” Emma repeats. They’re halfway up a wall only one of them is really supposed to be on, but the other person several feet below them is faring far worse than the pair of them combined, so, that takes precedence in her mind. “He knows a lot more curse words than I realized.” “He’s showing off,” Killian grumbles, forehead resting against the wall.

Will Scarlet hasn’t moved in five minutes. Possibly six. Maybe a round ten. He's much better at second base.

“I cannot feel my arms,” he calls, and Emma’s laugh is better that time. Purer, somehow. As if happiness can actually have a sound. Even happiness that comes with sweat on her temple and a noticeable ache in her triceps and she sort of loves this.

Sort of is a vast understatement.

“Showing off, huh?” Emma asks. She finds her next footfall with ease, happiness blooming into confidence that’s become nearly consistent these days and weeks and years. It does not take her long to feel the stare that’s lingering on her. On her ass, specifically.

She glances over her shoulder. To find her fiancé smiling at her. And staring at her ass.

“Can I help you, love?” “Whatcha doing?” “Ogling you, obviously.” “Forearms feeling good?” He nods. Sort of. There’s a distinct slope to the back of his neck and more sweat on his brown than Emma’s. Not as much as Scarlet’s, probably. “Fantastic,” Killian drawls, “keep going, Swan, someone’s got to show us how to do it.” “Try not to fall off the wall, huh? Last thing we need is the might of the Yankees front office coming after us.” “I don’t think I can move my hands,” Will shouts. Killian doesn’t move. It’s impressive forearm strength. Blushing on the wall is not usually how Emma’s days go.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises, and Emma moves. He follows her. Up the wall and to the top, a quick brush of his lips against her shoulder that leaves Scarlet cursing even more, despite his presence on the floor, but then there’s lemon-flavored water and exceptionally soft towels and Emma’s caught a bit off guard by the question.

“Are there leagues for this?” Will asks. “Because you should probably be winning things for this.” Emma blinks. Considers. Wonders. Turns to Killian.

He’s still smiling. Broadly, in fact.

“We could look.” They do. They fill out paperwork. Buy fancy climbing shoes that Emma claims cost too much, but Killian’s a pushover and even more stubborn and she wins the first race she signs up for.

Plus, ten more after that.

Emma climbs indoor rock walls. Killian hits home runs. Occasionally they do these things simultaneously, and it usually leads to her nearly falling off the wall because everyone in her Tribeca gym knows what it means when WFAN is playing on the speakers.

Sometimes they shout out John Sterling’s home run call with him.

She gets better. He gets better.

They do end up destroying sheets in various hotels across the country. For various reasons. Not all of them post-game or ice related. There are games and events. Wins and losses. Back page spreads that Emma frames and hangs on their apartment walls, right next to other, smaller frames, with the same smiling faces who, once upon a time, called a sticky-floored baseball house home, and Killian’s fingers are warm in hers when the tears prick her eyes at Anna and Kristoff’s wedding.

There are stories. Think pieces and hot takes on a variety of drive-time radio shows. Those are all about Killian, though. He’s the athlete. The true one, some stories say. It’s impressive what Emma does, they admit, but it’s a hobby, and she’s got a grown-up career, anyway. So, she’s got more climbing records than she knew ever existed, but she’s not doing it for press, and both Mary Margaret and Anna weep at her and Killian’s wedding.

She wears her ring on a chain next to her other one when she climbs.

Every time Killian notices them hanging there, Emma swears, his eyes brighten. It’s her favorite thing in the whole, goddamn world.

“What is this?” He doesn’t answer. Just holds the sheet of paper he must have printed out in the clubhouse because they certainly don’t have a printer at home, and one of the edges is bent. Like he had to fit it in his back pocket.

“Going the stoic route, huh?” Emma quips, but there’s a noticeable hitch in her pulse. One that’s been there for weeks. Since the rumblings started, and the rumors began, whispers of possibility, and first-ever has a very nice ring to it. One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up. “Oh, that’s not fair.” “I’d like the record to show, that the only reason I didn’t know immediately was because I was in the trainer’s room, so—” “What were you in the trainer’s room for?” Killian ignores her. Well, sort of. His eyes shift, and his gaze holds, and Emma knows. Right down in the marrow of her. What the paper is and how Scarlet is the one who printed it out, but she’s even more confident Killian carried it home, and that does something funny to her entire worldview. Widens it and minimizes it at the same time, focusing on this and them and the possibility that creates.

In an athletic sort of way.

“My shoulder’s kind of sore.” Emma scoffs. “Oh, that’s pointed.” “I’m sure your shoulders are fine. Golden, even.’ “This is not your best work, you know that?” “Look at the paper.” “Did you fold it yourself?” “And then took a car back home. You really didn’t see yet?” Emma shakes her head. He knows the answer, too. He’s the one with the Google alert, after all. Because she’s still a bit of a pessimist at heart and an adult with a real job, and this is too much and abjectly terrifying, and the last thing she expects is for Killian to crouch in front of her.

One of his knees cracks.

“Don’t,” he warns, even as Emma does her best to swallow her laugh. Warm hands land on her thighs, a quiet steadiness that helps the state of her pulse and makes the possibility of the unknown a little less overwhelming. The lines crossing the center of the paper are absurdly straight. “You’re going to go.” “Oh, that sounded like a decree.” “A suggestion.” “A strong one.” “Mmhm, with the utmost confidence.” Emma makes an impressive sound. “Who’s doing your media training? What an impressive vocabulary you’ve got on you.” “Ready and willing to use it in a persuasive manner.” “Keep talking like that, and you won’t have to.” The smirk disappears. Evolves into a grin that is only Emma’s and only appears in moments like this, support clinging to air molecules and the ends of hair that constantly seems determined to fall into Killian’s eyes. “Passed, huh? All cool with the IOC.” “Decidedly cool. Officially an Olympic sport, now. Although the name could use some work. Sport climbing lacks a little oomph, don’t you think?”

“What would you call it?” “Emma Swan wins Olympic gold.” “Kinda wordy.” “Prophetic,” Killian corrects, hands shifting and pulling, and Emma has to widen her legs. His head’s at a very good kissing angle. “You’ve already got the qualifying numbers.” “You looked at the qualifying numbers?” “Don’t insult me like that. What do you think I did in the backseat?” “Planned the entire 2020 Olympics, apparently.” “Not the entire Olympics,” Killian counters, "just the part involving you. And maybe my individual expectations regarding the United States baseball team, but that’s another conversation altogether.”

“Naturally.”

“You’re using that voice.”

Widening her eyes does nothing. Emma didn’t expect it to. Not after years and games and events because rock climbing has events, and one time Mary Margaret made her a sign. Killian held it. He’s taller, that’s why.

“Don’t,” Killian repeats, “this is happening.” “Yuh-huh?” “You heard me. It’s your turn, now.” Melting is an impossibility. Like, for a human. Even so. Emma feels like she’s melting. Some of that pessimism evaporating under the warmth of Killian’s gaze and his hands and the determination in the precise angle of his chin. Same one he uses when he steps into the box with runners in scoring position.

Lumping herself into that group isn’t as insulting as Emma once believed it would be.

“God,” Emma groans, “that’s romantic.” “You’re really selling it, love.”

“This is supposed to be a hobby.” “One you’re exceedingly good it. World record good at it.” “I like you.” “That’s my end game, yeah.” She laughs. Smiles. Continues melting. Which is easier once they get rid of their clothing, and their bed is way more comfortable than any hotel they’ve encountered. And she falls asleep with Killian’s lips against her ear, Emma Swan, Olympic gold medalist whispered on loop like it’s a mantra he’s been practicing.

They postpone the Olympics.

It sucks. Everything sucks. Baseball sucks. Gyms are closed. Emma gets creative, and Killian gets research-prone. They build a makeshift wall. She tosses him BP.

People write stories about it.

It doesn’t help.

Until—

Time passes. Some things change. Others don’t. Their wall stands up to the elements of their building’s courtyard, and Killian’s hitting better than ever this season, a victory Emma’s going to claim as at least partially hers. And then the Olympics are back, and it’s qualifying and racing and a record that’s just out of reach, but she’s good enough even without it, and, this time, she’s the one packing a suitcase.

He kisses her.

Does the tongue thing.

Holds onto her like he’s only a little afraid she’s going to fall off the wall, but now the wall is international competition, and Emma’s freaking out a little.

“I love you,” she says into the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten. “I love you too.” “Gold medal?” “Gold medal.” “Hit some home runs while I’m gone, huh?” Lips graze her temple. Her forehead. The bridge of her nose. Emma might be crying, and Mary Margaret’s definitely recording, a small mob of red white, and blue surrounding them. “I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises.

“Good.”

He hits three before her first qualifying round. So, Emma takes that as a challenge. She’s an athlete now.

It’s why, she figures, her fingers don’t slip on her first run.

Her feet are sure. Her breathing is steady. There’s no one cheering her name, but she’s long since memorized the exact way Killian’s voice lifts above a crowd. How he pushes up on his toes to watch, as if standing up taller makes sure he’s closer to her. Should she need him when she falls off the wall. Only, Emma doesn’t fall, and she’s got no intention of ever falling and—

Her laugh shudders out of her in a watery sort of way that makes the journalist still standing in front of her flinch ever so slightly. Twitter makes sure the video starts playing again as soon as it finishes, which is somehow the best and worst thing that has ever happened to her. Best because, well, Emma’s honestly not sure she’s ever seen her husband like this.

Worst because she’s very nearly goddamn crying. Again.

Bobbing on the balls of his feet in front of his locker, whoever’s recording the video — it’s Scarlet, obviously — is practically frenzied behind the camera, barely able to contain their laughter. Killian doesn’t notice. He’s holding his own phone, all five of his free fingers firmly entrenched in the back of his hair. It’s gotten softer with age, Emma thinks.

She can’t stop watching him.

Every inhale is a clear struggle, the bobbing turning into pacing and quiet mumbling she can hear perfectly. As if she’s standing right in front of him.

Or at least slightly to the side. So as not to stand on the logo in the middle of the clubhouse.

Athletes are notoriously superstitious, too.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Killian chants, another noticeable snicker from Scarlet, “right there, right there, and pull, pull—Swan, pull up!”

“I did pull up there,” Emma mumbles. To the reporter, maybe. Or the world. Possibly her husband. Who was definitely more nervous about the first run than her.

God, that’s romantic.

Killian’s still talking. Shouting, more like. It’s a miracle Scarlet hasn’t fallen over yet.

“Faster, faster, you can go faster than that, Swan—” Emma clicks her tongue. “That’s kind of insulting.”

There’s an appropriate titter of laughter from the peanut gallery, which is a joke she was not trying to make, but she’s also dangerously close to swooning in the middle of press and she should have asked the Yankees for media training. Someone would have made sure she didn’t make a total ass of herself.

“Show me the time,” Killian yells, another demand that isn’t that. It’s too wobbly a string of words to hold any real power, just the supportive sort of desperation Emma’s felt in a variety of ninth innings and series-clinching moments. “Faster! Faster!” “Talking to the time or the judges or your wife?” Scarlet asks.

Killian nearly snarls.

Emma blinks. Hyperactively. Crying is not usually her shtick. More camera flashes...flash, Emma barely noticing them with her eyes glued to a phone screen that isn’t hers because she at least knows not to bring her phone to a press conference, and she can only imagine how many text messages she’s gotten.

Even on the other side of the world.

They post the times.

She knows because Killian gets some rather impressive height on his celebratory vertical. Fingers abandoning his hair, his fist pumps the air, and Scarlet’s not laughing so much as he’s whooping, a steady stream of yeah, yeah, yeah in the background. And for about half a breath, Emma’s worried Killian may turn one of his ankles on his landing, but he’d think that was insulting, and she’s really just full-on swooning now.

“How many people have seen this?’ she asks the reporter, already knowing the answer.

The reporter smiles anyway. Emma should learn her name.

“Pretty much the whole world.” When Emma was a kid — the sort of kid who believed alone was better, and there was strength in singularity, that would have terrified her. Bowled her over, really. Left her running without looking back, desperate to shed any sort of notoriety because notoriety meant attention, and attention meant inevitable disappointment.

Maybe that’s why she was never much of a sports person.

Sports disappoint you. They build you up and let you down, a sharp and sudden fall without a safety net. But sometimes. Sometimes, every so often, something wonderful happens. Sports lift you. Right up an indoor wall. Because, she knows, sports’ power comes from belief, from surrendering yourself to something bigger and better, and she’s back on that alliterative kick, but the tears are barely clinging to her eyelashes now and Emma herself is bigger and better, now.

In an international, decidedly romantic sort of way.

The video’s playing away.

“Let’s go,” Killian cries, and there it is. Her sound and their sound, cheering across an ocean and time zones that are still kind of messing with her sleep schedule.

Emma’s smile stretches.

“Let’s go,” she repeats.

It ends, as with most things in Emma’s gold-medal-winning life, because Anna plans it.

Stepping out of the terminal, it takes less than a full breath for the cheers to start. For the banners to lift and the tears to flow, a small platoon of support covered in the sort of patriotic gear they definitely got from the Old Navy in Herald Square.

Flashes burst behind Emma’s eyelids because she’s got to blink or she’ll definitely fall over. Her legs wobble beneath her, contending against a wave of triumph and jubilation, which is sort of the same word, but they’ve got a game at the Stadium tonight, so she doesn’t expect, she just hopes and reaches, and he has to twist around both Anna and Mary Margaret.

It’s wonderfully cyclical.

As is the way Emma slams herself against him. On purpose, this time. Killian’s arms tighten, more cheers and shouts, and people a few feet away start chanting USA over and over. Emma barely hears them. Her feet aren’t touching the ground, so she’s kind of preoccupied.

They’re all arms and mouths, and her legs wrapped securely around a body that probably shouldn’t be supporting hers when she knows he slid into second two nights ago, but Killian clearly has no intention of letting her down, and the medal around her neck bumps against her rings.

“You’re a very good cheerleader; you know that?” He hisses. In what, Emma can’t imagine. Embarrassment, if the red tips of his ears are anything to go by, and she’s got ideas as to why that is and how long the conversation about social media with Scarlet went, so Emma does the only reasonable thing.

She slams her lips against her home-run hitting husband’s, doing her best to make sure the gold medal doesn’t mistakenly impale either one of them, and the world tilts again. With victory and sports-based support and the sort of love that comes from believing in something bigger.

And better than Emma could have ever imagined.

“I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Please,” Emma scoffs, “don’t insult me like that. Plus, I’m claiming every one of those home runs as my own, so comparatively—” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

That’s for the best, probably.

“Your arms looked ridiculously good the whole time.”

Her laugh doesn’t even sound like her when Emma hears it played back — another video that someone tells her goes viral, only she doesn’t care about hits or site traffic, just about the particular shade of blue in Killian’s eyes, and she wears her medal to the game that night.

Because they’re a sports power couple, now.

Or so the New York Post back page claims the next day.

Emma frames it.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #hook heel #this is also apparently my 50th work on ao3 #which is just patently nuts #so if you guys have been clicking and reading all these words know that i am a little in love with you

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twopoppies · 3 years

Note

Firstly No pressure to read any of the below it’s just a lil rant after I ended up on the wrong side of tumblr!! ( + I have ADHD and i forgot my meds lol so its a bit disoriented and all over the place) and no response necessary unless you want to!

Oh god I accidentally ended up on the wrong side of tumblr....never ever ever ever again, I went back so fastttt lol im laughing at myself rn for how quickly i clicked away from disgust

i ended up on a blog that stalks u and some other larries and says absolutely atrocious things abt louis (I can send u their @ if u'd like so u can block them) and fully bought the stunt bs happening rn and it was horrible obvs but like i just do not understand like it was so creepy gina and im just so disgusted bc why? yk?

like u were not joking abt anti's actually being obsessed with larries - like half this person's blog was talking abt you and amy and i was just so shocked cause why??? like mate come on what the actual f? get a life please?? (im quite new so im like just now realising how insanely weird and obsessed these anti's are)

Also it was just an overall eye opener for multiple things:

Starting with that 1. the way 1DHQ and 1D Management managed to alienate larries actually worked and i like knew but truly doing a proper deep dive and seeing multiple blogs hate on larries and like obsessively stalk us was insane?? Like they truly believe everything they’re being fed???

Side Note: Lowkey feeling very lucky to have had the education i have because even before i even joined this fandom i believed partially none of the relationships in the news bc like i knew abt this industry and how it worked yk? i mean its logic? i have so many mates that arent even in the fandom that know i am in the fandom and texted me when the articles started rolling out calling it out for what it was: A PR stunt

Hell someone i know whom i had never even talked abt fandom stuff/stunt stuff fully texted me making a joke out of it!!! like people who aren’t even in our fandom can see it and its just insanely surprising that if they can why cant the antis?? im just a bit shocked rn

both from 1. finding someone who actually believes in this stunt and 2. multiple blogs that fully commit their time to stalking u and other larries and once again i knew but fully seeing it

YK AT FIRST I WAS LIKE IS THIS A JOKE I DIDNT BELIEVE IT GINA I THOUGHT SOMEONE WAS PULLING MY LEG OR THIS PERSON WAS IDK BEING SARCASTIC AND HAD A MESSED UP SENSE OF HUMOUR but ye anyway

It made me realise that 1DHQ knew what the fuck they were doing when they were trying to alienate larries from the rest of the fandom, once again i am feeling extraordinarily grateful to have grown up with an education where i was literally taught to never trust anything and to always think things thru using logic - “does it makes sense to you? if not find out why, there usually a reason behind everything” my yr 9 english teacher used to say smth like that all the time and it just never left me bc she was always teaching us to judge everything and to take every piece of news we read entertainment or otherwise with a grain of salt and to always if we’re gonna give someone else our opinion or spread this information do our research (its what i am when i say i feel lucky to have had the education i have had)

Eye Opener 2: Anti’s are fully standing y’all u were 100% correct this is some next level stan behaviour if i’ve ever seen some, you’re famous gina!!

It is while surprisingly to realise that anti’s fully believe these things, more surprising to see how they treat larries bc why on earth would u treat any other human being this way??? like dont get me wrong they’re horrible ppl and i fully felt like sending them a message telling them exactly that but i would never bc i just dont want to make another person feel bad abt themselves even if they are that shitty of a person and it was very tempting

I just would like to understand why they feel the need to do this? like why hate on a whole other person? for what believing smth diff to u? having a difference of opinion? how tf are they gonna make it when they get a job??? like??? do u know how often i run into a person with a different opinion then me? it shouldn’t be that big of a deal! we should still be able to be friends with antis! but we’re not - not for lack of trying btw!! they’re just so mean and rude??? when i was in other fandoms when someone believed different things there was never this much hatred at someone for it!! hell there was barely any bc it was understood that it was normal to have diff opinions abt things and i just am truly fascinated by these ppl i swear they remind how stupid the human race can sometimes be not for what they believe (altho ngl a lil of that too) but for how they treat other ACTUAL human beings with different opinions to them

Eye Opener 2.5: Some people need lives, man like they proper do need lives and something to do maybe a hobby or smth? just like a life they need to get one of those and actual live it

and Eye Opener 3: I already felt this way but like even god damn stronger now you deserve a formal apology from both 1DHQ and the universe

and until we get that u deserve amazing things coming from the boys on your bdays to make up for it

Lastly Gina I hope you didn't read thru all that bc I couldn’t even read it over and thus sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes and I would also like to say that I love your blog and everything about you! you’re an absolute angel and one of the kindest ppl I have ever had the pleasure of well not meeting but stumbling across, you truly make this fandom a much much much better place with your presence (I shudder to think of it without u) that said if you ever need to take breaks or leave Im sure you already know but you should 100%

You first!!! Always! :)

Have a good day Gina, I hope its an absolutely amazing one!

Hi darling. LOL! Reading this was like talking with my kids when they don't take their ADHD meds. Lots of excited thoughts!! I loved it.

And yeah, that blog and their 4 followers are really... not well. But you're very right. 1DHQ made this fandom a breeding ground for people to hate larries and to think it's something Harry and Louis would both approve of. It's gross.

The gaslighting here is powerful, so thank goodness for fans like you who know to question what they're told and to look at things with logic and to do their best to see through their own biases.

Thank you for all the sweet words and your offer to kick butt (in your other message). I really appreciate it!

#long post

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thefallennightmare · 3 years

Text

Hard to Love [19/?]

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Words: 2748

Warnings: this story will have mentions of abuse, mental and physical so please read at your own risk. Some swearing, angst, and a good amount of fluff. Maybe some smut if I'm feeling frisky.

Summary: After moving to a new town all on her own, Reader would do anything for a stable job and income. Even if that means housekeeping for one of Boston's eligible bachelors. What she didn't expect was finding herself falling in love with him and finding him out about the past that she was running from.

A/N: I couldn’t leave you guys hanging all night! TBH, I’m not sure how much longer this series is going to go. I’ve got a few things in my brain but well see how long this lasts! As always, enjoy :)

Tags: @kelbabyblue @patzammit @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @jennmurawski13 @divadinag @cosmicbreathe @thevelvetseries @capstopavenger @chris-butt @denisemarieangelina @im-a-stranger-thing @jennamarieee623 @introvertedmouse @lharrietg @thejemersoninferno @breezykpop @instantbasementtimetravel @rodgersteves @michaelscotfield-blog1 @40srogcrs @wonderingshawn @bellaireland1981 @katelyneannxo @lady-x-red @sare-bare93-blog @annmariek8 @raabrakha @stxvercgersslut

Chris’ POV.

A broken sigh fell from my lips as I sat on the back patio, Scott and my mom sitting at the table next to me. They had been here for the morale support, knowing that if I was still left alone, I would have gone insane.

The bags under my eyes had darken, my facial hair had grown longer than I usually like; I hadn’t had the will to shave. My long hair was matted on my head, refusing to get off the couch to shower. I didn’t want to risk missing her phone call.

“How long has it been?” Scott asked, his voice breaking the last ten minute silence.

I looked at my watch and choked back a sob. “Almost 48 hours.”

“They’ll find her, honey,” My mom rubbed my back.

Running a hand over my face, I nodded. “I keep thinking that if we haven't fought that night, she would be home right now. I can’t believe those were my last words to her. What if that’s all she's going to remember if she di-.”

I wasn’t able to finish my sentence, a loud sob replacing my words.

“Chris, you can’t think like that. You have to think positive.” Scott stated.

“How can I?!” I yelled while I stood to my feet, the chair scraping on the pavement.

“Her crazy ex husband has her! For all the cops know, he could have killed her the second he hit her with the bat!”

My voice was deep and bellowed through my backyard. Thankfully it was only us outside so I didn't need to explain myself to anyone.

The news of Y/N’s kidnapping unfortunately had been on every news channel local to Boston and Chad’s face was plastered all over social media, hoping any tips would pour in. My phone had non stop messages from family, friends, and fans. A lot of the fans thought it was a hoax since I hadn’t said one word about it.

“Any tips come in online?” My mother asked.

“Nothing, everyone thinks it’s a hoax,” I sighed.

“Why don’t you say something?” Scott suggested.

I looked at him skeptically. “I don’t know how that would help.”

“You have a huge fanbase, Chris; especially around Boston. It doesn't hurt,” Scott said.

Sucking on my bottom lip, I tossed the thought around in my head, back and forth back and forth, until I decided with a nod. Someone would be able to find something.

I stepped away from them while pulling out my phone and clicked the live button on Instagram, taking a deep breath beforehand. The light had turned green, indicating I was live.

“Hey everyone. I’m sure a lot of you heard the news about Y/N. First off, I want to say that it is true. She was abducted a few blocks from here almost 48 hours ago. The cops have evidence that her ex is behind it but they’re having trouble finding where he took her.”

I ran a hand through my hair and continued. “We’ve been together for almost a year and she means the world to me; almost as much as Dodger. Hell, even more than Dodger. She’s everything to me, I need her back home. So if any of you have any information please pass it along to Boston PD. Or you can even send it to me but please, I beg you, serious leads only. I love her. Let’s bring Y/N home. Thank you guys, you are simply the best fans. I love you all.”

The live ended and immediately I noticed the outpouring coming from everyone that had watched the live, letting me know that Y/N was in their prayers and that they would help bring her home.

A few tears rolled off my cheeks and I let out a shaky breath, holding back the sobs. My mom snuck up behind me and wrapped herself around me, pulling into a much needed hug.

My body crumbled in her embrace and the sobs became louder, burning our ears. I could help but grip my fingers into my moms back, even if she was shorter than I, but suddenly I was a little kid again. She always knew when I needed a hug or a shoulder to cry on. She knew exactly what I needed to get over heartbreak and she knew exactly when to back off when I needed space.

Right now I needed her.

After a few moments, I finally pulled away from her and thanked her with a kiss to the cheek.

“Thanks mom,” I forced a smile to my face.

“Of course,” she cupped my cheek, “I’m going to make you something to eat.”

I went to protest but she immediately hushed me, saying that I looked like I hadn’t eaten in days.

It was true.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay with you?” My mother asked.

Scott sat behind the wheel while I leaned against the window of the passenger side in front of my mom. They stayed for a few hours after dinner and when the clock struck seven, I knew that they should head back home to rest; they’d been by my side all day.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got Dodger.” I nodded.

“Chris,” she tsked.

“Ma, I’ll be fine. If I need anything, I’ll call.” I reassured her.

Her hand rested on my cheek and with sad eyes, she nodded. “She’ll come home.”

“I know. What’s killing me is not knowing-.”

“Chris?”

Looking to my left, my shocked eyes watched in horror as the figure walked towards me. I scurried away from Scott’s car, closer to the figure. She looked broken, bare feet tore up with cuts, but what caused my lips to tremble was the blood that covered her dress.

“Y/N?” My lips quivered. “Baby?”

Readers POV.

The soles of my heels burned with every step I took, closer and closer to my destination. The pavement scratched and cut my bare skin and I hissed in pain after every few steps. I wasn’t sure how long I had been walking but knew that I had a bit more to go.

A soft breeze tangled around my legs, causing the cuts to sting and I let out another hiss of pain. I pulled the jacket closer around me, blocking out the view from anyone I had walked past, which thankfully wasn’t many. I was in a part of town that the scene of me, disheveled and cut all over was nothing new. I could feel all parts of my hair was matted and stuck to my face, the sweat and blood dried a long time ago.

As the sun began to set, I knew I had to make it back before dark. This part of town was worse at night, but compared to what I had endured, that didn’t scare me. Nothing could scare me anymore.

Time passed slowly as the streets started to become familiar and as my tired feet turned the corner, the familiar three story home that had all those windows slowly came into view. The closer I got, the bigger the windows looked. My heart leaped into my chest when I saw him leaning against a car, talking with someone I couldn’t see. It didn’t matter, however, all that mattered what that I had made it back; back home to him.

“Chris?” My voice was raw and broken, barley coming past my lips.

He pushed himself off the car, taking large strides towards me. His hand outstretched and shook, afraid that I wasn’t real.

“Y/N? Baby?”

Everything seemed to slow as I stood in front of him, broken and a mess, knowing that with the look in his eyes that he hadn’t slept since I left.

“Is that...blood? Oh, god, please tell me it isn’t blood,” he cried, pulling me into his arms.

I broke down in a sobbing mess in his chest, the hell from the past few days finally catching up to me.

“It’s not mine,” I choked between sobs.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you,” Chris cooed, large hands rubbing circles on my back.

His body shook with sobs, happy that I had found my way home and sad from everything that happened to me.

“We should get you to a hospital, baby.” Chris cupped my face.

I wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on mine but I couldn’t force myself to close the distance; thankfully Chris understood.

“I’m fine,” I tried to fight.

“You’re not fine, Y/N. Please, let me take you to the hospital.” Chris begged with sad eyes.

Eventually I nodded. I didn’t want to go to the hospital because I knew the cops would get called which meant I had to tell them what happened; something I wasn’t ready to tell.

Silence was all we heard, threatening to pull us in deeper, as we waited for the doctor to return with the officer; they wanted to go over everything with them in the room. I agreed.

Chris had his eyes trained hard on the floor, his body unreadable.

“Chris?” My voice was quiet.

He slowly looked up. “Do you need something?”

I nodded and patted the spot next to me on the hospital bed. “Can you sit with me? I really need you right now.”

In a flash he was up from the chair in the corner of the room and by my side, arm wrapped around my shoulder. He kissed my forehead and the warm gesture was enough to slowly heal my heart.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

We both looked in the doorway and Chris greeted an officer and the doctor.

“Baby, this is Officer Ramirez, she’s handing your case.” Chris informed me.

The word sounded so wrong coming from his lips; your case.

“Are you feeling alright?” The officer asked.

I shrugged. “Better than I was earlier. The drugs helped ease the pain.”

“Are you alright if I go over the results in front of him?” The doctor suddenly asked while nodding toward Chris.

Linking our fingers together, I nodded. “He’s my boyfriend. He was with me for the tests, he’s staying for the results.

It was the doctors turn to nod. “Alright. So you have two bruised ribs, a laceration to your neck, hip and hand which we all stitched up. Some bruising on your face, a black eye, and a few minor cuts on your face as well. You do have a slight concussion so do take it easy for the next week. The bottom of your feet are severely cut up and we pulled quite a few debris out of them so I recommend staying off your feet as well.”

Chris stumbled over his words, trying to ask the one question that burned in his mind. Even though I reassured him countless times, he still needed to hear the doctor say it.

“What about the rape kit?” He finally breathed out.

“Negative. There was no sign of trauma and no foreign fluids. I don’t know how you survived, Ms. Y/L/N, but you are a fighter. I’ll leave you alone with Officer Ramirez.”

After she left the room, I stole a glance at Chris who’s shoulders had eased up a bit, knowing that I wasn’t raped. I knew that it was on his mind the whole time I was gone and since I came back.

“Are you up for giving your statement now?” Officer Ramirez asked.

I nodded. “I need to.”

Chris went to leave but I placed my hand on his thigh to stop him. “Please don’t leave me.”

He nodded. “Okay, I’m right here.”

Taking a deep breath, it came out shaky as I started telling them exactly what happened to me.

“He had me in a run down motel room across town, I knew it was across town when I was able to escape. When he was getting ready to put on a condom,” I felt Chris’ body stiffen next to me, “I saw the knife he’d brought on the table next to the bed and I didn’t even think about it; I went for it.”

“He was too fast and grabbed the knife before I was even off the bed. He used it on my, cutting up parts of my body. He didn’t care how loud I screamed or writhed in pain, he liked it.”

“Uh, after he smacked my head against the wall for trying to escape, he handcuffed me to the bedpost so he could run out for something. I couldn’t hear what he said, my head was throbbing in pain. He was gone for quite awhile and I stayed locked to the bed the entire time. I remember feeling how warm and sticky my blood was as it dripped from my body.”

I cried out, my hands shaking with the awful memories.

Chris wrapped his arms around me to calm me down and looked at Officer Ramirez. “Can we finish this another time?”

“No,” I shook my head while pulling away from his chest. “I have to tell them where his body is.”

Chris’ head snapped over to me, his mouth falling agape. “Don’t say another word, Y/N. Not until I get you a lawyer.”

“Damnit Chris, I don't want a lawyer! I did nothing wrong!,” I yelled. “That bastard, after he finally came back and unhandcuffed me, he passed out drunk in the bed next to me. I thought about running out but I knew that he would find me again. He felt me get out of bed and pulled me back down. We fought for the knife and he kept punching me in the head, smacking me against the wall. All I had was one second as he wiped my blood from his hand to reach for the knife, pushing it deep into his chest!”

My cheeks were soaked with tears, replaying the memory of the knife going into Chad’s heart over and over again. How easily the knife slid into his chest and the sound it made hurt my ears.

“I was so scared of what I had done that I sat in the corner of the room in the fetal position while his body went cold and ridged. I finally was able to will myself up and stole this dress from the laundry room of the hotel and walked all the way home.”

Chris looked at me, completely helpless and broken, but knew that I needed him more than ever. While he had me in his arms, Chris looked over to the officer.

“It’s clear what this is,” He stated.

She nodded. “The defense attorney won’t be pressing any charges. We only needed to get her statement.”

Chris and her chatted for a few more moments, her saying that she would be in touch, and it was finally Chris and I alone.

“You alright?” He pulled my chin up to meet his eyes.

“I was afraid I was going to die,” I admitted, “The only thing that kept me alive was thinking of you.”

“You’re incredibly strong, Y/N.” Chris breathed in my hair, savoring my scent.

Even though I was still covered in blood and sweat, not being able to shower until they collected evidence, I still smelled divine to him.

We found ourselves laying in the hospital bed, my head on his chest, and I could feel his heart beating rapidly through his chest.

“You can relax, I’m home now.” I reassured him.

A stray tear fell from his eyes and I was quick to wipe it away.

“I thought I lost you. I kept replaying our last words to each other in my head and blamed myself for what happened.” Chris admitted with a shaky breath.

“No,” I cupped his cheek, “None of this is your fault; or mine. I’m sorry I ever compared you to him.”

“Don’t apologize. I was being an asshole,” he stated.

“I just want to move past this,” I sighed while laying my head back on his chest.

Chris agreed with a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you,” he muttered against it.

My head shot up, looking into his eyes to see if he meant what he had just admitted.

“What?” I asked.

“I love you,” he said again, not missing a beat.

Getting through the last 48 hours of hell had been worth it because not only had I survived, I made it back home to the man that loved me and who I loved.

“I love you too,” I pressed my lips to his, feeling the familiar taste encase my tongue.

There was a long road to recovery in front of me but I knew that it would be an easy one to walk; with Chris by my side.

#chris evans and reader #reader insert #chris evansx reader #chris evans reader insert #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans angst

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