#(i will always hate them. i will never forgive @staff for doing this to me)

[iyohme]

and i know that you mean so well;

but i am not a vessel for your good intent!

("Tongues and Teeth," - The Crane Wives)

my serotonin got jetpack bursted into the stratosphere with this blurb by OP. Your brain is so juicy and moist and wrinkly OP. Godspeed. I'm not even into DC but the whole "Burnt out and neglected, and now a bunch of people driven by guilt guilt guilt want me back so they can feel less guilty?" just made the racoon in me rub its hands menacingly hoho

Just imagine not even living your best life; just a shadow in the lives of the illustrious Waynes, a ghost in a castle, visible only to the loyal servant and the occasional curious paparazzi who shrugs and looks away--after all, there was no mention of you in any occasion: must be the kid of in-house staff. How nice of Brucie Wayne to allow even the children of in-house staff the opportunity to study at such a high-end college! (The reporters chortle and snicker at your barely-passing marks, sighing at such a wasted opportunity. Oh well. And then they move on to the tabloid topic of the week, after the strutting socialites and the rich and the arrested Rogues.)

You gather things.

You gather pieces of a cracked dream, a single plastic teacup you had brought into the cavernous mansion the day you held Alfred's old, gnarled hand. Ears ringing and slippers still stained with your parent's blood as they were gunned down before your very eyes. You gather your things, what made you before you were "Wayne," so to say. Your mother's old cigarette box, smuggled from the crime scene, your one memento of the woman who you could not forget but never forgive.

A juxtaposition of love and hate, forever crucified. The image of the Virgin Mary inside the tin box seems to be a mockery of faith, across from her image lying cheap cigarettes.

You gather test papers, all barely passing and with more reds than blacks, and grind them up into strips with the shredder you had brought; just one time the black card Wayne had given you, and it left the bitterest, sourest aftertaste in your mouth. They burn so cozily on the school Bunsen burners, especially when sprayed with alcohol, immediately immolating like timelapse sparkler videos. You gather your name before the Incident, you cherish it, and you repeat the syllables in the dead of night, spilling past your mouth. Even if it was the name of a child-abusing monster, it was still yours, and it was still of use.

And use it, you would.

While they go and be a family, you work to begin yours.

You gather funds: it's easy to take on odd jobs when people do not suspect you. You tuck away that black card at the bottom of your study table drawers, forgotten there like scribbled-out pages of an essay, an unfinished drawing, and leftover candy wrappers. It's a bit-by-bit work, but you know the Waynes wouldn't even see it happening. Your brothers and sisters (an absurdly alien concept, as they don't even acknowledge you exist ninety-five percent of the time) are prodigies paraded around at every event. You are the unseen ghost flitting through their shadows.

Graduation comes and goes. It's laughably easy to falsify having lost your social security number and other documents--Gotham is that much of a shithole, you suppose. The man in the cowl notwithstanding. His efforts are admirable, but weak. Recidivism is common in this place, as if there were some sort of pull that incited the people in Gotham to cruelty, to madness.

It's absurdly Lovecraftian, in its own way.

You are not even living your best life, and yet you are free. Alfred knows; he always knows. If you are The Ghost, then the aged butler is a man one step between the doors of death, and he sees you every time you move. Your room is empty, and he raises an eyebrow at your satchel: all your items already stored elsewhere or given away.

("I suppose this was a long time coming, Little Master."

Tap tap tap. Footsteps on marble floors, setting sun.

You shrug. "Eh. The Waynes gave me a roof and education. It's all good."

You grunt. "Well, people change. Like you know, how kids being gifted stop being gifted when they grow older." You say, instead of 'Well, if a child doesn't get any praise or attention if they do good and probably even less if they were bad, why even bother?')

A pause. "Your academics were not so lackluster when you were younger."

You promise to try and stay in touch. (You crossed your fingers behind your back.) You leave, sunset on your face.

The nap you had in a dingy hotel with far too many odd stains and not enough locks you could put on was the soundest you've ever slept in years.

Freedom smells like summer air and the last rays of sun, followed by the cold blue hour.

It takes three months for an out-of-state college to accept you. It's far from Gotham. It has a dormitory. Excellent. While you were indeed a mediocre academic student, you had banked everything on band scholarships.

Who knew more than a hundred clarinet players had unclaimed scholarships yearly? Packing up your small life in bags, you take a train upwards to another state.

(Meanwhile, in Gotham, there is an odd sense of unease as Bruce Wayne stops by an inconspicuous door. It's relatively clean, as expected of his manor, but the worn out brass on the handle suggests that someone had lived there before. He opens the door. Steps in. A bed, a dresser, a study table. Bare bones.

The unease intensifies. But who?)

Someone had lived in here, yes.

[onsomenewsht]

now playing: Moon

< track 6 || fine.

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader, Leah Williamson x Reader (platonic), María Leon x Reader (platonic), Barcelona Femení x Reader

》 words count: +6k

》 how can I be dead to you / when we're looking at the same moon?

The second leg of the Champions League’s quarter final between Barcelona and Arsenal is scheduled ten days after the first one.

Ten days in which you do nothing but think about this game. About welcoming your former club in your new home. About the tactics and the plays that didn’t work out quite as you wished, about what to do and not do to be better.

About Alexia.

Alexia’s a constant thought, and for the first time since leaving Barcelona, you allow that thought to invade every single corner of your mind.

I hope you found what you left for

The conversation you had on your favourite spot replies over and over again in your head. Lying in your bed as you relive it all late at night or surprised by a sentence in the middle of practice, it’s always with you in some way. You let her smile pop up out of nowhere and let one of your own grow on your lips without a reason. You indulge yourself in speaking about your relationship, about her, about how you felt with her and how you feel without her.

You try to forgive yourself now you know she doesn’t hate you.

To the point you permit yourself to send a text to Eli and Alba and invite them to watch the game in the family and friends’ section of the Emirates Stadium. They obviously declined, but you didn’t expect them to actually take in your offer - it was a symbolic gesture.

However, the entire Putellas family accepts your invite out for dinner that same night, even if Alexia insists on paying since they just kicked you out of the Champions League.

“You’re my guests, I’m gonna pay”

“Vale, I’m paying next time then”, she smiles.

Despite all the analysis and the tactics and the effort the entire Arsenal team and staff put into the game, despite the immense support of the fans who fill the stadium and cheer from the start to the final whistle, you lose.

Tecnichally, you tie. Claudia manages an incredible equaliser in the eightieth minute, crushing your hopes as the harsh law of football enforces the advantage Barça needs to get through the semifinals.

Your former teammates are reluctant to come to you after the game, but you accept gracefully their hands and words of encouragement. The tension none of you realise is there dissipates as soon as Alexia invites you into a group hug, surrounding you in Blaugrana’s colours briefly before you escape with Claudia’s jersey.

“As a reminder you could be playing for another Champions League if you stayed?”

“No, as a reminder to never piss you off again��

María is unusually soft in her teasing, letting a few jabs pass by and taking you in her arms when she senses that you need a place to let go of your disappointment without getting caught by the cameras.

“No te pongas triste, nos veremos pronto” (Don’t be too sad, you will see me again soon)

“Don’t you dare ask me to be a bridesmaid or something”

“¡A la mierda!”, the defender’s laugh might be able to fill the now half empty stadium, “Pero te necesito para elegir mi traje” (But I need you around to pick my outfit).

“You still don’t know what to wear?”

“Necesito buen gusto de verdad, no puedo permitir a mi futura esposa de ayudarme” (I need someone with a real fashion sense, it’s not like I can let my future wife help me).

“Frido?”, you try to ask.

“Está de su parte” (She’s on Ingrid side)

“Alexia?”

You and María exchange a knowing look. The Catalan is the most helpful person in most situations, but definitely not the right one for this job.

You bid your goodbye with a promise of a trip back to Barcelona before the end of the season, an away kit in your hand and a plan for dinner with your ex’s family.

The atmosphere in the changing room is tense, your teammates are upset about the result and not really in the mood to talk.

“Well, we lost to them and ten days later we tie”, you manage to draw their attention to you, “next time we face them we’re gonna win”

It’s stupid, it’s a risky attempt to break the ice in the room, but the different and loud reactions you get from all the girls tell you you’re all gonna be fine - even if you have to dodge a pair of boots to prove it.

I hope you found what you left for

~

That day, that loss, somehow and in some twisted way, gives you permission to feel everything you need to feel.

You let yourself be upset about getting kicked out of the Champions League by your former team, but you also let yourself celebrate every single win with your new club. You let yourself feel the bittersweet taste of a second place in the championship, but you lift the FA Cup with the same excitement you lifted every trophy in Barcelona. You let yourself miss your teammates-turned-friends when you go each on your own ways for the off-season, but you also invite them to spend time at your place that feels every day more like home.

Leah is delighted to see more than a faded shadow of who you are, this new version of you every day more present and every day clearer.

“You know, Keira used to talk you up so much back when you played together”, she says as you try to pack everything you think you need in an oversized luggage.

You will pay the extra tax, better than being unprepared.

“I don’t meet the expectation?”

“Definitely not”, she ducks just in time to avoid a pair of socks.

“She described you as this outgoing, always up for a joke person, and we got a moody footballer who barely spoke to us outside of the training centre”

The English captain is not wrong, the first weeks in London were very challenging both physically and mentally as you tried to adapt to a different style of play and a different view of yourself.

I hope you found what you left for

It took you some time, Leah and all the other girls’ patience, an overwhelming heart to heart talk with your ex girlfriend, and a devastating loss to reveal the first results of your slow healing process.

“Look at me now”

“Yeah, I don’t have to force myself in here anymore. You even cook for me willingly”

“Well–”, you’re not as fast as her when she throws the socks back at you.

Luggage filled and closed, silence spreads in the room when both of you want to address something but you don’t want to start a conversation that’s most likely to make the other uncomfortable.

“Last meal?”

“I’m leaving for a week to Barcelona, not to a war zone”

“In some sense–”

You ignore the blonde, yet go into the kitchen to cook something for the two of you. She offered to help you pack and drive you to the airport tomorrow, the least you can do is feed her one more time before letting her on her own devices.

Alexia’s comfort meal is what you go for. The ingredients are the only ones available in your fridge, and, honestly, the food looks comforting to you too this time.

“I don’t mind this version of you”

“You’re such a good friend, Williamson, have I ever told you?”

“Several times actually”

You don’t think you are the same person you were back in Barcelona, but you don’t think that is a bad thing either.

Maybe you’re not as outgoing as you used to be and you don’t find yourself involved in all the jokes your friends plan, but you’re letting yourself relax around the people you feel close to and you don’t hide your emotions anymore - sad nor happy ones.

Not a shell anymore, you can feel this new version of you growing out and taking down the wall you built around yourself one brick at a time.

You left to find yourself, even if you had no idea where to start your search.

You keep finding some pieces you thought were lost forever, others you never realise weren’t with you anymore. Some pieces you drop along the way, others you carefully say goodbye to to be buried deep down. Some new pieces you pick up yourself, and right now, you don’t care if they will stay with you forever or just till you need them.

You’re moving and, wherever you’re heading, you’re finding yourself on the way.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Leah’s reaction to your question caught you off guard, she almost choked on the food she’s devouring as a famished kid.

“Did you just fucking ask me to be your plus one at a wedding the day before you leave for said wedding?”

“What can I say, I’m known for my perfect timing”

You hand her a glass of water, knowing she’s most likely able to see right through you even if your eyes are fixed on the now empty plate.

“Are you scared to go to your friend’s wedding alone?”

“I need a buffer”

“You need a bulletproof jacket”, she really sees right through you.

“You need a new knee but I’m not here pointing it out, am I?”

It’s not like you’re scared to attend María and Ingrid’s wedding alone, and it’s not like you need a comfort blanket to hold on while surrounded by your friends and former teammates and people from your life back in Barcelona.

“Look, I’m flattered, you’re cute at everything but—”

“Ew, no, if you don’t shut up right now I’m going to break your good knee”

Leah knows that’s not the reason why you’re asking her to be your plus one, she just wants to poke at you and get the words out of you.

It takes her a couple of more quips and annoying comments to let you admit the real reason.

“Mapi let slip Alexia’s taking someone”

“Oh, sweet little Trotter, you’re asking me to make two time Ballon d’Or winner Alexia Putellas jealous–”, she doesn’t have the time to end her sentence as you sprint toward her and she has a feeling you’re not joking anymore about kicking her.

~

Leah ends up taking you to the airport the next day, insisting to drop you off as a kid on their first day of school. You have a feeling she doesn’t accept your invitation because the short notice doesn’t give her the proper amount of time to pick the right outfit, nothing more.

Another English girl picks you up when you land under the barely raised Barcelona’s sun, you almost feel like they take turns to babysit you.

“Keira, not to sound ungrateful, but I genuinely can’t think of anything worse than being your guest”

“Ouch! Do you wanna be left on the side of the road?”

“I’ll be fine in my fancy hotel room by myself, really”

“By yourself, uhm?”

The seatbelt is the only thing preventing you from hitting your head on the dashboard, despite your best effort. Of course they gossip about you. Whatever you tell Leah, you know it’s like you tell Keira too and vice versa. You even found yourself in the middle of one of they’re gossip sessions once, your life is their favourite topic lately.

They’re lucky you can admit you own them your sanity.

“I don’t know who she’s bringing”

“I didn’t ask”, you scoff as if the question isn’t on the tip of your tongue for weeks.

Well, you’re gonna find out in a couple of hours anyway.

Keira reluctantly drops you at the hotel you’re staying at, voicing once more you could have stayed with her or any of your other friends who she knows offered their home.

Your former teammates are way nicer with you now they’re once again Champions League winners.

Maybe it’s also because you stopped hide and actually made an effort to stay in touch.

Both can be true.

Once settled in your room and ready to leave, you’re so anxious one could think you’re the one getting married as you retouch your makeup every five minutes and keep fixing non-existent creases in your maroon strapless dress. It’s a beautiful tailor-made piece you never found the excuse to wear till now.

It’s a call from María herself that stops you from spiralling again about the shape of your eyebrows.

“If this is a getaway call, you must know I have no car nor intention of helping you”

“Idiota! Dónde estás?” (Where are you?), she asks with a well hidden note of anxiety in her voice.

“I’m not gonna be late and take the spotlight away from you, don’t worry”

“¿Puedes venir aquí por favor?” (Can you come here, please?)

“María, I’m gonna kill you”, you state, sliding your heels on with one hand and calling the reception to hail a taxi with the other.

You stay with her on the phone the whole ride to the venue, thankfully just ten minutes away since you planned this visit meticulously to avoid any “accident”.

You definitely didn’t plan this though.

As you storm into the room your friend tells you to find her, you should have seen it coming.

“If you need a getaway car or a pep talk, you know I’m not the right person”

“¿No tienes un discurso para convencerme de casarme?” (You don’t have a speech to convince me to get married?)

“You don’t need a speech”

“Ay, no, no lo necesito” (No, I don’t), she confirmed as you take in the grin and the attire she’s wearing, “Pero tu sí” (But you do).

María is relaxed and ready to walk down the aisle, saying goodbye to who you think is the makeup and hair team. You could have punched her if not out of respect for the incredible job they did. Just then you notice all the people in the room, Alexia in the corner with a sympathetic smile on her perfectly traced lips.

She’s stunning.

The long royal blue dress she’s wearing shows just the right amount of tanned skin, gold jewellery complimenting her features and making Alexia glow in a way you will never forget.

“I told her it was a stupid idea”

You must have been frozen in place for a second too much.

“Quiero que te levantes y digas cosas bonitas, Nena” (I want you to stand up at some point to tell some nice things)

“Just ask like a fucking normal person, María!”

“Lo hice, dijiste que no” (I did, you said no)

“So you made me think you wanted to ditch the whole thing?”

“Estás aquí temprano, ¿no? Tienes tiempo de escribir un buen discurso” (You’re here early, aren’t you? You have time to write something good)

The relaxing methods your new therapist drilled into you the past weeks better work, you’re really close to making your friend get married with a black eye as payback for the heart attack she got you.

“You’re so lucky I love you”, you sigh as the defender kisses your cheek and leads the way out of the room.

Apparently, you better hurry up as your outbursts pushed the schedule five minutes back what it’s supposed to - much to the wedding planner’s annoyance.

Alexia slows down her pace to walk next to you as you follow the indications given to you.

“Finally”

“What?”

“I can finally see you in this dress”, her smile is way too honest for the day you’re both about to go through, “Worth the wait”.

-

The ceremony is short and sweet. You’re not sure how María Pilar León manages to stay still for so long, but Ingrid’s hand intertwined with hers the entire time must be the main reason.

There’s some sort of light surrendering your friends. It may be the stunning yet intimate venue they choose or the Barcelona sun hitting at the perfect moment as they smile at each other. It may be the love you can feel radiating from the couple or the support and genuine excitement all the people in the room are sharing for the occasion.

Whatever it is, you’re happy to be part of it.

María and Ingrid exchange their vows with tender words and silent promises you know they’re making to each other. At some point you even have to hold on Frido’s arm, sit on your left side, as you start to cry big tears that are most definitely ruining your makeup.

Feeling Alexia’s eyes on you the entire time is not helping.

You have no idea that the wedding photographer is snapping a couple of pictures of you and the other guests in their emotional state, as per Mapi’s request. It surprises you way later when the Spanish defender posts the photo on her socials on your birthday - you block her for a month just to spite her.

When the sun sets and you manage to compose yourself a bit, the party starts and Ingrid takes it upon herself to make you lose your composure, handing you the first drink of the day.

You’re pretty sure the wedding planner hates you as he finds out you’re not only the reason why arranging seats and tables was so unnecessarily difficult, but he also has to brief you at the last minute about the little moments they planned and when you’re supposed to make your speech.

You know for sure he hates you when you tell him you actually still have to write it down so a delay in the schedule is needed. He leaves you with some paper, pen and cursed words.

It looks like everyone wants to talk to you and you find yourself the centre of attention way more times you’re comfortable with, even more than the newlyweds - much to their amusement.

A lifesaver comes in the form of Lucy Bronze, the buffer you didn’t know you needed, but you’re glad is around to help you deal with the Spanish excitement that surrounds you all over.

The English girl, who you now understand is the bonus member of the blonde squad that for some reason hunts you, is acting as your personal bodyguard since Keira is already not sober enough to be helpful.

“Please, tell me you wrote your speech”, Lucy’s eyeing your second refill of the day.

It’s an open bar, after all, you’re not letting María’s mother warm embrace and some girl you don’t remember the name of - but met maybe twice while celebrating a trophy’s win - messing with your mind more than what you’re already doing by yourself.

“I wrote a complaint and a draw of a monkey throwing shit”

“Classy, I can’t wait to see what you’ll go for”

“I told María fucking Engen-León not making me do a fucking speech”

Pages of scribbled words later, you’re back in Barcelona for your best friends’ wedding with no speech, no idea of what you’ll say and not sober enough to write down anything nice about a certain defender.

“Language, por favor”

You almost drop your glass when you feel Alexia’s hand on your back to get your attention and a teasing grin on her face. The desire to trace her lips with your finger is stronger now the first drinks are hitting.

“She can still scold you?”

“You have no idea the things she can still do to me, Bronze”, you mutter as you practically bottom down your drink.

“Can I steal you for a moment?”, she asks with a softer smile.

“I’m pretty sure the words were–”

Lucy doesn’t have time to finish her sentence as both you Alexia hit her without taking your eyes off each other. She gets the hint and leaves with a laugh.

“My date wants to say hi”

You’re pretty sure her words just triggered a malfunction in your already damaged brain. You could have been less shocked if she had asked to marry her right now and there.

“What?”

“Vien conmigo” (Just come with me)

Alexia is way too amused for your liking, but you follow her lead without real hesitation - leaving behind your empty glass and probably what’s left of your sanity.

As the two of you approach the table her family is sitting at, her hand finds a place on your back in a comforting way when you spot Eli, Alba and another tiny brunette you immediately know is about to make you cry.

The kid is too focused on her drawing to notice the two approaching, Alba nudges her, and the little girl retorts back with a hit. As soon as you are spotted, the colourful paper and the annoying woman are both forgotten.

Alexia’s little cousin, Zoe, comes at you at full speed and you’re able to welcome her into your arms fast enough just thanks to your professional athlete’s reflexes.

You hold on to her green dress as the girl jumps in your arms, too excited to see you again after more than a year to realise she’s speaking rapidly at you.

“En español, monita, por favor”, Alexia intercepts.

“¡Estás aquí!” (You’re here)

“Yeah, estoy aquí”

Alexia can’t hold back a laugh as you try to keep up with the little girl’s energy, who is set to tell you everything she has done since the last time she saw you. You were around when Zoe was barely old enough to walk properly.

Four years is a long time when you’re as young as the kid is.

The two of you were a pair who always managed to drive Alexia crazy and fill her heart with love at the same time.

“Ale me dijo que ya no vivis juntos, ahora tu juegas para Inglaterra” (Ale told me you don’t live together anymore, you play for England now)

“Juego para un equipo inglés” (I play for an english club)

“¡El equipo rojo! Pregunté Ale tu camiseta” (The red one! I asked Ale for your jersey)

“¡Ay, ¿de verdad?!” (Oh, did you really?), you notice Alexia’s blush immediately, keeping up the teasing thanks to the little girl.

You manage to calm Zoe enough to make her sit back. She’s mostly on your legs as the two of you keep talking and taking turns picking colours. All under the watchful sight of Alexia, who was instructed to sit down too by her cousin.

When the draw is finished and signed, you can feel the young mind running. The little frown in the middle of the forehead is a sight you’re way too familiar with.

“Qué está pensando, monita?” (What’s on your mind?)

“¿Estás de vuelta?” (You’re back in Barcelona?)

Alexia tries to divert the conversation, sensing her cousin is about to ask or say some things that are way too difficult to explain - despite being such easy questions. However, you smile and nod to let her know you can deal with it.

“He vuelto para Mapi’s boda y podemos celebrarlo juntos” (I’m back for Mapi’s wedding, so we can celebrate together)

“Lo sé, Ale me dijo que estarías aquí y quería saludarte” (I know, Ale told me you could be back and I wanted to say hi)

“Siento haber desaparecido, intentaré venir saludar más” (I’m sorry I disappeared, I’ll try to come say hi more when I can)

“¿Prometes?” (You promise?), Zoe holds up a tiny finger, mimicking a gesture you taught her years ago.

You wrap your pinky around hers firmly, shaking it three times. It’s another promise you’re not going to break.

“Tienes que prometerlo a Ale también, ella te echa de menos” (You have to promise Ale too, she miss you)

“Lo sé” (I know)

The way Zoe is tracing coloured lines around her drawing is a tell that she still has a lot of questions for you, probably not satisfied enough with the answers she got from Alexia.

The pair of you spent a lot of time with the kid as you always encouraged the Catalan to spend as much time as possible with her extended family too, knowing it pained her to have a little cousin who looks up at her with such admiration but not actually seeing her much.

Also, babysitting Zoe was so fun for you and an excuse to tease Alexia in so many ways you took the chance on any possible occasion.

“¿Aún la amas?” (You still love her?)

The chair you’re sitting in is strong enough to keep you still even if the entire room is spiralling, and you’re pretty sure there’s a huge hole under your expensive heels. You caught Alexia’s panicked face out of the corner of your eye too.

It takes you a moment, but when you answer Zoe’s question you’re the most sure you have ever been in the past year or so.

“Siempre la amaré” (I’ll always love her)

~

Ironically enough, the wedding planner is the one saving you from yourself and the innocent questioning of a kid.

You stand in your designated spot with a microphone in one hand and a piece of paper in the other - blank if not for the doodles you let Zoe draw on it. You will play the part, props at all.

There may be no speech planned or intention to do one in the first place, but you know what to talk about when talking about love.

After a short introduction of who you are - even if almost everyone knows you for some reason or other - and a couple of football related jokes, you manage to buy yourself enough time to find a pair of soft eyes in the crowd.

You saw María and Ingrid growing a supportive and caring relationship, you know both of them enough to describe how wonderful their love is and even landing some good jokes on Mapi’s expenses.

You know how being in love feels like enough to get some people emotional, you know how being loved feels like enough to make some other cry.

“Finally, I would like to propose a toast”, you raise your glass and wink at the wedding planner - he may have had a heart attack during a questionable part of your speech, but you definitely saw him shed a tear or two at the end.

“To Ingrid, who is one of the thoughtful human beings I have the honour to look up to in my life. You don’t even need words to let people understand your love for them, it’s the most important thing you taught us and the one I’ll try the most to remember when my mind and my mouth will fighting against each other”

The Norwegian woman looks at you with a warm smile as she raises her own glass, reaching for her wife’s hand.

“To María, who is one of the most annoying human beings I have the privilege to call family. You taught us that everyone deserves to be respected and taken care of, that you don’t even need to know someone to make them feel welcome. I’ll never forget you proved it to me the very first day we met, and I’ll keep trying to grant myself the same care you unconditionally show me”

Your friend is crying as you smile at her, trying to let her understand how much you appreciate everything she did and does for you, how much you appreciate her firm support despite her opinion on your choices.

“To everyone here, who is witnessing a celebration of love that’s never going to fade as we’ll keep it alive”

Alexia’s eyes on you make you believe your own words more than anything else.

~

As the night progresses, most of the guests are gone. The ones still standing are the closest to the couple and the ones who managed to take the most advantage of the open bar.

You’re obviously among those.

The break from dancing you treat yourself with is filled with rapid words from Ona, Lucy, Aitana and Keira, all engaged in a conversation about your performance at Arsenal and how you can do better next season.

It’s not really talk shop as they’re making fun of you and the unfortunate episode that saw you tripping on the ball while attempting a quite impressive shot outside the box.

You found your footing and the back of the net shortly after, so their amusing is quite frankly unnecessary if you can say yourself.

“Mary let that ball pass ‘cause she was laughing so much, that’s all”

“Fuck you, Bronze!”

“She’s right, I saved the video and I watch it every time I miss you”

“You’re worse than Mapi”, you don’t dignify Keira with an answer as you leave the group to refill your drink.

“Lo siento en mi corazón cuando hablas de mi” (I can feel in my heart when you’re talking about me)

Out of nowhere, María appears in front of you, and as the magician she apparently is tonight, it makes your glass disappear, all while dragging you toward the bubble of loud dancing guests.

You could be mad at her if not for the genuine laughs that are surrounding you, making you miss those girls but convincing you to enjoy this occasion even more.

“Gracias por hoy, Nena” (Thank you for today)

“Estoy tan feliz por ti” (I’m so happy for you)

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the beautiful day you’re having or the fact your best friends just got married and you couldn’t be happier for them, but you sense this is an emotional moment for the two of you.

The Spaniard holds you in her arms firmly, whispering barely loud enough for you to hear, “I want you to be happy too”

“I’m getting there”

The moment ends when the soft smiles on both your faces turn into grins and then open laughs as you start getting loose around all your friends.

You accept Jana’s hand gracefully as she drags you between her and Claudia, the two dancing as no one is watching and taking you down in a mindless movement of arms and hair.

“Still no rhythm at all”

You’re sure you’re drunk enough to imagine Alexia’s hands on your waist as she gets closer to make fun of you.

To be fair, out of the two of you, the Catalan is the one with the worst moves. She is just lucky to be incredibly sexy as she dances.

“You were sober enough to remember that night out after our first Champions League”

“¡Ajá, cállate! Someone tripped me”

“Yeah, your own feet”

The music is loud and the bodies around move in a way that you have to stay basically pressed on her to keep the teasing conversation going.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you grip her arm to let a carefree laugh out.

“You were sober enough to kiss me that same night, what does that say about you?”

“That I have the worst timing ever!”

You mean nothing but the truth, Alexia knows and she keeps you close despite your friends trying to involve you in a group dance - the two of you too wrapped in your own bubble to notice.

Keira does though and she openly calls you out on your behaviour, reminding you this may not be the best time or place to dance with your ex girlfriend as this is your own wedding.

~

The party slows down late in the evening, the last guests bidding their goodbyes and congratulating the happy couple once again.

You’re next to María as she hugs Alba - Eli and Zoe declared the night over a while ago. The defender’s hair is messed up, and a thin sheet of sweat from the dancing and the emotion of the day is covering her forehead. She never looked better.

“When are you leaving?”, the younger girl asks when is your turn to hug her.

“I’ll stay for a couple of days, I planned the off-season under the Italian sun”

“¡Vale!, you can come at dinner one of those”

“I’ll see what I can do”, you smile as you lightly push Alba and her knowing smirk away.

When you admit the day is officially over for you too, María and Ingrid both wrap you in a tight embrace to shower you with kisses and rapid words of gratitude in three different languages you’re way too tired to even try to understand.

At least you can tell they’re happy about your speech.

“I can take you to your hotel”

“You keep offering me rides, you sure you’re not thinking of a career change?”

“I don’t see myself getting a taxi license anytime soon”, Alexia’s attempt at a serious tone is making you giggle way too much for such a simple joke.

The walk toward her car is a silent one and it doesn’t turn uncomfortable when you get cosy in the passenger seat, taking your heels off with a sigh of relief.

The Catalan smiles as she remembers you tend to drop your manners when happily exhausted.

You look at her changing her shoes, a pair of sneakers always in the car for a safe ride, and you keep your eyes on her as she connects her phone to select a playlist.

It’s a ten minute ride at best, but she has not asked where you’re staying, and you’re too curious to find out what she’s planning to point it out.

You’re content and tired enough to admit every minute more you get to spend with Alexia is a win in your book.

She’s the one breaking the silence, turning the volume down a bit and keeping her gaze on the street even if the traffic light in front of you is glowing her features bright red.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable with Zoe”

“I was happy to see her again, she’s getting so tall”

“Yeah”

“Lo siento” (I’m sorry)

Leaving Barcelona meant leaving Alexia, but it was your choice.

And it was your choice to leave every single one who reminds you of her too. Ignoring your friends and finding excuses to not face the consequences of your disappearing. Avoiding Eli and Alba’s calls, too ashamed of the pain you inflicted on the most important person in their life.

It was all your choice.

“We broke up, I didn’t expect you to keep in touch with my family”

“You didn’t expect me to break up with you in the first place”

Alexia turns to look at you for the first time since the ride started, no one behind you calling out to move as the light turns from red to green to red again.

“I can be held accountable for my own choices, Alexia”, you nod at her as she restarts the car to a still unknown destination.

“I was honest with Zoe”

“Lo sé”

“Tú eres mi corazón, te amaré por siempre” (You’re my heart, I will always love you)

“Lo sé”

A full moon high in the dark sky, the view from your windows is getting unfamiliar, but the woman next to you seems to know exactly where she’s going. The pace she’s keeping is slow enough to calm your nerves but fast enough to keep you awake.

There are so many things you want to say, so many useless apologies and unnecessary confessions on the tip of your tongue.

It could be so much easier if she’d hate you.

“I knew you would leave”

“What?”

“I knew you would leave, I knew you found the ring”

Her words manage to steal the breath from your lungs and stop the rhythm of your heart, you go from feeling nothing to everything in a split second. The music is suddenly too loud, the fancy car is crushing on you, and your own body is failing to respond to your commands.

Alexia immediately notices your distress, stopping on the side of the road and lowering your window to let the fresh night air hit your face. She wants to touch you, to ground you as she learned to do, but she’s aware she may make things worse.

You reach for her hand, holding on to her as a lifeline and she does everything she needs to to take you back.

“Sorry, I didn’t see that coming”, you say when you’re ready to think properly again, your attempt to joke landing just because Alexia knows you well enough to understand what you need right now.

“Yo–”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“¿Por qué no lo hiciste tú?” (Why didn’t you?)

The million dollar question, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you let her know? Why didn’t you just talk with her about your feelings and your fears?

You pay your therapist enough to answer those questions for you.

“I don’t think it could have changed anything”

“You couldn’t know”

“And I’ll never, it’s all done now”

You need her to hate you, you need her to hate you and not want to do anything with you ever again.

You need her to leave you.

Not like you left Barcelona, you need her to leave you behind and move on. It’d be so much easier.

Instead, you’re both moving on and you both are still moving in the same direction.

“You would have said sí”, it’s not a question.

“Of course”

You realise you’re still holding on to her just when the Catalan squeezes your hand three times, keeping you grounded and keeping herself together. Your confirmation is both unnecessary and needed, hurting and comforting.

“I want you to love yourself as much as I do”

“I’m trying”

It’s a whisper, it’s a confession you’re not sure you’re ready to hear yourself.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready”

“Alexia, no–”

“Sí”, she drops your hand just to firmly hold your face, guiding your gaze and your tears filled eyes on hers, “I’ll be here when you’re ready, here in Barcelona or wherever here will mean for us”

“I can’t ask you that”

“You’re not asking”

Tears are falling freely now, her thumb tracing your flushed cheeks and your fists holding desperately on her dress. The position you both are in is uncomfortable, the air from the open window tickles your neck, and Alexia’s honesty is crushing your heart, but you never felt better.

“I know you could do whatever I ask, stay in Barcelona or marry me. I need you to know I could do whatever you ask too”

“Then we’re stuck”

“No, we’re both moving”

“You wanna see where we end up?”

“Wherever it will be, we’ll find each other”

replay to start from track 1 >

[junedenim]

at the heart of what the business is

part two

if you work with him every day, you might as well fuck him

warnings: smut, eating, blowing, fingering, fucking, etc.

word count: 4.7k

He looks like he has had one too many drinks and you're almost certain he hasn't been without a cigarette in his hand all night. His hair makes him look scruffy like a stray dog. You're filled with a desire to kick him, not out of cruelty, but to see if he'd react. He's got a shadow of stubble that looks like sandpaper. You think if you run your hand down his cheek, scratches would cover the palm of your hand. He's disgusting. Before walking down into the restaurant, he spat on the stairs, leaving a blob of salvia just begging to be slipped in. (You're disgusting; covered in a want for you to be that cement stair).

You two haven't taken to one another exactly. He hasn't acknowledged your presence and you scoff whenever he speaks. There's an obligation to work together but you don't have to interact with him outside of it. You don't hate him, you find him strange in a fascinating kind of way. He definitely hates you, at least you think.

He's across from you at the table though neither of you has made eye contact. He's talking with Ben and you're talking with Elizabeth. Except you and Elizabeth are watching him out of the corners of your eyes and talking about him. 

"Is he looking at me?" She whispers harshly.

You glance over. "No, he's still talking to Ben."

"What about now?"

"Still talking to Ben."

She groaned. "Whatever. I give up. He'll just be the one that got away." She sighed heavily and sank into her hand.

You laugh. "I don't think you're missing out on much."

She gasps. "He's so dreamy. What are you talking about?

You shrug and sip your wine. "He's always seemed a bit arrogant to me."

Elizabeth sneers, "You've never even talked to him."

You object to this. "I talked to him at work today and he was a prick." He ignored you and instead talked to your project partner, Jeff. You took the slight as misogynistic. A fact Elizabeth vehemently denied when it came to Alex. To Elizabeth, Alex was a god. He could have no faults. 

The wait staff came out with everyone's orders and the conversation dissolved into a more central conversation as Ed, everyone's boss, asked after his crew. He seemed to know every detail about everyone. "And Alex, how's that lady you're seeing?" Ed exclusively called people "lady" or "fellow." It amused you every time. You giggle into your napkin.

"Uh, um." He awkwardly moves in his chair. "We aren't seeing each other anymore." Elizabeth practically shakes the table in excitement, which causes you to laugh louder. Alex's eyes land on you and you turn red at the embarrassing idea he thinks you're laughing at the demise of his relationship. You cover it with a cough into your napkin, but it sounds and looks fake.

Ed looks solemnly toward Alex and says, "I'm sorry to hear that, Al." Ed and Alex have about 30 years between them but got along like they had gone to university with one another—a fraternity of brothers. You often felt work was a good ol' boys' club, even if Ed was a great boss and the company was diverse, the upper management mainly consisted of men. 

"Her loss," Elizabeth remarks.

The comment makes you burst into laughter again. You're flushed with red before you have time even to catch yourself. All eyes were at the table directly at you from the sudden outburst. You cover your mouth with your napkin again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You alright, little lady?" Ed asks.

You clear your throat one too many times for anyone to believe the act. "Yeah, yeah. Yes. I'm sorry. Ignore me."

"Nonsense," Ed dismisses. "Your father doing okay?" That's the kind of boss Ed was. Your father had several bouts with his health that caused him to be hospitalized a few times this past year. Ed was always forgiving with your work attendance.

You dip a hand in your glass of cold ice water and tap your wet fingers on your hot cheeks. "Yes, yes. He's been feeling much better this past month."

Ed cheers, "Excellent. Please give him my best." He lifts his wine glass up in acknowledgment.

"Yes, mine too." Your eyes dart across the table. Alex is leaning back in his chair, that burning cigarette in the ashtray the restaurant provided—you wonder how much he paid them to allow him to smoke in here—and his glass up in the air.

You nod silently and dive back into your dish. Your cheeks are still flushed with mild humiliation but also smiling at the hilarity of it all.

Elizabeth sighs beside you and whispers, "Well, he's looking at you now."

You lift your head, your eyes meeting his, locked in a stare. You swallow your food and lean yourself forward on your elbows on the table. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you," you try to assure Alex. "Just something Elizabeth said."

He waves away your apology. A smile cracks upon his lips. "That's alright. You can laugh at my misfortune if you want to."

You shake your head. "I wouldn't do that. At least I don't think I would."

His smile grows wider. The heat on your cheeks forces you to disappear into your glass of wine. He lifts his cigarette to his lips. You feel entranced by the smoke as you watch him exhale through the blur of wine. He's chatting away with Ben again, making him laugh at some joke you didn't hear. You've never not been intrigued by him. You just didn't think he was ever intrigued by you.

You filter through conversations with Elizabeth and listen to Ed's ramblings but your eyes always return to the man across the table. You swear he must have unbuttoned his shirt a button or two. His chest is exposed deeper. The chain around his neck is more visible and the pale skin of his chest unclothed. It was all a hypnosis wheel. 

Ed orders dessert for the table. Tiramisu. You feast away on your small cut. You lick your spoon eagerly tasting the mascarpone mixture. You feel his eyes on you and it ignites a lust in you that's undeniable. You're reminded that hate sex is the greatest form of passion. Well, you don't really hate him but you can fake it if it makes the sex that much better.

"Did you know tiramisu means 'pick me up'?" The question isn't necessarily directed at anyone, but your eyes are on him.

He has a trace of cocoa powder in the corner of his lips. It makes you giggle. You're becoming more and more endeared by it. You're convinced it's due to your newfound desire to bed him tonight. "No. I didn't know that one," he answered.

"It was created for pleasure-seekers." You try your best to pierce him with your gaze. "Ladyfingers is such an interesting name for a dessert. Who'd want to imagine eating fingers with cream?"

He chuckles at the remark before sinking back into his dessert. He glances up with a smirk and you return with a tight-lipped smile.

*

Ed leaves after dessert, paying for the tab causing his employees to cheer for him as he exits. Various people scatter. Some for the bar. Some head home. Some, like you, lean back in their chairs. You copy Alex's carefree mannerisms. Your hand fiddles with the stem of your wine glass. If you focus for long enough you think you could bore holes through his clothes.

Suddenly, Alex stands up and rounds the table. He stands before you. His hand grazes the empty chair Jeff left. "May I?"

"I don't owe the chair. By all means," you invite.

He places his glass down first, instantly forming a watermark on the cloth tablecloth. He pulls the chair out far enough for it to be turned to face you. He sits in it silently and takes a sip from his glass. 

"I liked that project of yours," he complimented with another swig of alcohol.

You can't help the smile forced upon your cheeks but you narrow your eyes. "My part or Jeff's part?"

Alex scoffed, "Jeff's a dickhead." You split into a peal of laughter, forcing you to cover your mouth once again. It incites a laugh from Alex too. "You've got a nice laugh."

You sip your wine to diminish the last ripples of giggles. "Oh, stop it. I've got a witch cackle going on."

He shakes his head. His hair is less styled than it was at work, growing unkempt as the evening has dragged on. It bounces with his movements. "No, no. It adds character. It's contagious."

You shrug. "Well, okay."

For the first time, you notice he has these beautiful eyes: downturned and brown. It's hard not to—the man gives good eye contact. "You're a good talker."

You snigger. "I'm pretty sure Jeff did all the talking."

Alex points a finger out from his hand wrapped around his glass. "Exactly."

His knee brushes up against yours. He doesn't seem to notice, but you sure do. The fabric of his suit feels luxurious against your bare skin. You're not sure what overtakes you. His eyes. His words. His hair. His hands. His knee. You reach down and place your delicate hand on his knee. A smirk covers his face and his eyes gaze longingly at you but he doesn't say anything. "Thank you, I suppose," you tell him.

Alex leans forward. His body practically huddles around you. If you wanted, you could nest in him. Take harbor in his suit jacket and stay there hibernating through winter. "Not sure if I'm allowed to say this," he whispers in your ear.

You turn your head and if you were an inch closer your lips would graze his. It might not be the most proper thing for him to hit on his subordinate. It wouldn't be right for him to leave you hungry either. "Go ahead."

He places his hand on your bare inner thigh, just above your knee. It's cold, still chilling from the glass. It's orgasmic, its effects. "Do you know how fucking hot you look?" His earnest tone makes you emit a horny giggle. "Seriously, pretty sure you're a pick-me-up."

"I could probably sue you for that," you joke.

His hand travels further. "Yeah, you probably should. I'm a piece of shit."

"We'll probably get fired if we move any closer to one another."

He pulls back slightly. "You mean, you don't want me to fuck you in front of HR?"

*

In the haze between the restaurant and his bed, you lost your dress and he lost his pants. He grabs your ass picking you up for long enough for you to land your back against his soft duvet. He tries to blanket you with his body but you stick your leg up, pressing your foot into his chest. "Lose the jacket," you command.

Alex is quick to shed. He wraps his hand around your ankle and lifts the foot to his lips, kissing the heel, then the ankle, slowly puckering his way to your center as he kisses your shin. He drops the leg and undoes the rest of his shirt, leaving him in just his underwear. You watch, propped up on your elbows in your lacy bra and panties. 

He covers you like a dark cloud about to rain down on you. His lips are softer than you imagined and his hands that caress their way up you are as rough as you imagined. His kiss is dominating and his figure is pining you down like you're on a bulletin board. His hand grazes over your clothed cunt. You moan into his mouth.

He pulls back and stands up completely. "Take it off." He gestures to your chest and his pussy.

You reach around and undo the hook. You slip your bra off and toss it off the bed. You reach down to the hem of your underwear but stop before pulling it off. "You too."

Alex listens, discarding his underwear on the wood floor. "You're a bossy bitch," he says. You let out a delighted giggle. "I fucking love it."

"I want to suck your cock," you announce. You sit up on your knees but wait for him to move toward you.

He puts his hands on his hips. "Okay, fuck." He comes closer and you crawl toward him. You wrap your hands around his shaft.

You look at him, eagerly. "Spit in my mouth," you say, leaning your head back and widening your mouth.

He looks slightly stunned but a smirk takes over his face. He wraps his hand around your neck and leans down, spitting directly onto your tongue. "You're a little slut, huh?" He asks it like a serious question as if you're sitting down for a job interview.

You shrug and take him into your mouth. He sighs as if letting out a breath that he's been forced to hold all night. You pop him off your lips and say, "You can decide at the end of the night."

He's large in your mouth. Your tongue moves around him in your mouth as you move up and back. His face is controted in pleasure and you're determined to continue it for as long as possible. You want to suck him dry. To take everything in him for yourself.

He has other thoughts. Roughly, he yanks you off of him by your hair. You land on your back, staring up at him like a beetle on its back unable to turn over. "I don't like you very much, you know," you tell him.

Alex snickers. "I know." It's a word battle of who can turn the other one on more with their insults. His hands move their way down your thighs and soon, his mouth follows. Alex buries his head between your legs. He starts off slow, lazily flicking his tongue around your heat, as if to test it. You shake at his touch, moaning and grinding your hips towards him, begging him to keep going. 

He scoffs, "You're so desperate." He trails his fingertips up your body, barely touching anything, soft strokes causing heat to gather. His tongue dances around your clit, teasing you, before finally giving in and allowing it his full attention. You tremble and he adjusts to a faster rhythm, a stronger pressure, finding just the right angle to make you quiver so hard he needs to hold your legs in place.

You're on the edge, arching your back, ready to fall over, when he suddenly lifts himself from your center and backs away to the foot of the bed. You groan and flatten out. "You're a fucking jerk, Turner."

He chuckles evilly. "Calm down, love." It brings a rare affection to the whole exchange. Of course, two seconds later he pulls you closer to the edge by your legs and flips you over, slipping a few fingers in you just for good measure. The thought of Alex fucking you right now is almost more than you can bare; the satisfied laugh he lets out only adds fuel to the fire.

He bends himself over to grab your breasts. You can feel his cock grinding against your ass, the pressure in your cunt growing with each passing second. You push back against him and he tightens his grip on your waist. Finally, he enters your dripping, throbbing cunt. Then, he slaps your ass. It's light. Probably won't even make the skin red but it makes you gasp, which encourages him more. 

He's bucking into you in such a provoking fashion it makes you loudly moan. He's stretching you out in a glorious way that adds such fervency to the pattern in which you're fucking one another. You're reassured that you feel as good for him as he does for you when he lets out a noisy, "Fuck."

Alex is holding onto your shoulders as he pounds into you from behind, each thrust making it even more intoxicated. He thrusts slowly, hitting the spot, his fingers digging into your hips. His cock slicked wet, covered in you. He grunts, pounding with more force.

He pulls out, flipping you over again. You wrap your legs around his back when he enters you again, groaning at the feeling of his hard cock once again meeting your warm pussy. He moves deeper, pushing himself all the way in. He leers over you and says, "I want to come in your mouth. Can I do that?"

You nod, trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, but can you make me come first?"

"Fuck yes." His pace is brutal but charged. You're clawing and desperate. You don't think you've ever been this desperate before. He's caused something in you that you can't label. He's shaking, trembling, and losing his rhythm. He's sucked you in and you're panting before he hits that back pocket and has you collapsing. 

He lets you ride out your high with your hips shaking around and your back arching before he pulls out of you. "Come here." He points to the floor below his cock that he is palming. You drop off the bed to your knees and hold your hands on his hips as he pumps himself. He shoots spurts out of himself landing on your tongue. As he comes, you pull yourself forward, shoving him down your throat as he finishes. His fingers claw in your hair and he's moaning and grunting curses out. 

His grip softens and you fall back onto your butt with a sigh. "Holy shit."

Alex chuckles and reaches down to help you stand up. "Good?"

The room is filled with panting and you decide to shrug your shoulders instead of verbally responding. He chuckles and slips off into the bathroom.

You stand in his room, naked and unsure of what to do. Your skin feels cold now that it's lacking his touch. You're unsure what to do. Whether to slip around the covers or slip out. You have plans tomorrow so it seems logical to go home.

You dress yourself and meet him at the door of his bathroom. "Oh," he utters.

"I'm gonna head home."

He nods. He has slipped boxers on and looks so meek. The power that he possessed in his suit is lost. He just looks small and soft. "Okay. You're welcome to stay."

You shake your head. "I should get home. I have some things I have to do early tomorrow."

"Okay."

"I'll see you at work on Monday."

"Yeah, yeah. Have a good weekend."

"Yeah. You too."

*

You want to be a siren. You won't lie that your attire on Monday wasn't intentional, wearing the shortest skirt you can get away with to the office. It covers you enough for when you bend over but it doesn't leave much to the imagination. Besides, it's Monday, a day you spend mostly in your cubicle so there's little need to dress a certain way. You've come in hungover and in your pajamas on Mondays before so a short skirt and a tight white shirt will make little difference.

You find him in the copy room. You're collecting your printed work and he is standing with a mug of coffee, leaning over one of the copiers. You watch his back. His shoulders are high and his finger firmly jabs the digital screen on the copier repeatably. 

"Do you need help?" You're not sure why you ask it. You had intended to stay silent and collect your work but he's muttering to himself and you take pity on the poor guy.

Alex turns quickly to look at you. He blinks a few times and takes a deep breath. "Uh, no. I think I got it."

You giggle at his flustered behavior. "Okay."

It seems to soften things and put a smile on your face as you walk to the printer to collect your items. You look over and his finger continues to hit the screen. His face is contoured with frustration. "You sure you don't need any help?"

"No, I just..." he sighs and steps back. "I just can't get the thing to copy."

You place your stack of papers down and look over. The screen is on the copy page and you press okay. The machine buzzes and begins to scan his paper. You look back and he's looking at you all sheepishly. "You've worked here how long and you don't know how to work the copier?" 

A smile seems to come to his face as you laugh at him. "I usually have Jess do it." Right, his assisstant. "She's out sick today."

"Do you need any more help?" You offer.

He shakes his head slowly. "No, no. I'm good. Thanks. Thank you."

"No problem," you tell him, picking up your stack of papers.

You head for the door when he says, "You look nice today." You turn around and his back is to you again. His shoulders are down. The tense that was once there has dissolved away. He's cocky again.

"Thank you."

He turns around slowly to full face you. He leans his back against the copier. "What about me?"

You ask dryly, "What about you?"

"Aw, come on," Alex says. "I can't be so bad. I wore my nice shirt today for you." He's got a white button-down on. It looks exactly like the one he wore on Friday and you can't tell if he's mocking you or being truthful.

You bite your lip. "You look handsome."

"Well," he looks down at his shoes, "I like that skirt of yours that you're wearing." Alex feigns this shyness like he can't look you in the eyes. Then, he'll stare you down and tell you he wants to fuck you. It's very contrasting.

"Uh-huh," you sound. "You're very assertive."

He lets out a chuckle. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

You narrow your eyes. "You are the one hitting on me in the copier room."

Alex hums. "Yeah." He grabs his copies and walks over to you. "That's interesting." He grazes by you, passing you, and opening the door.

"What are you getting at?" You ask.

He turns back. The door is only open a crack but his head peeks through just right in the open slot. His smirk grows and that glint in his eyes only grows brighter. "I like your skirt." He ducks out.

You're forced to stand still, taking a moment to digest what has occurred (and drench the thirst he's left). You shake him off your mind and head back to your cubicle. 

*

An hour later, a knock sounds on your cubicle's wall. You turn and there's Alex.

He invites himself in, not that there is much room to be "invited in." He leans against the edge of your desk. "I'd really like to touch base with you," he says.

"I'd really like that, too," you say, tempted to tell him to move his ass, and continue, "But I'm just swamped with this right now."

He glances at the Amazon website open on your computer and you nearly bury your face in your hands—rookie mistake. 

He looks amused by the display. You feel like a child making up excuses to not do their homework, but you can't avoid him forever, that much you know. 

"Ten minutes, I swear," he says.

You cock your head back. "Oh, I think you finish a lot quicker than that."

Relief washes over that he laughs at that. You're desperate for things to not grow more awkward. "I remember things differently. But seriously."

You sigh, "Alright, lead the way."

His office smells like him. Cologne, coffee, and cigarettes. There are unfinished mugs of coffee scattered around the room. He has no pictures on his desk, the height of mystery, but has several posters on the wall of projects he has worked on. He sits down in his desk chair and gestures for you to stand beside him so he can show you something on his computer.

You follow his hands, his pointed finger, as he explains his idea to you. Your head is filled with much different thoughts that don't concern the project or work. He's asked you a question, he's looking up at you waiting for an answer, he's calling your name, and all you can think about are his lips.

You lean down and kiss him, trying to fuse some idea in him through the transmission of lips. He wraps his arms around your waist and to fix the height difference with him sitting down and you bent over he pulls you into his lap. You swing your legs over to straddle him and he whispers into you, "We really shouldn't be doing this at work."

"I know," you whisper back. "But I've only ever had a cubicle before and I'm taking advantage of a closed door."

He's kissing down your neck and any concern about what you're doing or about to do at work seems to fade into the background. "Well, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? I don't think we'd get away with that."

"You want to finger me under my skirt?" You offer.

He kisses up to your ear, his teeth fiddling with your earlobe. "What about what I want?"

"Oh," you sigh, "I think this is what you want."

And then, Alex's fingers slip under your skirt, under your silk panties, finding your slit with ease. He breathes a silent groan against your neck as he slips a finger inside your pussy. He comments on the wetness. "Anticipating this, huh?" Sliding in and out, in and out with ease. He slowly draws his hand back up, rubbing soft circles around your clit. You tremble, swirling her hips against him in a matching rhythm.

If it hadn't before, all thought goes out the window. 

Alex pushes your skirt up around your waist. He lifts you both up, propping you on his desk. You gasp when he guides you to spread your legs further apart, pushing in two fingers and then three. You're arching back and shaking with pleasure, so he goes in deeper and harder. He curls his fingers inside, which causes you to grab a tight hold of his neck, moaning in his ear.

You can feel his boner rub up against you and you're certain you've knocked over his cup full of pens. He slides his hand up your dripping core, slowly moving his fingers up and down your clit. You jerk forward, and he holds you steady, quickening the pace. He hits the spot just right and he keeps hitting it and hitting it. "Don't stop," you beg and he doesn't.

Your whole body jerks forward as the orgasm rips through you. You hold yourself up against his shoulders as you try to catch her breath. "Fuck," you exhale. You relinquish your hold on him and let go. "I've never done anything like that before."

"What? Orgasm?"

You laugh and push him back. You notice the protruding boner in his pants. "No, have sex in a place that could get me fired."

"Oh," he laughs.

Your eyes widen at his reaction. "You've had sex at the office before. Ew. I think I should report this to HR."

"Hush now. Let's just say a lot happened before you worked here."

"Yuck," you let out again.

Alex sits back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. "I've never gotten a blowjob here before."

You snort. "Subtle."

Alex moves his hands down and undoes his belt. He pulls his zipper down and looks up at you like a cocky little bastard. 

You nod. "Real subtle. Shall I grab Ben to take care of that for you?"

"Come on. A bit quid pro quo." He exposes his dick, laying hard on top of his zipper.

"That is definitely sexual harassment," you say as you get on your knees.

You take him in your mouth and it feels just as good as it did on Friday, except it's different. It's softer and he isn't forcing your head down on him, instead rubbing the back of it, fidgeting with the tips of your hair. He moans and you're more determined than ever to taste him again.

"You feel so fucking good," he tells you. 

You dive into him, taking him to the back of your throat. Your nose brushes his pubic hair, something that tends to be unappealing, except he smells nice. Something you find even weirder. You suck on him like he's a bottomless mimosa brunch. You lick him like a melting popsicle on the hottest day of the year. You want to consume all of him, but you'll take just this part.

He's close, grunting and pulsing in your mouth. There's agony and pleasure written across his face. His cum washes down your throat. This time you taste it on your tongue. It lingers as you swallow it down. He is slumped against his chair. His head is thrown back and he looks blissed out. You stand and tuck him back in his pants for him. He kisses your elbow as a thank you. "That'll get me through my meeting with Jeff." 

"You better not be doing that with Jeff."

*

a/n: i don't mean for all my fics to have semi-public sex or whatever, they just do.

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Three - Mr Sandman

☆☆☆

Dream woke up in his realm. He was home at last. He had been away for far too long, and he had missed his home. Not only that, a familiar face was here to greet him. Lucienne. She was always so loyal to him.

"Lucienne."

"My lord, you're home!"

She helps him up to his feet, and he turns to look at the grand gates of his realm. Home.

Lucienne and Dream walk toward the gates. Before he can open the gates, Lucienne speaks to him. She looks rather forlorn. "Forgive me, sir, but the realm, the palace, they are not as you left them."

The gates open, and he can see what she means. His realm was falling apart. The sight pained him. "What happened here? Who did this?"

"My lord, you are The Dreaming. The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to decay and crumble."

"And the residents?" He asks softly. "The palace staff?"

"I'm afraid most are gone."

"Gone?"

"Some went looking for you." Lucienne tells him.

"And the others?"

"They thought, perhaps, you had grown weary of your duties, and..."

"What? Abandoned them? Had they had so little faith in me? Had my own subjects not known me?" He asks. He didn't want to believe his people would abandon their realm, their home. He certainly hadn't meant to.

Morpheus and Lucienne headed toward the palace. There was debris everywhere. His kingdom was crumbling around him, and he hated it.

He stood in his throne room. There wasn't much left of it. This room had once been so beautiful and put together, designed by his hand. Now, it was a ghost of what it used to be. Shattered glass and stone covered the floor, crunching under his feet as he walked.

Lucienne watched her lord as he took it all in. Though she had stayed to look after the kingdom, there was only so much she could do. Without Dream, the kingdom couldn't last. If an Endless abandoned their realm, it would fall apart and eventually fade.

Morpheus picked up a shard of glass from beneath his feet and held it in his hand. He raised his hand and tried to summon enough power to rebuild his throne room. The debris began to rise from the ground, but it was taking all his strength to even do that. Eventually, he felt go and collapsed to the ground. He was too weak.

"You need rest and food, and perhaps a bit more rest, and then you'll be at full strength."

"No. Not without my tools." He picks himself back up.

"Your tools?"

"My sand, my helm, my ruby," he lists.

"What happened to them?"

"They were taken from me. By my captors. And then taken from them. I know not where. Nor what I am without them."

He sits down on the steps of his throne and looks up at Lucienne. He needed to update her on you. He reaches for his wrist and rubs his scar gently.

"Lucienne, there is something I need to tell you about."

"Yes, sir?" She stands there and gives him her full attention.

"There was someone in that house. Where I was trapped. Someone I need to get to." He looks down at the star scar.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you know of soulmate bonds?" He asks her quietly.

"Soulmate bonds?" She sounds rather surprised by his questions. He's never really brought up anything like this before. "I understand that some humans believe their soulmates to be the one they connect with the most. A special connection is made between two people. Something special."

"What do you know of soulmates regardless the Endless?" He asks her.

"Sir?"

"It's rare. It's so rare that only I have one." He tells her. "This scar," he rubs his thumb over it, "is my bond with her."

Lucienne listens with great interest. She wasn't aware such things were real, just a feeling some people got.

"She is down there now. In that house. I saw her." His voice has softened. He seems to be away with his thoughts. "She came down to see me, and something happened. She relieved her scar. It burned into our flesh, and I knew who she was immediately. It would seem she stopped ageing and her brother kept her locked up in her room, much like I was locked up in that basement."

Dream felt angry. Angry for being trapped for so long. Angry that the people who kept him caged had gone and done the same thing to you. Angry that he couldn't have stayed to convince you to take his hand in that one moment. Not that he could blame you. You didn't know him. He saw your fear.

He would make it up to you, he promised.

"I need enough power to return to the waking world so I may get her and my tools."

"You need rest."

"I have little time for that. Please, Lucienne. Is there anything lf mine in the Dreaming? Something I created."

"There is one thing."

☆☆☆

What he did to Gregory was not something he wanted to do, but it had to be done. He would forever be sorry for what he did. He would make it up to Cain and Abel for taking their friend from them.

Next, he needed to summon the Fates. They were not easy to summon, but Dream knew exactly what he needed to do.

Three questions. Three answers.

"My first question. I had a leather pouch filled with sand. Where is it?" He asks.

"It was sold. In London. Last purchased by a magic user called Joanna Constantine."

"Constatine. I knew a Constantine, but that was 300 years ago. Does she still have the sand?"

"Dream. You know better than that. You get one question and one answer."

"My apologies. My second question. My helm. What happened to it?"

"It was traded away to a demon. For the amulet of protection."

"To which demon was it traded?"

"One question. One answer, love."

"Last question. My ruby. Who holds it now?"

"Your gem was passed from a mother to a son."

"Where are they now?"

"You have asked your questions!" The Fates disappear. Morpheus is left standing alone with all the answers he was given.

The egg he picked up was the only thing not taken by the Fates, mainly because it was not for them. He left they with Cain and Abel as his apology for Gregory.

Now that he knew where his tools were, to an extent, he could leave. His tools could wait a little longer. He had one more trip to make before them.

You.

He needed to find you, and there was only one way he could do that. He returned to the dock and looked back down into the waters of dreams. This was how he found what he needed for the Fates, and it also how he will find you.

"Please, sir, be careful." Lucienne looked at him with concern.

"I shall. I will not let myself be captured again."

"I mean... can you trust this woman? She is one of them."

Dream looked at Lucienne over his shoulder. "All will be well."

Lucienne had nothing else to say. She watched him disappear into the waters again.

The waters were still rough and dangerous, but he still had a portion of his power within him, which he would use to find you. You should be asleep by now. He needs to find your dreams.

You were the clearest thing in those waters.

☆☆☆

You hadn't slept in hours. The dream man had been gone an entire day already. You had spent the whole day in your room just thinking everything over.

Paul had spent the entire beside Alex.

Sleeping sickness. That's what he called it. The eternal sleep. Alex wouldn't ever wake up again. You couldn't bring yourself to care too much. Alex hadn't been your brother in many years. You had long since learnt to stop caring.

You felt tired. Your mind was tired.

How long had you been staring at your ceiling? You had lost count. Your eyelids were staring to feel heavy, that much you knew. You had tuned out the rest of the house.

Before you knew it, you were dosing off.

You gave in and fell asleep.

You were dreaming. Not of the basement this time. No. Now that he was free and gone, you should have known he probably wouldn't appear in your dreams again.

This time you're in a garden. Your garden. You're 11 years old again. Your father is about to start his ritual. However, this time, you're not in your room. You're down there with him. The men in robes surround the circle. Rodrick looks down at you, his haze stern and cold.

"Watch."

You do watch. You keep your eyes on the summoning circles. Tonight, your father was going to try and bring your brother back by bargaining with death. It sounded crazy. Of course it did. No one comes back from the dead. No one.

You're afraid. The ritual had begun, and you hate it. Your father doesn't even try and comfort you. Of course he doesn't. He doesn't love you.

A figure appears in the circle, and you have to force yourself not to scream in fright. The figure is wearing a long cloak that covers him fully, and on his head is a strange mask. At least, you hope it's a mask.

Your father has the mask removed after taking its things. Is this death? You can't see his face clearly. It looks like a man, though. He doesn't move or make a sound.

You run. You have to run. Whatever it is, you don't want to be around it anymore. You run as fast as you can. The house seems so much bigger than you remember it being. You go round corners and don't seem to be any closer to your room.

You run straight into someone. You scream. You no longer sound like a child. You look up and see the man standing there. He's wearing a black coat now.

"Wake up."

His voice is deep. Unlike anything you'd heard before. Your heart was racing and you had frozen.

"Wake up."

"I can't."

The man lifts his hand up toward you, hand out like the night he escaped. You remember it all because this is a dream. He takes a step closer and you move back, tripping over nothing and falling to the ground.

You gasp and sit up in your bed. Your breathing is uneven, and your heart is racing. Sweat clings to your skin.

You freeze.

Slowly, you move your eyes to the left and then find yourself scrambling off the bed and as far away from him as possible. You keep your back to the wall as you stare at the man in your room.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" You ask, panic definitely setting in.

"I am not here to hurt you."

"Why are you here? Why did you come back?" You ask quickly.

"I am Lord Morpheus, but you can call me Dream. That is my true name."

"Dream?"

"Yes. I came back here for you," he says quite firmly.

"Me? Why? I wasn't the one that kept you trapped down there. I didn't hurt you. I had nothing to do with anything!" You sound quite urgent. Desperate. You're clearly frightened.

"I know."

"Then why? Why are you here?"

"I came for you." He puts it so simply.

"Why?" You ask again.

"Your wrist. Let me see it."

You automatically cradle your wrist to your chest and look at him with a wary expression. You know exactly what he wants to see.

You hear him exhale quietly and watch as he lifts his arm up. He pulls up his sleeve and shows you his wrist. You gasp softly at the sight. Slowly, you bring your wrist up to his and look at the matching scar.

"What is it?" You ask softly.

"Our bond. You are rare."

"Rare?" You look up and meet his eyes. They're so blue.

"You are the soulmate of an Endless," he tells you. "My soulmate."

You can't help it. You burst out into laughter. Dream looks very confused by your reaction. Of all things that could happen, he didn't think you would start laughing.

"That's insane."

"I do not understand," be watches you curiously. His confusion only deepened.

"What the heck is an Endless?" You ask.

"I am. I am one of seven. We exist because you know deep down we exist. I am the king of dreams and nightmares. The Sandman, if you like."

"The Sandman?" You scoff softly. "He's a fairytale."

"Perhaps." He looks almost amused.

"And, what? I'm your destined partner or something?"

"In a sense."

"Absolutely not," you tell him, inching along the wall carefully. If you could reach the door you could find Paul.

"You are rejecting me?"

"Sure, if that's how you want to put it. I don't want anything to do with any of this."

"You came down to the basement," he says, though of course you already knew that. It was you, after all. "Were you not curious?"

"Well, yes. My father had summoned something, and it was living under our house. I wanted to see, but I wasn't expecting you. Then you looked at me and I was scared. What did you do to me?"

"Nothing."

"You must have!" You exclaim. "Look at me! I should be about 85 now. Do I look 85 to you?"

Dream doesn't move from where he stands as you slowly inch around the room toward the door. If you run, he'll let you, but if he can keep you in here, he will try.

"No."

"You did this to me!"

"Not intentionally. This happened because of our bond. I cannot stay here. I need to find my tools. I want you to come with me."

"Why should I? I don't understand any of this. Please." You look sad. Afraid. He doesn't want you to be afraid.

"I will not hurt you. I want to take you to my realm."

"Your realm?"

"The Dreaming," he clarifies.

"I'm so confused..."

"I understand. Everything will become clear if you come with me. You must know. You must feel it. That burn."

You look down at your wrist and run your fingers over the star softly. "Yeah. I feel it. You really mean everything you said? That we're fated or something?"

"Yes. It is unfair, I understand. You haven't been given a choice."

"Why me?" You ask.

"I do not know. I cannot question Destiny. I can only hear what he has to say, and I believe this is part of it."

"Destiny? You speak like that's a person."

"He is. My brother."

"Dream. Destiny. Death?"

"Yes. My sister."

"Oh... So, Father really was trying to summon Death. He got you instead." Some things were starting to make sense.

"Yes."

You look at him, less frightened now, but still full of questions. He could see it in your eyes. If you wanted to ask them, he would answer, but not here.

He raises his hand.

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"To London. I must get my sand."

"Sand? You really are the Sandman?"

He nods his head subtly.

"If you come with me, you'll never be locked away in a room again. You can come and go as you please."

Freedom. He is offering you freedom.

"In your realm?"

"You will be safe there," he assures you.

You close your eyes and think about it all. Alex wouldn't be a problem either way now, but you could be free of this house. Free of any trace of your father and all the things he had done. Free from your past, your imprisonment in this room.

Dream holds his hand out again. You stare at it. He is your one chance to get away from the Burgess name.

You take his hand.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @thescarletwitchjobro - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi -

[sadlilghostt]

LOST LOVE.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Alastor x ex wife reader

๑ | synopsis : if there's one thing alastor want in heavens and hell, that is to get his wife back to his arms once again.

๑ | tw : angst, out of character al? -

๑| Tags :@moonmark98 @ilikemyteawithmilk @blueninjablade3

๑ | a/n : Hiii! I'm very happy that you loved this fic x3! Thank you y'all for the lovess!

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Two weeks have already passed on your stay at the hazbin hotel was quite.. Something, well of course it would be because of a certain demon.

Alastor won't leave you alone.

In everywhere you go, you have the radio demon following you around like a lost pup. If not him, his shadows would be everywhere. You don't know whether you feel safe or in a lot more danger.

Though some where in your heart, it still flutter at the thought of him still caring you, but hate always overtakes your heart. How can be so caring and loving when he's the reason of your death?

But then again, some night you wonder, should you give him a chance again?

Well he is your husband for 10 years back in the days of your living with him, but the thought of hating him just kept eating your mind that the thought of forgiveness for that man disappears.

Today is another same day, with you observing the hotel and then helping the staffs here and there. Everyone was surprisingly nice that even Peter was comfortable enough to be alone with them, and that's the same for you but, you'll never feel the same way from the radio demon.

You know how alastor is, he would always do the unexpected. Oh how he always love seeing your shocked expression, so you choose to never be alone in the same room with him.

But guess was not in your side today.

You, alastor, Peter, Charlie was in the lounge today, with the princess and angel chatting happily while you sat stiffly across the radio demon.

You tried to get comfortable at the soft cushions of the seat but still his presence makes you very uneasy.

" oh! You should see the garden here! " the princess beamed.

" wait- there's a garden here?! " Peter exclaimed excitedly.

" yeah! Dad just added it here in the hotel after me renovation! "

" oh you should very much show it to me! "

You were to caught up on your thoughts about your ex-husband that you didn't even noticed the pair walking away.

" a penny for your thoughts, cher? "

You flinched, hard at the static voice in front of you, when you finally looked in front of you, you see your husband leaning down to you with his lazy grin. Too close.

You frown at the distance before pushing his face away.

" you should learn on how to respect a woman's personal space, mister. " alastor chuckled at this as he leans away from you as he planted himself at the armrest of the seat with his arm resting on the headrest of the seat.

" but I believe we're past through that,mon cheri. " he cooed.

" we were, but you decided to break that stage so suck it up. " you hissed at him before standing up from the seat, you could still feel his eyes burrying at your smaller form.

He went quiet for a moment before he sighed as he watched your retreating form.

" you're never going to let go of that.. Won't you? " he sighed, the radio effect on his voice wasn't there when he said that, your stomach tingles upon hearing his masculine voice once again.

You stopped on your tracks as you speak. " how can I let go of that when I died without fulfilling the dreams I have been wishing to commit at the age of 36 when you killed me. " you breath out.

Your glow brightens up as a signature of your raising temper.

" how can you just say that when you know that you're the very reason of my death? " you painted shakingly as you slowly turned to him.

His heart clenched once he saw the wall you've been building just after you met him again, crumbles. You, his wife, fighting back the tears you have been holding for a century. His throat bobbed as he swallowed the guilt that is eating him. His smile is already strained at the sight of your quivering lips and reddish nose.

Oh how he wanted to embrace you, right here, and apologize for a millionth time just to have your forgiveness once again.

" alastor- I missed a bunch of years! — " your wings and hands fly out in frustration as a small sob escaped your lips.

" and in those bunch of years! I could have started with something! Something with you! " slowly, tears escaped you eyes.

You were to caught up with the pouring emotions that you didn't notice him already making his way towards you with a slow steps.

" in those years I've missed... we could had a child with you to raise, to love, go watch them grow.. To tell them stories of how we met! " you sobbed, completely breaking down at the man you've hated to see just after your death.

" mon cheri.. " the stag breath out as he reached out for you. Alastor was never the one dealing with situations like this, in fact, he never had approached you like this back in your days since, you were already a happy woman with him back then.

" darling.. I- " his breath caught his throat as he watched you break down.

" we could've had grown old together.. But instead- we both died barely even starting! " you cried as you felt his hands reached out to your shoulders.

" darling.. My love, I'm sorry, I really am. I- " he stuttered.

You slapped his hands away from you as you stumbled back.

" no, no, don't touch me! You don't have the rights to touch me anymore! " you raged, he looked hurt at the action you did, but you didn't have enough heartstrings to pull for this one.

Alastor felt vulnerable at this state. Vulnerable for you, the man would do everything just to get you back again. Yes he fucker up, but the man still had a heart to beat for someone, and that is you. He doesn't mind looking pathetic, vulnerable, he'd do literally everything just to get his wife back to him again.

" my love, I really am sorry. I messed up big time and I know that there's in no way you'd forgive me for the action I did. " he reached out again for you as he continued " I'm very am sorry, I didn't know what came over me in that night-..just- just the thought of you leaving me scares me once I saw you in that basement.. " he breathe our finally holding your shoulders, his smile is finally gone as he swallowed his pride for apologizing.

" I regret it darling.. I really do, I could turn back the time , I would stop myself from piercing that knife to you.. " he pulled you into his chest, his hand was in the back of your head while his other than was in your waist, clutching on you desperately.

" but.. If you would give me another chance i-.. I would be a better husband. " he nuzzled the top of you head and leaving it a kiss.

" just darling.. I can't bare to be apart from you for another century again. I don't want to be away from you again. If there is a away to take back the love we lost, I would do everything in my power to get ignite the flames we had.Just please give me a chance. "

Your heart clenched at his attempt of getting you back, never once in your life you saw him like this. So it somewhat made you happy that he's willing to break his character just to have you by his side again. But you still feel uncertain for him.

He pulled away from you as he held you cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb.

" Cher?.. " he softly called out to you as the both of you stared on each other's eye.

You took a deep breath as you closed your eyes, a few tears dropping your eyes as you leaned into his touch.

" I don't know whether should I trust you or not.. I still feel uncertain. " you muttered as you held his hand that was resting on your cheek.

" then give it a time, I will wait mon cheri, even if it takes a century, I will wait, if it means I could be with you again. I don't mind courting you again, and again. " he smiled warmly. Your heart flutters once you saw his genuine smile.

You were silent for a moment before removing his hand from your cheek.

" .. Ok. " that was all you can manage to say as you pulled away from him.

" just tell me when you ready to try again mon cheri. " he cupped your chin and tilted it to face him. You gave out a nod as he felt his lips on your forehead making you froze. This is probably the first intimate thing he did in your whole existence.

" I'll wait for you. " he hummed against your forehead before going in for another kiss.

He let go of you as he took a step back with a the same smile before he melts into the shadows. You stared at the spot where he vanished before placing a hand on your forehead and thought, are you going to regret this?

[roses-prose]

Your Love Isn't Gone

park chaeyoung x reader

word count: 1005

a/n: inspired by an ao3 fic i read a long time ago

You're not sure what made you believe this was a good idea, meeting up with your ex and coming over to her apartment alone. But here you were now sitting the opposite of her, catching all the small things you remember about her.

Roseanne park. The woman who had it all and at the same time, feeling like she had nothing at all. Her fingers dragged across the edges of the pages in her tiny journal, the one she always brings around to jot her ideas down, as she always loved the way the pages felt against her fingertips. She sets the journal down, her lips meeting the probably now very cold rim of her cup to take a quick sip of coffee.

"Hi Roseanne."

Her face seems almost shocked as she puts her cup down, her pink lipstick marking the edge of it, "I haven't heard you call me that in a long time."

"Well", you continue to avoid her gaze, eyes scanning through her apartment, "We haven't spoken together in a long time anyways."

Sitting in front of her now, you hate to admit it but your heart still feels that spark of affection you've felt all those months ago. Neither of you speak up as you pour yourself a glass of water, the quiet jazz of the speakers in the corner of her room not enough to drown out the silence.

It was common for you to be left alone, sitting in the silence but for her, maybe not so much. She hated it. She hated how it made her feel. Maybe that's why she was away so often.

She lets out a small sigh, her face riddled with the look of disappointment, either because of you or herself, you don't know. "I'm sorry."

Your brows knit together, "For what?"

Her hands start trying to talk for her, the words not seeming to be able to come out of her mouth, "For... you know."

And this was where she, the global superstar, seemed to fall short. The way she can't seem to tell you what's on her mind. The way she can't express herself. "I don't know."

She lets out a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood as her fingers fiddled together under the table, "You're really not making this easy for me."

Your lips turn into a wry smile as you poke at your food that she prepared for you, not really wanting to eat a single bite despite it all looking honestly delicious. "I'm not sure what you mean, Roseanne."

Her face visibly seems hurt at the name that escapes your mouth, "Please, can you... not call me that?" Her voice almost seems to crack at the end her question, her eyes softening as she lets out another dreadful sigh, "I know... I fucked up. Badly."

Invisible strings seemed to pull at your heart, your strong façade seeming to break away as you mulled over her words. She never admitted her mistakes. She'd always cover them up with kisses and lies.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me nor am I asking you to even let me back into your life but... I want you to know that I am sorry." Her tone is soft. And for the first time here, you see her smile, albeit wryly. The silence envelops the two of you again as you took a sip of your drink, her eyeing you from across the table.

The silence never was comfortable per se between the two of you, but it was always there whether you liked it or not. "... Do you remember our first date?"

She seems to be caught off guard by the question, before she laughs softly into her hand, "I do. When you fell on your face, right?"

You smile gently, "then you fell right behind me so I quote on quote, "Wouldn't feel embarrassed doing it alone"."

"I'd still do it now, you know." she remarks, the awkward and stiff tension in the air seeming to disappear slowly between the two of you. She points at the bridge of her nose as you laugh, "If you look closely enough, I still have the scar. All the staff members were so mad at me that day."

You two begin to reminisce about all the fun memories you two had together from that time she baked madeleines and accidently used salt instead of sugar leaving you thirsty and disgusted, to that time she came over to your house at 2 in the morning to celebrate your birthday early with a song she made, or to that time you thought you misplaced your favorite hoodie but in reality she was wearing it the entire day.

It's the thought of the quick kisses you two shared in the morning before she went to work, the days you two decide to sleep in and call in sick, and the stupid things you two did together that makes you realize it slowly but surely.

You missed her. You missed the fun you two had despite everything that's happened and you see the way she remembers it all, the memories seeming to spark something inside of her. You set your glass aside again, the sight of her feeling so happy and carefree making you smile.

"... I do forgive you." The words don't come easy to you as your emotions begins to clog up your throat, the words coming out so abruptly, that even you weren't expecting it.

You see her eyes light up as she stares at you in surprise, her lips almost beginning to twitch into a small smile at the name you call her. "It's hard to hate you... Rosie."

"So does that mean... will I see you again?" The question is abrupt as your own words, almost interrupting all train of thought as her tone is hopeful and ambitious.

You smile gently, "I still have the same number." And that's all she really needed to hear to know you weren't gone for good.

[starrieisdelusional]

snippet of arthur snapping to banished!merlin in s4 of my fix it au

Arthur has really been an idiot hasn’t he?

He’s not one to overthink things. Arthur has always rely on efficiency. Running a kingdom needs to be orderly. He doesn’t have time to think unnecessary things. Mundane tasks such as ironing his clothes and preparing his food are left to the servants. Kings does not have time to think of such things, let alone dispensable things.

Now he’s cursing himself for being so negligent. It should be obvious from the very beginning. Branches does not fall from the sky at proper timings, nor do fire blows up indoors, dancing up the ceilings. Arthur thought it was merely coincidence, but after running a kingdom for a year he sees now that coincidences usually happens for a reason.

Arthur felt the blowing of the wind too often on his expeditions. He knows how unidentifiable creatures shows up in the morning, in the forests of Camelot. Or how assassins made a fool of themselves, dying before they even had the chance to take Arthur’s life. And each time it happens, he always saw a blur of a figure, so quick Arthur thought he is hallucinating.

He knows Merlin is there. Hiding in the shadows, watching Arthur from every corner. He was enraged at first. How dare he? Did he really think that Arthur was that stupid not to notice his little stunts? But every time he tries to catch him, it always ended up in concerns

Guard: (in a flashback) Is everything alright my lord? Arthur: …fine

The castle staff never question his disappearance, oddly quiet of Merlin’s banishment. Guinevere didn’t talk to him for a month. He didn’t miss the glare that came from his army. Lancelot and Gwaine have always been fond of the manservant. They stopped after a few months.

Arthur thinks that the camelot notice him. And they pretend not to. But he can’t really do anything can he? Not without sounding like a lunatic. So he never addresses it. Even when it’s so blatantly obvious.

Arthur is sick of it truthfully. It reminds him of him in a way. Is it too much for them to trust him? Morgana and his father too…and now Camelot. Is it because he’s such a fool for a king?

So one night when they were on an expedition, when Arthur is sick of all the lies, and the hypocrisy and everything. Arthur sneaks out of the camp, to where the banshee is last spotted.

Arthur waits for it to come. He waited and waited, until he heard a scream, when it almost got him, it dissolves into dust, hit by a spell so powerful Arthur still feels the intensity.

Voice: It is not safe out here, go back to your camp Arthur Pendragon

Arthur: Stop taking me for a fool Merlin, I know it’s you

When there’s no reaction, he groans, drawing his sword

Arthur: COME OUT MERLIN STOP BEING SUCH A COWARD!

It was quiet for a while and Arthur screams. He thrust his sword into the ground.

Arthur: I’LL LET YOU KNOW MERLIN- THAT’S RIGHT I KNOW IT’S YOU -THAT I HATE YOU! YOU LIAR! I TOLD YOU TO NEVER APPEAR IN FRONT OF MY SIGHT EVER AGAIN! AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU STALK ME LIKE A CREEP! HAVE IT EVER CONCURRED TO YOU THAT THE THINGS YOU DID AREN’T NORMAL? WELL YOU ARE! DO YOU REALLY THINK I WON’T NOTICE THAT YOU’RE IN CAMELOT THIS WHOLE TIME?? YOU’RE AN IDIOT AND A INEPT INCOMPETENT RUDE BUMBLING OF A FOOL!! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!

Arthur wipes the tears that starts to fall out of his eyelashes

Arthur: I hate that you won’t go away, I hate everything about you, I hate that stupid grin of yours, I hate your attitude, I hate your stupid face, I hate that stupid haircut, I hate your tears, I hate that I think of you each night

Arthur grips the hilt of his sword, struggling to speak

Arthur: I won’t forgive you Merlin of Ealdor. For as long as I breathe I will make sure you can never go back to Camelot nor will I ever allow magic to roam free in the land. I will follow my legacy as Uther Pendragon’s son

Arthur went back to the camp. He feels warm despite the cool winter air and his heart feeling like lead.

When morning came, there are no more banshees. Arthur saw a cloaked figure behind the trees, watching.

season 4:

main post:

To find my other ramblings about this AU, filter with the hashtag #must we really rely on fate?

[bestedoesmeow]

Hi!! I found Charles Leclerc fic on my notes app so why not share it with you!

CHARLES L. X reader

Plot is, you were Max’s ex gf who was working as a health staff at Haas F1 team but he broke up with you suddenly, without saying anything. After a while Charles and your friendship grew strong and turned into a relationship and he proposed. Story tells a day from your life after the engagement.

There are french words I used. I translated them from translator so if there is any fault forgive me lmao

Hope you enjoy it waiting for your comments!

TW: kissing, mentions of s3x

* Under The Influence

You encountered Max as you were making your way back to your paddock not long after word of your engagement had spread. And it had only been two months since that devastating scene in his car that you could still clearly recall how your heart ached when you heard his words coming at you out of the darkness and how he made you hate yourself for once again trusting him. You didn't deserve any of those things, words, or revolting conduct. He was strolling you by quickly, his ocean blue eyes glistening with rage. You wanted to smack him in the face, kick him in the balls, and shout at him how much you detested him. Rather, you changed your direction and took a big breath in order to get lunch and visit Charles. It was never an easy thing to digest for you but Charles had always been by your side. All of the harsh media comments and paddock conversations. You thought you were no longer able to bear the weight on your shoulders, so you gnawed on your lips and fingernails all night long. Then, though, you realized that you were actually mistaken. Despite the fact that everything was Max's fault, you were confident he hadn't even sued himself for what happened.

You saw how kind and respectful someone's heart can be while being dedicated to his work as the days went on, and your love and respect for Charles grew day by day.

'' Bienvenue mon amour, I missed you, haven't seen you around the paddock all day.''

Charles said as he drank from his water bottle while wearing a fireproof suit. After being placed under his shoulder, you quickly reached out to kiss him on the cheek. However, he quickly put his hands at the sides of your neck and pulled you into a passionate kiss that could cause you to melt on the ground. That man definitely knew what he was doing. Your lips attracted to each other first like you two were seeking it. His hands were gently massaging your neck while they were moving in time with one other. You let your hands gently flutter through his hair and let him put his tongue inside your mouth. You didn't care at all if anyone was watching as you stood in the middle of the field. You couldn't move because you were so startled. His tongue was gliding slowly on yours as you drifted away to take a breath .

''I'll stop by your hotel tonight before leaving.''

'' Okay.'' You replied as he kissed the top of your head. After that intense moment, you grabbed lunch at Carlos and Charles' trailer while watching the two teammates' favorite television show Money Heist. You could have thought about that hateful look in Verstappen's eyes and how it made you feel just an hour ago, but instead you just enjoyed the company of your two favorite people and their little fights, as well as Charles' joyful chuckles.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

'' Je serai la à 8 heures' Vous avez une urgence ?''( I'll be there at 8 pm is there an emergency?) Charles arrived at your hotel an hour after you left the racetrack, as you were packing your luggage in your hotel room and he was on the phone in his sweatpants. You had left the paddock about six in the morning. When he hung up the phone, you sat down next to him on the bed and began playing with his hair. You were leaving for Abu Dhabi the following day, and he had thought it would be nice to spend the night out in Mexico. However, after that phone call, it seemed nearly impossible for you two to do that. In addition, you were concerned that something was wrong with his family.

'' Is there something wrong Charles?'' You said trying to figure things out from his facial expressions. He turned his face to you half way and grabbed your hand, playing with his hair and gave it a kiss before starting to speak.

'' It's on Ferrari, nothing to worry about cheri, I am sorry that I have to go. I promised you the night but-''

'' Oh, cut the bullshit Leclerc, its okay I am glad there is nothing wrong, you go to the meeting I'll wait for you to finish with it even if it'd be too late we just do Netflix and chill huh?''

'' I can't wait to come back to hotel and spend the night, bébé, Je vous aime.''

You loved to hear his French accent while talking English but while talking his own language it was almost a lullaby to your ears. You looked at his half open eyes before kissing him on his lips. 

 '' Also can't wait for to kiss you without having anyone around, slowly, peacefully.''

You smiled at his words before touching his nape. '' You are gonna be late, C'mon.''

He let a little chuckle and took his wallet, car keys with his phone before heading to the door. 

'' See you, then.''

'' See you, yes.''

-------------------------------------------------------------------

When you finished eating dinner and taking a shower, it was about ten o'clock. While using your Mac to watch The Office, you were dressed in a team sweater with pajama bottoms. You believed it was probably Charles when you heard a nearly silent knock on your door. Even though you didn't want to admit it, you really missed Charles. His demanding schedule and your busy schedule prevented you from spending time with him in the paddock, and you were equally as eager for the coming winter break. You practically sprinted to open the door.

'' I am sorry for being late. I suppose we can still watch Netflix and relax?

''I prefer to spend the night with you alone tho, I was not really in the mood to go out. Charles hugged you tightly before putting his nose to your hair and inhaling deeply of your shampoo.

'' You smell délicieuse, you took a shower?''

As you see him took off his sweater and staying in his white t-shirt, you nod in agreement.

''You're hungry? Room service is available.''

He pulled you from your hand onto the bed and remarked, "No, no, I had dinner honey, what are we watching?" Before pulling you onto his top, he laid on the bed.

''On the drive here, I waited for that exact moment.''

You made yourself comfortable on top of him before letting him kiss you as he wished. In any case, he was the greatest, and you loved to feel the warmth of his hands, body, and tongue. You were playing with his cotton-soft hair while his hands made steady, slow, tease-inducing movements on your back. You adored how he felt beneath your fingertips. He quickly moved over to you and smirked at you. He touched you under your hoodie and asked,

''Puis-je.''

"You are in charge."

[queenofthekings]

ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ

Summary: The aftermath of yours and Eddie's time in the Upside Down, and the few times you meet up afterwards.

Author’s note: This fic means the absolute world to me and I hope you guys love it as much as I do. Again, this has been adapted from an Edancy fic so those of you who have read that fic, please don't spoil things for others.

CW: 18+, swearing, smut, signs of PTSD.

Word count: 4.3k

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

It was pandemonium at Hawkins Memorial Hospital, with every hall seemingly overflowing with patients, frantic staff, and inconsolable family members. You knew you wouldn’t be able to ask at the front desk where Eddie was, if he was even there, due to the large crowd of desperate people screaming over each other to talk to the clearly overwhelmed receptionist.

Gently pushing your way through the crowd, you raced towards the stairs and almost fell down them numerous times while hurling yourself up them. All you cared about was trying to find Eddie. You checked every room, every bed, but he was nowhere.

You even began to lose hope until you came into the final room, everyone else inside of it was asleep apart from the silhouette of someone sat up and staring out the window made your heart skip a beat. Nervously, you slowly walked towards the figure, pushing back the curtain that separated them, causing the figure to turn around.

“Eddie, you’re here,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. Before any tears could fall, you were gripped into his tight embrace, your face buried into his chest. You clung onto each other for a few minutes before eventually letting go, albeit reluctantly. “I thought you were gone.”

His chuckle made the warm glow in your stomach turn into an inferno, almost to the point where it might’ve exploded out of you. “Nah, sweetheart, you’re stuck with me, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

God, how you loved the sound of him laughing and seeing him smile.

You couldn’t help but blush as you smiled shyly, feeling like an awkward kid again. “I’m glad you’re okay, when are you gonna be sent home?”

Eddie looked at the various bandages and bruises he could see on his arms for a few moments before shrugging and looking back up to you. “Probably later today, I only got a few cuts and bruises. They just wanted to make sure nothing was infected.”

You nodded, another shy smile spreading across your lips. “Did you want me to stay with you?”

There was that damn smile again, the one you felt like he saved just for you. His eyes would shine like starlight, even in the darkest of moments. “Nah, that’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll come by as soon as I can, I promise.” He took your hands in his and pressed a kiss to the back of each one, causing another blush.

His lips felt like sunshine on the hottest summer day against your skin, making you feel warmer than you’d felt in days. While you knew you needed to go, your heart was begging you not to. The rest of the world felt so cold, but wherever Eddie was, there was always warmth.

You squeezed his hands tightly before letting go and leaving the room. There were so many things you wanted to say, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say them, the fear of rejection was too much.

Driving home, you knew you couldn’t exactly tell anyone you went to see Eddie; your mom would flip, and your dad would probably have some kind of brain aneurism. Nobody knew about your relationship, every time you wanted tell people, you could never find the right words.

You knew Eddie’s reputation and how harshly he was judged for every aspect of his life, and if people knew you were dating, you would be judged just as harshly or perhaps even more than he was. But maybe after everything that had happened, maybe people would be more forgiving.

Arriving home, you didn’t speak much at dinner until you asked to leave the table due to being tired, despite only eating less than half of your meal. While being tired wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t the whole truth of hardly eating and wanting to go to bed. Being riddled with anxiety over Eddie’s wellbeing was driving you insane; you knew he was fine, he was okay, but until you saw him again, you knew the anxiety would continue to eat at your insides.

Once in your room and safely behind a locked door, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath to attempt to calm yourself. Not that doing that ever worked, but it was a start.

 Just as you were maybe on some verge of calm, the phone rang. Although it startled you, you eventually picked up the handset and held it to your ear for a few moments before speaking up. “Hello?”

“Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice on the other side made your rapidly beating heart skip a beat before finally calming, the warm glow starting once more.

“Hi Eddie. Are you out of the hospital yet?”

“Yeah, they let me go a couple hours ago. The trailer’s completely gone so I’m at the school with Wayne right now.”

You nodded, a small smile ghosting across your lips. “How’s that going?”

Eddie sighed and eventually turned it into a groan. “It sucks, the food isn’t that great, and I have to sneak around just to get some peace and quiet. I’ve mostly just been hiding in the drama room.”

You couldn’t help but smile more as you imagined Eddie camping out in his beloved drama room with his D&D set up still there just to get away from everyone.

Out of the months you knew Eddie, you’d only ever been in there once when a session had happened. You’d gotten fed up with waiting for Mike and his friends to come out of the session and had stormed in and demanding they get their asses into the car before you dragged them out. Funnily enough, that was how you met Eddie and the sparks instantly began flying.

“You need me to come and rescue you?” You joked, twirling your fingers around the twisted wire on the phone, once again feeling like the teenager you used to be before everything had happened.

Eddie chuckled, readjusting the phone in his hand. “Of course, princess. Your helpless prince is dying for your return.”

A dark blush came across your cheeks, you’d always secretly loved when Eddie would talk like that to you, even when you’d tell him he was an idiot and to stop, the blushing and your nervous but adorable laugh would tell a very different story – one Eddie knew all too well.

“You think you can wait until tomorrow morning?” You asked, almost shyly.

There was a pause before Eddie spoke up again. “I’ll wait forever for a moment with you. I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

Then the line went dead as he hung up, with you putting the phone down soon after. Eddie was safe and fine, that was for certain. But there was still a nagging idea in your head that there was something he wasn’t entirely telling you, the only real issue there was you weren’t quite sure how to ask him about it without sounding like an asshole.

That would be tomorrow’s problem, you mused.

In the morning, you woke up bright and early to eat breakfast and head out to the school before anyone would really notice or question where you were going, not that you really had anything to hide. If anyone asked, you were just volunteering, that was… believable.

Arriving at the school, you sped through the halls to try to find Eddie as quickly as possible. It almost reminded you of the hospital but thankfully, there weren’t any crowds you had to push your way through this time. You peeked through the window at the gymnasium to see if Eddie was there, but to the surprise of almost nobody, he wasn’t there.

Although you knew Eddie wouldn’t be eating with everyone else, it was still worth a try. You gave a quick glance towards Wayne before moving on, just to check if he was okay, making a mental note to visit him when you came to properly volunteer the next day.

You took a deep breath as you stood outside the drama room, knowing Eddie would be in there. Well, you hoped he would be in there and waiting for you. You gave a loud round of knocks before opening the door and stepping inside. Sat on his throne, basked in the slightly orange and gold tinted light that shone like a halo around his head, was Eddie.

His face lit up when he saw you, that smile planted firmly on his lips. “My princess finally came to rescue her prince.”

You laughed loudly as you closed the door, walking over to stand beside his throne, instantly feeling the warmth from the stage lighting against your exposed skin. “I told you I’d come! I hope you haven’t been suffering too much without me.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, moving his hand down a little lower to playfully grab your ass before smacking it, causing a small yelp to leave your lips. “All the suffering was worth it now that you’re here, your majesty.”

You playfully hit his arm before playing with some of the fabric on his shirt. Sadly, he wasn’t wearing his Hellfire club shirt, but instead a plain black shirt that had been donated. As much as you wished he had the shirt on, you knew it would only remind both of you of the horrors you’d had to endure and how close you were to losing each other.

Due to your decision to keep the relationship a secret, both of you would always have only fleeting moments of being together before it would be interrupted by someone or something needing your attention. The most time you’d spent together publicly was in The Upside Down of all places, but even then you couldn’t show your true feelings towards each other, there wasn’t enough time to explain to Steve, Robin, or anyone else anything. Although after everything they’d all been through, maybe they would understand and not judge either of you.

No more words were exchanged before Eddie stood up, his hands moving to cup your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. The sweet and gentle kisses turned into a long and heavy make out session, Eddie bringing his hands back down your body to your ass to pick you up and effortlessly bring you onto the table, your legs almost automatically opening so he could stand in between them.

While your fingers were tangled in his hair, tugging, and grabbing at it, Eddie began slowly pushing up your skirt until it was around your waist, causing both of you to pull away from the kiss to give each other a breathless smirk.

Eddie’s lips moved from your own lips and down to your neck, causing you to shiver a little. You wanted more, you wanted everything he could give you. You moved a little underneath him to try to get more friction between you both, Eddie smirking again against your skin as he began nibbling and biting at your neck, being sure to leave a mark.

You couldn’t help but let a loud moan escape your lips as both the sensation of his teeth on your skin and his fingers slipping into your panties was almost enough to make you cum right then and there, it had been so long since he’d been able to touch you like that – far too long.

You subconsciously bit down hard on your bottom lip, letting out a few quiet whimpers as Eddie began to rub your clit, already feeling as if you were going to burst. Eddie moved his lips back up to yours, both of your lips barely touching as he whispered to you. “God, I’ve missed seeing you like this.” You couldn’t even reply as your eyes rolled back, unable to hold back your release.

Your legs felt like jello as Eddie kept rubbing, causing you to whine a little before that whine turned into a giggle. Grabbing his wrist, you slid off the end of the table and pushed Eddie back into his throne, smirking. “You’ve had your fun; I think it’s my turn now.” You unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans open, pulling them down with his boxers as you got down on your knees. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

Eddie groaned as he gently pulled on your head to guide your mouth down to his already hard dick, with you ready to begin licking and sucking as soon as his dick entered your mouth. His moans filling the room as his fingers gripped your hair, bringing his dick further into your mouth and throat, causing you to gag a little on it. He let you gag for a few moments before releasing your hair, with you giving one last lick to his dick before standing up.

He smirked as he watched you, picking you up and easily placing you down on the table. Taking off his shirt, he kissed you. “I want to fuck you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Are you sure you want our first time to be here?” you whispered back, your eyes slowly opening to look up at his.

Eddie nodded slowly, kissing you again softly. “I’m sure, sweetheart. At least here, we won’t get interrupted.” Both of you laughed at that, knowing it was all too true. “Plus, this is where we first met, why wouldn’t I want it here?”

You took off your shirt and unhooked your bra, tossing them to the floor along with Eddie’s shirt before lying back on the table, the cold wood against your back causing goosebumps all over your skin. Kicking off your boots, you shimmied out of your skirt and panties until you were completely naked on the table in front of him, finding Eddie to be just as naked.

You’d been naked in front of each other before, but you’d never had sex – you’d tried, sure, but it was always interrupted, or you just never had enough time. While you didn’t have all the time in the world now, that moment would have to be enough.

Hesitantly, he grabbed a condom from his jean pocket and tore it open, causing you to raise an eyebrow as he rolled it on. “Were you planning this, Munson?”

He blushed darkly, shaking his head quickly. “Not at all, baby. I just happened to have one on hand.”

You smiled, kissing him softly. “I believe it, don’t you worry.”

Climbing onto the table, he positioned himself in between your legs, with you wrapping your legs around his waist. Taking a shaky breath, he slowly slid inside, both of you letting out loud moans. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissed him, not even caring how messy the kiss was.

During the kiss, Eddie slowly began to thrust, both of your moans seemingly getting louder with each one. Your nails dug into his back as you broke off the kiss to tilt your head back. “Fuuuuuck, it feels so good.”

Looking down at your position, he took the opportunity to kiss your neck and bite down, being sure to leave as many marks as possible; he always found it a turn on to see the love bites on your neck or thighs, knowing that he was the cause.

As he bit your neck, he felt your body jerking underneath him, knowing you’d cum soon. “Come on, baby, show me how much you’ve wanted this,” he whispered into your ear, causing you to whimper and moan as you came hard, your nails almost painfully digging into his back.

He thrust harder and faster, causing the table to shake and move slightly with each movement of his hips, but not that either of you even cared. Eddie was dying for his own release, but he wanted to at least try to impress you by lasting longer.

You pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, moving his hair away from his neck to move your lips towards it and gently began biting, causing Eddie to moan your name loudly. You smirked against his skin, clearly finding a weak spot.

You kept on gently biting his neck until Eddie whined. “Baby, if you keep this up you’re gonna make me cum.”

Smirking again, you moved your lips to his ear. “Come for me, don’t hold back,” you nibbled at his ear a little before moving back to his neck to gently bite and suck on it, feeling Eddie’s thrusts getting sloppier as he struggled to hold back, he let out one last groan before finally relenting and cumming.

He kissed you softly, resting his forehead against yours as he tried to catch his breath. “If I’d known sex was that good, I would’ve done it with you months ago.”

You laughed, holding him close. “You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”

“And you’re irresistible.”

You cuddled each other in contempt silence for a few minutes, Eddie nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. If you’d been in an actual bed, both of you could’ve stayed there all day but after catching their breath, the table was starting to get uncomfortable, against everything inside of him, he pulled out from inside you. “I suppose I should let you go; I know everyone would be wondering where you’ve gone.”

You frowned as you got up, but ultimately nodding knowing that he was right. “Alright, fine. But I’m leaving my window open.”

Eddie gave an exaggerated gasp, faking horror. “My sweetheart is offering a man into her bedroom, what will her mother say?”

You shook your head, hitting his arm as you smirked. “Oh, shut up.” Grabbing your clothes from the floor, you began putting them back on, mentally cursing yourself for not having access to a mirror to check if you looked as dishevelled as you felt.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

Shaking your head one last time, you opened the door and stood in the doorway. “I’ll see you later tonight, don’t be late.” You gave him a smile before leaving the room.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered, knowing you couldn’t hear him.

Both of you felt almost daft; there was one thing you both knew they needed to say to each other but of course, both of you were worried the other didn’t feel the same, no matter how clear it was from the way you looked at each other, especially the way you both looked when the other wasn’t looking.

Eddie Munson was in love with you, just as much as you were in love with Eddie Munson. That was a fact, but you were both too scared to tell each other.

Later that night, you couldn’t keep your eyes off your slightly open bedroom window, nervous that Eddie wouldn’t actually come. But the familiar sound of someone climbing onto the garage roof put any nerves at bay, jumping out of bed to help Eddie inside your room as quietly as possible.

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. I had to pretend to use the pay phone, so they’d let me out,” he ended the sentence with a quick kiss before slipping out of his jacket and sneakers. You raised an eyebrow as you glanced down to his jeans, with Eddie looking confused for a moment before taking them off.

“I’m not letting you in my bed with jeans on, shirt is fine, jeans are a no-no,” you gave him a sarcastically sweet smile before getting back into bed, pulling aside the covers to let him in. Eddie smiled as he shook his head, climbing into bed beside you before hiding under the covers, bringing you underneath with him.

Under your covers, both of you stared at each other, taking in every small piece of each other. Although it was too dark to really take in any of his features, you had already memorised every inch of Eddie like the back of your hand. “I wanna tell people about us,” you whispered, caressing Eddie’s cheek gently with your thumb.

Eddie looked at you confused for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Why?”

You sighed heavily, almost looking as if you were about to cry. “Because after everything we’ve gone through, I don’t want to keep you hidden. I want to scream it in everyone’s face that we’re together and I don’t care what anyone has to say about it.”

“Are you sure you want to?”

“Do you?”

“Of course, I do, I don’t want to keep sneaking around anymore, you’re not some dirty little secret. You’re my girl.”

You blushed darkly at his words, a ghost of a smile on your lips. It just felt so right to be his girl, no matter what other people’s prejudices would be.

“I love you,” he whispered, causing your heart to skip a beat.

“You love me?”

He repeated himself, using your full name with it too, just to prove his point.

“And how do you know my full name? You looked at my driver’s licence, didn’t you?”

Eddie grimaced before nodding slowly. “I looked at your driver’s licence.”

You shook your head, playfully hitting his arm. “You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”

He took your face gently in his hands. “And you’re mine,” he whispered before kissing you softly.

Both of you soon fell asleep together, holding onto each other closely, almost protectively. But by the time you awoke in the morning, the bed beside you was empty and Eddie was gone.

Sighing heavily, you got out of bed and got dressed as quickly as possible to begin packing up your unwanted belongings to be donated to the school. You opened your closet doors and began going through each article of clothing and every box inside, slowly accumulating at least a box worth of things to go. Grabbing a cardboard box from the basement and assembling it, you returned to your room to begin putting the belongings into the box and closing the closet doors.

When you turned back towards your bed, you almost screamed as Eddie was sat upon it, appearing out of almost nowhere. “Jesus, you scared me!”

He chuckled as he looked at you, looking as if you’d seen a ghost. “I did knock!”

You couldn’t help but laugh too as you placed a hand on your still rapidly beating heart. “Right, of course, sorry. I was so massively distracted with sorting all this out, I didn’t hear you.”

He got off the bed to grab the box from you. “Let me help you with that stuff.”

Reluctantly, you let go of the box. “I’ll make up another box and start filling it up, you can just put it down somewhere so we can take them all downstairs together, there isn’t much left.” You sprinted back into the basement to grab a second box and set it up, returning to your room to hand the box to Eddie.

“You know, you’re cute when you’re being organized.” Eddie smiled as he watched you put things into the box.

You hit his arm, unable to contain your blush. “Oh, shut up!”

A knock on the door interrupted you two, with Steve being the one to knock before entering. “You got everything ready?”

You nodded, using some tape to close the box in Eddie’s arms before he gave a slight nod to Steve. “Yup, we managed to fill two boxes. The other is somewhere, not sure where Eddie put it.”

“I put it in front of your chest of draws, didn’t want you to trip over it.” Eddie answered, placing the second box down on top of the first.

“Eddie?” Steve asked, a completely puzzled look on his face as he looked between the two boxes on the floor and you.

You looked confused, too. “Yeah, Eddie’s been helping me. What’s up with that?”

Steve looked like he was about to say one thing but quickly stopped himself, deciding to say something else. “Does he look real to you?”

“Does who look real?”

“Eddie… does he look real?”

You frowned looking between Steve and Eddie stood behind you. “Of course, he looks real, he is real! He’s standing right here!”

Steve rested his hands on your arms, shaking you a little. “No, actually look at him. Properly look at him.”

The façade dropped at that moment, you slowly turning back to look at Eddie. He was wearing his Hellfire Club shirt and bandana, both were covered in blood and torn to pieces. Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to tear your eyes away from him, looking back towards Steve.

“I am so sorry. It’s a dream, you dreamed it for yourself because the truth was too terrible.”

A sob escaped your lips before you were able to stop it, your knees gave out and you collapsed to the floor. The horrible truth you’d so desperately denied over the past few days finally resurfaced; the image of seeing your Eddie lying dead outside his trailer, still wearing the handmade bracelet you gave him came flooding back.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, your whole body was shaking as you screamed and sobbed, but you couldn’t hear anything. Your mind was still in that awful place, reliving it over and over and over again. Watching Eddie die in your arms, not knowing how you felt about him; you couldn’t bare it.

Now you had to face the truth.

Eddie had been dead the whole time you’d been back in Hawkins, all the time you’d spent together had just been lies, a delusion you’d made because you didn’t want to face the awful truth. But the worst part was knowing that Eddie had died without knowing you loved him, and that you wanted the world to know that you were together.

But now you’d never get the happy ending you both so desperately deserved.

[meowzfordayz]

play pretend? (i’d rather love you as you are)

Iguro Obanai x Reader

Word Count: ~600

CW: traumatic references

Emergency Request Fulfilled: Can you do obanai with a reader who is usually happy and jelly Nelly and all that and they’ve never talked to obanai about any of their problems and something stressful happens or they get overwhelmed and they get pushed a little too far and they break down. One minute they’re calm and composed and the next they’re a sobbing emotional mess- they express how much they loathe themselves and how much they wanna claw their skin off and just silly stuff like that. I just want yk, obanai being there for them and letting them know it’s okay to cry and it’s okay to not always put up a front.

Training with Obanai usually provides wonderful respite from the arduous, painful cycle of missions, recuperation, and death, but today-

“Again,” he demands, eyes glinting mischievously as he smacks your abdomen with his staff, “Focus.”

Today, he’s being particularly thorough, sparring as though you’re a metal doll rather than a being of flesh and bones.

“If you don’t want another bruise,” he grins, bandages crinkling with the expression, “Then you should at least attempt to dodge or block me.”

You nod shortly, hoping your quietness comes off as deepening your focus — not losing your threadbare calm.

Five seconds later, and he’s sweeping your legs out from under you, unimpressed eyebrow raised as you tumble to the ground.

“Again,” clicking his tongue, “I know I’m good,” smirking teasingly, “But I didn’t think you sucked.”

Ten seconds later, and you’re crumpling once more, palms smarting as you barely catch yourself, his staff resting lightly on your collarbone.

“Again,” still playful, still unaware, “You don’t have to go easy on me.”

He moves to attack, and you simply close your eyes, awaiting his strike.

Finally, he senses the heaviness in your mood, agility allowing him to stepside your body mid thrust, eyes narrowing at your hunched shoulders.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, maintaining a light tone, “You could’ve just told me,” remarking wryly,  “I wouldn’t have beaten you up so badly.”

Obanai you wish you could say I’m sorry.

Instead, a choked cry forces itself from your lungs, your staff tight in your grip as you hug it to your chest, cheeks hot and wet as you turn away from him.

“Where are you hurt?”

He’s beside you immediately, his staff tossed aside, hands frantic and delicate as he checks your head, torso, and limbs, internally berating himself for sparring too enthusiastically. Of course they wouldn’t tell me as he cups your face They’re so strong, silently pleading for you to open your eyes — for you to forgive him.

“I think I hate myself,” you whisper, barely audible as you shudder through erratic sobs, “This skin, these eyes, the audacity I have to walk every day,” eyes opening to fix a blank, exhausted stare on Obanai’s concerned, adoring gaze, “I’m so tired of being okay,” laughing loudly, tears dripping steadily now, “I’m so not okay.”

He takes a moment to compose himself, restraining the urge to vehemently counter all of your despair. I love you he thinks desperately, unsure of how exactly to convey his devotion to you, nor his bewilderment at your confession. How can you hate something so beautiful? He does know, however, that such a truth for him may not yet be understood by you. Firsthand experience taught him that, his own self loathing an endless process of unlearning, gentleness, setbacks, and patience — spurred on and nurtured by you.

“I’m here,” he promises, arms wrapping around you, “Sometimes everything sucks, and I’ll always be here.”

“Why?” you hiccup, “I’m weak. I can’t even handle pretending to be strong.”

“And you don’t have to,” he chuckles, heart aching for you, “You are strong,” whispering softly, “But you don’t have to pretend to be okay.”

“Until I stop pretending, and everyone freaks because I do have to pretend.”

“I’m not freaking.”

You pause, cracking a faint smile, eyes rolling, “You don’t count.”

“I don’t?” he hums, kissing your cheek.

“You love me.”

“I’m not the only one. You are more loved than you could ever know.”

“Aaand how do you know that?” you quip.

“You told me so,” he murmurs, “And I like believing in you.”

[orangepanic]

50 Random Character Asks: Asami Sato

You're lucky I love her.

1. Canon I outright reject

That she and Korra are soulmates. I think that was in a comic? Anyway no, after a few months of trying out a relationship in their early 20s they realize they want different things and break up more or less amicably.

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

Asami is actually bad at stuff! She's not perfect at everything all the time!

3. Obscure headcanon

As fearless and caring as she is Asami is also a bit squeamish and is not great with sick people because she's a sympathy vomiter.

4. Favorite line

"Why would there be fence posts but no fence?" Girl for a genius you were so close.

5. Best personality trait

Selfless without being a doormat.

6. Worst personality trait

Gets angry when she's hurt instead of admitting how she really feels.

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

She's 18-22 in canon, 5'9", 140lbs or thereabouts mostly because she's tall and all muscle.

8. Unpopular opinion about them

She's interesting and loveable all by herself without being Korra's girlfriend. She went four seasons without dating Korra but most of the fandom is only interested in her as part of a pairing that wasn't even in the original material. If you ever look up "facts about Asami" more than half of it is about her dating Korra. It's infuriating. She's a person on her own! I hate that the franchise and the fandom have reduced her to the "and girlfriend" tag along of the main character when she has so much to give just as herself.

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

Her standing up to her dad in The Aftermath. As someone who also idolized a dad who turned out to be a misguided asshole I can tell you that shit is hard. She should get a medal and a hug.

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

I love everything about this.

11. Faceclaim for the role

Arden Cho

12. Crack headcanon

Asami is a slob. She might look put together but her house is a mess and she's always losing stuff amid the jumble of things in her handbag. She grew up with a cleaning service and it shows.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Trying to get with Mako again in Book 2. No. What were you thinking? You're so awesome, go find somebody, anybody who isn't the guy who ghost-dumped you for his "friend" six months ago! (eh HEM I even have a suggestion)

14. Most heroic moment

I was going to say standing up to her father in B1 or flying a biplane in combat conditions in B2 or kicking people in the face on top of a moving train or flying a basically untested piece of mecha onto a robot colossus, but I actually think it's this:

It's really hard to forgive someone.

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

Nothing, Asami has never done anything wrong in her life and I'll fight anyone who says otherwise.

kissing Mako in B2

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

Asami is scared that she won't know how to be a mother when the time comes because she didn't really have one. Her dad mostly had staff to do the childcare parts of being a father but she doesn't want that for her family. Asami does want kids, she's pretty sure, but she never quite knows what to do with them and has no idea how she'll balance that with her own interests and ambitions. She's not interested in a stay at home role and finds herself attracted to people who are also as ambitious and dedicated to their interests as she is. She looks at people like Pema or even Korra who seem like such natural moms and then at people like Lin who are all about their career and doesn't see herself in any of them. Asami is desperate for a role model of a strong career woman with a loving family who can tell her how to have it all. Izumi

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them.

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about

Having her mother murdered at home. Having her father and idol try to kill her before being sent to prison for treason for funding and then leading an effort to overthrow the government right under her nose, then being murdered after she decides to try to forgive him and have a relationship again. Always coming in second place after the thing the person she loves loves more than her, and always being relied upon to put her own needs aside for the greater good. Being treated as a hot chick by everyone who meets her but rarely engaged intellectually. Asami Sato, half ATM, half meat slab.

I think Asami needs a lot of therapy tbh.

19. Vices/bad habits

She drinks too much when she's sad.

20. Scars

One on her collarbone from when she broke it riding her motorbike at 16.

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)

I think she'd be into flavored fizzy waters.

22. Best physical feature

Um, all of her? Have you seen this girl? But if you ask her she'd say her hair.

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like?

Lavender and engine oil.

24. Most annoying habit

She chews on the ends of pens whether they're her pens or not.

25. 3 things they’d want to take with them if they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

Utility knife, a bunch of snacks, duct tape. She'd be fine.

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

It doesn't matter who she's stuck with because she fixes the elevator.

27. Their guilty pleasure

Sneaking chocolate into the spa so she can eat it while soaking in the hot pool.

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

Can't answer this without a victim but Asami generally likes anyone unless they've crossed her, in which case watch the fuck out.

29. Eating habits

Asami cannot cook to save her life but generally tries to keep it healthy, which means a combination of salads, instant soup, and takeout. These are all things she can make. She finds it weird to keep a cook just for herself. Once she's married she happily lets her partner or hired help do the cooking.

30. Sleeping habits

Night owl, heavy sleeper, stomach sleeper under a big pile of blankets. Her partner sometimes checks to make sure she's still breathing.

31. If the had a tumblr what would it look like?

Just pictures of hot cars and the occasional Taylor Swift quote. I think she's more of a gamer geek than a fandom geek.

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

Asami's feet are quite ticklish. Tickle her feet and she'll laugh whether she wants to or not.

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

Being dumped.

34. How they react when they are feeling X emotion (sad, angry, excited, scared, etc.—can specify as many as you like)

For a very social person Asami saves her strongest emotions for more private moments. She gets a big smile and will do group hugs when she's excited but in canon we almost always see her turning away or leaving the room when she's upset or scared rather than seeking comfort. The only exception I think is in book 1 where she opens up to Mako about her mom. So I think if she was in a loving relationship she might get a cuddle if she's sad.

35. Their idea of a perfect day

At the beach with a group of close friends, alternating between swimming, games, and sitting under an umbrella with her sketch pad and a pretty little fruity drink. At some point there are massages. She magically doesn't get sunburned. She ends the day tired and happy and feeling loved and relaxed.

36. Their favorite season

Summer. It's the best season for racing and cute outfits.

37. What they really think about themselves

Asami knows that she's pretty and smart and successful. There's no false modesty there. But sometimes she wonders if that will ever be enough for someone or if there's something wrong with her because she keeps being left behind all the same. It takes a lot of steady unflinching love to get her over that final insecurity.

38. Favorite holiday

All of them! Asami loves holidays and celebrations of all kinds. Especially the ones that come with cookies.

39. Favorite game

Assuming auto racing is not a game, kuai ball. She would have said pai sho but she beats most opponents so fast that the only people she really enjoys playing with are Commander Bumi and General Iroh. She and Bumi have a standing game the first Sunday of the month right up until his death.

40. Favorite book

Asami doesn't have a single favorite book and rarely re-reads, but she's very partial to the kind of edge-of-your-seat gory sci-fi thriller that usually involves a lot of people being eaten. I also peg her as a horror movie fan; the more ridiculous and bloody the better.

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

The easy answer is her mom. Barring that, everyone tells her she would have loved Sokka so I think she'd be curious to meet him.

42. 3 comfort items

Warm food, warm blankets, and the smell of her workshop.

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

Love: sesame sticks, pork and chive dumplings, pistachio ice cream. Despise: Gommu's street gruel, tomato carrots, anything served with the head still on it.

44. Their happiest memory

Asami still vividly remembers her first pro-bending championship game. Her team won and she screamed herself hoarse before going to get victory ice cream with her friends.

45. Their favorite celebrity

Korra

46. The person they most admire

I think she'd really admire female world leaders like Suyin or Firelord Izumi. Maybe even Kuvira up until she decided not to step down.

47. Their dream job

Stock car racer or pro-bender.

48. Scariest moment of their life

Being ejected from the hummingbird suit.

49. Favorite toy as a child

She had a doll named Yina who she took everywhere. Yina wasn't her baby but rather her pretend sister.

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

Asami was home when her mother was killed. She called the police using the number her parents had shown her but she doesn't remember it.

50 Character Asks

[lasatfat]

Happy Friday night :D what about "calloused hands in soft hands" for Carver/Merrill? <3

touches ask game | @dadrunkwriting

I can't see either of them having very soft hands, so you're getting bebe fic, my friend. CW for childbirth and mentions of yeurchy stuff related, nothing graphic or detailed.

~~~

“A new baby is like the beginning of all things – wonder, hope, a dream of possibilities.”

                      - Eda J. Le Shan

The Beginning of All Things

The babe came with as little trouble as any babe does. The pains began on the afternoon of the winter solstice, though they initially blended in with the aches and pangs that had been Merrill’s day-to-day for several months. It wasn’t until Carver arrived home that a healer was summoned, Merrill was examined, and both were told her labours were underway.

They lasted through the next day, and into the early hours of another. Finally, the midwife lay the newborn girl upon Merrill’s bare chest as they both cried, one in fear and the other in relief. Both in pain from the birth, no doubt. One of Merrill’s hands was still trapped by both of Carver’s – he had never left her side, despite the midwife’s protests – but she placed the other on her daughter’s back, holding her close. Andaran atish’an, da’len. She still isn’t sure if she said the words or just thought them. Carver kissed her forehead, and his tears mingled with her own.

The next few hours were a blur. The cord was cut, the afterbirth delivered, and both mother and child were gently bathed. Merrill is returned to a clean, dry bed, warm and safe and well. Carver stayed with the baby, at her insistence, and now sits on the bed beside her, the child resting safely in his arms. One of her hands clings tight to his forefinger.

“How do you feel?” he asks, eventually, and then cringes to himself. She isn’t sure why. It’s a fair question.

“Sore, and tired,” she answers, “but I’m so, so happy. Happier than I ever thought I could be.”

Carver smiles, his eyes brimming with tears, and she knows that he feels the same. He swallows hard, before he speaks. “We still have to name her.”

There’s only one name that comes to mind. Her dearest friend, lost in the Fade. “What about Marian?”

He half-laughs, and shakes his head. “Rian hated that name. They’d never forgive me.” The baby gives a little cry, as if she doesn’t like the name much either. “If you want to honour them, I think they’d rather we named her Bethany.”

Bethany. Merrill’s heart feels as though it may break, though not with sorrow. “That’s it,” she says, almost sobs. “That’s it. That’s her name.”

Carver looks up, almost alarmed. “Are you sure? You don’t have to…”

But looking at the babe’s face now, Merrill can’t think of her as anyone else. “I’d like to hold Bethany, please,” she says.

With the utmost care and gentleness, Carver shifts little Bethany in his hands, and places her in Merrill’s arms. It isn’t the first time she has held her daughter, but it overwhelms her just as much now as it did then. She never knew she could love anything so much. She is lost to it, and she is terrified by it, but still it seems as vital as air, and she gives herself over without a moment’s thought.

Bethany doesn’t seem to take note of it. She only clings on to Merrill’s finger – it takes her entire hand to circle it, over the callous from her staff. Her skin has no such imperfections.

“I hope her hands are always soft,” Merrill says, wistfully. And then, she thinks about it a little more. “Unless she wants to learn an instrument, or be trained to fight, or…”

Carver kisses her temple, and she falls quiet. “I know what you meant.”

“Of course you do,” Merrill whispers back. “You always do.”

[thedo0zyslider]

Ask game

9

Corrupted Pearl and Gem with Shrub who needs to get their trust of else they kill her

9. "I'm trusting you. Please don't make me regret it." (Ask game)

Oh this one was fun <3. I need to write evil women more I think

Currently, Shrub has her back to a wall, with a few of her wolves circling close to her legs and a sword weakly clutched in her uninjured hand. Their ears are flattened and tails tucked in in threat. Or in fear.

Currently, Gem, who's eyes are now red instead of green and her whole aesthetic having taken on a darker color palette, is pointing a fully charged magic staff right at the gnomes neck. She knows it fully charged because it's glowing, and the fact that she knows Gem. A smart wizard never goes anywhere without her staff fully charged, is what the ginger sorcerous always says.

Currently, Pearl stands behind Gem, a crazed kind of look in her eyes. Her sword is held confidently in her hands, ready to strike if their gnome prisoner makes any wrong move.

Like they had given them an option to do so. Especially after giving the gnome god knows how many injuries and cuts and what not.

The two women, who were long lost to the demon's corruption, had just given her a choice. The right option, which is help them. And the wrong option, which is to decline. And Shrub is pretty sure the latter would include the complete extinction of the gnomes.

The right option was for her to be a traitor, and spy on all their friends. Then Shrub would hand that information over to Xornorth, and all the plans to take him down would be completely ruined.

She hated that it had come to this, that the corruption had taken them already. They had all tried so, so hard to fight it, even the two people before her had. But the whole Wither Rose Alliance had fallen eventually, Xornorth's power having grown too strong.

And now here they were. Pearl and Gem concerning Shrub and their wolves, threatening all of their lives. And the gnome was hopeless to do nothing but say yes.

She just hoped the rest of their friends would forgive her for it later.

"Okay, I'll do it." Shrub whispered, their uninjured hand clutching the sword she held as tight as she could. A few wolves growled, while the rest let out quiet whimpers. Her poor, poor pack...

"Good!" Pearl nearly purred the words out, reaching out to give on of the wolves a scratch behind the ears. And the wolf, fearful, still let her do so.

"And these little guys get to live in exchange!" Gem said, sounding far too cheerful for what she was even talking about. The staff is moved away from the gnomes throat just a bit, but it's still within firing range. Shrub gulps, and slowly gets to her feet the best she can.

"I'm trusting you. Please don't make me regret it." Pearl says, grabbing Shrub's chin. In the scary was, with an iron grip that could probably break her jaw right in two. "You're not one to be a lair, after all."

"I won't" Shrub mutters, and the farmer harshly lets go of her. Pearl goes to grab her arm instead, while Gem fully puts her still charged up staff away.

A sign that they trust her, for now at least.

Despair turns in Shrub's gut, and she allows her and her wolves to be load off to Xornorth's castle, which will probably be her home until she is healed and maybe corrupted herself.

She just hopes she can try and run or leave before the latter happens.

[lisannastraussisanangel]

Hi I was wondering have u got any hcs on Layla and Aquarius? I wished we saw more of it in the show did there get along or did there not ? Was the reason Aquarius is so harsh to Lucy is cause she grieving Layla and Lucy looks just like Layla ? Love to hear your thoughts

Forgive me if Layla is ooc! My grasp on her personality is not great but I have invented my own idea of what she was like lol

When Layla first got Aquarius. Aquarius came out blazing with her usual attitude

Layla acted like she didn't notice and politely introduced herself and began discussing their contract

Aquarius was super skeptical of Layla at first. She had only had cruel celestial spirit mages up until this point so she was waiting for Layla to drop the act

For the first year, Aquarius was basically instigating fights

Layla never took the bait. She'd always be calm, cool, and collected

Layla didn't do a whole lot of typical wizard work so Aquarius was almost never summoned for fights

Instead, Layla would summon her to help farms going through droughts, to be a sprinkler for little kids on hot days, and things like that

Finally Aquarius snapped and was like "whats your deal?". Layla didn't understand what she was talking about so Aquarius went on a full blown rant. She complained about how calm Layla was, how she only took jobs that helped people, how she didn't get into fights, her kindness.

At the end of the rant, Aquarius looked at her and was like "when are you going to drop the act and be like the rest of the humans?"

Layla assured her that it wasn't an act and asked about why Aquarius hated mages so much

Aquarius then dumped her entire tragic backstory of abuse

Layla cried and promised Aquarius that she would never be treated like that again. Not as long as Layla was around

That's when Aquarius really started respecting Layla

The two became very close and Layla would even summon Aquarius just to catch up over tea once a week or so

Aquarius would go back to the spirit world and gush about her new friend and her kindness. The rest of the spirits didn't believe there was a mage that could treat them with such respect

When Layla got more keys, the rest of the spirits came back with the same stories and everyone was soon talking about her

Aquarius would summon herself just to watch Layla work. To watch how Layla earned the respect of everyone in a room with only a few sentences.

Aquarius really loved and cherished her.

So when Layla quit wizard work, Aquarius freaked out. She was terrified of what would happen to her.

Layla reminded her of the promise she had made years before about making sure Aquarius was treated fairly

Aquarius trusted her and went to Grammi with little complaints

When Layla died and Aquarius found out it was because she used her life force instead of Aquarius' key for a spell. Aquarius was overcome with guilt

She blamed herself for Layla's death. She should've been there

So then when Lucy started summoning her, Aquarius couldn't even look at her

Lucy looked too much like Layla and acted nothing like her

Aquarius was constantly reminded of her guilt when she looked at Lucy. Constantly reminded that she wasn't able to save Layla

And Lucy was a brat, mourning the loss of her mother and misbehaving because of it

Aquarius' guilt quickly turned to anger which she directed at the little girl. It was easier this way.

She just wanted Lucy to be Layla and it would never happen

Too wrapped up in her own grief and anger, Aquarius never noticed how similar the Heartfilia's actually were

She never noticed how much love Lucy had. How kind she was. At least not for a while

Eventually, Aquarius started seeing Layla when she looked at Lucy, but in a positive way.

She watched how Lucy treated the staff with that same respect, how Lucy would go out of her way to help injured animals she found on the grounds, how Lucy treated her kindly but with that immaturity that came with her age.

Part of Aquarius never wanted to like Lucy. She never wanted to feel the pain of losing a mage she cared for again, but Lucy grew on her (like a rash, Aquarius would say)

[disaster-biraven]

Forgotten Forget Me Nots - Timari Hanahaki

Masterlist

“Don’t you think it’s time to stop?” Tim looked up to where Bruce was standing in the doorway. “You refuse to say who it is, and the Hanahaki is interfering with your ability to fight. I hate to see you like this.”

“The surgery isn’t an option.” He shifted in bed, surrounded by blue petals. Soon they’d be full flowers.

“That’s not what I’m saying. There is always a chance of reciprocation, and your health is more important.” Tim shook his head.

“Confessing isn’t an option either.”

~

It wasn’t ideal for him to be out fighting, but it was all hands on deck. He ducked from the goon's fist and swung his bo staff. His opponent fell to the ground, and Tim turned to see what else he could do to help. Before he could even process what was happening, something flew toward him and knocked him out cold.

The next thing he knew, a loud ringing and bright light split his head open.

“-Obin! Red Robin, do you hear me?” He looked around to see who was saying that, and maybe find this Red Robin fellow. A man dressed like a bat stood over him, looking really concerned.

“…What the fuck?” A tiny child dressed like a traffic light with a sword appeared next to the man-bat.

“Tch. He is either extremely concussed or has head damage. Look at him, he doesn’t know what's going on.”

“Agent A, prep the med bay.”

~

Apparently, Tim was supposed to know who these people were. They took him to some sort of underground cave, where an older man checked him out.

“It seems his hanahaki has halted in its growth. And has some form of memory problems.”

“Excuse me? Hanahaki?” He attempted to stand before falling back on the bed. “Since when have I had hanahaki?”

The man-bat had changed into normal clothes and was leaning against the door frame. Another man who was still in his black and blue suit answered.

“A couple of months, and you never told us who you were in love with.”

Tim leaned against the headboard, what if he never found out who it was? Would he get better?

~

Tim spent the next few days on bed rest, relearning who everyone was.

Dick stuck his head into Tim’s room.

“Tim, your friend Marinette is here. The one from Paris? She knows about our Identities.”

A girl came into the room and pulled him into the best hug he could remember.

“I told them you should have never gone into the field, and look what happened! You can’t even remember me!” She pulled him back to arm's length.

“Sorry about that, but how do you know about us? As far as I knew, it was family only?” He tried to fight back a blush, as he felt pain in his chest for the first time since his head injury. He found who he was in love with.

“I was a hero in Paris and needed help from the Justice League in defeating my villain. They sent you and a couple of other young heroes. I happened to befriend you as a civilian and figure out who you were.” She straightened his blanket nervously. “And we were inseparable since. I was the one who figured out you had hanahaki, but not who for.”

“Well, Alfred said it's stopped for now.”

“I heard. I also heard you’re expected to regain your memories, so it’s just a matter of waiting.”

“I guess so.”

~

A week went by with no progress, but Tim was learning a lot about his family. When his memories started coming back, it was random small things. Like his rooftop stalking before he had become Robin, or how much he hated Galas. Especially the ones with his parents.

The day Tim remembered the Tower incident, Jason knew immediately. He had confessed to Tim that he was dreading it and hoped he could forgive him again. The memories of Jason’s death came after, and with that Jason waking up to a crying Tim at four am. He remembered being forced out of the Robin mantel by Dick. And then accepting that Dick, the original Robin, was the best person to make that call.

When his suspicions about him loving Marinette were confirmed he went to Bruce. Bruce was in his office, working from home. He looked up, surprised when Tim knocked and entered.

“Hello Tim, what can I do for you?” Bruce closed his computer and waited for Tim to speak.

“I’ve remembered who it was. Who I like. But I also remember why I don’t want to say.”

Many emotions passed across Bruce’s face, but it settled on grim acceptance.

“You hate not knowing things, and as a detective have probably been working to try and figure it out,” Bruce said nothing but gave a slight nod. “I am more willing to say why I was keeping it a secret before my amnesia.” And he told Bruce.

“We’ll let Alfred know that the hanahaki could resume any moment now.” Bruce stood with Tim, and seemed to hesitate before speaking, “I’m proud of you Tim.”

~

Marinette’s schedule had allowed her another visit, and at this point, Tim had regained most of his memories of their Friendship (and his crush). His nerves were so bad that he wasn’t able to stomach breakfast, and he spent most of the day before she arrived wearing down the carpet in his room.

Petals were piling up in his bathroom sink, Alfred and Bruce the only ones aware of it. Tim hoped the problem would resolve before his siblings uncovered it though.

Tim was attacked from behind by a hug and fell to the ground.

“Ow! Sorry Tim, I don’t want to give you another head injury!” Adrien helped him stand, and Marinette was behind him rolling her eyes. “I’ll let you guys catch up, I’m going to find Dick.”

Marinette brushed invisible dust off of Tim’s shoulders as Adrien sped off.

“Sorry about that, he’s been really worried about you.”

“It’s fine, I’m glad to see him again. But I did want to tell you something really important. I remembered who I’m in love with-”

Tim was cut off from Marinette dragging him into his room, and closing the door.

“Has your Hanahaki resumed?”

“Yes.”

“Who knows?”

“Alfred and Bruce. Now you.”

“Are you ever going to tell me who it is?”

“Well, if I do confess, it won’t be for reciprocation. It’ll be to heal because she’s sort of.. engaged?” Marinette paused, not fully comprehending what he said.

There was only one person Tim knew well enough to be in love with who was engaged. Marinette looked back up at a nervous Tim and started to cry.

~

After an hour of talking through the whole situation, Adrien rejoined them. And Marinette wasn’t one to hide things from her fiance. Tim was okay with that, expecting that anyway. The model wasn’t mad at all, just joking he fully understood why Tim fell in love. He was more concerned with whether Tim’s hanahaki had started to recede yet. Which it seemed to, the talk was very helpful. Marinette had scolded him for trying to be noble and suffer in silence. Tim had pointed out that he only had the hanahaki for a couple of weeks before she had gotten engaged, making him even more reluctant to speak to his best friend.

Tim made the announcement at dinner, by then there was only a faint pressure in his lungs. A group hug, started by Dick was done to celebrate. Followed by constant interrogation of who it was, their guests watching in amusement. Alfred had put a stop to that and served dinner.

Not all Hanahaki cases end in a happy ending, but Tim wouldn’t have changed anything about how his ended.

author's note: Hope you liked it! If you did, feel free to check out my other works on ao3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56150965

And please feel free to join the Discord Server below!

[fourleafclovxr]

10: what it took to get here

“Yara, thank god you’re here,” Agatha sighs, slamming the doors closed behind her. “You might be the only other sane person in this entire castle.”

“That doesn’t bode very well for the future of Camelot, does it,” Yara says dubiously, hefting her bags into a corner. She can see why Agatha would say that, though. Pollux is here, and he was stupid enough to try and get Dovey, of all people, fired. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the rest of the staff.

Agatha laughs, a little maniacally. “It doesn’t!” she exclaims. “But what can I do! I’m just Tedros’ princess, and girls should just shut up and listen to their betters speak, and girls shouldn’t have opinions on anything the men decide—” She breaks off, then, with a huffed exhale. “If I tell them I used to be a boy, do you think they’d shut up?”

Yara sits down on Agatha’s plush carpet, and Agatha follows suit, pulling her knees up to her chest. She doesn’t really look like a princess; she just looks tired, and annoyed, and a little scared. But, as always, she looks very much like herself. Yara has always admired her for that. And that’s the thing, isn’t it?

“You don’t change for anyone,” Yara says. “You don’t do anything for anyone other than yourself. Don’t let their biases force you into— into coming out.”

“Good thing I have you as my lady-in-waiting,” Agatha murmurs. “You’d have been wasted on Tedros.”

“Don't you know it,” Yara says lightly. Lady-in-waiting sounds much better than knight, all things considered. Sends a pleased, comfortable spark through her heart.

“S’pose it’s better that they don’t know, even if it would probably stop a couple of them in their tracks,” Agatha sighs. “They don’t deserve to, anyway. I don’t envy you. I don’t think you’re going to have it easy.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard it all before,” Yara assures her. “That it’s unnatural? That it’s freakish? That we should just stick with what we were born with? I’m over it. I really am. My family’s from Avalon Towers, remember? Even more bigoted version of Camelot, if you ask me.”

Agatha winces. “Right,” she says. “You know, I miss Gavaldon sometimes. I mean, there’s nothing there for me anymore, but at least people there didn’t care about all this. About being a girl, boy, neither, whatever. They hated you for… other things.”

“That’s the way things are, here,” Yara says wryly. “That’s the sort of division our dear Storian loves to capitalise on.”

“Like Evelyn Sader,” Agatha says quietly, lost in thought.

Yara can’t suppress the flinch that jolts through her. Oh, Sader had been a terrible Dean, and objectively an even worse person. She’d taken her idea of advocating for women to the extreme.

But she’d helped Yara. For a price, of course.

But she’d… understood, why Yara might want to be a girl. She’d smiled and nodded and said, being a Girl is a wonderous thing, my dear.

Their school. So beautiful. Yara shudders to think of it. That she would so easily forgive such Evil, if it only meant she could be herself.

She shakes her head firmly. No point in dwelling on it now. Sader is long gone. And Yara, despite everything, has lived this long without her.

This is something she’s made for herself. It was never meant to be anyone else’s.

“They keep trying to doll me up,” Agatha says abruptly, changing the subject entirely. “Make me— well. A better girl. A prettier bride. They complain about my bone structure a lot. My jaw. My shoulders.”

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met,” Yara says sincerely.

“Thanks,” Agatha mumbles, picking at a loose thread in the carpet. She sounds utterly unconvinced. “Just have to work on convincing all of Tedros’ courtiers, now.”

“Hey,” Yara frowns, “look up. Look at me.” Agatha does, blinking in confusion. “If anyone tells you you’re not pretty, I’ll screw with them so hard they come to you begging for mercy.”

“I don’t want to make things harder for Tedros,” Agatha worries.

“He wouldn’t want them to make things harder for you,” Yara points out. “He’s so in love with you it’s stupid. Anyway, you have to set a precedent. You can’t let them walk over you for things like this— what will happen when it’s something bigger? You’re just going to keep your head down?”

“Is it worth it?” Agatha sighs.

Yara stares, incredulously. “Has this castle beaten you down so much already?” she asks. Alright, it’s not particularly sensitive of her. It’s just. This isn’t the Agatha she knows; the Agatha who sat with her in the long days after Evelyn Sader and convinced her not to hate herself for it; the Agatha who was always sure of who she was, who never let anyone tell her otherwise, who never was scared of not fitting in.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” Agatha snaps, finally regaining some of the spark in her eyes. “You think any of this is easy?”

“It’s never going to be easy,” Yara says. “You might as well make it better for yourself. No one else is going to. Except maybe me, but— I’m your lady-in-waiting. I’ll do what you want.” She won’t like it, of course, but she owes Agatha that much.

“Why can’t it be easy?” Agatha says quietly. “People like us. Why don’t we ever get to have it easy?”

“Sometimes I resent it,” Yara admits. “What it took to get here.” It’s not easy. It’s never been easy. She wishes it could have been. “But I would never regret being myself.”

“Do you ever wish you didn’t have to—?” Agatha begins. Trails off. She looks a little lost, like this. A little more her age.

“Wouldn’t be like us, then, would we?” Yara asks. It’s true. It would be much, much easier to just be Tristan— Tristan, skinny and awkward and weird, but very firmly who he was supposed to be. Tristan, who’d been semi-comfortable in his own body, as far as that meant anything in Good. Tristan. Not her.

It took so much to get here, to get to where she is now. And it sucked, yeah. It sucked massively.

But where she is, right now— it feels right. It feels like home. And she would never, ever, go back.