#today i take on both right wing people

[luvyeni]

❛CUPID AND HIS ANGEL❜ ( l. know )

💬nia's notes: i seen the shoot and got hella inspired.

p. cupid!leeknow x angel!reader w. 2.5k+

warnings? yandere themes, corruption kink, talks of blood, oral (m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, poor knowledge of greek mythology ( like zesus should strike me down), leeknow is referred to as both lk and cupid.

— 𖦹 ( youre lee knows precious angel, and he'll be damned if he shoots his arrow into your hear for anyone but himself ) !

“she is a beauty, isn’t she?” lee know stared at the photo in front of him, ready to snap his bow and arrows in half. “she isn’t a goddess by any means, just a mere angel, but she’s special.” he knew who you were, he’d been watching you since you arrived here in olympus, he already claimed you as his. “you want me to use my arrows on a useless angel?”

he didn’t mean to be so harsh, but if this male angel found out he also had an eye out on you, he’d surely try and start a war over it – and lee know didn’t bother for another war, nor did he wish bloodshed, but he’d spill the angels blood all over olympus if it meant you’d be his alone – plus the angel would never win against lee know, he was a god of course, but that wouldn’t stop him, male angels are very prideful. “please, i’ll pay you a generous amount.” lee know smiled, tapping the table. “of course.” the angel put the sack of gold on the table, lee know scooped up the bag, putting it in his pocket. “good day to you.” he turned to walk away. “so you’ll do it?” he turned back facing the angel. “consider it already done, i’ll inform you when it will take place.” he smirked walking out of the establishment.

of course he wasn’t gonna do it, no way was he gonna let you be taken from him by some lowly angel, no you deserved more than that – you deserved to be treated like the goddess you really were, spoiled with many jewels and dresses, to eat the best foods… you deserved to be with him, he could give you all that and more.

of course, he already knew where you hung out, in the fields with the other angels, he’d often watch you picking flowers, your wings fluttering behind you, perfect for him. “hi my precious little angel.”

you turned around to face the voice, with a smile, it was your friend leeknow, you smiled running over to him. “hi cupid.” you teased, he smiled, patting your head. “i told you to call me leeknow.” you chuckled. “i know, but i like teasing you.” you were so cute, so unaware of the explicit things he thought about doing to you. “are you here to stay or are you gonna go make people fall in love today.” he shook his head, he only had one person he was gonna make fall in love today – and she was standing right in front of him. “no i’m just here to watch you today, make sure you’re being the good angel i know you are.” he took a flower from your pile. “(y/n), come!” your friend called for you. “go little angel, i’ll be here when you’re done.”

he sat down watching you run over to your friend who wanted to show you something in the grass, probably a animal or something – he didn’t mind, he had business to attend to. pulling out his trusty bow, along with a single love arrow, he waited for yours and your friend to be far enough so you’d be to look at him first, but you won’t see him shoot you, before aiming the arrow, making sure to wait for the exact moment – lord knows that if he shot your friend by accident he’d sure end up killing them, he didn’t want anyone else but you, and was willing to do anything, and he couldn’t have that if he has a stupid little angel floating around here actually thinking he’d love them, no all his love was for you.

once you were in the right place, he wasted no time, letting the arrow go, shoot right in the heart, right where it needed to be. he saw you stumble, meaning the arrow did hit you – making direct eye contact with him. he smiled, and just as he planned, you dropped the flowers, waving goodbye to your friend, running over to him. “you’re back my little angel.” you smiled, he seen the look in your eyes. “pretty little angel.” he held the flower he took from you, placing it behind your ear. “leeknow, i feel- shh, i know angel, let’s get you back to my castle okay?”

lee know was ecstatic, the magic from the arrow seemed to hit faster than anyone he ever shot before, you were all over him on the ride back, to the point he had to hold your wrist down to keep you from unbuckling his pants, “angel stop it.” he sighed as you pressed warm kisses to his neck. you pouted, whining. “but why, i just want to show you that i love you so much.” he smiled, this is exactly what you wanted. “yeah? you love me?” you nodded. “yup, so so much.” he chuckled. “and i love you too angel, but you have no clue what you’re doing, just wait a little while longer, and i’ll show you exactly how you can show me how much you love me.”

as soon as you touched the inside of your castle he was taking you to his chambers, not even caring to explain to the maids, close his door, leaving you both alone. you rushed to kiss him, he finally allowed you to, it was messy, due to your lack of knowledge of how to kiss someone or do anything in a sexual nature at in general. he pulled away grabbing both your cheeks. “calm down my little angel, you don’t even know what you’re doing.” he chuckled. “let me guide you, okay? i’ll give you anything you want, just submit to me.”

Your body finally calm down some, he smiled. “good girl, now undress for me.” you untied the string of your dress, that was tied around your neck, letting it fall, uncovering your boobs, the cold air hitting your nipples. “perfect, my perfect little angel.” he brought his hands up to your nipples, pinching them, you whimpered at the sensation. “sensitive baby.”

he sat down in the chair, patting his lap. “come here pretty.” you moved to where here was, standing in between his legs. “be my sweet little angel and get on your knees for me.” you obeyed, sinking down on your knees, looking up at him. “good little angel, listen so well for me.” he caressed your face, the lovesick look in your eyes making him smile. “gonna do whatever i ask you, be a good angel for me.” you nodded. “anything.”

he let your face go, sitting back to unbuckle his slacks, pulling them down along with his underwear, his cock slapping again his abdomen, his hissed at the cold air. “are you hurt?” your eyes filled with worry, he let out a dry laugh. “no angel, i’m fine.” he groaned, stroking his cock in front of your face. “you want to show me how much you love?, prove to cupid how much you love him?” you nodded. “i do.”

he grabbed the base of his cock, bringing it to your pink glossy lips. “open for me angel.” you slowly parted your lips, he slid his cock into your mouth, moaning as he guided you down his length. “there we go angel, keep going, don’t use your teeth.” you took as much as you could, until his tip hit the back of your throat. “pretty girl, my cock is too big for your little mouth.”

you shook your head, desperate to please him, you tried to take him further down, gagging around his length. “you really want to please me little angel, you took me all the way.” he threw his head back as you worked your mouth up and down, eventually getting the hang of it. “sh-shit you’re a natural angel.” the god was losing his mind, the way your mouth worked on his cock, he had to grip the chair to keep from grabbing your head, fucking up into your mouth – not wanting to frighten you during your first time, plus you both had all the time in the world, both of you being immortal, he had all the time in the world to fuck your face, teach you and corrupt you even more than he was about to.

“fuck angel, angel i’m about to cum.” he groaned. “wanna cum in your mouth okay? gonna fill your mouth with my cum.” you hummed, he grabbed the back of your head, pushing it down until your nose poked his pubic bone. “breath through your nose angel.” he groaned out, stilling your head. “ngh, fuck angel, i’m cumming!” his cock twitched before you felt his warm cum hit the back of your throat. “mhm shit, take all my cum love.” he cursed, his cum filling your mouth.

he finally released your head; you coughed, spit and cum wetting your lips as you caught your breath. “did i do well?” your voice was scratchy due to his previous assault, he smiled at your need to please him – even though he was the cause of it. “yeah angel, you did good.” he said grabbing your cheek, wiping the cum from your lips. “now it’s time for me to show you how much i love you now.”

he helped you up, guiding you to the bed. “lay down angel.” you complied, laying down, your wings spread behind you, your skin glowing, you were truly a beauty. “such a pretty creature.” he lifted the skirt of your dress up on your waist, your white panties on display. “so fucking pretty angel.” he kissed your navel. “spread your legs for me angel.”

he sat on his knees between your legs, the wet spot in the middle of your panties, proving your arousal. “look at the mess you made angel, you love me that much?” he rubbed you through your panties. “leeknow.” you whimpered, your eyes widened at the noise that so easily came out of your mouth. “it’s normal sweet angel, it’s just you showing how much you love me.” he moved your panties to the side, your cunt soaked with your juices. “look so sweet angel, gonna let have a taste later.” it didn’t sound like a question, and lee know didn’t mean it as either, he would spend the rest of eternity in between your legs, but he was equally as desperate to fuck you, his cock swelled just at the thought. he pushed a finger into your hole, you whimpered out his name in reaction. “that feels nice angel?” you nodded. “i’ll let it slide this once angel, but when i speak to you, you use your words, okay?” he pressed a second finger at your hole. “you want another?”

“pl-please.” you moaned as he added the second finger, using his thumb to rub your clit. “sweet angel your little cunt is squeezing my fingers like crazy.” he said. “you’re barely taking them, how can you take me cock if you can’t even take my fingers.” you whined. “i-i can, i promise.”he smiled, speeding up his movements, curling his fingers. “you gotta cum on my fingers first then, gotta open you up to take my cock.”

you felt something, your thighs began to tremble, your legs trying to close around leeknows wrist, but he held them open. “s-something- shh let it out angel, this is a good thing, that means you’re about to cum, be a good angel and cum all over my fingers.” on his word, you felt yourself release, cumming on his hand. “le-leeknow.” your body convulsed as he worked you through your orgasm, pulling his fingers out, bringing them to his lips. “oh fuck angel, you taste so good.” he groaned, tapping on your sticky clit.

“you ready for cock angel?” he rubbed his length on your folds, your juices coating his cock. “y-yes.” your whimpers turned into a loud moan as he slowly entered you, the tip of his cock alone stretching your cunt. “leeknow.” he sighed, his cock sinking into your cunt, your walls gripping him like vice. “fu-fuck angel, your cunt is squeezing me like crazy.” he grunted. “relax your pretty cunt for me, let me in.” he slowly moved his hips, taking his cock out, pushing back in.

you were a mess as he slowly moved inside you, the uncomfortable feeling slowly subsiding, turning into pure pleasure. “m-more.” that’s all he needed to speed up his movements, your moans bouncing off the walls of his chambers as he fucked you. “that’s it angel, take all of my cock.” his hand toyed with your nipples, pinching them.

you felt like you were floating, the tip of his cock slamming into your cervix. “are you going dumb on my cock already angel?” he chuckled. “it’s okay love, i’ll be right here, your love will be here when you come back.” he lifted your hips fucking deeper into you.

“fu-fuck angel, gonna make you my wife.” he grunted. “give you everything you deserve.” he promised. “no one will ever be able to harm you.” you listened to his confession, unable to speak. “sh-shit you’re clenching so tight around me, gonna cum aren’t you, tell me you love me first, i want to hear you say it.” he grabbed your chin. “i-i love you, i love you so much.” you mustered out. “lee-leeknow i’m gonna cum!” you screamed.

“cum for me angel, cum for me so i can fill your little cunt with my cum.” his words alone made you yell out his name as you came, your thighs shaking. “fuck angel, you came so fast -shit- you want my cum that bad, want to have my children, give me a heir?” you nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist. “p-please.” his hips began to falter, his thrust becoming more messy. “fu-fuck angel, i’m gonna cum, gonna fill your pretty cunt up -ngh- fuckfuckfuck.” he cursed, his cum filling your cunt up. “take my cum, my little angel.”

your body laid there limp, your eyes fluttering close. “little angel are you sleepy, my cock made you that tired?” he chuckled as you nodded. “go ahead and sleep, i’ll clean your sweet body up.” that’s all you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

“you cannot enter cupids chambers right now he is-.” his door swung open, lee knows eyes opened, the angry angel making his way in. “you bastard! you’re a thief and a crook.” he yelled at the god, you can tell he was angry, because not even a prideful angel would dare do what he was doing. “you stole my gold and my angel.”

your eyes opened due to the commotion. “leeknow?” leeknows eyes darken upon hearing your voice. “you woke up my little angel with all your yapping.” he said. “your angel? she’s supposed to be mine!” the angel yelled. “enough of this.” leeknow belted. “why would i need your gold? you’re a lowlife.”he scoffed, the angel stood there fuming. “now get the fuck out before i have you killed, you’re scaring my wife.” with a snap of his fingers, two guards came in dragging the male out. “who was that?”

he turned to you, starring up at him. “just a upset customer, don’t worry about you’ll never see him again.” he dipped under the blanket, kissing your thighs. “wh-what are you doing?” you stuttered.

“gonna eat my little angels pretty pussy.”

©LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard thoughts #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids fic #skz x reader #lee minho smut #lee know hard hours #lee know smut #lee know imagines #lee know hard thoughts #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #lee know scenarios

[robertreich]

How Trump is Following Hitler's Playbook

You’ve heard Trump’s promise:

TRUMP: I’m going to be a dictator for one day.

History shows there are no “one-day” dictatorships. When democracies fall, they typically fall completely.

In a previous video, I laid out the defining traits of fascism and how MAGA Republicans embody them. But how could Trump — or someone like him — actually turn America into a fascist state? Here’s how in five steps.

Step 1: Use threats of violence to gain power

Hitler and Mussolini relied on their vigilante militias to intimidate voters and local officials. We watched Trump try to do the same in 2020.

TRUMP: Proud Boys, stand back and stand by.

Republican election officials testified to the threats they faced when they refused Trump’s demands to falsify the election results.

RAFFENSPERGER: My email, my cell phone was doxxed.

RUSTY BOWERS: They have had video panel trucks with videos of me proclaiming me to be a pedophile.

GABRIEL STERLING: A 20-something tech in Gwinnett County today has death threats and a noose put out saying he should be hung for treason.

If the next election is close, threats to voters and election officials could be enough to sabotage it.

Step 2: Consolidate power

After taking office, a would-be fascist must turn every arm of government into a tool of the party. One of Hitler’s first steps was to take over the civil service, purging it of non-Nazis.

In October of 2020, Trump issued his own executive order that would have enabled him to fire tens of thousands of civil servants and replace them with MAGA loyalists. He never got to act on it, but he’s now promising to apply it to the entire civil service.

That’s become the centerpiece of something called Project 2025, a presidential agenda assembled by MAGA Republicans, that would, as the AP put it, “dismantle the US government and replace it with Trump’s vision.”

Step 3: Establish a police state

Hitler used the imaginary threat of “the poison of foreign races” to justify taking control of the military and police, placing both under his top general, and granting law-enforcement powers to his civilian militias.

Now Trump is using the same language to claim he needs similar powers to deal with immigrants.

Trump plans to deploy troops within the U.S. to conduct immigration raids and round up what he estimates to be 18 million people who would be placed in mass-detention camps while their fate is decided.

And even though crime is actually down across the nation, Trump is citing an imaginary crime wave to justify sending troops into blue cities and states against the will of governors and mayors.

Trump insiders say he plans to invoke the Insurrection Act to have the military crush civilian protests. We saw a glimpse of that in 2020, when Trump deployed the National Guard against peaceful protesters outside the White House.

And with promises to pardon January 6 criminals and stop prosecutions of right-wing domestic terrorists, Trump would empower groups like the Proud Boys to act as MAGA enforcers.

Step 4: Jail the opposition

In classic dictatorial fashion, Trump is now openly threatening to prosecute his opponents.

TRUMP: if I happen to be president and I see somebody who’s doing well and beating me very badly, I say, ‘Go down and indict them.’ They’d be out of business.

And he’s looking to remake the Justice Department into a tool for his personal vendettas.

TRUMP: As we completely overhaul the federal Department of Justice and FBI, we will also launch sweeping civil rights investigations into Marxist local district attorneys.

In the model of Hitler and Mussolini, Trump describes his opponents as subhuman.

TRUMP: …the radical left thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country…

Step 5: Undermine the free press

As Hitler well understood, a fascist needs to control the flow of information. Trump has been attacking the press for years.

And he’s threatening to punish news outlets whose coverage he dislikes.

He has helped to reduce trust in the media to such a historic low that his supporters now view him as their most trusted source of information.

Within a democracy, we may often have leaders we don’t like. But we have the power to change them — at the ballot box and through public pressure. Once fascism takes hold, those freedoms are gone and can’t easily be won back.

We must recognize the threat of fascism when it appears, and do everything in our power to stop it.

#youtube #videos #fascism #Donald Trump #election #video #politics

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 18 (18+)

a/n: as always, thank you @bahablastplz for editing!

[ read chapter 17 here ]

[ skz house picture book for visuals in the chapter ]

Chapter Eighteen: Of Beaches and Balconies

The small changes in Chan’s behavior make you feel more at ease around him. You choose an in-flight movie to watch together, and he keeps his hand on your thigh the entire time. When you exit the plane, he extends his hand out to you, and you take it. He guides you through the throngs of people in the airport and you feel yourself shifting into autopilot, taking comfort in following his lead. You’re so used to planning and handling everything on your own that him taking the reins is a welcome relief.

He grabs your luggage at baggage claim, hails a taxi and directs the driver to the hotel. He has you sit in the lobby while he checks in and gets the room keys. Watching him at the front desk, you can’t take your eyes off him. There is an air of confidence about him you’ve always admired but it often felt like arrogance, given the way he has treated you. You wonder if you’ll grow to fully appreciate it on this trip.

He returns to you a few minutes later with the keycards and you head to the elevator.

“What’re you thinking? Nap? Food? Exploring?” he asks as the elevator doors close.

They all sound equally appealing.

You retrieve your phone from your back pocket and open the tentative itinerary you made. Chan leans over your shoulder to look at it.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

“I like organization,” you defend yourself.

“I know,” he muses. “Send that to me, so I know what the plan is.”

“I didn’t have anything planned for today, though—we can wing it,” you shrug, tapping on your phone to send him a copy.

The elevator chimes and the doors open to the 15th floor.

“An entire evening living on the wild side? What’s gotten into you, y/n?” he teases, holding his arm out of the elevator to keep the doors open as you exit.

“I can be risky…sometimes.”

“I’ll remember that,” he replies. “Room 1533, should be all the way at the end.”

You walk down the hallway with him following close behind. When you get to the door, he unlocks it with the keycard and pushes it open for you to enter first. You smile as you enter the room, immediately walking down a hallway with dark walls on either side of you. The first door to your right is the bathroom; it’s covered in sparkling, white marble. There are two sinks, and the shower has two separate heads. You continue down the hallway which leads out into the kitchen on your left, with a refrigerator, stove, sink and an island with barstools around out. To the right is the living room with a gray sofa and a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall across from it.

You turn right and cross through the living room, sparing a quick glance at the balcony beyond the open curtains, until you’re on the other side of the room. Two French doors are wide open, leading into the bedroom. You stop abruptly upon looking inside the room. Chan crashes into you from behind. He grabs your waist to steady both of you from toppling over. His eyes follow yours into the bedroom, taking in the sight that made you stop in your tracks. The room is covered in rose petals, across the floor and on the bed in the shape of a heart. In the left corner of the room is a standalone bathtub and it, too, is surrounded by rose petals.

You can just imagine Lee Know cackling.

“That man must have a death wish,” you remark.

 “Minho,” Chan says, shaking his head. “We should bring some back with us and dump them on his bed.”

You smile at the thought. “They’ll be dead by then…”

“Even better,” he replies, smacking you on the butt as he steps around you. He sits on the bed, picking up a few of the petals. “We can pretend I planned it. Would that make it any better, being your fiancé and all?”

You really wish he’d stop throwing that word around so casually. As if it doesn’t give your heart a reason to beat and want to die simultaneously.

“It might be a little too romantic for you.”

“Ouch,” he drops the petals from his hands. “That hurts, y/n. I can be romantic.”

You arch an eyebrow as he holds out his hand to you. You place your hand in his and he gently pulls you so you’re standing between his legs.

“You’d like it if I did something like this wouldn’t you?” he looks up at you with a knowing smirk.

You roll your eyes and give his shoulders a shove. He falls back onto the bed, right into the middle of the rose petal heart.  Of course you’d like that. But hearing him say it, thinking of him doing something so romantic for the person that will one day be truly and completely his…

No, you can’t allow yourself to dwell on those thoughts.

You climb on top of him on the bed, straddling his waist. You sit up straight with your hands resting on his chest, taking in the sight of him surrounded by the red petals. He looks beautiful, the colors breathing life into his pale complexion and contrasting the dark curls strewn about his head.

You push aside the painful thoughts of the future and focus on the present. You have Chan right now. You’re his, right now. No one else.

“Thank you,” you say, breaking the silence.

“For what?” he asks, placing his hands on your hips.

“For doing a complete 180 today.”

He offers a shrug, “You made some valid points. I chose to come here with you—I have to make sure you have a good time.” He uses his hands on your hips to guide your hips, grinding them against him. “You decide what you wanna do first?”

“Yeah,” you reply, leaning down until your face is centimeters apart from his. “You.”

He smiles in return, bringing a hand up to clasp the back of your neck. He brings you down to peck your lips and in one swift move, rolls you over so he’s on top of you.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” His tone is low as he pulls your legs up so they hook around his waist. He nestles himself between your legs, making himself at home. “Gotta start this vacation off right.”

That first night you don’t venture out far from the hotel. You grab dinner at a nearby restaurant, walk around some of the shops, then return to the room to call it a night. You already feel torn between wanting to see all the things you had planned and staying cooped up in the hotel room with Chan the entire trip. Though, you don’t think he’d object to the latter if you suggested it.

The next day you have an early start in the morning and Chan wakes up without any fuss and gets ready. It makes you smile when you see him come out of the bathroom in comfortable active wear. He must have read through your itinerary and dressed accordingly. You spend the morning on a boat tour along the bay where the guide points out the homes of various celebrities, then out into the Atlantic Ocean. You and Chan are more enraptured by the dolphins you spot, his child-like glee at the sight—look of awe on his face, phone in hand to capture the moment—makes you laugh with pure joy.

You then take a quick taxi ride to Little Havana and walk along the streets. You have lunch at a Cuban café and then stop at an art museum where you take pictures to send to Hyunjin later.

You go out for dinner again and on your way back, the two of you sit for an artist to draw a caricature. Chan laughs when the picture is finally revealed to you and commends the artist for accurately depicting the size of his nose to which you can only shake your head. It’s been drastically enlarged, but you love the picture anyway.

However, you don’t love the fact that you start to question whether or not you’ll be forced to throw it away in a couple months.

Once you’re finally back in the hotel room, you both linger in the kitchen, neither of you wanting to go to bed yet. You’re standing with your back against the island and Chan is seated on a barstool next to you.

“What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” You ask, wanting to talk about anything with him.

“Hmmm,” he hums. The question seems to catch him off guard, as if he had other things on his mind. “When I was twelve, my little sister Hannah begged my parents to spend the holiday on Christmas Island. Have you heard of it?”

You shake your head no.

“It’s just east of Australia—not too far from Indonesia. Anyways, she saw it on a map and thought we’d get our presents faster if we were there.”

“Did you?”

“No,” he chuckles. “And we only got half our presents—whatever was small and convenient enough to pack for the trip. On Christmas Eve, me, Hannah and Luke even tried to stay up all night to try to catch Santa on, but they passed out pretty early.”

“You still believed in Santa at age 12?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow.

“For them, I did,” he replies, and you feel your condescending expression soften.

You try to imagine him as an older brother, keeping the magic of Christmas alive for his siblings. It’s an endearing thought. Your mind then drifts to the fact that he’s not spending Christmas with his family this year. You never asked if he typically went back home or stayed at school for winter break. Now you’re wondering if they’re missing him. And that makes you sad to consider.

Chan stands from the barstool, pulling you out of your thoughts and you immediately feel your body adjust to his movements, uncertain if he’s about to walk away.

He stands in front of you and places his hands on your hips. This change in positioning, the closeness, realigns your thought process to focus on him, here and now. What are siblings, even?

“That year I was almost convinced to believe again.” He grips onto your hips and hoists you up onto the countertop without missing a beat. “After they fell asleep, I could have sworn I heard something on the roof…turned out to be the hotel staff adjusting antennas or something though. Bummer.”

“Have you guys ever gone back?”

“Nah,” he says with a shrug but doesn’t elaborate. “What’s Christmas like with your family—any traditions?”

“My parents never did the whole Santa thing,” you tell him. He gives a nod, showing that he’s listening, but his body seems to have a mind of its own as he starts moving the barstools on either side of you, placing one under each foot. “But for as long as I can remember we’d have breakfast for dinner. Waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage…the works. More food than we could ever—”

You pause as he starts to remove your socks. He stops, too, looking up at you and waiting for you to continue. When you resume speaking, he pulls your socks off and tosses them aside.

“We would watch a holiday themed movie—A Christmas Story, Home Alone, The Santa Clause, uhm…” you blink as his hands move to the hem of your shirt and start to lift it over your head.

“And what else?” he asks casually.

“If I could stay up,” you continue as his hands proceed to pull your shirt up and you lift your arms to help, “until midnight, I got to choose one gift under the tree to open.”

He tosses your shirt on the floor with your socks.

“Did you ever make it to midnight?” He asks, hands now focused on pulling down your bottoms. You lift your hips slightly to allow it and he drags them down over your ass.

You momentarily forget to answer as you watch him, transfixed. He gently takes out one leg then the other before letting them join your other clothes on the floor. You’re not sure what’s happening. It baffles you, really. Anyone listening to this conversation wouldn’t assume anything out of the ordinary is taking place. Meanwhile this man now has you in your underwear, legs spread and feet resting on the barstools as he stands between them.

You don’t make any attempt to stop him, though.

“A few times,” you finally reply. “When I did, I always went for the biggest present.”

“Smart girl,” he says, sliding his hands up your legs, then your thighs, until they can’t move any higher. He grips your thighs, letting his eyes fall from yours down your torso until landing between your legs.

He moves his hand to your center as he asks more questions—is Christmas your favorite holiday? What’s the best gift you’ve ever gotten? Do you prefer giving gifts or receiving? All the while rubbing his thumb against your clit, over your underwear. You do your best to answer, but your attempts at speaking become futile. He smiles at this and finally removes your underwear and bra, leaving you naked on the counter while he remains fully clothed.

He abandons his line of questions and focuses instead on making you come with his mouth. He gets no objections from you.

After breakfast, you start the following morning on the beach. The hotel has reserved sections for guests with beach chairs and umbrellas. Chan—already shirtless and tempting—orders you both mimosas. As he’s lying on his own chair with a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes, you stand to remove your cover up, revealing a retro-styled bathing suit—high waisted bottoms and a halter top, tied behind your neck.

When you lay back in your own chair, you become aware of his gaze on you. You look down to make sure you aren’t indecently exposed, but all your bits and pieces are in place.

“How does everything you wear look so good on you?” He asks in an off-handed manner, pulling his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose.

You blush at the unexpected compliment.

“Maybe you’re just thinking about taking it off?”

 He considers your sentiment before nodding in agreement.  

“Maybe,” he mutters. “Maybe you don’t understand how sexy you are, y/n.”

He winks at you before sliding the glasses back up and looking out at the ocean. A silence falls over you both as the waiter brings your drinks. You cheers, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip.

 “Do you think I’m weak?” you ask him, after a moment.

“Weak?” He repeats, sounding taken aback by your question.

“Like…I’m inferior to you and that’s why you can do and say certain things to me?”

You’re just as surprised as him at your own question. It’s been on your mind a lot lately. Especially given how he had his way with you last night and you just let it happen. Not that you didn’t enjoy it.

“No…” he says after a moment. “I don’t think you’re inferior. Or weak.”

“Is it something you like to do with everyone?” You keep your eyes trained on the water in front of you, not wanting to look at him when he answers.

You don’t even like the way your voice sounds when you ask the question. Like you’re afraid of the answer…or jealous. The intimate things you’ve done with Chan, though, are so different than what you’re used to. You know he’s had, at the very least, three sexual partners before you, but you’re curious if they all bent to his will as easily as you do.

“There are certain things I like, sure—being a little rough, for example, is something I could do with anyone. But most of the shit we’ve done? I don’t know how to explain it…”

You glance over at him, but because of the sunglasses he’s wearing you can’t see his eyes. He seems to be taking his time answering. Choosing his words carefully, perhaps.

“I had an assumption about you,” he eventually continues, “and after our first night together, it confirmed that assumption. So, I pushed further and further, and you were always receptive. Or at least you seemed willing. You still do. Do you not like it?”

There’s a sincerity and openness to his tone you’ve never heard before.

“I do,” you reassure him. “I just never knew if you thought less of me or something…because I always cave and give in to what you want.”

“Quite the opposite,” he replies softly. “I knew you’re very strong-willed. I don’t think you’d just let anyone talk to you the way I have or do the things I’ve done to you. The fact that you allow me to do these things to you, that you willingly relinquish control sometimes is what really gives me pleasure.”

You distract yourself by taking another sip of your mimosa to keep from smiling at his words. You’ve never heard him say such kind things about you. But he’s felt them and seen them, seen you this entire time.

“I think a large part of my willingness has to do with you…” you tell him. “I never thought I’d actually like someone telling me what to do. But you carry yourself with an undeniable amount of confidence…an alpha-male energy, if you will, that gives me an enjoyable kind of fear that I feel like I can be safe in? If that makes sense.”

He nods his head slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“So, if I told you to take that top off right now…” he trails off.

“You wouldn’t,” you say, looking around at all the people and families—literal children on the beach.

“I wouldn’t,” he agrees. “Not here.”

And there it is. It’s like there has always been an unspoken agreement between the two of you, right from the start. He will push you out of your comfort zone, but there are limitations. Even that day in the park when you thought he was going to have you suck his dick out in the open.

“None of these people are worthy of seeing you in that state,” he adds, and you just roll your eyes.

You spend the next few hours at the beach together. You venture out into the water, but not too far in. You latch yourself onto Chan’s back as he treads through the water, kissing his shoulders, hugging him tight. Happy to be with him freely.

By the time you make it back to the hotel room, it’s nearly 3:00pm. You both have to shower quickly and get ready for the evening plans. You’re in the bathroom, applying the final touches to your makeup when Chan walks in. You see his reflection through the mirror and your jaw drops. He’s clad in black slacks and a black button up shirt—the top few buttons undone as usual, just how you like it. The shirt is tucked in, and a black belt is looped around his slender hips. His hair is parted on the side, dark bangs hanging over the right side of his forehead. His accessories—earrings, necklace, bracelet, and rings are all silver. He looks so fucking handsome. You fight with yourself to not tear every piece of clothing off him immediately.

He smiles at your reaction, giving your outfit a nod of approval as well; it compliments his. The two-piece set is black with tan colored flowers across it. The high waisted skirt, with a mid-thigh slit, hugs your mid-section and flows down your lower half. The top is a cropped spaghetti strap with a plunge v-neck, leaving plenty of cleavage on display.  

You toss your lip gloss into your purse before zipping it up and taking a few steps back from the bathroom sink, checking out your own reflection once more.

“You ready?” He asks as he comes to stand behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and leans down, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You nod your head, but you’re unable to tear your gaze away from the sight in the mirror. You’ve never seen the two of you together like this. You don’t even try to hide the smile that breaks out on your face. You look good together. 

He kisses your neck before standing up straight.

“Let’s go.”

Your itinerary for tonight is a tour of the infamous Versace mansion followed by dinner on the premises. It only felt right you’d both be dressed to the nines.

After you get your shoes on and head out of the hotel room, Chan keeps his hand around your waist. In fact, he hardly lets go of you the entire night, except during the meal. If he doesn’t have his arm around your shoulders or waist, he’s holding your hand. It all just makes you so fucking happy and you’re delusional enough at this point to indulge in the façade. You’ve stopped trying to remind yourself that these niceties are just him playing a part.

When you get back from dinner, you and Chan go straight to the dimly lit balcony to enjoy the view and some fresh air. There are two wicker chairs with cushions and a small table between them.  It’s dark and so quiet that even the sound of the waves crashing against the shore reach all the way up to where you are. It’s peaceful. Part of you wishes the two of you could stay here forever and never face reality.

“What’re you thinking about?” Chan asks, catching you zoned out.

“Life,” you reply simply with a shrug.

“Yikes,” he responds with a chuckle. “Let’s not do that yet. Come over here.” he says, jerking his head.

You stand from your seat and take a few small steps until you’re standing directly in front of him, between his legs. Your eyes drift down to his chest, exposed by the top buttons he has left undone. You can already feel your pulse quicken in anticipation from the tone he’s using, the way he’s looking at you.

“Do you know what I’ve been thinking about ever since we got here?”

You shake your head.

“Fucking you on this balcony,” he grips the back of your thigh and pulls you closer. He rubs his nose along the exposed skin on your stomach, eyes closed as he breathes in your scent. His hand slides around to the front of your thigh, searching for the slit in your skirt. He trails kisses across your stomach as he finds it and pulls up the thin fabric.

You glance around you, nervous about being out in the open. Your room is on the corner of the hotel, facing the water. There aren’t any adjacent windows where anyone could see. Plus you’re so high up, it’d be difficult for anyone on the ground to make out what you’re up to. But still, it feels risky. Maybe that’s supposed to be the point.

His hand stops moving higher when he reaches the apex of your thighs, fingers dancing along the outside of your underwear. He leans back and tucks the extra fabric of the skirt into your waistband so it’s out of the way, then pulls aside your underwear with his pointer finger.

He licks his lips as the sight of your exposed pussy just inches from his mouth.

“You gonna let me?” he asks, trailing his fingers up your inner thighs with his other hand.

“Yes,” you reply, nodding and unable to take your eyes off him.

He rubs his fingers in circles against your pussy, middle finger pressed against your clit.

“All fucking day I’ve thought about touching you,” he says, watching you closely, to see every little reaction to his touch. “You don’t know how bad I wanted to lift this skirt and fuck you in the taxi on the way to dinner.”

You moan as your hips start moving against his fingers.

“Oh?” He says in response to your movements. “You would have liked that? Me fucking you in the back of the taxi?”

Yes. The thought of him seeing you and being unable to control himself, needing to fuck you wherever you are does something to you.

His fingers momentarily leave your pussy so his other hand can pull down your underwear. You step out of them, and he places them next to him in the chair. His fingers resume their work, his other hand reaches behind you to grip your ass and pull you closer to his face.

“Take out your tits,” he says before placing a kiss above your pussy.

You nervously glance over your shoulder again.

“Hey,” he calls your attention back to him, halting his movements. He waits for you to lock eyes with him. “Trust me.”

Trust me. It sounds more like a request than a demand. You do trust him. You trust him completely to handle your body with care, to not jeopardize either of you. You wish you could trust him with your heart.

With the plunge neck top you’re wearing it’s easier to just reach in and pull them out, rather than taking the top off. You lift them out and they rest on top of the shirt, making them even perkier, nipples erect as soon as the cool night air hits them.

His hand leaves your ass to cup your breast, squeezing it softly, pinching the nipple between his pointer and thumb fingers, rolling it back and forth. You rest your hands on his shoulders, caressing them.

When he suddenly stands, your hands fall to his chest. He grips the back of your neck with his hand, holding your head in place, just staring into your eyes as his other hand keeps rubbing your pussy. You instinctively raise your leg and set your foot on the chair to allow him better access.

“You’re incredible,” he declares before pressing his lips to yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you melt against him. At his words, at his touch. You tilt your head upwards as he kisses you, parting your lips to allow his tongue to enter. His tongue glides against yours and you moan into his mouth.

As he withdraws, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it lightly. He removes both of his hands from you, places a quick peck on your lips then walks over to the railing of the balcony. You’re left standing there, panting and exposed. He turns around, leans his back against the railing, then beckons you to him. You timidly place a hand over your breasts as you walk to him, covering yourself. He arches an eyebrow and as soon as you’re close enough, he lowers your hand.

“I told you about that,” he scolds you. “Don’t hide from me.”

He hooks a finger into the fabric of your top, right at the cleavage, and uses it to bring you the rest of the way to him, until you’re pulled flush against him.

It’s only the third day of your trip but you’ve already come to realize he’s capable of fucking you in many ways. He has not used his authoritative tone with you until tonight. He slips back into his commanding role with ease, and you submit without question. But now you can see more of him through it. The conversations you’ve had have shown a different side to him. You were physically attracted to him before, obviously. But now you see more of Chan through his behavior. And you’re growing more attracted to him. For who he is and not just the way he makes you feel when he fucks you.

You begin to lower yourself to your knees, wanting to take him in your mouth, but he stops you and spins you around. He switches positions with you so your ribs are pressed against the railing, exposed tits hanging out for anyone looking to see. Which, you pray, is no one. He lifts your skirt again, scrunching it together with one hand at the small of your back.

You hear him unbuckle his pants and push them down. You lick your lips in anticipation, hips moving of their own accord as you stare out at the darkened ocean in front of you. You would have never imagined yourself doing something like this just a few months ago.

Your attention snaps back to Chan as you feel his cock rubbing against your opening. He lets out a soft groan from behind you as you arch your back, pushing your ass out towards him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he says, still teasing your opening. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, first glancing down at his cock rubbing against you, then up to his face.

“You know I do,” is your soft reply.

He slaps his palm down onto your ass and grips it, causing you to whimper and moan.

“My girl always fucking wants it.”

You bite your lip and turn back around to face the endless horizon in front of you. To focus on that instead of the words he’s just said.

My girl.

He thrusts into you, and you shut your eyes, dropping your head. You want to focus on fucking him and not that phrase. Quite possibly the most beautiful phrase in the English language when falling from his lips.  

My girl.

His other hand tangles itself in your hair, pulling your head back as he rams into you.

My. Girl.

Your eyes snap open but you’re no longer seeing anything, no longer thinking anything. You are nothing but his girl right now. You grip the railing and force your hips back against him, fucking him hard and fast until he comes.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” he groans.

Neither of you expected it to happen so quickly. It honestly feels like an achievement, knowing how long he can hold out when he wants to.

He leans onto you, chin resting on your shoulder as you both catch your breath.

“Chan,” you say, leaning to the side and turning your head to look at him. “Get me off this fucking balcony.”

He laughs and nods. He slowly withdraws his cock from inside you and pulls his boxers and pants back up without buttoning them. In one fell swoop he scoops you up into his arms—one hand on your back, the other under your knees. He carries you back inside and sits you down on the couch.

“Wait here,” he tells you.

He heads off into the bedroom and you hear the sound of running water. You rest your head on the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You can’t deny how fun, exciting, exhilarating that was but you’re glad to be back inside where no one can see.

Chan returns a few minutes later in just a shirt and his boxers. He offers his hand out to you, which you take, then guides you into the bedroom. The main lights are off, but the one above the bathtub in the room is on. The water is still running, but the tub is already halfway full.

He brings you to a stop at the side of the tub and silently undresses you, kissing your skin as it’s exposed. He then picks you up again and places you into the bathtub and you immediately relax in its warmth—it’s the perfect temperature.

He remains outside of the tub, seated on one of the stools next to it. He reaches across you to turn the water off and for some reason you find it hard to look at him. This sort of treatment, from him, is new to you. He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing from your knuckles up your arm.

“I can’t stop touching you…and I think it could be a problem,” he says, smiling.

“Then don’t,” you say, with all the seriousness you can muster.

He proceeds to run his hand across your body until he finds your pussy again, beneath the water. He slips his fingers inside of you, fucking you and working your clit to bring you to an orgasm.

“Chan,” you pant as you feel it approach.

You reach your hand out of the tub, grabbing the collar of his shirt. You pull on it with all your might and his expression turns to one of surprise as you pull him up and over into the bathtub with you. He doesn’t let this distract him too long though, he adjusts himself on his knees, his thighs keeping your legs apart and pushed against the side of the tub. His fingers keep thrusting into you, thumb circling your clit. Your hands find their way to his hair and pull his mouth against yours as you come.

Your hips rock against his fingers while you pant and moan through your release. He removes his fingers and looks down at himself—soaked shirt and boxers.

You start to laugh at the sight, and he joins you.

“I’m not even sorry,” you say.

You reach your hands out to unbutton his wet shirt and toss it onto the floor. He removes his boxers and repositions both of you, so his back is against the tub, and your back is pressed against his chest. You lean your head back against him, eyes shut.

You don’t know how long the two of you stay in the tub, but once the water starts to get cold, Chan lets some of it out then runs more warm water in. He grabs your body wash from outside the tub and you both wash up with it. There’s only one towel near the tub, so he steps out to grab it and offers it to you. You look up at his dripping figure, wondering how you got here but not wanting to question it too deeply.

When you’re both dry and in clean pajamas, you waste no time before hopping into bed to get warm again. He pulls you to him, kissing your bare shoulder.

You don’t say goodnight. You don’t say anything.

You don’t need to.  

a/n: oh my goodness. what a tangled web they're weaving. but i promise, your hearts will be safe in the end. i'm excited to hear your thoughts 😁🩵

i have no idea why tumblr is being a cunt and fucking with the taglist. it will take five names and then no more, no matter if i try it in the original post, a reblog, or in the comments. i am sorry. i hope this still finds you 😞

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #bang chan #skz smut #the skz house #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you

[suugarbabe]

Saving Grace VI

[Chapter 6]

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

word count: ~3.3k

warning: angst, fluff, mentions of blood, smut, slight male overstimulation, 18+ content MDNI

Your heart had never felt so full. Laying on the couch in the common room with Mattheo on top of you, his back to your front as he laid between your legs. His head was resting on your stomach, his arms draped over your thighs as your legs intertwined with his. Soft snores are coming from Mattheo as you continue to trace your fingers through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp. 

You looked over his face, noting the different scars. The one along his right side, that went through his eyebrow and over his cheek, had been there before you met him. He told you he got it the summer before he came to Hogwarts, something about a ‘task his father had challenged him with’ went not quite as planned. You lightly traced it with your thumb and he seemed to unconsciously lean into your touch. 

He had a couple other small scars from nicks and such in fights, but your favorite one was on the bridge of his nose. It really wasn’t quite a scar yet, but you knew it would turn into one eventually. The scab across it was nearly healed, leaving a thick line of pink skin. The week after you two had made it officially official, Adrian had come to bother you again, this time trying to grab you away from Mattheo in the middle of the hall, yanking on your elbow. 

You had seen Mattheo fight plenty of times, but this time it was like all he could see was red and all he wanted was Adrian dead. It took Theo, Draco and Blaise to finally pull them apart. Mattheo came out with just one deep gash on the bridge of his nose, while Adrain was in the hospital wing for a week. Mattheo got a month’s worth of detention, the last of which he served today. 

McGonagall made him reorganize the quidditch locker rooms and their respective closets. It took him nearly all day, hence his exhausted and sleeping figure on top of you. But you didn’t mind, you loved when he was able to be more vulnerable and loved that he felt safe enough to be that way with you. He was always displaying himself as so tough and unbreakable, you often had to remind him that he, too, was merely human and would break if he didn’t allow himself time to relax and recover. 

You were so engrossed with how pretty your boyfriend looked sleeping that you had zoned out, completely forgetting the other people around you. Pansy’s snapping is what finally broke your trance as you looked over to the couch across from you, giving her an apologetic smile. 

“Merlin, you two are so lovesick on each other,” she teased, causing the others to smile along with her. 

“Thank Salazar you finally admitted your feelings for him, I swear we were all going mental just waiting on you two to make it actually official,” Theo stated, lighting a spliff and taking a drag. 

Your face turned into one of confusion, “What do you mean ‘finally admitted my feelings for him’, what are you on about?” 

Draco rolled his eyes, “Cousin told us you guys were faking it.” You went to sit up a little straighter, however Mattheo’s grip on your legs prevented you from moving all together. 

“You mean you all knew it was fake? I mean, it’s not anymore, it hasn’t been for a while, but you all knew in the beginning?” You looked at each one of their faces. Enzo looked guilty, Theo and Draco both wore annoying smirks while Blaise and Pansy just had huge smiles. 

“To be fair, we didn’t know until after your little show at that first party,” Theo wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Still think about it sometim-” he was cut short thankfully by Blaise throwing a pillow at his head. 

Blaise turned to you then, “At first we thought he was just bringing you to the party as his date for the night, you know, like he was known to do. We played games and had a lot of fun. But during your little performance I noticed someone watching the two of you, specifically you, very closely.” 

You rolled your eyes, his name coming out like a grumble from your mouth, “You mean Adrian.” 

Blaise couldn’t help the slight smirk on his face, “Precisely. So, the next morning, when we were all a little more sober, I decided to ask Mattheo what was going on.” 

“At first he tried to deny everything, saying it was just for the night or whatever, but I could see right through it,” Draco pipped in. “Eventually, he told us how Adrian was being a proper creep and you asked for his help -”

Enzo interrupted him, “And Matty boy was talking about you for months before that.” The rest of the group seemed to nod in agreement. 

You couldn’t help the look of shock on your face, “W-what are you guys talking about? Months before?”

Blaise smiled at you, “That’s right sweetheart.” You looked back down at Mattheo’s sleeping form, admiration clear on your face. You traced your thumb over the apple of his cheek and he stirred slightly. His long eyelashes fluttered open, his voice thick with sleep as he spoke, “You lot talking ‘bout me?” 

A few members of the group laughed softly as you ran your fingers through his hair, “All good things, love.” He grumbled slightly, turning over so he was now laying on his stomach, burying his face into your jumper covered chest. 

“You still sitting with me at the match tomorrow?” Pansy asked excitedly, finally able to have another girl with her to watch the boys play. 

Eyes still closed, Mattheo answered for you, “Course she is, gonna be wearing my spare jersey.” You smiled at Pansy, nodding your head in agreement. 

“And here I thought she’d be wearing mine,” Theo, ever the sass-master, felt the need to interject and quickly regretted it as Mattheo fully opened his eyes. You ran your hand through Mattheo’s curls, essentially soothing him back to a calm state before giving Theo the finger for riling him up.

xx

You wanted to curse whatever founder decided that deep into Scotland was the best location for Hogwarts as you pulled your stocking cap down over your ears. You also wanted to curse whoever decided that quidditch season needed to be in the bloody winter. 

“How the bloody hell do you look so cute but I look like a bundled troll?” Pansy poked the stuffing of her jacket near her stomach. You huffed out a laugh, “Oh please, Pans, we both look like stuffed olives. Green is normally so flattering to me, but right now I feel like a pickle.” 

You and Pansy continued to make comparisons to different green foods back and forth, not being able to contain your laughter as you found your seats in the stands on the Slytherin side. You weren’t sure if it was your relationship status, or if you and Pansy just got lucky, but you managed two front row spots in your house section, giving you the perfect view of the pitch. 

As both teams came out from the locker room tents you joined your fellow students in cheering loudly for green and silver. As members of both teams started doing warm up laps around the pitch, a particularly curly haired captain was hovering right in front of you and you couldn’t contain the grin that spread over your face. 

“Well don’t you look adorable this brisk afternoon, princess,” Mattheo was balancing on his Firebolt, leaning over the banister at the front of the stands. You stood from your seat, leaning closer to him, “I know you love pickles so I figured I’d copy the look to keep you motivated.” 

Mattheo let out a hearty chuckle, “S’that what you think you look like?” You nodded, biting your bottom lip to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face. “Well you’re correct as always love,” Mattheo closed the gap between you two, placing a gentle kiss to your lips that ended far sooner than you wanted, “I love pickles and you look delicious.” 

You giggled slightly as you pushed his shoulder, effectively pushing him farther from you. With a wink he was soaring back down to the ground, meeting Madam Hooch and the other team's captain. As Madam Hooch released the bludgers and the snitch your adrenaline began to rise. When she tossed the quaffle in the air you were off your seat, keeping a close eye on Mattheo as he maneuvered around the pitch. 

Quidditch games were not foreign to you, you’ve even played it a little on holidays with your friends and such, but there was something about watching Mattheo, watching your boyfriend that made it all the more exciting. 

It definitely helped that Mattheo was a wiz at the game, gliding through the air, catching the quaffle like he’d been playing the game since he came out of the womb. He was especially cheeky this game, though, throwing a wink or a point your way every time he scored. 

The game was so exciting and Mattheo managed to pay you so much attention that you nearly forgot that Adrian was also on the team. That is, you forgot until you saw a bludger head straight for Mattheo. Thankfully he saw it and ducked out of the way. 

You followed the path that the bludger came from expecting to see the colors of the opposing team. Your eyes narrowed to slits as you saw Adrian Pucey hovering on his broom, bat in hand and a smirk plastered on his face. 

Adrian had arrogance, that was evident when he made eye contact with you and sent you a wink. You're sure your face was displaying a scowl but you held up both hands with middle fingers for good measure. 

You weren’t sure the game Adrian was playing at, but you knew Mattheo could finish it. After two more goals you saw Adrian smack another bludger, again heading straight towards your boyfriend, whose back was turned. 

You thanked Merlin for Theo as he came bolting towards Mattheo, using his own bat to beat the bludger in a different direction. Mattheo turned around, confused at the commotion as Theo very obviously shouted something at him. 

Mattheo then flew over where Draco had been, who was very obviously on the hunt for the snitch. Draco’s eyes were darting around the sky, searching for any glimpse of gold as he took in whatever words Mattheo was speaking. 

In an instant Draco was off, the Slytherin section erupting into cheers as he presumably found what he was looking for. Mattheo flew over to Theo, exchanging words. Theo nodded his head in understanding. 

The heat of the game was happening but your eyes stayed glued to Mattheo as he flew to the other side of the pitch towards Adrian. Cheers and shouts erupted around you, leading to an understanding that Draco likely caught the snitch and Slytherin had won. 

You watched as Mattheo all but dragged Adrian off his broom and to the tunnel leading from the pitch to the locker rooms. You watch as Mattheo’s fist connects with Adrian’s nose. Everyone else is seemingly distracted by the victory but you can't tear your eyes away from watching Mattheo beat the living shit out of Adrian not ten meters from everyone else. 

When you see Mattheo walk away from a crouching Adrian on the floor and head to the locker rooms you immediately follow, ignoring Pansy’s calls about where you were going. You rushed down the steps of the stands, taking as large of steps as your legs would allow as you reached the opening of the Slytherin locker room tent. 

The locker room was empty as everyone was still on the pitch celebrating. You walk further into the room, hearing a shower running. You shed some of your layers, taking off your hat, scarf, Mattheo’s extra jersey and your thick jumper. You toed off your shoes, pulling your socks along with them. 

The steam from the showers curled around your legs as you entered the shower stalls. When you finally reached him you saw the water at his feet run pink against the tile. You were sure the majority, if not all, was Adrians. You step into the stall, not caring that your clothes were essentially going to get soaked. You placed a tentative hand on his back.

He flinched at first, relaxing quickly into your touch. “What did he say, Teo?” He kept his back to you, doing his best to have a jovial tone, “If you wanted to see me naked again, love, you could’ve just asked. No need to storm the showers.” 

You rubbed your hands up and down his back, massaging his obviously sore muscles, “Mattheo…”

He let out a long sigh as he placed his hands on the wall in front of him. You saw a few cuts on his knuckles that you made note to heal later. “He deserved it,” his voice strained slightly, like just talking about it was making him angry all over again. 

You nodded, though you knew he couldn’t see it, “I’m sure he did, love, but what did he do this time?” 

His muscles tensed again, “It was about you. Had your name in his filthy fucking mouth. He..” Mattheo took another deep breath, you rubbed up and down his back, encouraging him to continue, “Well first he tried to knock me out with two fucking bludgers.” 

“I saw, right coward move if you ask me,” your rested your hands on Mattheo’s shoulders. He placed one of his on top on yours as he continued, “Then when I dragged him down, asking him what his problem was, he started talking about you. Starting saying foul things about you, saying he could have his way with you if he tried hard enough, that you being with me was all a lie and if he asked he could ‘have you up against a wall and calling his name’ and I just lost it.”

He turned to face you, hands gripping at the wet fabric on your waist, “I’m sorry princess, I just…I couldn’t stop myself.” His head fell to the crook of your neck as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, neither caring about the vulnerable state Mattheo was in in the shower stall. 

His posture indicated he felt bad for his actions, or at least feared that you might be mad at him. In reality you were anything but angry. You know it shouldn’t, but seeing Mattheo fight just…spurred you on. 

You tugged lightly at his curls and he lifted his head up, soft brown eyes meeting yours. “I love when you fight for me, Teo,” you twirled a curl around your finger at the base of his neck. Mattheo’s mouth upturned ever so slightly, “Yeah?”

You could feel his fingers dip under the hem of your shirt as you nodded your head, “Yeah, I know it’s kind of bad, but when I saw you hitting him earlier,” you pushed Mattheo back slightly, gripping the bottom of your soaked shirt and peeling it up and off your body, Mattheo’s eyes shot straight to your green lace bra, “I just wanted to get you alone and show you how much I really,” you popped the button of your jeans, “truly,” you dragged them down your legs and stepped out, “appreciate it.” 

He knows he’s seen you bare before, but there was something about you standing in soaking green lace that had his body responding before his mind could control it. Mattheo, for once, was at a loss for words, but you didn’t mind taking control for a moment. 

You placed a hand on his strong chest, pushing him back with the slightest pressure as your trailed your hand down his abdomen, feeling the dips and curves of his muscles that quidditch helped sculpt. His eyes held contact with yours as his back hit the tile wall.

Your hands continued to explore his body, thumbs dipping into the v-cut of his hips before grabbing him fully in your hand. You stroked him with light pressure, Mattheo’s eyes rolling as his head leaned back against the wall, “Your teasing me, Princess.” The statement came out in a breathy moan. 

“Just trying to show my boyfriend how thankful I am that he’s always there to defend me,” you slowly fell to your knees, dragging your nails down his thighs as you did so, eliciting a soft groan from Mattheo. 

You hold your mouth open, sticking out your tongue. You hold him in your mouth for a moment, just feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue. 

You’ve only been any type of intimate a few times since officially being called ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ but you had made a mental note to take your time and enjoy it all in the beginning. 

“P-please, Princess. I n-need you to do something,” Mattheo’s begging went straight to your core. You pulled him from your mouth slowly, trailing your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

You wrap your hand around him, small strokes up and down as you kitten lick his tip. His hand finds home in your hair, lacing his fingers through the wet strands. 

You flatten your hand at the base of his cock, fingers spread across his pubic bone. You do your best to open your throat as you take as much of him as you can in your mouth. Your thumb applying light pressure where his balls meet his base, massaging the soft spot there. 

“F-fuck, holy shit, love, do that again,” Mattheo pleads. You hum in acknowledgment, repeating the action. Mattheo’s eyes roll in the back of his head and he knows he’s not going to last long. 

When you cup his balls, rolling them lightly in one hand as you deep throat him and hollow out your cheeks, Mattheo can’t even stop himself before he’s shooting hot ropes down your throat. 

You continue to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks out again and milking him for all has. Your hand is back at what won’t fit in your mouth. 

“Fuck, Princess, no more, I can’t,” he hissed through his teeth, grip tightening in your hair. You feel his thighs twitch under your palm but you don’t stop, wanting to push him just a little bit farther. 

His eyes roll to the back of his head and his upper lip quivers, you hum along his shaft, tapping his thigh to silently tell him to look at you. 

He stares down at you, eyes glazed over with lustful stupidity and that’s when you slowly drag him from your mouth with an obscene pop. You give one last long lick from base to tip before kissing his hip, grasping on to his forearm to help you stand up. 

Mattheo is still spent, leaning against the tile wall with shaky legs, one hand on your hip while the other cups your cheeks. 

“You tryna kill me, Princess? Where the fuck did that come from?” He’s breathless as he strokes your cheek lovingly. 

You shrug your shoulder slightly as your wrap your arms around his waist, “Just saying thank you.” You batted your eyelashes, doing your best to look innocent. 

Mattheo used his thumb to tilt your head up slightly, slotting his lips with yours. It was slow and sweet, his lips wet and heavy against yours. When he pulled away you found yourself lifting to your tip toes trying to chase after him. 

He chuckled slightly at your response, thumb tapping playfully at your bottom lip, “Cmon, love. Let’s get dressed before the rest of the lads get in and then we can go back to my dorm and I can,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “return the favor.” 

You slapped his chest playfully, “Cheeky offer, but you don’t have to do that. I’m more than happy with what transpired just now.”

Mattheo smiled your favorite dimpled smile as he grabbed a handful of your ass, “Oh, love, but I want to.”

taglist: @v1olentdelights ; @cherry-hoe ; @itsamusical4life ; @chaosartic ; @b3ean ; @l4venderia ; @mypolicemanharryyy ; @ma-las ; @usmell4 ; @carav4l ; @thereeallink ; @jinxxangel13 ; @stvrlightt ; @taylors--version ; @classicfandomavenue ; @lucyispan ; @moonlightreader649 ; @badasseddy ; @icecube1912 ; @kezibear ; @julerry ; @little-miss-naill ; @kaitlyn2907 ; @laurajmcmanus ; @onlyangel-444 ; @unstablereader ; @aunicornmademedoit ; @im-unwellbabe ; @football1921 ; @kalulakunundrum ; @ayla-1605 ;

if you're not underlined i did try to tag you and it didn't pop up, sozz loves :(

#saving grace #saving grace series #saving grace part 6 #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #golden era

[fire-lizard-ro]

Woo~ Hope you're ready to read Mr. Sunday taking you…

Up the ass- Psych, mfs-

Bet you didn't expect that one from me, huh? I know I normally don't write bottom character, but... I felt like it? I want to see this man wrecked.

I'm writing for both bottom Sunday and top Sunday on this glorious- checks time moonlit (I haven't checked outside and idk what day it is today) night. A little birdy told me she wanted to see bottom Sunday first. Call yourself out if you wanna. 😂

CW: COCK JUMPSCARE- (jk), anal (I mean- come on you knew this), choking (+a little breath play y'all please be sure to make this distinction when talking about it ijsige-), edging, overstimulation, discussion of safe-wording, dom/sub stuff, mention of subspace, spanking, toys (there's an anal plug and cock ring), degradation (+praise), nipple play, harness???, bondage, collaring, slight public play, some subbing from Sunday and some power bottoming (but we'll be focusing on him subbing- it's only really mentioned), prone bone+cat position(that's what it's called, right???)+mating press, some namecalling (ex: praising - good boy, degrading - slut, etc., etc.), crying during sex (the good kind), marking, begging, dumbification, mention of being ashamed but liking it, belly bulge, slight cumflation/excessive cum, excessive lube, objectification(I think???), talk of his cock being useless (it's sex talk I swear reader doesn't mean it-), ever so slight gaping, cumming dry

Reader gender: Gender neutral, but you can envision what you want. Reader has a dick/strap and the cum can be uhhh- Lube? Is that what people put in squirting straps-

If I forgot to add anything to the CW or made any typos- Whoops. You can let me know if you wanna~

Personally, I think Sunday would be a switch. How he leans is up to you. But when he's topping, I see him being more prone to domming. Opposite can be said of when he's bottoming. More likely to sub, but does have his moments when he wants to take control again.

While I do love a good "turnabout is fair play", I think that considering Sunday's need to be in control (…the leaks told me so-), he needs a clean cut decision on what you'd be doing that night. If you've decided together that he'd be topping and domming, don't try to take over please- It'd probably fray his nerves and make him upset. This is because for him, I imagine that he'd need to mentally prepare himself and get in the mindset to sub. He loves giving up the control he holds onto so tightly, but he needs to remind himself that it's okay. That he can trust you and that you'll make him feel so, so good for his concession.

But by god is he a vision when he does slip into that submissive mindset.

It'd start with you two showering together after a long day of Sunday upholding the harmony of Penacony and dealing with any issues that arose to threaten that peace. It's both a way to wind down and to ease him into letting you take care of him and allowing him to slowly loosen his grasp on his control.

Soft touches and soothing words whispered in his ears between the sounds of water with gentle hands petting his wings has him melting into you. The stiff set of his shoulders, imperceptible to all but you, relaxes and the tension drains from his body along with the water as it swirls down the drain.

It is also now that you take out the plug he'd been wearing today while he was away from home. The night before, he'd just finished with you when you two took to the shower and you helped him clean up before stretching his pretty hole with lubed, insistent but gentle fingers. The plug went in nicely after that, the little jeweled heart of the plug's flared base in your color marking him as yours.

He hides behind his wings as you pull at the plug, the toy tugging at his rim that you trace with a playful finger. But of course you nose at them until he lets you in to kiss him soothingly, his wings then pressed to your cheeks to hide you both from the spray of the shower head and the rest of the world. It's just you two here and now. He would gasp a little as the plug slid out to the widest part of the toy. Thin and perfectly groomed eyebrows would furrow while you play with him a little. Push it back in carefully before slowly pulling it back to the wide part again a few times before finally bringing it out fully, rewarding him with "good boy" and "thank you for indulging me" and more kisses.

Once you both are finally in bed, that's when the fun begins.

You both go over the rules again. What to do if he ever wants to stop, reminding him that ultimately he is still in control because he controls if they stop or not. He's the efficient and straightforward type. Traffic light system along with three firm taps if he couldn't talk was enough for him. (Let it be known that when you started dating him, he was not at all aware of these things. I think he'd have been inexperienced to sex beyond vanilla beforehand.)

Tonight, you two were going to use a lot of implements (?). You laid them out, making sure that they were the same as the ones you discussed using prior (yes I think Sunday needs for you two to explicitly discuss beforehand and honestly I agree with him unless you like spontaneity) and going over what you'd do with them to recheck with him that he was okay with it. Consent is sexy, folks.

You then kiss him while fixing the collar on him, checking that it wasn't too tight. He liked using a collar when subbing because it helped him reach subspace and was something the two of you trained him to relax more with when subbing. Helps calm his constantly racing thoughts. The next step is the harness. It's a pretty pale blue-grey that matches his soft hair and is worn with his legs through it and over his hips. They're there for easier handling on your part. The fact that they accentuate his soft, shapely ass and strong thighs is a very welcome bonus. When you put it on for him, please make sure to kiss up his legs all the way to his hipbones while you pull up the harness you helped him step into. Nibble on said hipbones a bit and kiss his navel, near dangerously close to his neglected cock that twitched cutely at your proximity to it. Once that's done you can lube up his hard-on with one cursory tug in order to slip on the cock ring. He won't be getting any more than that for most of the night.

You then have him on him hands and knees so you can get him in position and bind him. Tonight would be a simple set of padded cuffs. You would push between his shoulder blades to guide him to press his chest to the bed, leaning down to kiss down his spine while pulling his hands gently pull his hands behind his back to put the cuffs on. Be sure to praise him for being a good boy, for doing so well for you as you prepared him for the night.

Once that's done, press one more kiss to his body. This time on the top curve of his soft ass before lubing him up some more. It's never bad to be safe about things and there's more than enough chance that he needs more as it dried throughout the day.

Tease him by purposefully tapping on his prostate softly while making sure he's stretched enough and wet with lube coating his inner walls that clenched around your skilled fingers.

Keep going until he finally asks you in a small voice to get on with it. "Hm? What was that?" "You heard me-" "Only good boys get what they want and good boys ask for what they want." You aren't going to make him beg for it (yet), but you'll still make him ask for it like the good, polite boy you know he is.

(Okay we're switching styles here, folks.)

"F-fine… Please fuck me," Sunday said, words trailing of into a mumble. You knew what he was saying, but you didn't really hear it. "What was that? Couldn't hear you, baby." "I-" he angled his head to glare back at you with traces of a pout tugging at his lips. He then turned again to avoid your eyes that took in his face, pressed to the bed and needy. "…please fuck me." "Was that so hard, pretty boy? Since you asked…" You slipped your fingers out slow, letting him feel the drag of them against his sensitive walls as he gave a shuddering sigh. Sunday had attempted to keep it under wraps, but it still slipped out.

Your chuckle caused him to flush more, a wing attempting to hide his face despite you being unable to see it from this spot behind him.

As you slicked up your cock, you watched his hole twitch and cock sway as he unconsciously sunk his hips back more as if to ask you for your thick length in his hungry, empty hole. "Aeons you have the prettiest ass, you know that?" You then finally line yourself up, the head of your dick pressing to the still tight but prepped hole's rim as you slide your hands down the man's sides to grasp his hips before sliding fingers into the straps of the harness that cradled his slim hips.

The angelic man beneath you held his breath in anticipation for a moment. "Breathe, baby." And then you were pushing in, slowly spearing open that wet warmth. He gasped and jolted, but your hand was quick to hold him down by the back of his neck while the other kept an iron grip on the harness to keep his hips steady. A whine escaped Sunday as he attempted to close his legs at the delicious sensation of your cock sliding deep into him- Up to the hilt. Once you bottomed out, he was already panting like he was in heat and his wings that had flared and flexed while you had been pushing inside drooped to rest on the bed.

Your cock was so big- So deep in him he swore he could feel it in the back of his throat, his own cock drooling messily onto previously clean sheets where it hung between his legs. It throbbed as he finally had a clear enough mind to remember the cock ring you'd fastened onto his needy dick. "Such a good slut for me, taking everything." He felt a bold of shame, yet it made his cheeks redden with more than shame. Arousal. As he felt mixed feelings of pleasure and shame swirling in his gut, he also then felt something else in there- Your cock grinding heavily, steadily into him with hips rubbing against his plush ass.

Sunday allowed himself to lean into the pleasure you provided, hips moving back into your slow but strong humps forward. Your cock was sliding over his prostate so nicely and it had him closing his eyes to focus in on it. The arch of his back deepened, emphasizing the lean musculature of his back and bringing out the little dimples above his ass as you leaned forward to put more your weight into your grinding. The pressure inside him and on his neck had his eyes fluttering along with his wings. A moan startled out of him when you proceeded to nibble on said wings, teeth gently nibbling along the fragile bone in the first bend of the feathery appendage. Your hand moved from its spot holding the back of Sunday's neck to press him face first into the bedding moved to instead wrap around his throat, turning him towards you so you could steal a sloppy kiss from him. It was filthy and wet, the sounds of it joining the wet squelch and the slight sound of skin on skin as you began to thrust. His whine was swallowed up by your mouth and when you pulled back he looked a bit dazed, uncomprehending eyes looking at the string of saliva between your lips and his that was promptly licked away by your sinful tongue.

"So good- Such a good boy, yeah? You're all mine aren't you?" He was deep enough in that he just nodded at he tried to rearrange his thoughts. That idea was de-railed when you thrust hard and spanked his ass with the hand not holding his throat, grip tightening enough to make him a bit lightheaded. "Words, harlot. Tell me how you're mine- How good I make you feel." The name made him feel deliciously ashamed of how he was really letting someone push him down and fuck him like a whore. But aeons did he love it. He managed to get out in between panting breaths a, "So good so good please- 'M all yours-" "That's a good cockslut. But just for me right?" "Just for you-"

You rewarded him by speeding up your thrusts, slowly ramping up how hard you fucked into his clenching heat that pushed out lube with every push in- You had made sure to use a lot so he would have to hear the obscene sound of your fucking him and dominating him. His moans became louder along with it, a whimper escaping him when your thrusts forced his hips to the bed. His once neglected cock now lay trapped between him and then bed as yours wrecked him and claimed him. He began babbling about how it felt, how it was like you were in his belly how it was too much not enough please please- Sunday was begging, now, with his drooling mouth, hole, and cock.

"I didn't know toys were supposed to speak- Especially when not spoken to." Your hand tightened around his neck again, this time pressing so it made it a bit harder for him to breathe. "Shhhh- Just be quiet and take it, pretty baby. I'll make you feel good. Make you forget all those troublesome thoughts. Don't you wanna be my dumb little slut? Only focus on taking my cock?" Yeah… he did. He wanted to let go of all the thoughts making his head hurt and give in, even if just for a little while. You'd taken care of him before. Now wasn't any different.

Even through the grip on his throat, he still let out little "ah- ah- ah-" sounds to the rhythm of your hips slapping into his ass, pushing your cock into his deepest parts. Yet you made it feel so good- It didn't hurt at all. All he could think about was how filthy he was and how pleasurable it was. Sunday must have tried to wheeze something out despite everything because you said, "Yeah? You like being dirty for me? A filthy slut for be behind closed doors while in public you act like such a proper leader? What would your dear people think of you if they knew you got fucked like a used prostitute- a mere toy?" You then let go of his throat to let him speak, the air rushing into his lungs making his head spin. "I- I love it! Love it so much please please lemme cum lemme cum on your cock-!"

Another spank to his ass had his hole tightening around you, a cry being startled out of him and tears beading at his lash line. "Good boy-" You then slowed a bit, causing him to whine despite how he had been held on edge for a while, now. Still wanting the bright hot pleasure despite the agony of being denied his release. "Color, baby?" "Mmmf- Green-" "Good boy-" A kiss was pressed to a wing before you harshly thrusted in and went back to pounding him within an inch of his life. Every thrust forced his body up and down the bed, cock an angry red and leaking profusely. Sunday buried his face into the pillow, tears staining them as they came faster. "Please- Let me cum, please! I'll do anything!" "Anything?"

Maybe that was a mistake.

One that had you yanking your dick out of his hole, the greedy thing clenching around nothing as if missing your cock in it. He whined pitifully, tears staining his face as he sobbed into the bedding. Fuck did he sound good. You uncuffed him to flip him over, tossing the things somewhere to the side of the bed. He was unable to keep up with the sudden changes and before he knew it, you were pressing his thighs to his chest in a mating press, cock sliding up and down his own teasingly. "Such a big cock and yet you don't even know how to use it. It's just a big, dumb, useless thing hanging between your legs. All you need is this slutty hole of yours, right?" Your thumb came down to rub at the slightly gaped hole, smearing the lube even more over his sloppy pucker that twitched at your touch.

He hid his face with his wings, flushed and crying as you belittled his cock. He was only good as an anal slut for you. But his wings flared open as he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. You had sunk your teeth into the spot in reprimand and to mark your toy as yours. "What did I say about that? No hiding." He whimpered and nodded- A spank. "Words." "I won't hide anymore!" "Good toy."

Once you slid in, his mind went blank again. Though somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he noted- Oh. You were in his belly. There on the otherwise flat surface that scrunched up from his position, was the slight bulge of your cock in his guts. "Look at you- So pretty." You pressed on it, making him toss his head back with a pitchy moan, hips jerking under you and insides clenching wetly at the dick they were sucking on while his hands flew up to claw at your back desperately. As you leaned over him to lick into his mouth, you then reached one hand between you to slip off the cockring. "You wanted to cum- So cum." You immediately began a brutal pace that had him screaming as he finally was able to find his release, hurtling off that cliff and vision going white as he emptied his cum onto his stomach and yours, the pressure of having held it in so long and the angle of your mating press- The jerking of his hips from you shoving your deliciously big dick into his hungry little hole forcing his cum to splatter over his chest and on his neck and even wings. It was like a sinful angel was laying beneath you.

You slowed, then, and he let his breathing begin to even out. But it was an act of deception because you transferred his legs from your hold to over your shoulders and grabbed hold of his softened cock that laid on his cum covered belly to begin fucking him hard. He screamed and whimpered at the onslaught of now almost painful pleasure. "Wait no no no- Can't- Too much! Stop please I can't cum again-" "I know you can. You've done it before. Come on- Give me another one. Haven't even filled you up, yet."

He began crying even harder, tears blurring his vision as he panted and whimpered while his thoughts slipped away. Even as his mind went blank, his body still responded with his hips jerkily trying to meet your thrusts even as the twitched in overstimulation. Later he would glare at you with tears in his eyes and a pout while declaring that he would be in charge the next time he bottomed and would hold you down, instead, to take what he wanted. But for now, he could only let his hole be used as a warm, wet little cock sleeve. He choked on his drool as you bent him further so you could lean down to tongue his sensitive nipples, sucking bruises and hickeys into his chest and even right around his nipples- Going as far as to nibble on them.

It felt like hours of cumming and cumming and cumming and losing his mind as you fucked him and wrung out every drop of his spend and pleasure as you could along with the tears that still poured from his puffy eyes. It didn't help that he could feel the way you were filling him up with your own cum, having only orgasmed the second time he did. He was cumming dry when you finally slowed, kissing him gently and rubbing at his slightly distended belly that was full of your cum sloshing inside.

"Did so good for me, baby. I love you so much- Such a good boy for me." You helped him slowly come back down, helping to ground him as the high faded. You had slowly lowered his legs from your shoulders. This was why you always ended facing each other. So he could have that intimacy towards the end of seeing you and being able to kiss you. And so you could help him return to earth Penacony after you were done milking the cum and pleasure and pesky thoughts out of him.

Once he was back with you, you made sure to praise him more and kiss him all over his face before finally coming back to his lips to kiss him slow and deep. "Come on. Gotta drink water, birdie." You always made sure to help him up, let him lean against you as you began aftercare. "I love you," you would remind him at the end of it all. "I love you, too darling," he would always reply back, sealing it with a kiss.

Ah yes. Another round of: Roro writes entirely to much and with far too much detail. I made this one even longer and more detailed as well as included a bunch of writing in more story format rather than headcanon-ish form like I normally do. Because I'm back in business!!! (To write smut about hot characters I like-)

Hope you enjoyed~

-Roro, your friendly neighborhood degenerate

#Roro writes #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #gn reader #hsr x gn reader #honkai star rail x gn reader #top reader #bottom character #dom reader #sub character #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday #sunday #honkai star rail sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #sunday smut #hsr sunday smut #honkai star rail sunday smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #smut #jfc this one is REALLY fucking holy holy- #I have been... TORMENTING a certain someone with this since last night #the anticipation is over bb come get your food- #rAAAAAA SUNDAYYYY-

[stealth-liberal]

I have now seen the pictures of the children who've been kidnapped and brought into Gaza. These are CHILDREN, little kids. Apparently, videos are being released by Hamas.

So. I am going to be clear, if you support this... I hope you die in a fire. Hamas is a paramilitary terrorist organization, and it is listed as such by over 80 countries in the world. If you support this... you're a monster. This is child abduction and child murder.

I live in a red area, right wing antisemitism is rampant. Both of my children have been bullied to insane degrees for being Jewish (more than for being lesbian in my daughter's case). When violence occurs in Israel, reprisals occur ALL OVER THE WORLD for diaspora Jews. I will be driving my kids to and from school as I don't trust these Qanon antisemites to not try something.

The sad part for me? The leftists will be silent. They don't care about the civilians and little kids abducted into Gaza, where they will most likely be executed. They also don't care that right-wing antisemites are a clear and present danger to my family, and we have quite literally been attacked by them before.

Hamas, other terrorists and right-wingers want all Jews dead. The left is HAPPY to sell them the rope and then turn around and whistle while they declare their innocence.

I support Israel's right to exist, and it's right to defend itself. That does not mean I support everything they do, I am not in a cult. Netanyahu is as evil as the head of Hamas. I stand by that statement. I am against the settlement policy. It is legalized cruelty. I stand by that statement.

But, I think y'all need to realize something about the Jews. We fight amongst each other A LOT. We will scream at each other till we lose our voices. We are not and never have been a monolith.... Until you start trying to kill us. The time from the fall of the kingdoms of Israel and Judea at the hands of the Roman Empire through the Holocaust taught us well. The Haredi man I wouldn't have at my table yesterday to break bread with because I find nearly all of his stances repugnant is family today. Not family I like. Not family I want to spend time with. Not family I enjoy. But he is family today because y'all decided to cheer when people are killing and abducting us. We unite all the way up and down the line when people start killing us and put our other issues with each other on the shelf. Because when the killing starts, y'all tend to either cheer or ignore it, so we have only us to rely on.

If you want us gone, you'll have to kill each and every single last one of us. Every man, woman, child, and elderly person. And we won't go easy, and we'll take as many of you with us as we can before we die. We've learned our lessons well.

If y'all don't like that, then look in the mirror because y'all are the ones who taught us those lessons in one way or another.

#sl speaks #jumblr #jewish #the jewish people #israel

[mxthtea]

On Sunday We Rest

sunday x gn reader warnings: cuddling, a single kiss, literally laying on top of sunday, grammar + spelling mistakes, tell me if i forgot any! word count: 808

request rules

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝

Sunday, despite his name, cannot take a break for the life of him. You know this, his sister knows this, Gopher Wood probably knows this but chooses to ignore it. However, except for Mr. Gopher Wood, everyone who knows this about Sunday is practically begging him to rest. It's all for nothing though. Any concern you voice or reminder in a letter that Robin sends is just pushed away from the Halovian with a little chuckle and a reminder that he'll be fine.

You know that Sunday doesn't care for himself. It's irritating, truly. He spends so much time in the Dreamscape trying to make it perfect for everyone within it, trying to make everyone's worries wash away once they rest in the dreampool. Sunday sees himself as the sacrificial lamb though. After all, for everyone to truly be at peace, someone must bring everyone to that peace. Your boyfriend has taken that sole responsibility onto his shoulders.

Knowing all of this, seeing how much he has been working, missing when you two would spend together, you made a plan. A simple one. One that would force Sunday into taking a teeny tiny day off.

And today's the day you'll make him rest.

The night before you had coaxed Sunday into sleeping on the actual bed in your guys' shared room and not staying in the dreampool to be within the Dreamscape. With words saying how you haven't been able to hold him close to you in some time so you missed it.

You lay awake on the bed, groggy and stretching out your limbs. While you fell asleep with your arms around Sunday, it seems you've separated through the hours of unconsciousness. Now detached from each other and Sunday facing to the door instead of at you. You set an alarm to wake up before Sunday usually does, to ensure that you could catch him instead of sleeping through it all. Turns out you picked the right time to wake up.

You feel the mattress move as Sunday stirs. A yawn falls from his mouth and you can see his wings do a little stretch as his arms go above his head.

Now is the time for you to enact the plan.

You roll over and lay yourself on top of Sunday, effectively pinning him down onto the mattress. If pinning could be defined by… well, laying on someone and putting your weight on someone. Not exactly holding them down per se.

Sunday's breath catches in his throat as your weight is suddenly pushed onto his body. He lets out an exhale a second later. He props his head up to look at you clearly. A small smile dances on his lips, he quirks his brow and looks to you.

"Good morning dearest," a hand reaches up to hold your cheek. His smile widens when he feels you lean into his touch.

"Morning, dove," you trade nicknames to each other.

Your arms find their way wrapping themselves around Sunday and tucked beneath him. Your head moves to his chest as you keep yourself on top of him.

"Now, dear… I'd love to spend more time with you but-"

"Nope."

Your words are clear and cut through anything else that Sunday was going to say. He stutters for a moment trying to grasp at any logic or reasoning in what you've said. You smile cutely against his chest, kicking your legs on the mattress like school girls do in other galaxies. The sight of Sunday being at a loss for words is something very few people are afforded.

"I really should get to work soon-"

"Day off," you interrupt him again, propping your chin on Sunday's chest and looking up at him.

"What?" a simple question. One that Sunday asks to try and understand what the hell you are saying.

"You have the day off. Requested it and it's been approved. Today is our rest day together."

"You- what?"

Taking out your phone, you show the calendar to Sunday. Today clearly being marked as a day off for the both of you.

"See?" you point to emphasize the date, "day off. No work. Rest only."

Sunday lets out a chuckle of disbelief at what you've done and lays his head down on the bed, "dearest… you are going to be the death of me."

You scoot yourself up a bit to be closer to his face, "too bad. Today's a rest day and you can't die on a rest day. I won't allow it."

"Alright. I get it. Today is a rest day."

Sunday relinquishes to you and relaxes into the mattress again, submitting himself fully to the rest day. You kiss his neck gently as you see his tired eyes close.

Just a few more hours… then you two would get up and get something to eat.

#sunday x reader #hsr x reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday fluff #hsr fluff #vennys tales #x reader #show up in the tags this time pleaaaaaaase #hsr sunday

[alwida10]

Ugh. I hate getting political, so have some bullet points.

- Putin laments the fact that the Soviet Union has vanished. One of his major goals is to re-establish it. This has been said openly.

- the Soviet Union included regions young people from today know only as autonomous countries, including Armenia, Aserbaidschan, Estland, Georgia, Kasachstan, Kirgisien, Lettland, Litauen, Moldawien, Tadschikistan, Turkmenien/Turkmenistan, Ukraine, Usbekistan, Belarus. (Countries in bold are the countries I remember evidence of Russia has tampered with. Might be more, since my memory sucks.)

- to ensure the comeback of the Soviet Union, Putin (Russia) uses war tactics to destabilize, control and manipulate the countries to make it more likely to re-unite with Russia. Remember how Belarus’s elections have been tampered with and the bloody crushing of the protests? Moldavia has been calling for help regarding the Russian troops in their country. If you haven’t heard about Ukraine, this post isn’t for you.

- if you are able to read Russian, it’s easy to find the war plan Russia has developed to ensure this goal, including the annexation of Ukraine, Moldavia up to attacks on Poland and east-Germany.

- the biggest problem for Russia to reach this goal is the NATO, and that mostly because the USA had the NATO’s back.

- as long as the nato stands together it’s almost impossible for Putin to reach his goal.

- “devide and conquer”

-by now it’s well documented that Russian involvement led to Trump’s victory.

- the same people, who organized Trump’s campaign, later campaigned for the pro-Brexit side.

- Trump (being right wing) wanted the US to leave the NATO. Brexit has weakened the cohesion in the EU.

- the right wing parties have been growing in Europe. Italy and Netherland have already elected right wing parties as their leadership. The right wing party in Germany is most likely the second strongest party in the eu elections right now. (Yes, the modern day Nazis. Yes, Nazis.)

- right wing parties are more likely to say “what do I care about my neighbors getting bombed? I’m caring about MY people.” They support getting big (hence powerful) positions such as the NATO getting divided into smaller, easier to beat fractions. Poland does not stand a chance against Russia on its own. The NATO does.

- both Iran (because of the conflict in the Middle East) and China (because of their intend to annex Taiwan) love and support Putin’s tactic to divide and weaken the NATO. The USA are madly powerful, but not even they are able to take on three nuclear powers at the same time.

——

k, why am I talking about this?

-> if you come across anti-Biden, anti-EU, anti-democrat, pro-segregation posts or opinions you NEED to ask yourself if this might be political manipulation to weaken your country. It had been the young voters who put Trump out of office. It’s the young voters Russia and other manipulative powers have on their radar now. YOU are the target to reach their goals.

-> yes, this includes pro-Palestine messaging if it leads into a “don’t vote for Biden” narrative.

#us politics #eu politics #Putin #war in Ukraine e

[kamotecue]

the forgotten love ✮ k. cooney-cross

pairing: kyra cooney-cross x reader

summary: you were her first love—truly unforgettable as people would say. you had met in year 5 as an exchange student from sweden, you were her defender. swedish!reader

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

ever wonder what it’s like—when you’ve forgotten someone who’s dear to you? for you, it was extreme agony, you had photographs and polaroids of a freckled girl you don’t remember.

whenever you tried to ask, the ones around you would say “she’s just someone you used to know”, or that “she isn’t that important.” but they had lied—she was your entire world, the light that you’re supposed to find in the darkness.

you met her in year 5, an exchange student coming from sweden. you had accidentally bumped into her in the hallways, and that’s how you became friends.

the history between you—wasn’t just friends. you were friends to lovers, and had become strangers again. the freckled girl who you had yet to learn the name of—was the one who got you into football.

she was your midfielder, and you were her defender. however, your thoughts were interrupted as you heard the studs that pitter-pattered on the locker room floor.

it was magda, one of the team’s co-captain. ever since you made your debut for the senior team at 15 years old, she had taken you under her wing.

“du verkar lite distraherad på sistone, n/n. [you seem a little distracted lately, n/n.]” you hummed, knowing that she was right.

“det är bara något som upptar mitt sinne. [there’s just something that occupies my thoughts.]” you confessed as magda gave you a soft nudge, taking the seat beside you.

“det finns alltid, en riktig tänkare du är n/n. men jag vill att du fokuserar på spelet idag. [there always is, quite a thinker you are n/n. but i want you to focus on the game today.]” you gave her a short nod, it was the bronze match after all—the matildas have been a powerful team throughout the tournament.

your coach had clapped, signaling for the starting line up to head to the tunnel, as the game was about to begin. you hummed, slipping on the trainer jacket, this was the first time you’d be starting—as you mostly changed the game as an impact sub.

the tunnel was filled with small chatter from both teams, but you kept silently wanting to not get distracted. you didn’t notice the way australia’s number 23 had looked at you, it was filled with pining, the need to have you in her arms again.

you knew everything was going smoothly, until it was time to shake the hands of the other players. but when you came across the midfielder, your eyes has widened in realization.

she’s the freckled girl in the photos you don’t remember. asllani, the one wearing the captain’s armband had nudged you softly as you were holding up the line.

“focus, little one.” she commented as you gave her a small nod, the game was about to start and you swiftly headed to your position in the back line.

the game started with ease, as a penalty was rewarded in the 27th minute—due to stina going down under the pressure from australia’s polkinghorne.

you watched from your side of the pitch, as frido stood up to take it. zecira had hummed beside you, as you turned to glance at her.

“när kommer du att göra ett fantastiskt kors? [when will you make an amazing cross?]” you gave her a small chuckle as you simply shrugged your shoulders.

“snart, antar jag. [soon, i suppose.]” you commented, and that’s exactly what you did. just before the first half had ended, you had sent a cross to stina who had headed it in, scoring the second goal of the match.

the first half had ended just exactly how the coach had wanted it, but there was this gut feeling that you had—as if something bad was going to happen. frido had jumped on your back, easing your worries as you stumbled a bit.

“onwards.” she joked, as you laughed at her silly behavior. you hummed, wrapping your arms around her legs to support her.

“children.” magda teased, ruffling your hair as you three entered the locker room. the tactics were interesting, as you played with the tumblr that was given to you.

yet what happened next was something you didn’t expect—no one did. as the matildas were eager to equalize the score, you had collided with mary who had went for a header.

as you headed straight to the floor, zecira was quick to get the ball—making australia have no chance at scoring that close goal. you weren’t getting up, no one had noticed you—until after zecira had kicked the ball forward.

her eyes had landed on you, your hands were holding your head—as you had groaned, loudly. she stepped closer to you, while watching ahead.

“n/n?” her voice rang, as you slightly leaked through your fingers to see a blurred face. the ringing of your ears made it harder to distinguish who it was.

“mitt huvud, det gör ont. [my head, it hurts.]” you softly said, as zecira hummed noticing how the referee had blew her whistle seeing you on the ground.

you mumbled in pain hearing the loud whistle, frido and stina were first to come beside you as the swedish medical team made their way towards you.

from afar, you hadn’t notice the way her eyes had gazed to where you were—nor did you realize how katrina gorry had looked at you. she had heard about you from kyra who was like her daughter figure.

“a terrible collision that was.” frido said as she looked at the huge screen, before kneeling down beside you—making sure she was away from the medics space as she didn’t want to interrupt.

“jag tror inte att jag kunde hålla ögonen öppna. [i don’t think i could keep my eyes open.]” you had stuttered, your eyes fluttering now and then. you heard a huge commotion, as you tried to keep your eyes open—but it was bound to happen as your eyes had closed.

zecira noticed kyra coming closer, as she extended her arm to not make her go any closer to you. but stina had spoke in swedish, the goalkeeper just hummed before bringing back her hand.

she took a deep breathe before she saw you—there was a bit of blood above your right eye, as the swedish medic swiftly did his job.

“so, you’re the one y/n had fell for.” frido spoke in english, her swedish accent was evident as kyra looked at her with wide eyes, clearly surprised at this.

#kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney cross imagine #kyra cooney cross x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot

[monzabee]

🪩 || bee's masterlist

AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR!

welcome to my masterlist! you can find all of my works as of now under the cut, and here's a masterlist key to help you navigate your way through!

masterlist key: — social media au - ✧ — fic - ✶ — drabbles - ✫ — headcanons - ᕯ

MAX VERSTAPPEN (MV1)

fuck being underrated ✧ : the one where Max is dating his team principal's daugther, who happens to be the hottest model of the year.

third time's the charm ✧ : the one where you are there to celebrate Max winning his third title, and the whole world is there to witness it.

two sides of the same coin ✶ : the one where you try to convince yourself that you're not falling for your teammate, but can't help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all.

beach read ✶ : the one where you and Max go on a holiday for the first time, and you realize just how much you love 'Vacation Max'.

viva las vegas (+18) ✶ : the one where you and Max celebrate his win in a way you’ve never done before. [minors dni!]

CHARLES LECLERC (CL16)

how you get the girl ✶ : the one where you and your boyfriend Charles attend a gala for a friend and run into Harry Styles – who happens to be your ex.

in my lover era! ✧ : the one where Charles becomes a Swiftie because of his girlfriend.

like real people do (+18) ✶ : the one where you are having sex with your boyfriend, Charles, for the first time but he wants everything to be perfect for you. [minors dni!]

you'll change your name or change your mind ✶ : the one where you find your way back home, even if the journey takes longer than you think.

this is a relationship, that i don't think anyone saw coming ✶ : the one where you and Charles think you are successfully fooling everyone on the grid, when in reality you are the ones being fooled.

the name game ✶ : the one where you and Charles try to get through one of the first hardships of parenthood.

lean on you ✶ : the one where you learn to lean on Charles more than you thought you ever could.

red, white, blue's in the sky ✧ : the one where Charles has an olympian girlfriend.

T.G.I.F ✶ : the one where writing your thesis is harder than you think, but Charles is here to help you through all of it.

pon de replay (+18) ✶ : the one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him. [minors dni!]

DANIEL RICCIARDO (DR3)

nonesense ✧ : the one where you and Daniel fall in love with a song, so you must share it with the whole internet.

girl crush ✶ : the one where both you and Daniel meet your celebrity crushes in the course of a weekend, and decide to give it a go.

you can check out the rest of the series from here!

redbull gives you wings ✧ : the one where red bull brings together people, again..

LANDO NORRIS (LN4)

good riddance ✧ : the one where internet discovers that Lando's girlfriend is a singer, who happens to be on a world tour.

short stack ✧ : the one where the internet is obsessed about the height difference between you and your boyfriend, Lando.

déjà vu (beyoncé’s version) ✶ : the one where a bad prank leads to you and Lando exploring an option you thought was not an option.

bad idea right? ✶ : the one where seeing Lando tonight is a bad idea, right?

greedy ✧ : the one where lando finds a certain singer cute.

MICK SCHUMACHER (MS47)

a vettel and a schumacher walk into a bar ✶ : the one where Mick is dating Seb's eldest daughter, but forgets to mention this to his mentor and close friend. another problem? he can't seem to keep his eyes (or his hands) off of you.

you can check out the rest of the series from here!

heartbreak hotel ✧ : the one where you run into your ex, Mick, at Las Vegas, and chaos ensues.

ARTHUR LECLERC (AL12)

baby honey ✶ : the one where Arthur swear he's not thinking about you, his best friend, all the time – just today, yesterday, and tomorrow night.

LEWIS HAMILTON (LH44)

eight words when i think about us (+18) ✶ : the one where Coachella has both you and Lewis high on each other. [minors dni!]

he's a genius ('cause he loves a woman like her) ✧ : the one where you and Lewis (attempt to) soft launch your relationship.

hot girls support 44 ✫ : the one where your husband realises that you are, indeed, his number one fan.

what you do to me (+18) ✶ : the one where Lewis returns home to you – the one thing he desperately wants, but won't let himself have completely. [minors dni!]

partition (+18) ✶ : the one where you and Lewis are stuck in traffic in Paris, and decide to make the most of the situation. [minors dni!]

PIERRE GASLY (PG10)

feather ✶ : the one where Pierre is the one left mourning after your relationship ends.

all around the world (pretty girls) ✧ : the one where the internet finds out about you and Pierre's relationship.

CARLOS SAINZ (CS55)

the lusty month of may (+18) ✶ : the one where it's that darling month when everyone throws self-control away, and you and Carlos decide to do a wretched thing – or two. [minors dni!]

mr.big ✧ : the one where there he was, wearing armani on a sunday, your boyfriend, Carlos.

you can check out the rest of the series from here!

LANCE STROLL (LS18)

kiss it better ✶: the one where a crazy idea turns out to be the best possible thing for you and Lance.

©𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗓𝖺𝖻𝖾𝖾 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥. 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #pierre gasly

[callsign-rogueone]

keep her safe - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader  This one is for my fellow tired, chronic pain girls who just want their suffering to serve some purpose, and those who trust everyone they meet, even if they shouldn’t. wc: 4.7k -- the longest work I've ever put on this blog! second chapter is here! 🏷: spoilers for both Fourth Wing books (I’m currently 500 pages into Iron Flame, and y’all... 😭) people refer to you with she/her pronouns, canon-typical violence and torture, mentions of canon character death / death of a family member, bad coping mechanisms, Dain and his memory reading (I tried to make him more tolerable), one (1) reference to sex, I gave you a last name (Avan) and Garrick calls you angel as a pet name, because I refuse to use y/n. Your dragon's name is Tab.

Your stomach drops as your name is called for a challenge. “No weapons today.” Emeterrio adds. “I want you to work on your hand-to-hand.”

The pair of you unsheath nearly a dozen knives apiece, you handing yours to Bodhi. Disarmed, you extend a hand to the boy, as is the Tyrrish tradition before a friendly spar, but he doesn’t take it. No unmarked ones ever have.

He charges first, tangles a hand in your hair and pulls, jerking your head back, and the crowd of freshmen gasp, but you plant your feet and move with him, twisting your spine with practiced ease.

That gives you enough distance to kick a leg out at his right knee, hitting him squarely in the back of it. He releases you. Another swift kick to his legs has them sweeping out from under him. You dig a thumb into his collarbone, finding just the right spot, and he crumples, giving you a split second to wrap your arm around his throat.

He claws at your elbow with blunt nails, wasting breath as he attempts to rise to his feet, but you keep him pinned with your body weight, bearing down as hard as you can. He bucks, and your left boot skids against the mat. 

You bend your knee to brace yourself in a lunge. Your arm is starting to falter, he can feel the muscle straining around his jaw, but he’s tiring too — running out of air. If neither of you moves, he’s going to die.

“Enough,” Emeterrio commands.

You release him, extending a hand to pull him up, but he smacks it away and dives straight at you, clearly not done. “I’m not letting you off that easily, traitor.” 

You squeak in surprise, your back hitting the mat with a thud, and he lands another blow to your jaw. You struggle to take control back, gasping for breath from how hard you’d hit the floor.

He gathers your wrists into one hand easily, the other closing around your throat.

“You are going to die on this mat if you don’t do something, now. Use the failsafe.” 

There’s one dagger you hadn’t removed, that you’d won from Garrick in combat your first year, that he’d let you win, really, and promptly ordered that you never remove it from your reach, for situations like this.

He doesn’t have your legs pinned, so you kick out, catching him in the thigh, and his grip falters. You manage to wiggle one arm free to pull the blade from the inside of your jacket, rolling onto your side and holding the point millimeters away from his chest. “Yield,” you order, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You won’t kill me,” He snarls. “Everyone knows you’re all bark and no bite. That’s why you keep him around.”

You drag it down, just enough to tear his shirt. “Yield, or you’ll meet Malek today and you can explain to him what a cheating coward you are.” The words surprise you, but you fight to maintain the hardened look on your face, trying to convince him you’re serious. 

“Fine,” he spits, “I yield.”

Heart still pounding, you move to lean against the wall with the other marked ones, Bodhi handing you back your arsenal blade by blade. 

“She cheated!” Jason protests as soon as he’s standing again.

“She did what was necessary after you defied a direct order from a superior officer,” Emeterrio says narrowly.

Jason glowers, but returns to his friends without further argument. The rest of the pack takes note of their faces; they’re likely as conniving as him, and as liable to try to kill you, too.

“I’m gonna end that motherfucker,” Garrick mutters, checking you over for injuries as subtly as he can. He hands you a scrap of cloth and you wipe the blood from your nose, wincing, but grateful it isn’t broken.

“He’s been at this for months. One of these days, he’s going to kill you.” Bodhi says quietly, his gaze not moving from the next sparring pair.

“Why not kill him first?” Imogen asks. “You had a knife to his gut, you should have used it.”

“No.” You say firmly. “To kill anyone unmarked, especially an officer’s son, would confirm what everyone else in this army believes about Tyrs; that we are bloodthirsty animals.”

“Let them believe that,” she scoffs. “They’ll never change their mind.”

You sigh. Maybe she’s right.

You don’t see your friends for the next ten hours, when you’re finally excused for dinner.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bodhi asks. 

“Medical wing,” you rasp, sliding into a seat at the end of the bench. “Mending infantry with Carr.” 

“You should eat,” Liam says softly, pushing a plate toward you, but you shake your head no, every muscle in your body screaming. 

You look like your head is going to hit the table, your neck no longer able to hold it up. Bodhi pulls you into his side and you slump against him, boneless. “Her signet isn’t fully developed yet,” you hear him explain to Violet and Liam. “She’ll be okay. She just needs to rest.”

When you wake, it’s dark out, the room nearly pitch black, but you can tell it’s not yours — the furniture is arranged differently.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, gentle one,” Tab greets as soon as you’re cognizant. He can only be this dry about it because he knew you’d pull through. “If he makes you do that again, I’ll eat him.”

You laugh, wincing at the pain in your ribs. Your entire body aches. There’s no way you got up the three flights of stairs here yourself — you didn’t even have it in you to chew food at dinner.

There’s a comforting scent to the room — all the soap and detergent everyone uses is standard issue, but something about the sheets smells like Garrick. Your theory is confirmed when he walks through the door, the hallway light illuminating the hilts of the two swords strapped to his back. “If you want me in your bed, Gare, you just need to ask,” you say in greeting.

He laughs dryly, waving a hand to activate a small mage light. “The damage can’t be too bad if you’re already cracking jokes.”

“I missed physics, didn’t I? Did you carry me up here?”

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about. You can copy Violet’s notes, they’re way better than mine.” He strips some of the weapons off, shedding his flight jacket along with them. It’s something you’ve seen many times before, but it never fails to make your heart flutter.

He sits on the edge of the bed, a gentle hand moving up to lay against your cheek. “And I did carry you. I’d do anything for you, angel. It scares me sometimes.”

He brushes a piece of hair from your face. You’d been freezing cold when you fell asleep, so he’d draped you with every blanket he owned before leaving, and it seems to have worked — your skin is pleasantly warm against his hand.

“Anything, hm?” You ask, a lazy smile on your face. 

His eyes sparkle at the mischief in your tone, but he’s responsible enough to think before he acts. “Not until you’ve recovered,” he says sternly. 

You yawn. “D’you have section leader stuff to do tonight?”

“That’s what executive officers are for.”

You crack an eye to look at him in disapproval. “Gare, you can’t skip duty. Melgren will have your head.”

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t. Your bed is more comfortable than mine anyway.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, tugging the jacket back on and strapping in the swords.

/////////

Someone is standing in front of your yoga mat. Dain. “No bodyguard today?” He asks.

You’re silent, your gaze flickering between him and the longsword by your side, the one Garrick had insisted you take with you everywhere when he wasn’t there to protect you.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t want to kill you.” He says with a sigh. “I just need to-”

“Quit talking and join me, or leave.” You interrupt, settling into a deeper stretch, eyes closing as you gesture to the floor next to you with an open hand. By the grace of Amari, Carr had given you enough time off to recover, but he’ll likely be making you work another shift in the infirmary today. This will be your only pocket of calm for the next twelve hours. You aren’t going to skip it for Dain, of all people.

He chooses the first option, surprising you as he drags a mat over beside yours, attempting to copy your movements. “Do you really do this every day?” He asks, uncomfortable.

“Even a soldier must take time to be at peace. Clear your mind. Whatever you’re thinking about is so loud it’s distracting.”

He startles, his foot slipping on the mat.

“No, my signet is not mind-reading.” You say, eyes still closed, though there’s an amused look on your face. “Relax. You’re killing the air in here with that nervous energy.”

For the next five minutes, you both stretch in total silence. “Now,” you decide, bringing your arms back to your body, focusing on your breathing, “what was so important that you needed to find me here?”

He cuts straight to it. “Varrish wants me to… practice on you. He thinks you’re hiding something, that all of you are.” He doesn’t need to specify who he means by you. 

You don’t seem to react to the information, instead looking at him with curiosity. “How do you feel about your signet?” 

He blinks. Nobody’s ever asked him that before. “I don’t know.” He says quietly. You shift again, but he doesn’t follow you, folding his legs underneath him instead. Your silence presses him to speak, needing to fill the air. “I used to think it was cool, but now… now I’m wondering if it’s really a gift at all.”

“What do you see when you view a memory like that? Are you living it through their eyes, or from above, watching it unfold? How far back can you see?”

“Through their eyes.” He answers, throat dry. Why is he telling you this? “A day, maybe two. It depends. Varrish wants me to learn to push it farther.”

You weigh the consequences. If he’s being honest, he won’t see anything confidential — at worst, a gathering of more than three marked ones to exercise, but is he really petty enough to tell Varrish about that, when he’s giving you a warning in the first place?

“Okay.” You say, opening your eyes. Better it be you than one of the kids who can’t shield their memories yet, or Garrick or Bodhi, who would rip him limb from limb if he tried to touch them.

“What?”

“I’m going to go about my day now as if this conversation never happened,” you say, looking him in the eye, unflinching, “and you’re going to do what you have to do to satisfy Varrish’s demands — with me and only me. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” he stammers, shocked that you’re letting him do this.

“Good.” You pick up the longsword, strapping it back in along your spine. “Dain?” You call over your shoulder. “I won’t make it easy for you.” You say, and he knows that’s a promise.

“That was an incredibly stupid decision, gentle one. A noble decision, but stupid nonetheless.” Tab speaks into your mind on the way back up to your room. “You cannot always assume everyone has good intentions. It would have been your downfall by now, if not for your mate’s protection.”

“Stop calling Garrick my mate. That’s weird.” You deflect, not wanting to unpack his earlier words.

“Forgive me. Dragons do not have a word for a relationship as trivial as a boyfriend.”

You build up a mental wall like Xaden had taught you, ending the argument. 

When Varrish calls you into his office that afternoon, you already know what it’s for. “Take a seat,” he says with a smile that you know isn’t meant to be friendly.

He sees the way your eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Dain — everyone knows how the quadrant’s golden boy feels about marked ones, and how you feel about him. You’re going to be doing some very good acting today.

The door closes and locks behind you, and your stomach flips as you feel the sound shield form and press up against the office walls. There’s no escape, and no screaming for help, but you know what you’ve walked into. You signed up for it this morning.

“To what do I owe this meeting, Major?” You ask respectfully, lowering yourself into the chair beside Dain.

“Professor Carr has made me aware that both of your signets have been slow to develop. We’re going to spend your leisure time today practicing, in hopes that you will finally improve.” A very convincing lie, you’ll admit. If Dain hadn’t come to you this morning, you might have believed it. “No objections?” He asks, waiting for you to protest.

“No, sir.” You say calmly, Dain answering the same a beat behind you.

“Good. Aetos, you first.”

It takes every ounce of self control not to squirm as Dain stands, stepping toward you. You lift your chin, closing your eyes -- a gesture of consent small enough to fly under the Vice Commandant’s radar.

You may be letting him try, but you’d told him this wouldn’t be easy. You block him out completely, raising your mental shield and barring the gates.

“What do you see?” Varrish asks.

Dain doesn’t answer. He does not push, does not attempt to kick the door down or dig below the foundation. He stands outside, waiting for you to give him something. 

The crack of his nose breaking has your eyes flying open, the coppery scent of blood starting to fill the room immediately as he staggers back into his chair.

“Your turn, Avan."

You stand, laying a gentle hand on Dain’s jaw to tilt it up, stopping the blood from pouring down his shirt. 

He looks up at you, stunned, but lets you touch the broken cartilage with your fingertips, and moments later it feels like nothing ever happened. It’s mind-bending.

“Very good. Aetos, try again. What was she doing this morning?”

Dain stands, angling his body between yours and Varrish’s so that the Major can’t see the apology he mouths before his hands touch your forehead. Whether he can see his conversation with you in the gym is unclear. He lies through his teeth either way. “She was alone,” he answers, “on a run to the flight field and back.” 

“And then?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes not leaving yours. “A shower, breakfast. Eggs. An apple. Toast. She sat with Tavis and two other marked ones.” He leaves out Violet from the group, not wanting to implicate her. Interesting. 

That much is true, but it’s part of your everyday routine — he could have easily gleaned that from watching you across the mess hall. Is he still locked out?

Varrish stands, rounding the corner of his desk. “Let’s make this a little harder, shall we?”

Dain screams as a dagger pierces his arm, thrashing in his chair. Varrish twists the blade as he pulls it out, letting Dain’s blood drip to the floor. This is why he needed the sound shield.

Your eyes widen, and the adrenaline has you leaping to your feet to fix it. You press a hand into the wound, apologizing when he winces. It takes you longer than it should for the muscle to repair itself.

“You care more about him than I thought.” Varrish muses.

You turn to him, anger flickering in your chest. “It is my moral obligation to help the wounded.”

He tuts. “You would have made an excellent healer, had your parents not committed high treason. Aetos, again. Find something older.”

Dain trembles as he stands, and you take pity on him. You push an older memory forward, a happy one, remembering it as vividly as you can.

You watch together as you sprint through the forest, stopping dead in your tracks as you see two cadets fighting. The one losing is a smaller girl in your class whose name Dain can’t remember, a tall, muscled boy towering over her, sword ready to strike.

You spring forward, catching him by surprise and effectively disarming him, and he chooses to abandon the sword and run rather than fight the both of you. You extend a hand to pull the girl to her feet and her eyes widen further, staring up not at you, but behind you.

You feel a burst of heat against your back — not hot enough to be fire. Steam. You bow your head in deference, turning slowly to give the girl time to run… And the dragon bows back. What the fuck?

“You did not kill the boy.” It says directly into your mind.

“I did not.” You answer aloud, not sure if humans can do that.

“Have you ever killed before, gentle one?”

“I haven’t.” Should you be embarrassed? Dragons are violent, surely they would see this as a sign of weakness.

“Not all of us.”

“Holy shit, you can read my mind.”

The girl laughs in disbelief, and you realize you’ve just bonded a dragon.

“In time you’ll learn to control that. But your friend needs to get moving, and so do we.”

You wish her luck before scaling the leg of your dragon and taking a seat.

“Hold on.”

You shriek in happiness like a child as he jumps up, and seconds later you’re thousands of feet in the air, looking down at Basgiath and the valley below. When you return to the flight field, you find Garrick there with a giant brown Scorpiontail, bloodied but happy as he stands next to Xaden and the biggest blue daggertail you’ve ever seen. You pull them both into a hug, just grateful they’re alive.

“Careful, angel,” Garrick warns, grinning into your hair, “we just might make it out of here.”

You cut Dain off there, yanking back the memory before slamming your shields back up. He can have that moment, but only that moment.

“Threshing,” Dain says. Thank the gods. “She helped another cadet who was being attacked. That’s why Tab chose her, for her kindness.”

You both look at Varrish for further instruction. Your shields have been weakening with every injury you repair, but so have Dain’s abilities. You don’t know how many more rounds either of you can take. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” He says, sounding pleased. “I’ll see you again on Wednesday morning, to check your progress. You’re dismissed.”

The sound shield dissipates, the door unlocking. The only evidence is Dain’s blood, smeared across his face and arms, drying on the floor and under your nails. You commit the sight to memory, tucking it into the same folder that holds the death of your parents, and slam the drawer shut.

It takes you five minutes to scrub the blood out of the cracks in your palms and from under your nails. Your fingertips are wrinkled when you step into the gym.

“Why did Tab tell Chradh that you were called into Varrish’s office with Aetos?” Garrick asks, remarkably calm as he toys with one of his smaller daggers.

“Because he’s a meddling mother hen.” You answer, avoiding the question.

“Watch it.”  Tab warns. “Tell him the truth, or we will.”

You know he’s not bluffing. “He wanted us to practice our signets on each other.”

“Dain practiced his signet, his memory-reading signet, on you?” He asks, already simmering with anger.

“This morning, he came to me to warn me about Varrish’s plan, and I told him it was okay. I used my shields, and I only showed him what I wanted to. We’re supposed to do it again Wednesday.”

Your eyes communicate something else you won’t say aloud, not in front of everyone, and not when you know Dain might be able to see this conversation in two days. I did this to take the heat off of the others. You know I was the safest choice.

Garrick sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d like to state for the record that I hate this plan. Literally everything about it. Except for Aetos being stabbed, maybe.” Of course Chradh told him about that. He’d have been delighted by the news, despising both him and Cath.

You give him a look.

“Okay, fine. I take that back.”

He doesn’t. 

By Wednesday, the pain in the bridge of your nose is gone, but your arm is still tender where Dain had been stabbed. Bodhi joins you in the gym, stretching with you for a few minutes before he settles into a plank at your side, his eyes never leaving the door.

Dain does not make an appearance at breakfast, notably absent from the leadership table.

Garrick excuses himself as soon as he sees you stand with your tray, catching you by the doors. “Remember that you’re stronger than both of them in all the ways that matter,” he says quietly. “I’ll find you as soon as you’re done.” You both tap your chest twice before parting ways, as has been your tradition for years -- a reminder that even though you’re leaving, you still hold the other in your heart.

Each step up to Varrish’s office is another reminder of what’s to come when you reach the top. “Cadet Avan,” he greets with another sickening smile. “Just in time. We were beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Your jaw drops at the sight of Dain slumped into the same chair as last time, bloodied and exhausted.

“Nothing fatal,” Varrish reassures. “Not if you act quickly. Go ahead, get started.”

The Vice Commandant’s words have you on edge as you assess him, looking for gaping wounds or broken bones. Dain winces as your hands move over his ribs, and you whisper an apology, pressing in deeper. When your chest starts to ache, you know it’s time to move on. You mend two broken ribs, dissolve a purple bruise on his arm, and fix a split lip, but Dain still hasn’t woken up.

You turn back to Varrish. “One left,” he says. “Use your head.”

Oh, gods. He’d given Dain a concussion, because he knows the migraine it’ll give you will make it harder to shield. You cradle the second-year’s head in your hands, breathing out deeply as you transfer the pain from his body to yours, healing the bruised tissue. Dain blinks himself awake as you stumble, the room suddenly spinning.

“Well done. Aetos?”

You fumble for the arms of your chair, vision blurring at the edges, but you manage to sit back down.

“Say the word, and I get your mate,” Tab offers. He can probably feel your disorientation, concerned you won’t be able to block Dain out in this state.

“No,” you rasp back. “If he shows up, Varrish will have us practice on him instead.”

 You need to pick another memory to satisfy Varrish, something older, but your brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Dain gives you a moment to gather yourself, a small gesture of mercy.

“A moment of pure happiness,” Tab suggests. “Something with the wingleader and your mate.”

You flip back in the book of your life, nearly all the way to the beginning, opening it to the right page to give to Dain and slipping it under the gate with a nod of your head — you’re ready.

Dain’s hands are warm against your freezing cheeks. A boy no older than five that he recognizes as Garrick crouches under a desk across the room, holding a finger to his lips. 

“Wherever could those children possibly be?” Someone muses aloud, and you fight laughter as the voice grows closer, thinking it amusing that this adult has no idea you’re hiding in the curtains.

Footsteps retreat, and Garrick signals for you to move. You make it down the hallway before you see someone searching — presumably whatever parent you’d convinced to play with you. Small hands tug you both behind a plush velvet couch. Xaden. 

You press yourselves up against it, trying to be as quiet as possible, watching as a shadow forms on the wall in front of you, then a head peers over the back of the couch — that must be your father. He looks just like you, has the same warm smile.

“One more, and then I need to get back to work,” He says, already moving to cover his eyes and starting to count to one hundred. You each run off in a different direction, and the scene fades there.

“A childhood memory,” Dain says. “Playing hide and seek in her father’s office with Riorson and Tavis.”

Not good enough for Varrish. “Give me something I can use,” he snarls, a Freudian slip, but nothing either of you hadn’t known already. 

You flip forward in the book, settling on a page you never look at, that you can’t bear to, but that Varrish will revel in. You rip it out, sliding it under the gate. “Bad,” you whisper, the only warning you can manage.

Dain nods in permission, ready to watch whatever memory you’ve pushed forward.

Someone presses a small stone into your hand, an intricate overlap of shapes and lines engraved on one side, the other perfectly smooth.

“Do not put it down, even for a moment,” your father says. He’s aged between now and the last memory, starting to go gray at his temples. “Keep it in your hand until the end. It will protect you when we can’t.”

He looks next to Garrick. “She is everything good about the world.” He says quietly. “Take care of her.”

Garrick promises he will, and your father pulls you into one last embrace before he leaves. Tears blur your vision, Garrick pulling you close. “It’ll be okay,” he soothes. “They’ll come back.”

Hours pass that Dain can’t see, because you don’t remember them. 

There’s an ache in your palm from clutching the stone so hard, the rounded corners digging into your skin. Garrick takes your free hand in his, interlocking your fingers. Then there’s only screaming and fire and rage, heat burning up your arm as it’s marked with inky swirls. Until the end, your father had said. This must have been what he meant.

“Her parents’ execution,” Dain says, a note of genuine hurt in his voice. “They gave each child a runestone before they left, as protection.”

Varrish’s eyes rake over to you. He leans forward, yanking on the leather cord that disappears into the neck of your shirt hard enough to pull your body with it. “A runestone like this one?”

“Yes,” you answer before Dain can, saving him the lie. You shut your eyes, wincing as the cold edge of a knife brushes against your neck and the cord breaks, a single drop of warm blood running down your collarbone. You don’t protest, you can’t, your mind still hazy and eyes wet with tears from reliving the memory with Dain.

“That will be all.” Varrish dismisses. He doesn’t make an appointment for you to come back. He has what he needs.

You stand, relying on your knowledge of the office’s layout to navigate your way forward until the door closes behind you.

“I’m so sorry,” Dain breathes once you’re down the hall far enough to avoid being heard. “If I had known,”

“It’s okay. The rune is long dead, and he has no idea how to recreate it. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you again.” You blink, trying to clear your head. How are you going to get down all these stairs? You can hardly see.

“Here,” he says quietly, extending a hand. You take it, letting him loop an arm over his shoulders — your right, the one that Varrish hadn’t bruised black and blue on Dain — and lead you one step at a time.

You’re halfway down when you hear heavy footsteps running up the stairs. Garrick. He’d promised he’d find you when you were done. He doesn’t spare a glance at Dain, gathering you into his arms and apologizing when he puts pressure on your not-broken ribs.

Dain watches as the older boy carries you down the rest of the stairs, murmuring reassurances to you all the while. Your father’s words echo in his mind. “Take care of her.”

Garrick Tavis is a man of his word.

#garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #reader insert #fourth wing fanfic #iron flame fanfic #garrick tavis imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #throwing this into the void for the three Garrick girlies out there! #liam fic next?? #mine #Garrick and Angel

[angstywaifu]

Not Meant To Care - Xaden Riorson x Reader

Prompt - “Since when did you ever care about me?!” “Since fucking forever!” from anonymous. A/N: I definitely didn't forget to schedule this weeks posts. Not at all.... Anyway, enjoy some Xaden! Masterlist

Every part of my body screamed at me as I hobbled down the stairs from the flight field. The pain reminding me of the first few times I flew on my dragon last year. It had been a while since I had felt like this. Today an opposing squad from another wing had been paired with ours for the class. And it had gone bad fast.

The other squad were on us in seconds despite it being a class to learn new manoeuvres. I had fallen victim to two other riders sandwiching me and my dragon between theirs. With them having larger dragons they had easily manoeuvred us into a flip, and I hadn’t had a chance to grip onto my dragon properly before I was thrown from their back. Luckily another squad member had seen it and flew over to catch me. But the impact had shook my entire body. Everything now aching and hurting because of it. Each step causing another ripple of pain to shoot you my body. The pain getting worse with every step. I had been dumb enough to brush off my squad mates when we got back and was now alone for my decent back to the quadrant. It was going to be a long and painful hobble over to the healers.

After what feels like hours I finally descend into the rotunda. A few people turn and whisper as I hobble in and start to make my way towards the healers. I hear rushed footsteps and look up to see Bodhi and Imogen rushing over to me.

“What the hell happened to you?” Bodhi asks urgently as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side, taking the brunt of my weight.

I wince in pain, but without bearing all of my weight I can’t help the sigh of relief as I lean into Bodhi.

“Just a little mishap in flight training.” I get out between gritted teeth.

“A little mishap that’s left your hobbling across the court yard like you’re in your ninety’s?” Imogen questions as she falls into step as Bodhi slowly walks me towards the healers quadrant.

I wince in pain as Bodhi walks us up some stairs, causing them both to share a concerned look.

“It’s fine. Nothing a healer can’t fix.” I tell them sternly.

“Y/N, you are the best flier in your year and probably one of the best in the quadrant right now. This isn’t little.” Bodhi’s voice pleading me to tell them what had happened.

As we turn the corner to the healers quadrant I wince in pain, my eyes screwing shut. I don’t even register the sound of Imogen’s rushed footsteps leading away from us as Bodhi hurries me towards the healers quadrant.

Bodhi barges through the door, fully taking my weight as he is guided towards the back area of the room where the menders reside. I groan in pain as he lowers me on the bed. I barely register the nurse and Bodhi talking as I focus on my breathing. Clearly the impact of the fall had caused more damage than I had thought.

Something cold on my head startles me and I look up to see Bodhi pressing a damp cloth to my head. I sigh in relief, the coolness taking the edge off the pain. He offers a small smile as I feel something wash over me. I look over to see a mender grasping my hand in theirs. I feel my body slowly release the pain. As if they are drawing it into themselves through our connected hands. My body sags in relief as the tension is released. My eyes start to flutter close. A side effect of mending was the toll it took on the mended and the patient. As I fall into a peaceful slumber I vaguely hear a loud gruff voice yelling my name in the distance.

When I open my eyes I immediately know I’m not in the healers quadrant. Instead I lie in a much softer bed, tucked into a blanket. As I breathe, I note the smells of mint, leather and something that reminds me of a flower or citrus. I’d smelt it before, but where? My answer quickly comes to me as the sound of a chair creaking draws my eyes over to the last person I expected to see. Xaden. I was in Xaden’s room. Xaden who I’d always had a stupid crush on, despite how much we despised each other. We had never gotten along. Always bickering and pestering each other. Pushing each others buttons whenever we could. And yet here I was. In his bed as he watched over me. His Onyx eyes scan over me, assessing me for any pain. As I stretch and sit up I am relieved to feel none of the pain I had felt earlier. Even in the lower light of the room I note Xaden’s shoulders sag in relief, as if relieved to see I am no longer in pain. But the expression on his face remains almost neutral, except for the twitch of his jaw.

”Care to explain?” He asks, anger evident in his tone.

”I don’t need to explain anything.” I snap at him as I shove the blanket off me and stand.

I go to shove past him but his hands grasps my wrist tightly, turning me back to him.

”Yes you do. Now how the hell did you go from being perfectly fine after lunch, to being in excruciating pain to the point Bodhi had to drag you to the healers.” He demands, his onyx eyes piercing into mine.

I nearly cave under his gaze. Tell him what he wants. But I do what I always do. Push his buttons and push him away. Just like the stupid feelings I have for him.

”Like I said. I don't need to explain anything to you. Just a flight manoeuvre that went wrong.” I snap again as I pull my wrist from his hand. “Why are you acting like you care? Since when did you ever care about me?”

”Since fucking forever!” He snaps, his words echoing around his room as silence falls over us.

Xaden’s eyes go wide as he realises what he’s said. The panic clearly evident in them as he looks into mine. As if his emotions had taken over and he hadn’t meant to reveal what he had.

“Y-you hate me. You don’t care about me.” I say, my voice shaking slightly as I slightly shake my head at him.

No, there’s no way Xaden feels the same way I do. No way does he have the same feelings I shouldn’t have for him. The feelings I try to dampen every single day. He can’t.

”But I do. I do fucking care as much as I might not show it. I fucking care about you.” He takes a step towards me, my neck craning back to look up at him as his body becomes flush with mine. He’s so close I swear he could hear how loudly my heart is beating. “And I know you do to. As much as we might try to prove we hate each other every day. We haven’t for a while.”

I shake my head. ”No, we haven’t” I admit.

As my words leave my mouth, the smirk I tried to convince myself I hated on a daily basis but secretly loved graced his lips. The lips I had wanted on mine since we came to this god damn death college. As if we share the same thoughts, Xaden grasps my face between his hands and pulls me into a kiss, before guiding us over to the bed.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #xaden riorson #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson fanfic #the fourth wing

[allysunny]

HI CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE BALE!BATMAN ONE SHOTS AND SCENARIOS AND DO THE ALPHABET THING!! TYSM ILY THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE🙏🙌🫡

Bale!Batman Scenarios and Fluff Alphabet

Words: 8k words

Warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of suggestive and adult themes, mentions of panic attacks, hopefully not OOC Bruce (literally the second thing I've written for him). I wrote this with female pronouns in mind, but aside for the word "girlfriend" which appears twice, and the word "mother" which appears once, I think it can be gender neutral as well - I'm sorry, I don't know how to write for gender neutral yet!

A/N: Hey everyone! I've had this in my drafts for like two days, and I thought today was a nice day to post it hehehe! This is another one of my Bruce requests, I'm so happy about it! I didn't know what "alphabet thing" you wanted, so I went with the Fluff alphabet, which was what I thought you meant. I used both the coldest goodbye's and snk warriors templates because I loved them so much, so credit to them! I took a few entries from each because I couldn't simply stick to one.

This was supposed to be short and small and sweet but I think I'm unable to write short stuff, and that's how I ended up with a 8k "short drabble"... I actually forgot people usually pick A FEW letters from the alphabet and write for them... So I ended up writing for all of them... Oops... Sorry... But on the other hand, there's not nearly as much Bale!Bruce content out there, and I want to change that! So! 0 Regrets!!!

(You can also notice as the alphabet entries get shorter and shorter because it was getting super late and I refused to go to sleep... Oops!)

Anyway, I had a fun time writing this! I love this man so much oh my god... I hope you guys enjoy it!

It’s not rare when people tell you “You hit the jackpot” when it comes to Bruce. Whenever he’s nearby, he’ll quickly swoop in and correct whoever was talking to you. “Actually, I’m the lucky one,” he says in that ever so charismatic voice of his, making you blush.

Both statements are true. Yes, you landed Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne. Billionaire, ex-playboy, philanthropist, and lover of fine things in life Bruce Wayne. Bruce “I have a car for each day of the week” Wayne. Bruce “You fly coach? That’s funny, I have my own private jet” Wayne. Bruce “My vacations are on the West Wing of my manor because it’s so god damn big” Wayne.

But he’d landed you. Selfless, caring, funny, you. “I don’t need anyone’s protection” You. “I don’t care if you’re filthy rich, we’re staying at my place and eating noodles for dinner” you. “My feet are so sore, please carry me back to the mansion please?” you. “No – you’re going to stand up right now and learn how to do the dishes properly Bruce Wayne, this is unacceptable, how old even are you?” you. He was the lucky one. He managed to find someone who loved him for him. Not for the money, not for the fame, but him.

You preferred catching the train and walking over getting lifts in his fancy cars. “It attracts too much attention – I don’t need the whole entire world knowing I’m out with you.” You’d mumble, and that was the end of it. You enjoyed lazing around in his Manor, but in a “holy fuck this place is so comfortable I’m going to take a nap, I’ll see you in two hours” rather than a “I need to let everyone know I’m currently staying inside Wayne Manor, they will not believe it!” You treated it like home, splaying yourself on couches when tired, cleaning up after yourself and decorating bit by bit – Bruce loved that you were leaving your touch in his home. It meant that, somehow, it was also yours.

You’d change simple things really. Wayne Manor was beautiful as it was, and you had no need to replace it or turn it into something new – no. You got yourself some fluffy towels, replaced a bathroom rug that had seen better days, bought a shelf for the living room. It was his home, yes, and the home of his family before him, but he loved you and wanted you to feel comfortable and wanted you to leave your traces all around his home.

That’s not to say he won’t spoil the hell out of you. He loves your casual dates. Picnics in your living room or his, lazy Sundays spent looking at the clouds in his vast gardens, night spent in each other’s arms, the air cackling with silent promises and love confessions. But he’s Bruce Wayne. He has the means, and Gotham be damned if he wasn’t going to spend them on you.

You still weren’t very comfortable with going to charity galas with him, but Bruce still loved seeing you wear whatever dresses he got for you. So, he’d make reservations at fancy hotels, get a private table, and enjoy a quiet dinner with the love of his life. Away from prying eyes, you could finally be your usual self, cracking jokes and flirting with him.

“Anything interesting happen today at that dreadfully boring job of yours?” You asked him one night, toying with the fork on your hand. He finished drinking from his wine and gave you a comical look. “Not really. Just more of the same. Boring papers, boring meetings, boring people trying to steal my job and my company. The usual.” He said it so matter-of-factly, it almost seemed like nothing you should worry about. But you knew better. “I wonder when they’re going to stop trying. Should we be worried, Bruce?” “Not at all,” he drank again. “My father worked hard to build this company and get it where it is today. It’ll take more than a few angry petty businessmen to take it away from me.” You still eyed him curiously. “My love, I promise all is okay. Everything’s under control.”

You weren’t worried he was going to lose all his money and stop spoiling you. You’d be happy to live in a one apartment studio with no furniture and no money if it meant you could have him with you. But you knew how greedy people could be. You’d watched as some very sketchy men tried to take Bruce’s company away from him, over and over again, trying to destroy what Thomas Wayne had worked so hard to get, and it hurt.

“Fine. But if something ever happens, you just let me at them. I’d have a thing or two to say!” Bruce smiled at you, leaned over the table to caress your cheek, and continued eating.

On date nights in which you end up snuggled up in the couch watching a movie, you two already have assigned positions. Either he’s sitting with his legs spread on the couch, and you’re lying on top of his chest, or you’re sitting normally while he lays with his head on your lap. No one can tell, but Bruce is completely whipped by you. Sometimes, all he wants is to fall asleep on your lap as you gently massage his scalp. You two take so long picking movies, it’s insane. Sometimes, Alfred makes popcorn and you’ve both finished it before you’ve picked a movie, because you’re both stubborn as hell.

You know he is Batman. He told you, but you were able to figure it out a few weeks into your relationship. Not like it was that hard – he was often “busy” with work, although everyone had left the company and he was the only one there at around 4am, the bruises all over his chest and back (Bruce hated polo. He’d never pick it up), the tiredness he displayed in some of your dates and his fucked up sleeping schedule. One time he cancelled dinner on you, and a few hours later, the TV was covering a Batman chase.

You weren’t that dumb.

You were going to confront him, when found the Batcave by accident. You’d found this random ass room you could’ve sworn you’d never seen in your entire life with a piano. And just like every kid when they see a piano, you sat in front of it. If you do know how to play the piano, it wasn’t deliberate, but at the same time, it kind of was. You were playing some scales, warming up your fingers, and doing silly little exercises you’d been taught as a kid when you struck those three notes.  

If you don’t play the piano, well, you were just hitting keys at random. You played a few high notes, a few low notes, and then, in true child fashion, just hit some random notes in the middle, pretending you were the next Mozart or Beethoven.

When the bookshelf in front of you opened, you nearly jumped. Why was a bookshelf opening. How was that possible? What sort of thing was Bruce hiding that was so, so secret, he had to keep it behind a secret passageway?

Instead of leaving the room, calling for Alfred or even Bruce, you decided to do what any great adventurer does, you stepped inside the passage and into the elevator. When you reached the bottom, all you could do was stare. Holy shit. Was this some sort of cave? You walked around a bit, curious but also far too scared to actually touch anything. You weren’t getting yourself killed today, nuh-uh.

What even was this place? Was it some kind of weird sex dungeon? Heat rushed to your cheeks at the thought – Bruce had never told you anything about it. Was this a torture room? Did he take all his victims here to kill them? And then eat them? Oh God. Were you his next victim?

“Honey?” you heard behind you, and your first instinct was to place a protective hand in front of you.

“Stay back!” you shouted, “I took three karate classes, I can knock you down unconscious!”

Bruce’s expression was one of confusion.

“I’m not going to hurt you, just –“

“Your charm doesn’t work on me Bruce; I will take you down! You can’t kill me and eat me!”

“What?!”

“I don’t care if this is your torture room, I will kick your ass!”

 Bruce then proceeded to laugh. How dare he?!

“It’s not funny! Do you always laugh before murdering your victims?!”

“I don’t murder anyone. This isn’t a torture room.” He approached you slowly, hands coming up. “I’m not going to hurt you. Can you please leave that stance? You’re going to hurt yourself if you try to punch me like that. Your legs aren’t balanced, you’re going to trip and fall face first.”

You stuck your tongue out and returned to a normal standing position before he ran a hand through his head and sighed.

“So. You found it.” he mumbled.

“Found what, exactly?”

“My cave.”

“Oh my god. Is this the Batcave?!” You were so excited; you didn’t even realise the words that had left your mouth before it was too late.

Bruce’s eyes widened and he looked at you intently.

“What did you say?”

Shit.

Your next sentence started with,

“So. I know you’re the Batman –“

He had a lot of explaining to do.

He was surprised you figured it out so quickly, but of course, in true Bruce Wayne fashion, he did try to drive you away to keep you safe. He tried everything. Telling you he wanted to break up, ignoring your phone calls and messages, refusing to leave his Manor whenever you wanted to talk. Except, it never worked. You loved him far too much, suit and all. One time you’d visited him, and it started raining. Always worried about your health, Bruce rushed downstairs and opened the door, inviting you in. You told him you weren’t giving up on him. He said you should – he had to keep you safe. You said you wouldn’t. You’re in this together. He said you weren’t. You denied it.

It was a bit of a back and forth between Bruce realised what he had to do. Just before he could finish saying “I don’t love you,” you cut him off with a kiss. Instinctively, his hands snaked around your waist, and he brought you closer. “Never say that. Please. Don’t shut me out.” You whispered against his lips, hands cupping his jaw with such delicacy, Bruce was sure you believed to be holding the entire world in your hands – which to you, you were.

All he could do was nod against your lips and bring you inside. He didn’t push you away ever again.

Things were hard sometimes. There were times when Bruce had to postpone your plans. You’d spent a few nights on your own, blanket comfortably wrapped around your body as you watched a movie by yourself and lamented the absence of your boyfriend. Alfred had found you many times laying on your shared bed, clutching his pillow tightly, hoping his scent would bring you comfort. He quickly shared this news with his master, who, although heartbroken, couldn’t find a permanent solution. You needed him, but Gotham did too.

That’s not to say he didn’t try.

He really did.

Some patrol nights he’d end early, just to be able to get a few hours curled up against you in bed. He’d take days off from his job at Wayne Enterprises to take you on dates and just hang out with you and remind you of just how important you are.

But he’s not entirely perfect – we’re talking about Bruce Wayne in here. Bruce “I grew up with staff and butlers and maids around me, do you actually think I can cook an omelette or clean up after myself?” You had to teach this man how to clean (in general), had to give him some cooking lessons and make sure he didn’t get himself killed whenever you or Alfred weren’t home.

“No, Bruce, you need to stir the rice, otherwise it’s going to –“ You flipped the pot upside down and the burnt rice refused to fall, bending gravity to its will. “Burn. It’s going to burn.” Bruce looked at you with the eyes of a wounded puppy, and as much as you wanted to get mad at him, you just couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ll do better next time.” With a sigh, you started scraping the burnt mess into the trash. “You better. Otherwise, you’re eating it.”

He has a terrible habit of throwing some of his clothes on the ground. He’s so used to having people pick up after him, he can’t help it. Sometimes, when he’s in a rush, he’ll throw his clothes somewhere and rush to the batcave. You hate it that Alfred has to pick up his clothes as if he were a reckless teenager, so you’ve started making Bruce be more careful, place them on the dirty clothes hamper or do his own laundry.

“It’s what I pay Alfred to do –“ “It doesn’t mean you can’t help around just a bit. You wouldn’t be that cruel, would you?” He sighed. Bruce would never be able to say no to you.

You hate it when he leaves in the middle of chores to go put on a suit. Can’t villains and criminals wait until your movie is done? Until you’ve finished dinner? Until dinner is over? Sometimes he can’t be helped – hostage situations, fires, explosions – all normal things in Gotham. And you get it, you really do. But you hate it when he must leave because of other, more avoidable reasons. Like when he has to go to the office to go check some sort of new suit technology that Fox is working on. It sucks.

To make up for that, he always lets you tag along whenever he has to leave on business trips. It’s bad enough the two of you have to be apart because of Batman – he’s not about to have you two be apart because of Bruce Wayne. You love flying in the jet – often you joke that that is the only reason you’re dating him, because you get to fly in his private jet. (He’ll always refute you, but sometimes, you can see it in his eyes he is afraid you mean it. When that happens, you place a kiss on his lips and promise him you’re joking. His mood instantly changes.)

You especially like the privacy of the luxury. No, you weren’t with him for the money, but Bruce liked spoiling you and sometimes you liked to be spoiled. But being spoiled in public attracted too much attention, too many people peering and trying to get a glimpse of your personal life and his wealth. The jet made it easy for you to allow yourself to be spoiled, and for Bruce to dote on you all he wanted.

In these trips, Bruce always books the fanciest rooms at the best hotels, and you have a blast exploring them and just overall enjoying the experience. Bruce thinks it’s endearing. You’re used to his wealth by now, but it’s sweet to see how genuinely dazzled you still are by all of the luxury and extravagance. He especially likes how you make it your mission to try on and christen every single bathtub in the suites he books – and as established before, when has Bruce been able to refuse you?

Fluff Alphabet

A = Affection

How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

Bruce wasn’t a very affectionate person at first. He wasn’t used to the gentleness of affection; all he knew was the roughness of combat and hate and revenge – but you came along and changed everything. At first, he was a bit wary. You’d touch him and he’d flinch, quick to get on a more alert stance. It was only after he saw who it was that he’d relax. It took a while, but he eventually got more into it. And he became very affectionate. I mean, look at him. This is one hell of a touch starved man.

He started out slowly, by gentle touches here and there. Maybe a caress in your arm, or a hand on your thigh while you two watched a movie. Perhaps he’d link his hand with yours while you walked, or he’d bring you close whenever you kissed him. Gesture after gesture, he became more comfortable around you. He likes always having his arms around you. Not only he gets to touch you and know you’re there, but he can also protect you. It’s an affectionate gesture as much as it is a way to keep you safe.

He likes to have you close to him when you’re in bed. Sleeps with an arm firmly around your waist, be it when you’re spooning, or when you’re facing his chest. That’s his way of saying “I’m going to protect you, I promise you”. He feels like it is his job to keep you safe and conveys that through touch and affection.

B = Beauty

What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He thinks you’re the most beautiful person to have ever graced this earth. He loves you. He laid his eyes on you and was starstruck.

He likes the way your eyes sparkle whenever you’re talking about something you like. He feels like every inch of your body just radiates warmth and excitement once you start ranting about your hobbies and loves how passionate you are. Loves staring into your eyes. His favourite colour has become the shade of your eyes, and he loves waking up to them. It’s his favourite part about you, probably. Mostly because they never regard him with hate or disgust. Even if you’re mad at him, he knows your eyes will never betray you or your heart. They’re the windows to the soul, and to his heart.

He loves whatever birth marks and freckles you might have on your body. If you feel insecure about them, he’ll just remind you of how special you are, and how unique they make you. “If you had one less freckle, it wouldn’t be you. And I love you. See this one right here? If it was gone, the person standing in front of me wouldn’t be you.” Needless to say, he makes you melt every time.

C = Comfort

How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He’s had to deal with quite a few of those as a child after his parents’ murder, so he knows to give you space whenever you have panic attacks. He’ll stay close by and give you all the time you need, as well as space to breathe. If you need him and call for him, he’ll be there next to you, helping you through it, speaking in a soothing voice and just making sure you know you’re not alone. If you need his touch to calm down, he’ll wrap his arms around you and slowly rock you in his lap, talking you through everything.

One thing about Bruce is, he is always there for you and gives you either the space or the attention you need. He is also very vocal, should you need some grounding. Talks to you about his day, lists the furniture around you, names countries the two of you have visited or he’d like to take you to. Just overall very considerate.

As for cheering you up, it takes a while before he knows what to do – he’s not the best with emotions after all. He tries not to say much and just show that he’s there for you through simple gestures. Asking Alfred to cook you your favourite dish, bringing you your favourite ice cream, bringing you to the living room to watch a movie you like. At first, he’s not good with his words, but he’s learning, and you appreciate that the most.

D = Dreams

How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He’d like to live out a long life by your side. That’s it. As lame as it sounds, that’s all he wants. For Gotham to become a safe place for you to grow old with him and be together forever.

There’s something inside of him that doesn’t want to let the cowl and the cape go. Batman is who he truly is, Bruce is merely a vessel. But there’s another one that wishes he can finally give it up. Giving it up would mean Gotham is safe, that the people are doing fine and there are no real danger and threats looming around the corner, just waiting to hurt him.

Whatever happens, cowl and cape hung up or not, he does see a future with you. He’s never been a big fan of dreaming about what’s to come; Bruce didn’t think he had a chance at that, to see what is to come. But ever since you came into his life, his views have changed. He sees the both of you strolling around the Manor hand in hand.

If you want children, he’ll be a bit apprehensive at first. He doesn’t want to drag any more people into his life, too afraid to hurt them, or have others hurt them. But if you do mention that you would like to have children (or adopt!), he would eventually come around to the idea. If you want to have children, he’d definitely like the idea of continuing his blood line, of seeing you carry his child and becoming the mother of his children. And would be absolutely whipped for you (more than he already is!).  If you want to adopt, he would come to love the idea of providing guidance, love, and a safe home for a child – being an orphan, he knows how dark and gloomy things can get, and how hopeless everything might seem at first. He’d want to give back.

E = Equal

Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

This is a very hard question, because I can definitely see him being both.

I can see him being the big bad scary wolf who takes care of his partner, gets down on his knees to tie your high heels and kiss your ankle softly, who will carry you in his arms when you’re far too tired to walk, who will make you weak at the knees, who will tell the waiter you ordered your burger with no pickles and make you feel safe, protected and cared for.

But at the same time, he doesn’t mind being a bit passive. He likes seeing you make decisions for him. There’s so much on his mind already, with Wayne Enterprises and Batman, sometimes he just needs to sit back and relax, and let you take the wheel. Which you do wonderfully, taking a huge weight off his shoulders. So, it’s a bit 50/50 and honestly depends on the day and his mood.

F = Fight

Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He loves you far too much to stay angry at you for long. In fact, he’s usually the one in the wrong. But fuck it if he won’t fight for your forgiveness. He’ll go the whole nine yards and be as sappy as possible. Send you bouquets of flowers while you’re at work, showing up unannounced and giving you chocolates, whatever. When the fights are silly and over dumb matters, he’ll do those overly romantic things, knowing you’ll most likely find them funny and accept his apology. If he’s willing to embarrass himself like that for you, it means he loves you. Truly.

But if the fight is something more serious, he’ll stop with the jokes. He’ll nearly beg for your forgiveness. Most fights happen because of the elephant in the room: The Dark Knight. Batman. Gotham’s Vigilante. Sometimes you accuse him of loving the symbol of justice more than you and are afraid he’s succumbing to it. You storm out of the Manor, far too angry to look at his face. In those cases, he’ll have to win you over slowly. He’ll give you some time to cool off and then invite you over to talk – there’s no way he’s discussing something like this over the phone. He’s not dumb. You’re far too important to be a mere phone call or a few messages.

Overall, I think he would fight extremely hard for you, be it in general (in life) or after arguments, and that he’s somewhat forgiving. Unless you really really really screwed up – then he’ll be a bit harsher. But that is only if you truly fucked up. Took advantage of him for his health, hurt Alfred, exposed Batman, whatever.

G = Gratitude

How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s so grateful. He knows all you do for him and appreciates it very much. He knows you’re doing your best to take care of him, patch him up, make sure he’s fed and healthy and sane, and he loves you so much for it (and many other reasons).

He’s sure to let you know just how much he loves you, be it through words or actions. Maybe he tried to cook for you and prepare you a nice breakfast in bed. Maybe he bought that new perfume you’d been in love with for quite a few weeks. Maybe he took the day off and whispered sweet words into the crook of your neck in the mornings, sheets and limbs all tangled up.

He knows he struck gold, and he will always be grateful for it.

H = Honesty

Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He is Batman.

Enough said.

No, seriously now, this man has more secrets than the White House.

And he doesn’t share them all.

You know he is Batman, and you know what he does, but there’s things he just can’t bring himself to tell you. The things he sees, people, women, children dying and being tortured, the things he sometimes has to do. It can get pretty overwhelming, and he finds these topics far too dreadful. He doesn’t want to worry you with matters like these, so he doesn’t. Of course, you get worried. You beg him to confide in you, to tell you what’s wrong, to trust you.

And he does – trust you. It’s just hard for him to share with you the roughest parts of his nights. When this happens, he’ll lay his head on your lap, as you run his fingers through his hair.

Rough night, he silently says.

I’m here, you silently reply.

I = Inspiration

Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

It’s no lie you’ve helped him become a better person.

He adores your goodness, your kindness and selflessness. He’s become a more genuine person himself thanks to you. He’s become more open, more caring. He’s become more trustful of those that truly care about him, and you’re to blame for it. You’re the reason he gets up in the morning and goes out dressed in black at night. You make him want to keep this godforsaken city safe and make you proud.

He’s changed you too, of course. Taught you there’s nothing bad with enjoying life and the finer things in it. Taught you that you do deserve to treat yourself occasionally. He’s taught you that being brave is not only putting on a suit and fighting crime, and that sometimes, but the smallest of steps can also be enough.

Safe to say, you’ve both changed each other, and for the best.

J = Jealousy

Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh, boy.

This is what everyone’s been waiting for, isn’t this?

Bruce Wayne is the son of wealthy philanthropist Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha Wayne. He is worth billions of dollars. He’s grown up with a massive silver spoon (or rather, gold) in his mouth. Long story short, Bruce Wayne does not know how to share.

Neither does he like to do it.

Especially when it comes to you. He can be extremely petty.

He’ll see someone flirting with you and immediately get possessive. Once, at a party, he saw a man trying to make you laugh, and succeeding. He was next to you within seconds, hand possessively wrapped around your waist and lips covertly touching the column of your neck.

“Who are you speaking to, my love?” asked Bruce, fingers softly tapping against your waist.

“Oh, this is Mr. Norton. He’s –“

“Mr. Norton, what a pleasure to meet you. And may I ask what your intentions with my girlfriend are?” Bruce took your hand in his, making it a point to showcase the silver band in your finger, a promise ring he’d given to you as a gift.

“Oh – Mr. Wayne, I wasn’t – I was simply – “ Poor Mr. Norton tried scrambling for words, but was clearly dumbfounded.

“Which is it? Were you, or weren’t you?” Bruce lifted his head from your neck and gave you a soft peck in the lips, before turning to the other man. “Mr. Norton, I am a very busy man, and you should imagine I don’t like repeating myself – “

“Yes, of course, Mr. Wayne, of course –“

“Stay away from my girlfriend. Are we clear?” He gave Mr. Norton one of his most charming Bruce Wayne smiles (full of “look at her again and I’ll break your legs” undertones) and led you away. Later, you would tease him about it, and how jealous he got.

But he can’t help it.

You’re his. You’re the love of his life, and he can’t just stand by and watch as other men and women throw themselves at your feet, begging them for an ounce of attention. He’s not afraid of causing scandals, of making scenes, if it means other people will leave you alone.

In fact, I can recall a very important party of his that ended up with you pressed against the door of a broom closet, and him all over you. Later, you’d return to said party and be confused as to why nearly ever women in the room looked at you in horror. A woman on good terms with you handed you her pocket mirror, and you watched in disbelief as the column of your neck was covered in reddish-purple bruises. You shot Bruce a look, and he only winked at you, mouthing “Sorry” with his mouth.

No other men approached you that night, far too scared of your boyfriend to approach you. They got the memo. You were his.

K = Kiss

Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Bruce has just enough experience with kissing that he’s not completely lost. I think he would be the type not to actually bed the women he went out with for show (before he met you, of course), but has sometimes kissed them, and ended up getting a bit of experience.

Your first kiss was a soft, shy thing. You’d revealed your feelings for him and were afraid he was going to reject you. He lifted your chin with his thumb and kissed you most delicately. It was a kiss full of hope and promises of what was to come, and you were dazzled ever since.

Now, you can’t get enough of his kisses, and when you’re feeling particularly needy, you spend hours kissing them, while watching a movie or just lazing about.

L = Love Confession

How would they confess to their s/o?

He told you he liked you back when you did it, right after kissing you.

But his love confession?

Oh, that’s a story for the ages.

He’d returned from a particularly bad patrol at night, was bruised battered and blue, and thought something in his body had broken. In the middle of the fight, he got scared. What if he couldn’t make it home to you? What if you were waiting up for him and he never made it? What if something happened to him and all you heard next were the news of his death?

He rushed up the elevator and to your shared bedroom, where you were still in bed, reading a book. You often did that; wait up for him. On one hand, he didn’t want you to give up your sleep for him. On the other, he was glad to have someone waiting for him when he got home.

Seeing you there was enough to break him. He limped next to you and fell on the bed, his whole body burning with unbearable pain. You took him in, suit, cowl, cape, all of him.

“Bruce?” Your breath hitched and you touched his head softly.

“I love you.” It had been the only thing in his mind during the ride home. He loved you. Loved everything about you. The way you clung to him after waking up, the way you washed his hair in the shower, the way you sang along to the radio while cooking. He needed you to know just how much he loved you.

You widened your eyes, starstruck. Here he was, Bruce Wayne, your boyfriend, bloodied and bruised, holding onto you for dear life, saying he loved you.

“I love you too, Bruce,” you whispered softly. You had known it for a while. You loved this mess of a man far too much to keep it hidden. You’d always dreamt of a big confession. Flowers and a sunny day with clear skies. Maybe some birds. But this? This was perfect.

Bruce smiled into your lap. He loved you. He was going to show it to you every day.

M = Marriage

Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

At first, he wasn’t very into the idea.

He’d tried so hard to keep his playboy persona, it was hard to accept the idea of marriage.

If you want to, he’ll do it. Absolutely, he will. Would plan the perfect evening, take you out to your favourite place (no matter what that might be), then would take you for a stroll around your favourite places in Gotham. He wanted it to be perfect, and while it might be a little bit cliché, Bruce is classy. He will make this the most wonderful and magical evening of your life, dropping down to one knee in the Gardens of the Manor, surrounded by all the greenery and the pretty flowers.

The wedding would be small and intimate. It was expected that Bruce Wayne invited hundreds, millions of people to watch him tie the knot, but for once in his life, he forewent all of that stupid rich boy persona shit he’d had to create. No one other than the people closest to him were allowed to participate in what would be one of the happiest days of his life.

And yes, he would shed a tear watching you walk down the aisle. Alfred would too, happy to see the child he raised as his own finally settle down.

If you don’t want to get married, then that’s okay. He won’t pressure you and is content to simply being with you for the rest of your lives, no papers included. After all, you’re all that matters.

N = Nicknames

What do they call their s/o?

He’s classy.

Let’s not forget this is Bruce “I was raised by proper gentleman Alfred Pennyworth” Wayne. He keeps it simple and classy.

“Sweetheart, could you come here for a second?”

“Darling, you’re looking rather beautiful tonight. All of this for me?”

“My dear, I don’t think Alfred will die from just a cold. There’s no need to take him to the hospital.”

“Honey, where is my super suit have you seen my brown jacket?”

“You know I’m always here for you. Don’t you, my love?”

There’s something timeless about these, and Bruce loves using them with you. (Also, just imagine Christian Bale saying these I…. I’m deceased….)

Aside from that, he also calls you Bunny quite often. After all, you were dating famous womaniser and playboy Bruce Wayne. And, well, this playboy needed a Bunny, didn’t he?

Although the origin of the name might not be the most… elegant, you still find it sweet whenever he calls you by this nickname.

“I told you, Bunny, I’m working late today, but I took tomorrow off. That alright with you?”

“Which one of those did you like, Bunny? I’ll buy it for you. No – no arguing. Think of it as an early Christmas gift.”

Makes you swoon every time.

O = On Cloud Nine

What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Everyone knows Bruce is in love just by the way he looks at you. If his nearly heart shaped eyes aren’t enough, then maybe the way he holds you and talks to you will do the trick. It’s obvious you’ve got him wrapped around your finger (and he has you around his, of course).

He’s more himself when he’s around you. More playful, more cheerful. There’s no need to pretend he is someone he isn’t, so he can be his true self. He can laugh (although a rare sight, it does happen) and crack a few jokes and tickle you until you’re crying from laughing and begging him to stop.

As said before, although he might not be very good with words, he shows his love through actions. But that’s not to say he doesn’t outright tell you he loves you. He’s very eloquent and often makes you swoon with his words alone. The thing is, this man has a billion-dollar education, he’s studied at the best academies, learned with the best professors, and yet he can’t find the proper words to convey how he feels about you. Unbelievable, isn’t it?

P = PDA

Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Bruce is a private man, and he likes to keep his life and romance the same.

But that’s not to say he won’t show you off and brag about you in public. Most of the times he’ll keep to himself, content with having a hand or an arm around you somehow. You’re next to him, you’re his, everyone knows it. Other times, he likes to show you off, buy you the prettiest of dresses and brag about the wonderful girlfriend he has. You’re so beautiful, how can he not show you off?

That’s not to say you’re some accessory to be worn on his arm though – no. Never. He’s just so proud of you, that he wants the world to know that he’s taken, and by the loveliest of people: you.

He also likes the quick rush of sneaking in kisses here and there. At parties, galas, events, whatever. He likes kissing you when no one’s watching, making you blush when no one is paying attention – it’s like your little secret, and he loves it.

Q = Quirk

Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

This man is Batman.

He has the stamina of a god.

Let’s just say it can be very, very beneficial in your relationship. Especially when he’s been gone for long and you’ve both missed each other like crazy. You are far too familiar with the phrase “Just one more for me darling, will you? I know you can do it. You’re doing so well.” And many others of the sort.

If, however, you’re not into that sort of thing (if you are ace, don’t experience sexual attraction, or simply aren’t that much into sex), then that’s where his status comes in handy. Come on, this is Bruce Wayne! Do you know how many times you were able to get your free fries for free, simply because of who he was? How many times people have told you your favourite ice cream was “out of stock” but were quick to reconsider this once he walked up to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry miss, seems like we don’t have your number anymore.”

“Darling, did you find what you were looking for?”

“O – oh! I meant – we don’t have it here – my colleague will pick it up from the storage as soon as possible.”

Or,

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we can find a table for you.”

“That’s alright, we’ll go somewhere else. Won’t we, beautiful?”

“Mr. Wayne! Oh! What a surprise! I’m sure I can squeeze you in, yes, yes, please do come in!”

R = Romance

How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He can be creative when he tries to, yeah. And very romantic. Alfred has taught him a lot, of course, and he also knows you like the back of his hand, so he often just knows what to do. If you like flowers, he’ll have a new bouquet delivered every Monday, ensuring you start the week on a good note. If you’re more into sweets, he’ll bring macaroons every so often, to make sure your days are sweet.

He does little gestures here and there that remind you why you fell for this man. He’s very attentive, and if needed, will go all out. Fancy restaurant, dressed to impress, the whole nine yards. Not afraid to pull all the corny movie stuff, like dancing with you under the stars, or having a romantic picnic. For you, he’ll do just about anything.

S = Security

How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?

He’s very protective of you and will always make sure you’re safe. Doesn’t want you to get all tangled up with any of his Batman shenanigans, so will leave you in the dark when it comes to the nitty gritty details. He’s given you a little bottle of pepper spray and a small taser (a special taser of his own concoction) to keep yourself protected in the streets of Gotham, as well as taught you a few self-defence moves. If he’s not with you, he wants you to be able to take care of yourself.

But when he’s with you, you can absolutely bet he will be doing whatever he can to keep you safe and sound. He’s willing to fight off people, and has, in the past. Once, a petty thief threatened to stab you. Bruce beat him until he was unconscious. You didn’t like the sight of it and told him never to do something like that in front of you ever again. He complied, but was quick to tell you, “I won’t hold back if someone ever tries to hurt you”.

T = Try

How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks? 

He tries. He tries so hard. We’ve already discussed how he often has to miss dates, dinners, important days because of either his job or Batman, so whenever he can, he will make up for it. Long days at the office? He’ll bring you flowers. Missed date? How about a weekend together, hidden away in some cozy cottage?

And he’ll always try his best to remind you just how much he loves you, just how important you are to him. He doesn’t want you thinking you’re not pretty enough, not classy enough, not whatever enough, because to him, you are, and every day he tries his hardest to remind you of that.

He is trying. Please cut this man some slack.

U = Understanding

How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He knows you like the back of his hand, and although he might not be empathetic to anyone else, he is towards you. He’s learned to sense when something is wrong and is quick to try and make you feel better if that is the case.

He’s very understanding as well – never belittles you for your choices or decisions, will always let you explain yourself and take you and your reasonings seriously. He loves you and wants you to feel safe. Even if you’re asking him what would be considered a stupid question, or if you make a mistake, he will never blame you for it. Hell, he knows he makes far too many mistakes, so he would never give you a hard time.

V - Value

How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

He values your relationship very much.

He knows he’s become a better man thanks to you and holds that in a high regard. Bruce hasn’t got much. Sure, he’s got his family’s fortune, a huge company, he dresses up as a bat and fights criminals, but still, he doesn’t have much. He doesn’t consider his true self to be Bruce Wayne, and no one knows him under his mask. It can get nerve-wracking sometimes, but he has you to keep him grounded.

There’s a reason he likes to keep you safe, after all. He won’t lose you.

You’re everything to him.

W = Whole

Would they feel incomplete without you?

As mentioned before, he would. He absolutely would. When you refuse to stay at the Manor because you two have had an argument, he is in shambles. He’ll mope around and play dead for a few seconds when Alfred tells him dinner is ready. He’s a big baby.

When you’re not at the Manor (maybe you’re at work, or went out with his friends), Bruce acts like he’s lost all purpose in life. He’ll ask Alfred if you called every five minutes, send you pictures that he found funny (Bruce Wayne does not understand memes), all to get you to talk to him.

 He cannot function without you. Once again, you’re everything to him, and he just functions better when you’re around him, because you bring out the best in him.

X = Xtra

A random headcanon for them.

He often jokes about wanting to run you and Alfred over with the Tumbler (the first time he said this was because you’d called it “the Batmobile”. He hated that name.), but secretly loves the duo you’ve become. His witty humour and your quick quips make for a very funny combination, and he often finds himself thinking if other people are usually this funny, or if it’s just the two of you.

And let’s not forget, Alfred is his family. He is the closest thing Bruce has to a father and loves and cares for him deeply. So, to know the love of his life gets along so well with his father figure makes him smile. You two are quite literally the most important people to him. So he can joke all he wants about how “he’s going to throw you two in Arkham just so he won’t listen to your dreadful jokes anymore”, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Y = Yearning

How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He will try to keep a clear head, but ultimately can’t deny that he misses you like crazy. Will want to hear your voice, just to make sure everything is alright. He’ll call and check in on you and ask you how your day went. He doesn’t need to talk – all he wants is for you to keep talking. He loves the sound of your voice.

He has, well…. Relieved himself a few times in your absence. What can he say? He misses you. Misses the feel of your skin against him, of your laughter ringing in his ears, of your presence. He’s only human, after all.

Alfred makes fun of him all the time, which is an hilarious thing to witness.

Z = Zeal

Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He’s willing to go the distance.

He will do just about anything for you.

Except for killing.

I am a firm believer in the fact that he couldn’t be able to kill someone because of you. If you’d been hurt, he would find prison and a lifetime of solitude a much more fitting destiny.

If someone dared to hurt you, however tempted he might be, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Simply because he knows you wouldn’t want him to be that kind of person. He knows you wouldn’t want him to become like the people he fights against.

But he would do anything else if it meant putting a smile on your face. He will buy every hotel, every yacht, every store, every book, etc. He would fight anyone, endure every storm, climb every mountain, swim across every ocean if it meant you’d be safe and sound. Nothing is too expensive, nothing is too hard, nothing is too dangerous.

Because, as we have stated before,

Bruce Wayne loves you.

A/N: That's it! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I wish everyone amazing holidays! Please stay safe, drink water, and have an amazing day ahead! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!bruce wayne x reader #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[meazalykov]

Good Game, Sal

Salma Paralluelo x Barca!Reader

summary: are they enemies, or lovers?

Salma Paralluelo and I, both rising stars of Barcelona's Femeni team, shared more than just a common jersey; we shared a rivalry that burned hotter than the Catalan sun on a July afternoon.

Salma, with her quick footwork and innate goal-scoring abilities, was a product of La Masia, Barcelona's renowned youth academy. Her journey to the top seemed paved with gold, crowned by her recent triumph in the World Cup with the Spanish national team. Me, on the other hand, hailed from a humbled path, I considered my talent raw and untamed, molded through sheer determination and grit.

Growing up in the United States, I’ve played through many unknown summer leagues, clubs mainly filled with boys, school teams, and futsal in the winter months before I put the pen on paper with Washington Spirit at the age of 15. 

After four great years with building my talent, creating new friendships, and enjoying my life in the United States Capital, my contract was expiring. 

Washington Spirit offered me a renewal, but Barcelona contacted my agent with a proposal that sent my jaw dropping to the floor. The Catalan Club was my dream club while growing up. I’ve admired Alexia Putellas, Ronaldinho, Messi, and Xavi for years. So I followed my heart and denied another four years in Washington DC, so I can accomplish my dream. 

However, I had to put in hard work when I arrived in Barcelona. This challenge was needed, since the challenge to score on the pitch fuels my passion. However, I didn’t expect a rivalry to happen WITHIN the club rather than the opponents I’ve played against.

First, it was a constant competition for playing time. Overtime, I’ve thought that I harbored a deep-seated resentment towards Salma, envying her success, her effortless grace on the pitch. 

Against Madrid CFF, my debut game in September, I scored a brace that drove the club to win 4-0. Afterwards, I’ve held a record for scoring at least once in a game I’ve had minutes in. 

However, Salma seemed to have the upper hand when it came to having a start. I had to swallow my pride every time I had to be her 67th minute substitute. She always hugged me when she would come off, but my body would tense up everytime. Nobody noticed the small resentment for her, except for Salma herself. She started to piece small things together. 

“You did great today Niña, I'm impressed by your dribbling and speed in training.” Alexia, or my captain Ale, patted me on the back as we headed into the locker rooms after training. A few days ago, we won the Champions League semi-final against Chelsea. Thanks to a goal from Aitana, Fridolina, and I. 

Alexia was a huge advocate for me which made my heart melt. I’ve admired her as a fan but now I am her teammate, so I express my gratitude to her whenever its possible. 

“Thank you. I learn from the best people surrounding me.” I smirked and Alexia breathed out a chuckle. Something the girls noticed when I came to the club is how much I’ll compliment or support people on their skills. Aitana said that I've been a light in the dressing room when it comes to boosting morale. This is a reason why people don’t notice a small resentment I held for a-certain-someone on the team. 

“Well, Don’t get your hopes up when I say this— but Jona might consider you as a starter for the final— Don’t take that as a guarantee, but your speed will be needed against Lyon's defense” Alexia’s Spanish accent poked through as she held onto my shoulder. The Spanish are very affectionate. 

“I won’t get my hopes up— I do take that as a compliment though.” I said. 

“Good. We’ve been looking between you and Salma as the third forward in the finale. Since Frido and Caro will have the left and right wing.” Alexia spoke. I felt my stomach turn at her name. Aware that I will have to work harder in training to start in the final, I know Salma will do the same thing. 

A week later, my “animosity” towards Salma only intensified when I discovered that Salma will start in the final over me as a striker. Back at my apartment, I’ve cried myself to sleep. I’ve worked hard in training. My tears represented the fear that nobody is seeing the skills and potential I have. 

“Hey Y/n” As I walked out the locker room after training one morning, I turned around and saw Salma approaching me. My eyes widened and I turned to walk away in a hurry. 

“Hi.” I said quickly as Salma continued to walk beside me. What did she want? 

“We should go watch The Challengers movie with Esmee on our day off Sunday. I know you both used to play tennis and such, it looks like a great movie.” Salma hesitantly spoke. My eyebrows knitted together at what she said. I did play tennis for a few years in middle school back in America, but as a hobby not a sport. Esmee told me that she could’ve gone professional at tennis in the Netherlands but chose football instead. The Dutch girl is the only person that knew about my old tennis hobby, so she had to have told Salma about it. 

“Um–” I say as we both pushed the glass doors outside into the parking lot. As much as I wanted to say no, express to Salma how much I've resented her, and drive home.. I couldn’t. I felt my heart ache as I looked at the girl who had a shy smile. Wait– huh? Why am I doing that?

“I–I can go with you guys–Just have Esmee text me the details when you guys decide the time.” I said before walking away to my black SUV, my emotions not handling what Salma might’ve said or reacted to my acceptance. 

The last few days before Sunday came along. I’ve talked to my best friend, Isla, about everything. She doesn’t live in Spain, since she plays football for Gotham FC, but she had a clear understanding about the community.

After my rant which lasted an hour, Isla said something which made my heart stop for a quick second. 

“Are you sure that you hate Salma?” Isla asked over the facetime call. 

“Well-No! I don’t hate anybody, I just hate how big of an advantage she has over me.” 

“Oh– because it sounds like you’re in love with her–” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Well the way you’ve talked about Salma reminds me of how I started off with Esther here at Gotham. However it was the other way around. She was in love with me but refused to accept it– so she found reasons to try and hate me instead before she was forced to confront the truth.” 

That part of the conversation replayed in my mind for the last few days. Throughout training, throughout the game against Granada that won us the league, it replayed non-stop. It didn’t distract me but I couldn’t look at Salma without questioning if I am in love with her. A subtle shift began to take place within my heart, even if I didn’t want it to happen.

Salma started noticing the small things too. After the Granada game which granted us Liga F champions, she noticed when I wrapped my arm around her and Esmee as we jumped around in the red-colored locker rooms. I’ve noticed that as I started to slowly accept my possible feelings for her, my “resentment” faded away with it. 

“Good game, Sal.” I whispered in her ear as everyone posed for a group picture in our “Liga F Champions” shirts. She looked at me with widened eyes before smiling softly.

I found herself drawn to the challenge Salma posed as the Champions League final was coming up. Salma always craved the intensity of their encounters, the adrenaline rush of chasing victory side by side with her rival, just like I did.

By Sunday, the day where Salma Esmee and I will go to the movie theaters, I've accepted it—I finally realized the truth that had been staring me in the face all along. Due to past heartbreak, I didn’t want to fall in love again but here I am in Spain. As I stood in the mirror, looking at the nice casual outfit I've put on (imagine what outfit you want, reader <3) I knew with absolute certainty that what I’ve felt went beyond rivalry with Salma, beyond competition.

It was love.

In that moment of clarity, my resentment melted away. I knew that I couldn't keep denying her feelings any longer, but a fear started to grow inside of my heart. What if it's too late? 

Salma did notice my resentment towards her. There were times where I’ve blown her off because of that. I couldn’t blame her if she started to hate me for what I've done to her. 

Four hours later, The Challengers movie ended. I’ve sat in-between Esmee (on my left) and Salma (on my right) in the movie theater. The movie was good but I had the urge to look at Salma at times. Once, I looked down at her hand that wasn’t too far from mine. As much as I wanted to reach to hold her soft hands, I couldn’t do it. What if she pulled away? What if things would’ve been awkward between us? I didn’t risk it. 

When we hugged Esmee as she left the theater, it was Salma and I in the parking lot. I could’ve said bye and left too, but Salma wanted to say something to me. Esmee and her gave each other an unknowing glance, so I believe Esmee might know what Salma is feeling. 

“Y/n, Why do you hate me?” Salma frowned. My heart broke as I bit my lip in nervousness.

“I don’t.” I said I looked at her with a sad smile. 

“Yes you do. Every time I wanted to talk to you at practice, you always ran away to talk to someone else. I’ve noticed that you’re the only person that never congratulated me separately after a goal. I’ve seen the way you’ve brightened up people’s days with your compliments, love, and hugs. Why can I not have that Y/n? Did I do something to you for you to hate me? Just tell me because I don’t want to start off next season knowing that you might hate me for something I might’ve done.” Salma took my left hand and held it with both of her soft, moisturized hands as she looked me in the eyes.

A tear fell out of my left eye as I felt guilty. I’ve fucked up. I’ve hurt Salma and she doesn’t know why— I need to tell her how I feel. 

“Salma, I don’t hate you at all. I am so sorry for what I've done to you. All you did—really—was be great on the pitch. When I came to Spain, I noticed how loved you were by everyone. You had the minutes, skills, awards, and recognition that I could dream of having. However— I’ve admired you more than everyone else at the same time. I know that's hard to accept due to what I've done to you, but I felt like you were too good for me. I look at you more than everyone else. I wanted to hug you and congratulate your success with you but the vulnerability scared me. I’ve been hurt before so in order to protect my feelings, I’ve covered it up with resentment— Salma, I am in love with you.” By the time I told her that I love her, tears poured down my cheeks and Salma held me in a hug, tightly, as she cried too. 

“Y/n, I am in love with you too. That's why it hurt me when I believed that you might’ve hated me.” Salma said through her tears.

“I am so sorry–seriously. I don't hate you. I love you. I will never hurt you like that again, I swear.”  I said. 

After that night, we started over and became lovers. Our undeniable bond blossomed between us. The team adored our relationship and were happy for us. I did keep my promise, I never hurt her again. I’ve found love in giving my love to her without the fear of getting hurt. After the debut game in the 24/25 season, we walked off the pitch hand in hand, my heart fluttered as I know this is the beginning of our longtime relationship. 

<3

#barcelona femeni #salma paralluelo #woso community #fc barcelona #woso fanfics #woso x reader #la roja #aitana bonmati

[pixiesfz]

do u have to kill me w the jessie angst

yes.

game on j.f

plot: You and Jessie play eachother for the first warnings: angst, injury part four of this

warnings: angst, injury

You were now lined up in your respective teams, ready to go on and take your team photo before the game started.

“you ready?” Lauren asked you as you were told you were going to play the full 90 “Yeah” you answered her as you tried to pull the memory of your conversation with Christine away.

“Do your thing, we haven’t had a gem like you come across us in a while” she smiled and you smiled back “Thanks Lozza” You rested your head on her shoulder, ignoring the feeling of someone watching you.

When the game was about to start you walked over to your position next to Jessie “Ready?” she asked you as she tied her laces which you predicted was about the third time that she retied them today “Yeah you?” you asked the girl nodded her head “yep”.

The conversation was cold, you both knew it but unbeknownst to you Jessie was angry.

She was pissed.

You told her you didn’t love her, broke her heart and now you wanted her again.

You confused her and now she’s angry.

She’s angry that you’re here. Why? Couldn’t you have just stayed in London?

But the siren played before she could accidentally snap by just looking at you.

You knew how Jessie played and used it to your advantage, leading you to assist a goal in the twelfth minute. But you didn’t know that Jessie would start to play dirty in the 85th minute.

You had the ball, dribbling it down the wing before a leg hit your right ankle from the side causing you to yelp out in pain and jump meaning when you landed, you landed hard on your side, knocking the wind out of you.

Jessie got up in shock “y/n?” she asked and you rolled on your side “Can’t breathe” you stuttered before your teammates ran to you, Lauren who had been subbed on pushed Jessie away as she turned her head to try and get a good look at you.

“Jessie just leave” Lauren eventually said with a stern look as the Canadian was backed into another one of her teammates.

It took a second for you to regain your breath as the medics came to check on your ankle. “Is it broken?” you asked, a tear falling down your face in fear that you would be out for weeks” The medic crossed his head and you sighed in relief “sprained but you can’t play” he instructed and you nodded in agreement “you couldn’t pressure yourself into getting even more injured.

“Help me” you instructed to two girls next to you who helped you up. “get better y/n” they all said as you started to walk off with a limp, some people in the crowd applauding you as you walked down the tunnel.

You watched on the TV in the doctors room as the Portland thorns gained a goal by Jessie but she didn’t celebrate as her teammates piled on top of her. Portland thorns win 2 – 1.

After the game some of your teammates came in to check on you, Lauren promising to get you Pizza as she walked out.

But as you laid down on the table, the ice pack on your foot almost melted completely the door opened again.

You propped up on your elbows to see the woman who put you here in the first place. Bitterly you frowned “congrats on the win” you deadpanned and laid back down.

“I didn’t mean to tackle you that hard” Jessie said and you rolled your eyes propping yourself back up “Jessie I’ve been watching you play for three years, you know how to tackle and you know how to tackle clean” you told her and she sat down on a chair near the door “I’m sorry” was all she said again before silence took over.

“Why’d you do it?”

Jessie looked at you as you staired up to the ceiling “what?” she asked “Why’d you tackle me so hard?” you asked again “I don’t know” she stated “yes you do” you told her before lifting your body up so you’re both forced to look at each other.

“I-“ she started, running her hand through her showered hair which was slicked back, a hairstyle you would always run your fingers through to make her feel better after a rough game.

“spit it out” you demanded and the girl looked down “Why are you being mean?” she asked defensively “Oh I’m sorry are you the one who’s out for 6 weeks” you responded outraged that she’d even turn the situation around.

“Oh because you’re so innocent” Jessie shrugged and you raised your brows “excuse me?”

“Oh c’mon” Jessie groaned “I heard you talking to Christine before the game” she said and you looked down.

Oh shit.

“What do you mean ask me on a date?” she asked with anger as she stood up in anger “Jessie” you said softly “no” she cut you off “you said you didn’t love me, you broke me why?” she said, her emotions spilling over as a tear fell down your cheek, but you were mad as well, she injured you.

You propelled yourself off the seat, whimpering as your foot hit the ground “Y/n your injured stop-“ she said softly as you limped to her “No, you wanna know why I did what I did” you said, stepping closer as she stayed still.

You took her silence as a yes.

“I loved you Jessie, I really did that’s why” you stated and you saw her eyes gloss over “That makes no sense” she whispered and you rolled your eyes “You were unhappy at Chelsea, you deserved more and if you didn’t leave I- I would’ve been holding you back so I lied. I told you I didn’t love you because I loved you so much to let you go” You finished as you squeezed your face in pain by putting pressure on your ankle.

“You got it now?”

Jessie looked down at the floor in silence, your anxiety taking over you. “Jessie please say something” you begged “Jessie please-“

But you were cut off as her lips found yours...

#woso x reader #woso #woso soccer #woso community #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #jessie fleming #jeff

[the-catboy-minyan]

why so many people don't recognize that their antizionism is antisemitic, in my opinion:

(disclaimer: this is not an educational post, it will not have sources for claims, and is not meant to be read as the objective truth. it is solely my observation and opinions. civil debate and criticism is encouraged in both the notes and reblogs, I will do my best to answer those and correct my post if necessary. edits will be highlighted in pink, if this is a reblog, press the original post to see the most updated version. English is not my first Language, I might have used the wrong words for some terms.)

The Meaning Of Zionism:

this section is meant to highlight the difference between

firstly, they falsely believe the term Zionism means supporting genocide or Netanyahu's government, when most Jews don't use the term Zionism that way. Zionism has many different meanings and subgroups, as Jews love to argue (/j but Judaism encourages debate and personal interpretation), but all meanings are built on the original idea of "Jewish self determination in their indigenous land/creating and maintaining a Jewish country somewhere in the world" (yes, technically believing giving Israelis land somewhere else to be Israel is a form of Zionism, I've seen that take). the methods for creating and maintaining the lands differ, so is the belief of what land should be considered Israel, but all forms of Zionism rely on that core belief. while Zionists may support those things, that is not an integral part for Zionism, and many Zionists oppose those ideas and condemn them.

in addition, they falsely believe Zionism is in favor of illegal occupation and apartheid, which only specific subgroups of Zionists (extremely right-wing Zionists) are in favor of. Zionism is, again, mostly about an end goal (establishing and maintaining a Jewish state (which currently means in Eretz Israel)), and people will have different opinions on how to achieve it, including extremist and racist opinions. all movements have people who hold extremist beliefs, and are usually condemned by other members of their movement, Zionism is no exception.

they don't see Zionism as Jewish. I mean, there are more Christian Zionists than there are Jews in the world! of course it's not Jewish! lets ignore the fact the movement started by a Jewish man, was widely popular in Jewish communities and is what led to the establishment of Israel as a Jewish state.

now, let's for a moment ignore the misinterpretation of the term and assume that by saying Zionists, they refer only to people who support Netanyahu, illegal occupation in places like the west bank, war crimes committed by the IDF, etc. regardless of the Zionist's religion/ethnicity/race. (keep in mind that while that's their assumed intentions, their antizionism will still ultimately include self-identified Jewish Zionists who are strongly against these things)

Antizionist Activism and Beliefs:

have you heard accusations of antisemitism and the response "I'm not antisemitic, just antizionist"? this section will highlight the reasons why many antizionist actions or claims are seen as antisemitic by many Jews.

No Zionists Allowed: as in, excluding zionists from public, private, and online spaces. this tactic is used today to exclude many groups deemed problematic, "no [queer]phobes allowed", "no racists allowed", "no men misogynists allowed", etc. which is why on the surface, it doesn't seem antisemitic. yet this exclusion tactic is derivative from historical exclusion of ethnic groups, groups that were seen as evil/violent/sinners/subhuman were ostracised from society and denied access to public/private spaces. signs like "no blacks allowed", "no gays allowed", and, of course, "gentiles only".

Zionists Are Nazis: comparing any "evil" group to Nazis is common, they're so overly exposed to ww2 stories, especially ones that paint Nazi germany as pure evil cartoon villains, that they have no idea what the term Nazi actually means anymore. Nazism is based on race theory and antisemitism, it's the creator of the term antisemitism to make it sound more scientific instead of discriminatory, in Mein Kamph, Hitler wrote that almost every "issue" in the world is the fault of Jews. comparing the extremely antisemitic, supremacist, racist, homophobic, ableist, etc. ideology of Nazism to a Jewish movement for self determination is in fact antisemitic. (it is also wrong to throw the term Nazi around for any reason, but especially for a Jewish movement)

Zionists Control The Media/Government/etc: the belief that there's a secret organisation controlling the media is an old conspiracy theory, which comes from the genuine fear of your government feeding the people propaganda to sway their opinion in favor of the government to let it do what it wants. it's is good to believe the media is biased, as it's written by humans who are inherently biased, but to outright claim the entirety of media is untrustworthy when it's not hailed from a dictatorship is a harmful belief. this is what antivaxxers believed during the pandemic, what conspiracy theorists believed for centuries, and believe it or not, it's at least partially derived from the antisemitic belief of Jews controlling the banks and conspiracies like The Protocols of the Elders of Zion.

Rid The World Of Zionists: again, there are many other activist groups that believe their enemy should be eradicated, that if they believe in or have done xyz, they deserve their rights to be taken away from them and to die. this is dehumanization, and an oppression tactic. the moment you say "this type of person doesn't deserve rights because they're evil", the moment people are gonna start getting falsely accused of falling into that type with the purpose of silencing them or getting their rights revoked. + the before point of political exclusion being derivative of ethnic/religious/racial exclusion. we've seen many people getting accused of being secretly Zionists for even mentioning the hostages.

Zionists Want Genocide/Are Bloodthirsty (a reminder that this is under the assumption that Zionists blindly support the current Israeli government and the IDF's war crimes): this is both straight up a variation of blood libel, and extremely hypocritical.

blood libel started as the antisemitic accusations that Jews kidnapped Christian children on Passover to creat Matzot, while no one beliefs are that extreme anymore, the underlying belief that Jews are violent and enjoy murder still exists, and was shifted to be about Israelis. the "it was self defense!" accusation that claims Israelis are just itching for their enemies to strike first to get the opportunity to respond violently and use self defense as an excuse, for example.

hypocritical as in, this goes hand in hand with the belief that Zionists should be killed. "Zionists support genocide so they should all die a violent and gruesome death" is a take I've seen MULTIPLE TIMES - and being said completely seriously, not in the comedic tumblr way of "my blorbo is cringe? wrong, killing you with hammers :3" - and is extra hypocritical when they very strongly oppose the idea of "Hamas are terrorists who committed atrocities therefore they should all die" (and ftr I don't claim they should support that).

there are people who believe that violence is necessary for an end goal, extreme violence even. that doesn't make them bloodthirsty or violent people, it makes them radicalized. there are some Zionists who believe the only way to maintain safety in Israel is to not only eradicate Hamas, but to eradicate Gaza, as they believe that all the people of Gaza are brainwashed to be violently against Israel and pro martyrdom (as in suicide attacks), and thus a threat to Israel's safety. there are some antizionists who believe the only way to free Palestine and bring safety to Gaza is to eradicate Zionists, as they believe that all Zionists are brainwashed to hate Palestinians and to be pro illegal occupation and ethnic cleansing, and are thus a threat to Palestine and their human rights. both of these beliefs are radical and false.

Zionist Blocklists: this is mostly an online problem, but Zionists have been doxxed IRL (and I don't mean individuals, massive lists of hundreds of alleged Zionists) for the same reasons those blocklists exists. people are gathering usernames of "Zionists" online to "warn other users" from interacting with them, with the disclaimer of "I'm not telling you to harass them, don't interact, just block". not only does it encourage to never hear the opposing side, thus pushing you further into an echo chamber of only voices that agree with you and never actually learning from the source what are the opinions you oppose, it ultimately creates a neat little list of people to harass because of the before mentioned dehumanizing belief that evil people deserve violence against them. suddenly sending death threats is easier than ever, and it's justified since these are allegedly evil people. you're not encouraged to double check if these people are actually Zionists, there's no explanation as to why they're on the list, you just have to trust the op.

Boycotting Zionist Companies: The Idea of boycotting companies or other organisations that support unethical causes is also, again, not new. People boycott companies that donated to anti-lgbtq organisations or that relied on slavery for their product creation. and yet the companies who are being boycotted are

Israeli companies, which are not necessarily supporting the Israeli government, it would be like boycotting every Chinese company because of the Uyghur genocide.

companies which helped Israel in some way, like McDonald's, which donated meals to Israeli soldiers during the start of the war (this is again a reminder that the majority of McDonald's income is real estate). there are arguments to be made to justify these type of boycotts, as they're similar to other justifications for different causes, yet unless these companies have directly funded the IDF's weaponry, the arguments for boycotting is flimsy at best.

companies which mentioned the hostages, like Paramount, which ran an Israeli ad for the release of the hostages. mentioning the hostages is not the same as condoning war crimes, it's recognizing there are innocent Israelis wrapped up in this conflict, just as supporting a free Palestine is not the same as supporting Hamas.

organisations that allowed Israel to participate, like Eurovision. there's just no reason to disallow a country to participate in a songs competition due to being in a war.

events that happen "while Israel is bombing Gaza". American events like the Oscars that happen on a set date and have nothing to do with Israel have no reason to be boycotted just for happening on the same day a war is happening.

Starbucks. why is Starbucks being boycotted? it had done nothing in support of Israel, literally fucking none, it's being boycotted for supporting Palestine wrong, once, on October. it doesn't operate in Israel, it never said anything publicly in support of Israel, there's literally 0 reason to boycott it????????????

anyways. while there are different reasons and justifications for every company or event, there's this silly little thing that happened in Nazi Germany that was boycotting Jewish business, in response to the "anti-nazi boycott". the Jewish boycotts were unsuccessful on paper, but ingrained the Nazi idea of Jews being inferior.

The Harm It Does For The Jewish Community:

The Overlap: the majority of Jews are Zionists, not in the sense of supporting genocide, but in the Jewish meaning(s) of believing a Jewish state should exist or is in some way beneficial for Jewish safety. by excluding and silencing Zionists, the antizionist crowd are excluding and silencing the majority of jewish people. a Jewish person who wants to integrate back into their circles has to refute their Zionism in fear of being seen as a genocide supporter, a Jewish person who refuses to hide their beliefs will be labeled evil and be ostracized. actual right-wing zionists would stay away from these spaces anyways for being leftist/centrist spaces, thus the exclusion is effective only on leftist Jews who dare believe Israel should exist.

"Zionism Isn't Judaism": is a claim many antizionists make, yet time and time again we see synagogues, Jewish schools, and Jewish neighborhood get targeted by antizionist protests. Jewish spaces are being attacked, even if you claim it is by a minority, these are still actions that are largely ignored by the antizionist crowd and aren't being condemned. you know, by the people who believe that silence is violence?

Can't Have A Single Positive Opinion About Israel: you have an Israeli relative that enlisted to the IDF? they should have refused servitude and gone to jail, you're a genocide supporter. You've done a birthright trip and it was nice? ew, everyone knows every inch of Israel is full of illegal settlements and apartheid, genocide supporter. you talked about the hostages? propaganda, genocide supporter. Israel passed a pro lgbtq law? pinkwashing propaganda, genocide supporter. you don't think Israel is an occupying terrorist force that oppresses their own citizens and deserves to be burned to the ground? genocide supporter, from the river to the sea!!!

Eretz Israel (not the State of Israel) is an integral part of Judaism. most of our holidays are about Israel in some way, some our traditions require Israel as a place, we bury our dead with soil from Israel, we vow to never forget Jerusalem during our weddings, we celebrate our agriculture and our miracles which happened there, our ancient holy cites are there, so are our ancestors (for ethnic Jews). many Jews are going to have at least a single positive or even a neutral opinion about Israel, and see it as a Jewish land.

The Israeli Identity: since people see Israel as an illegal settlement, apartheid, genocidal, terrorist state, etc, they also see Israelis as complicit in those crimes. every Israeli they meet is going to immediately be a criminal, Israelis are not a "real Jews" (that makes half the Jewish population fake), in the case Israel is dismantled and Israelis are forced to "go back to where they came from", will those countries accept them with open arms? or will the boycotts continue? what about Mizrahi Jews which hailed from the Arab world? do you think they'll even be allowed to live after their country's crimes against Palestine? will the Houtis let them when their flag has "death to Israel" on it (most Mizrahis are Yemeni)? if citizens are the same as their government, would that mean every Russian immigrant is an evil spy who wants to murder Ukrainians? just some questions to think about.

in conclusion: I'm tired. I've been writing for 3 hours. bye.

#antisemitism #israel #am yisrael chai #leftist antisemitism #antizionism #antizionism is antisemitism #← when done in the ways I've explained in the post #antisemitism on tumblr #tumblr antisemitism #zionism #jewish zionism