#(nobody asked for these but i wanted them. so here we are!)

[alltheprompts]

Dp x DC prompt #13 (yay lucky number!)

What if Danny is introduced to the family not as a gremlin, but as his friend from community College and he is so freaking normal that it makes the entire family suspicious. The only reason Jason decided to bring him along is that he knows Danny seems too normal for their cohort and it will utterly freak out Bruce and Tim, confuse Grayson and set off Damian. Jason though, he knows Danny is only normal for the first few times of interaction, then he starts getting weird even by Bat Family standards.

Jason: Hey. I brought my friend from campus tonight.

Danny: Hi! Nice to meet you!

Bat family: *suspicious eyes* Nice to meet you.

Danny: I totally didn't believe Jason when he said he was one of 5 kids but he proved me wrong. Lol.

Bat family: How'd you meet Jason?

Danny: OH! He's been tutoring me in English class and I've been helping him with Calculus. We met at the library when I was trying but failing to type a paper and ended up irritating him with my groaning. He walked right over asked me to shut up and I apologized and said I was having difficulty *insert English homework here* and he had a look utter disgust and surprise and said "how the fuck are you having problems with that?"

Jason: I was disgusted. That was such an easy topic.

Danny: For you maybe! Anyways I said "Well if it's so fucking easy, explain it to me. And he did! With way better clarity then my professor. So I thanked him and asked what I could do in exchange for help. He then told to stay fucking quiet o he can work on his stuff. And we went on about our business. A week later we were both back in the library again and he was banging his head, so I went over and asked if he was okay and he yelled to leave him alone and he just as I was about to leave I noticed he was working on calculus and told Jim I could help if he wanted. He looked at me like I was insane.

Jason: I was cause you are. Most people don't ask to help after being yelled and cursed at.

Danny: But you had helped me on my english paper! I wanted to return the favor! This happened a few more times before it became normal to meet at the library and work together!

The batfamily is reeling at this strangely normal and meet cute type story and the fact that Jason was going to college and nobody knew somehow (Alfred knew).

After meeting Danny, they stalk him to see if he was acting normal or trying to mess with Jason or Jason manipulated someone normal to mess with them. The first while Danny seems perfectly normal and innocent but after a while they start getting a feeling of something off about Danny like he was both him and not. They also notice that Jason tends to stay calmer when he is around Danny. As they realize he is weird and they slowly figure it out, they actually get less anxious about Danny. As someone not quite normal or human in Danny's case was far more comforting for them then anyone of them managing to befriend an actual normal civilian with no apparent baggage or extreme homelife. A

[bugboysgf]

can u pls do minho x reader oneshot when they’re already dating, just chilling on the couch when q and kitty walk in and ruin their make out session, i feel like that would be rlly funny 😭😭

“Min ho, we should really get back to watching the movie” you say breaking away from the kiss.

“Baby” he looks at you with pleading eyes. “We can just turn the movie off,” he says, reaching for the remote.

“What if someone walks in?”  you asked, a little bit scared. You were already dating him but you hated getting caught, you liked to be more private.

“Nobody is going to care… do you really want to get up.” he asked 

“No not really”

He leans and whispers in your ear “okay so kiss me then”

You were hesitant at first but leaned in for a small kiss, it started off slow but Min ho kept going faster as the kiss continued. It was hard for you to keep up, everytime he kissed you it was hard to think straight. He grabs one of your legs to wrap it around him.

“Sit on my lap baby” he said in between the kisses. You did what he said and sat on his lap. The kiss started to become sloppier as you grinded on him.

“Woah you two are sure having fun” you break away from the kiss and see Q and kitty standing in front of you. You guys were too caught up in making out that you didn't notice them coming in. you hurried up off of min,ho lap.

“For real if we didn't walk in there clothes would have been off.” kitty laughed 

“Oh my god” you hide your face into min ho neck

“I watch tv on this couch you better not be fucking on the couch” Q said in a concerned tone

“Relax, we weren't going to do that,” Minho rolled his eyes. “Besides don't act like i didn't catch you and jin making out here yesterday”

“Okay woah” Q acted offended “that's not the same, we weren't moaning and stuff”

“We weren't either” you say quickly.

“Yes you were” kitty smiled “it sounded like-”

“Please don't” you cut her off.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

you in my eyes [5] l Javier Peña

Summary:  you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings:  smut, fingering, kissing, enemies (?) to lovers, misogyny and sexism at work, some bad language, Murphy shows up, alcohol

A/N: I don't know how many people read this series, but I wanted to add another chapter. Maybe I can make someone happy with it.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[previous chapter]

[masterlist]

You turned down the TV and sat up on the couch, someone was knocking on the door. It was already late Friday evening, which you decided to spend at home. After Messina announced that O'Connell had been urgently called to the States, you felt calmer. That's why you didn’t go to any pub or place like that.

The knock repeated and you finally approached the door.

"Javier?" the man on the other side smiled “What are you doing here?”

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, a little confused.

"No. But it's late. Is something wrong?"

He raised his hand, in which he held the bottle of whiskey, and waved it, smiling slyly.

"I won the bet," he boasted.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the door frame, looking at him with interest. Peña was pleased to note that you were wearing a green baggy t-shirt, probably from the department's supply, and your hair was still damp from the shower. You looked nice.

"There was a bet, back at the office. The guys were betting on when O'Connell would give up and come home." Javier explained. "And I won."

"You bet he'd leave right now?"

"No. I said someone would punch him in the face."

You burst out laughing. And even Peña laughed, still holding his bottle in front of you.

"We're partners, so you deserve it, too."

"Oh! How generous of you! You flatter me, Agent Peña."

You bit your lip as if you were thinking about something, then gently pushed the door open, nodding slightly. 

He entered the room, bringing with him the smell of cologne and cigarette smoke.

"I wasn't expecting guests." You announced, pulling glasses out of the cabinet.

"I was wondering if I'd find you home." He mumbled, unscrewing the bottle and giving you a furtive glance. "Didn't you want to go out somewhere?"

You put the glasses down on the coffee table with a clatter and sat down on the couch, pulling your legs under you. "I wasn't in the mood. I think I'll skip places like that for a while."

Javier poured the amber liquid into the glasses and handed one to you, sitting next to you.

"¡Salud!" He raised his glass in a toast, and you did the same. "What are we drinking to?"

"Peace of mind." You replied. "Unless you have other suggestions?"

"Naah. That's good too."

You tipped the glasses down and Javier filled them again.

"Nobody's waiting for you?" you asked as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and lit one. "I think you'd find better company than me."

"Oh! I definitely would!" Javier chuckled, blowing a wisp of smoke from his mouth. "Don't tell anyone I came here, you'll only ruin my reputation."

You laughed and covered your eyes with your hand as if you were thinking about something. "God! Can you imagine that?" Javier raised his eyebrows expectantly. "What the girls in the office say about you, what the guys say about me... And what would they say if we started sleeping together? Damn! Loise would go gray in an hour."

"Murphy would beat the shit out of me." Javier stated, sipping his drink. "He probably thinks you're too good for me."

"And he's right." you shrugged "I could be with the commander, but I'd trade him for a simple agent? Sorry, Peña, no chance."

"Fuck, you're a menace." he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

It was nice. He sat with you, talked about work and life. Melancholic stories from your past life, no plans for the future, because where you were you didn't really plan anything. Neither of you delved deeper, because why would you, it was just a friendly conversation over a Friday night drink.

After the third glass, he noticed your legs, exactly when you got up to go to the bathroom. The skimpy shorts gave Javier room for imagination. His eyes, dark as night, followed you involuntarily, and then he cleared his throat.

The alcohol was coursing through his veins, he felt hot, so he took off his jacket and threw it on the armchair next to him, rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn't even hear you come back. Only the feeling of you sitting down next to him, the smell of your shampoo caught his attention.

"I'm a terrible housekeeper." you stated finishing your drink, Javier raised his head looking at you with interest "I don't have anything to eat, nothing I could give you." you pouted and he chuckled.

"Please, hermosa." he sighed "If I wanted to eat something, I would take you out for dinner. I have a hard time believing you cook anything yourself, to be honest."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise "You're suggesting that..."

"I'm not suggesting anything." he interrupted you and instinctively placed his hand on your thigh, stroking it gently "You just work a lot, like me."

"Maybe if we had someone to cook for sometime..." you pondered, completely not noticing his gesture, which only made Javier not withdraw his hand "Murphy and Connie, they definitely cook."

"Not as often as they both might claim." he raised an eyebrow and you laughed "But Connie is good at it. Anyway, you'll find out tomorrow."

"It's nice that they invited me, I guess..." you lowered your eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed "I mean... We don't know each other that well, right?"

Peña frowned.

"What the hell are you talking about? If it wasn't for you, they would still be collecting our fragments from the surrounding trees by now."

"Don't say that."

"But it's true." he moved closer to you, his hand moved higher, now resting on your hip, his thumb stroking your body hidden under your shirt. Neither of you felt embarrassed by this, maybe it was because of the drinks you had, or maybe it was that night. "You're doing a great job here. Everyone can see it."

"They think I'm a slut." you mumbled almost incomprehensibly and Javier had to tilt his head slightly to hear your words "No matter what I do, I'm labeled an easy girl. You know... I try not to worry about it, people will always talk, but sometimes... Sometimes it hurts."

He grabbed your chin and lifted it slightly. Beautiful brown eyes stared at you intently. "The most important thing is what you think about yourself. Double standards suck, you said so yourself and you were right. Surely if I say you're the coolest chica in the office, it won't change anything, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "Please..."

"And you have the prettiest legs." Peña added quickly, you chuckled "Your smile is also very pretty. And when you're excited about something, your eyes widen and shine so nicely." you snorted, your hand closing over his, which was still holding your chin. "And when you yelled at me the first time, I got hard."

The smile disappeared from your lips, which slightly widened in surprise. You fell silent, both of you a little surprised by this bold confession.

"Javier..."

His name was quieter than a whisper, but he heard it clearly. He leaned even closer. Warm breath brushed your lips.

"This is really a very bad idea." you said with difficulty.

"You can stop me, hermosa." His lips lightly brushed yours, you closed your eyelids, inhaling the air.

"Did I really make you hard?"

"Mhmm..." you didn't see the smile of satisfaction on his lips. "They call it difficult working conditions."

It was a split second and you felt his lips on yours. All dilemmas disappeared, and when you kissed him back he knew he was gone. Your hands instantly found their way to his face, your fingers tangled in soft hair and you pulled him closer, parting your lips.

An invitation that Javier read flawlessly. His tongue slipped into your mouth, you tasted the whiskey, and that was even more captivating for him. The kisses were intense, deep as if you both could finally give vent to what had been brewing inside you for a long time. You felt him squeeze your buttock and you moaned, but his tongue effectively muffled you. So you didn't wait for anything more, in an instant you slid onto his lap and clung to his body. Javier felt your breasts under the thin T-shirt, you didn't have a bra. He knew that, of course he had already glanced at your breasts, but when he felt it…

You pulled away from his lips for a moment and looked into his dark eyes.

"You can back out at any time. No hard feelings." you said. "I don't want you to feel..."

"Used?" Javier laughed quietly. "I guess I'm the one who should be saying things like that, don't you think?" his hands gripped your buttocks tighter, making you feel the bulge in his jeans.

"Oh!"

"That's a clear answer, I guess."

He lifted himself up and his lips captured yours again. The excitement grew in your lower abdomen with every passing second, with every kiss and touch. His strong hands shamelessly slid under your shirt, first stroking your back, and after a moment he grabbed your breasts. He kneaded your tits, rolled your nipples between his fingers, and you moaned as much as his tongue in your mouth would allow you.

"Take it off." he ordered, tugging at your shirt.

"Do it yourself."

"You're something else, you know that?"

You bit your lip, smiling obediently, raising your arms up so the shirt could be removed. Javier kissed you the second your lips peeked out from behind your collar. Damn, he was a threat to you.

Large hands explored your body, testing every inch of it, teasing every nerve. Could you want more? God, you didn't have to ask, he wanted to give it all to you.

When he slid his hand into your shorts, you gasped loudly.

"Fuck, you've got a real pool here, sweetheart." he mumbled, smiling slyly. "Would you like me to take care of that?"

A nod.

"Words, hermosa. Just words."

"Yes, please."

He ran his fingers over your folds, hot and wet, knowing perfectly well that he would be able to slide them inside without a problem. And so he did. And when you threw your head back, sighing quietly, he marveled at how wonderful the sight was.

Hot lips closed over one of your nipples, sucking and teasing with his tongue, fingers moving in and out, searching for that spot that could take you apart.

"Shit, Javier..." you moaned.

You clenched your fingers in his hair, hips rising slowly and rhythmically as he finger fucked you. Why did this have to feel so good? You couldn't remember the last time you felt like this, when someone had made you feel so...

"Oh fuck!"

"I think I found it." Javier chuckled, kissing your cleavage, your skin was slightly salty from sweat but still smelled of soft soap and you "I'm holding you, hermosa, take what you need."

He crossed his fingers with his thumb massaging your clit, the pressure was perfect and soon he felt your walls clench around his fingers, your body tensing and you held your breath for a moment feeling the pleasure spread through your body.

You rested your head on Javier's shoulder breathing deeply, his hands stroking your thighs sending a pleasant shiver through your heated skin.

"That was the first one." Peña finally spoke.

"The first one?" you lifted your head and looked at him curiously "Planning more of these?"

"Oh, sweetheart..." he sighed, brushing the strands of hair from your face, then bringing his lips to yours and stealing a tender kiss "At least two more tonight." another kiss "Two in the morning." another one "And how much more will you allow me to have with you, because - fuck - I want to see you cum again. I knew I'd get in trouble with you."

Your hand stroked the back of his neck, you could probably let him have a little more of you.

It was like an addiction. Javier was addicted, and you were his best drug. Before he knew it, you were crawling under his skin, coursing through his veins, and rushing to his head. Sometimes it felt like every time he saw you, his addiction grew.

His fingerprints were all over your body, and he proudly wore yours, even though no one was around to see it. You kept the fact that you were dating a secret, even though you never talked about it like that.

God! You never thought you could fall for a guy like that, and even more so that you would let him do things like that to you. Because sex with Javier was on another level. 

Never before, no one had made you feel so desired, enough, beautiful, and fulfilled. Peña gave you the best orgasms, the ones that left you silent for a moment afterwards because you couldn't form a grammatically correct sentence in your head. The sleep problems disappeared and lazy mornings were something you loved doing with him. 

His sleepy eyes, his hot body, his ruffled hair... In the dictionary, next to the word 'sex', they should have put a picture of Javier, you were sure of that.

In your apartment or in his, in the car in the parking lot, or at work in some tight space, because you wanted a quickie. It was getting more and more intense and what you were feeling was starting to scare you a little. A little over three weeks since O'Connell left, and you felt really good. For a while.

The information about the mole in the office was bothering Messina and she had talked to you about it many times. You promised that you would revolve around it, but for some time you hadn't found any new leads. It was frustrating.

"I talked to informants, but no one would tell me anything." You muttered one evening, resigned.

Peña opened a beer and sat down with his ordered food. "Maybe you're looking in the wrong places? Maybe it's not some higher agent or something?"

"But all this information that's been leaking..." you sighed.

“Honestly, many people have access to it. Hermosa, stop stabbing your food with fork and start eating,” he replied, gesturing to your plate.

However, your gaze drifted away for a moment. Javier noticed it after a moment, huffed impatiently. "Hermosa." he repeated warningly.

"Hmm?"

"You'll have cold food." he shook his head in disbelief. "I really don't know why I'm here with you."

You looked up from your plate and smiled. Your foot, under the table, slowly slid up his leg and headed for his crotch, rubbing it lightly. "I think I know why."

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. It was nice, what was between you. Although neither of you named it. The sex was fucking amazing, you could talk or not talk at all and Javier loved it. You didn't pressure him, you didn't expect declarations or confessions. You took what he gave you, you gave just as much.

And eventually both of you started eating more or less regularly, although the last attempt at cooking ended in burnt chicken, because when Javier came back from work he had a strong urge to get into your panties.

He grabbed you at the ankle and squeezed lightly which made you smile, he loved it. You spent quite a lot of time together and he slowly started to notice the little things he liked about you. Your smile was his favorite though.

"Murphy and I have to go out of town. We'll be gone for a few days." he said watching you as you reached for his beer and took a few sips.

"Anything important? Do you have new sources?" you asked, frowning.

Javier nodded "Yeah, we want to check them out. We also need to watch one guy."

"Okay. Just watch your backs. I won't be able to save your asses there." You squealed as he gripped your calf tighter and pulled you so hard you almost fell off the chair "Peña! Fuck you!"

"You wish." he chuckled, but then turned serious "You watch your back too, hermosa. Promise me that."

And you promised, and then you gave him something so he wouldn't forget about you and would have something to think about when he and Murphy were out of town.

"Will you miss me?"

You shook your head. "I don't think so."

"I think you will." Javier stopped the car in front of the office building and turned off the engine.

It was still early, the streets were empty. You were enjoying your last moments together. His hand on your thigh squeezed you lightly, it was nice.

"Tell me you'll miss me." He looked at you with a gentle smile and those eyes of a poor puppy. "I know you have a soft spot for me."

"You wish!" you chuckled.

"I will."

There was something in his tone of voice that made the laughter die on your lips. Those ambiguous sentences made your heart beat faster, but you calmed it down every time. You didn't want it to happen so soon. And what was that anyway?

"Maybe a little." You finally sighed, his lips stretched into a smile.

"Kiss me, hermosa."

It wasn't a request, more of an order, but you didn't mind. Javier moved closer, you stroked his cheek tenderly, and then you let his lips brush yours. At first gently, because he was teasing you, and he loved doing that. Finally, you curled your fingers in his hair and Javier slid his tongue between your lips, you moaned. His hand grabbed your waist as if he wanted to pull you even closer. Damn, he kissed like a dream.

Another brush of lips, another tender touch. Finally, he rested his forehead against yours and sighed. "Maybe we still have time, huh? Murphy will definitely be late."

"I don't think so." you replied quietly.

"He's always late."

“But not today.”

Javier looked at you, surprised, and then turned around. Steve was standing in front of the hood of his car, his glasses slid down his nose and he looked at you with disbelief on his face.

You opened the door. "I guess I'll go now." you said, smiling uncertainly, "Take care of yourselves."

"You too, hermosa." Javier replied, sitting down in his seat and putting on his glasses.

Steve nodded in your direction, then walked over to the car. "Really?" he asked, staring at his friend, "You and her? Really?"

Peña didn't even look at him, "Get in."

"Is that why you haven't been so annoying lately?" Murphy chuckled, but got in and closed the door with a soft click.

The engine started and the car slowly rolled down the road.

It was strange. They managed to come back a day early. He wanted to surprise you. He even bought some oranges, which you liked so much lately. But the apartment door was closed. Javier kept knocking for a while. He glanced at his watch. It was late, so you should have…

"She left." The older man peeked out from behind the neighboring door and glared at Javier.

"Long time ago?" he asked, surprised.

The man shrugged. "I don't remember. But she looked really nice." He smiled slightly. “You must have been late, boy. If she’s not here yet…”

Javier nodded and quickly went down the stairs. Something strange tightened his insides. He didn't expect this...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @qpiiee @missladym1981 @axshadows @djappleblush @picketniffler @txmel @wowitsafemale @cheekychaos28 @underneath-the-sky-again @misstokyo7love

[pysprnt]

Hellooo!!!

Love your fics so far <3

if it’s okay I’d like to request a older brother! Thanos + Younger sister! Reader, platonic obvs, fic where thanos hasn’t seen the reader in ages because of his rap career but then meets her again in the game and she’s is in the game for her high collage debt.

Can end happily if you’d like but I’d like it to be angst pleaseee <3

𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 — 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐬𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐠; 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝, 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) — 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 .

𝐰𝐜 — 𝟏.𝟔𝐤, 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 .

“ms y/n, if you do not mind me asking, why are you here? you’re awfully young and kind, i wouldn’t have imagined you to have debt of any sort.” played 001, also known as in-ho, politely questions your reasoning behind participating in these death games.

the other players in your small group of allies perk up upon hearing the question, the lot of them seeming someone curious as well. clearing your throat awkwardly, a lopsided smile paints your youthful face. the group takes notice of your hesitation, and quickly reassures you that you do not have to share your past with them if you’re not comfortable.

“you don’t have to, y/n. do not feel pressured.” junhee whispers, rubbing your back gently. shaking your head with a sigh of disapproval, you reply in an almost disappointed tone. “no no, it is fine, unnie.”

“i studied abroad in the united states for college, and took out quite a few loans to help financially.” you start, the group paying close attention, despite feeling exhausted from the paranoia and lack of comfortable rest. “i had no source of income, and my debt just began to pile up until i was no longer able to afford staying in america. even moving back to korea, i did not escape my debt.”

the group stays silent for a moment, feeling an odd sense of pity towards you—after all, you just wanted an education, and it was unfortunate that you were unable to fulfill your dream. “i’m sorry, miss.” dae-ho murmurs with a sad smile, watching as you shift closer to your pregnant friend.

“i just hope that we can all make it out of here; alive. we’ll all pay off our debts, and maybe we could meet up at a local cafe—catch up after getting our lives together.” you have not known these men, and junhee, for very long, but they provide you with comfort that nobody else has. not even your own brother, su bong.

just the thought of his name causes an ache in your heart that cannot be expressed. oh how you resent su bong. during your early teenage years, the two of you had been attached by the hip, spending all of your free time at an arcade down the street from your apartment complex. it was quite run down, but you had the time of your life. you had even grown close to the owner, mr jungsoo.

life began to change when he died, and the arcade that you found comfort in was demolished. as time went on, su bong had distanced himself slowly, his rapping career becoming successful. it was almost as if the fame had made him forget who took his feelings into consideration under every circumstance, who cleaned his wounds after a nasty argument with his father, and who stuck by his side during his drug addiction.

you have not seen su bong in 4 years. he had disappeared when you were 16, leaving you in the care of your parents, who were completely unfit to have children. you still feel bitter to this day. he had left you when you needed him most, even after you were there for him throughout all of his hardships.

you fell into a depressive state of mind after about 1 month of no contact with your elder brother, your fathers verbal abuse getting worse as every day goes by, while your mother did little to help. you started to care little about your physical appearance and hygiene, only showing up to school so that you could graduate and move on with your life, just as su bong did.

though, the difference between you and him, is that you are not leaving behind the person most dear to you. no, the person that meant the most had already left, left without a single goodbye.

you tell yourself every night that you do not care, that it does not bother you still to this day, but before you close your eyes to rest, you wish that you’d one day get an explanation from your brother. for closure. all you need is closure.

“y/n, are you alright?” you are shaken from your thoughts as gihun waves a hand in front of your face worriedly, having taken notice of your sudden silence. “yes yes, i am just fine. i think that i will take a walk, i feel a bit faint and would like some time to think.”

before gihun or any of the others have the chance to objectify, reminding you that it is dangerous, you quickly make your leave, wandering to an empty corner of the dormitory.

unbeknownst to you, su bong takes notice of your presence, but feels conflicted about whether or not he should confront you. he knows that you’re aware of his existence around you, but you have yet to seek him out on your own. su bong doesn’t want to force himself onto you after all these years.

though, after watching your body make contact with the stone cold wall, and seeing you sink to the floor in tears, the big brother in him pushes him from his bunk, quietly stalking towards you in a determined manner.

you immediately take notice of su bong as he stands above you, fiddling with the cross that lies underneath his shirt. you ignore him, wiping your tears and trying to act tough. su bong had always told you that crying was for pussies, and that you were strong—tough, just like him.

“hey, bumblebee…” that nickname physically hurts you. su bong had come up with that name because you always lingered behind during walks to gawk at the flowers in gardens around seoul. at first it annoyed him to no end, but he soon picked up on your fascination for the beauty of nature, and the nickname bumblebee blossomed.

“go away, su bong.” you sniffle, obviously not enthused by his presence. the ex-rapper slowly slides down the wall just as you did moments before, taking a seat on the floor beside you. “no can do, baby sis. remember what i told you? crying is for the weak, i didn’t think you would turn into a pussy while i was away.”

he has not changed one bit. still rude as hell, yet in a comforting way. “you don’t have the right to talk to me.” you hiss coldly, but make no attempt to leave yourself.

“don’t be this way, y/n—“ “you can’t tell me how to be when you left me.” you cut the older male off, making your resentment and pent up anger known. su bong had lost his older brother card the second he decided to leave you without a second thought.

“y/n, i didn’t just leave you—“ “yes you did!” you cut him off once more, which slightly angers su bong, but he decides not to speak on it, since you have every right to speak to him as you are. “do not cut me off. i tried to come back for you, but you were gone by the time i had gotten enough money to provide for the both of us.”

“you came too late. you did not leave a note, didn’t shoot me a text, hell, you deleted your number completely! i had no way to contact you, no way to ask what happened, if you were safe, if you fucking overdosed on those pills you pop. you had me worried sick!”

“i know, and i’m sorry!” su bong tries to stay calm, but his muscles begin to tremble, and he fights the urge to down a few of his pills just because he knows that it will do nothing but set off the rage in your heart. you had always begged him to stop taking drugs, to get help. thinking back to the arguments you had about his addiction, su bong wishes that he would have listened to you.

“you’re not fucking sorry. you didn’t think of me once, what i would go through without you. all you gave a shit about was the fame and attention you’d get from people who would never truly give a damn about you.” yes, you may be being a bit harsh with your older brother, but at the moment, all signs of respect have vanished completely.

groaning quietly before running his finger through his purple hair, su bong struggles to maintain his composure. “i thought of you every second of every day, so don’t you dare act like i don’t care for you when you know damn well that i do.”

“do i really?” you are unable to prevent the light cracking of your soft voice, eyes glassed and lip quivering with every second that goes by. su bong regrets his decision deeply, oh how he wishes that he were able to watch you blossom into the young woman that you are today. maybe if he were there, neither of you would be in this position.

“i’d hope so, yes. i understand why you must hate me, i don’t blame you—“ “come on, older brother, i could never hate you.” yes, you feel unwavering anger towards su bong for what he had done to you, but you could never feel true hatred towards him. after all, he is—well, was, your one and only friend. your best friend.

silence envelopes the both of you, a small smile prickling at su bong’s face after a few moments. “i love you, bumblebee. don’t forget that.” he whispers somberly, knowing that even after he disappeared off the face of the earth, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive him. and until then, he will try his hardest to keep you safe. whether that is from right beside you, or afar.

“su bong, i am so happy to see you again.”

𝐚/𝐧 — 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 !

[iamquiantrelle]

VIRGIN TERRITORY (chapter 5) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairing: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️✨💕)

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @deonn-jaelle @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @f1-football-fiend @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbrii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes

# summary: she's been his pa for almost a year and every day is a struggle to function around him, but he'll never see her more than that...will he? and what will happen if he finds out she's also a virgin? masterlist.

The Atlanta airport is different after months of European terminals. Everything's louder, more familiar, more home. Leila's dragging her designer luggage (a gift from Josette on her birthday) past Popeyes and Chick-fil-A, the smell making her realize how much she's missed proper Southern food.

Her mama nearly drops her church hat when she walks through the door unannounced, clutching her chest like Leila's appearance might send her straight to Jesus.

"Lord have mercy! What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Did that boy—" Jeanna Mae's already reaching for her phone, probably to alert the whole prayer circle about her prodigal daughter's return.

"Mama, breathe." Leila drops her bags by the door, taking in the familiar scent of sweet potato pie and those vanilla plugins. The house looks exactly the same – family photos covering every surface, that ancient TV guide that hasn't been opened since streaming existed, her daddy's old recliner still in its spot of honor.

"Don't tell me to breathe when you show up looking like somebody broke your heart." Her mama's fingers are flying across her phone screen. "And I bet it's about that captain of yours. The one who won't admit his feelings."

"Mama—"

"Don't 'mama' me. You flew across an ocean to run from that boy. I raised you better than that."

Before Leila can defend her life choices, her phone explodes with notifications:

Yolanda: BITCH YOU'RE HOME??? Kenzi: Emergency drinks at Slim & Husky's in 30. This is not a request Tasha: Don't even think about saying no. We saw your IG stories Yolanda: Already ordered the wine. GET HERE

Her mama's already pushing her toward the stairs, that knowing look in her eyes. "Go change. Your girls are waiting. But don't think this conversation is over. I want to know everything about this William boy too."

"How do you even—"

"Baby girl, I might be old but I know how to use Instagram. Now go. But we're having a proper talk when you get back."

An hour later, she's squeezed into a booth at Slim & Husky's, surrounded by her best friends since middle school and enough pizza and wine to fuel a proper intervention. The restaurant's busy for a weeknight, filled with that specific Atlanta energy she didn't realize she'd missed.

"So let me get this straight," Yolanda leans forward, wine glass dangling dangerously while her bamboo earrings catch the light. "You got TWO fine African men fighting over you? In EUROPE?"

"They're not fighting—"

"Girl, please." Kenzi rolls her eyes so hard they might get stuck. "One's bringing you Lebanese food while the other's having whole breakdowns in tunnels? That's fighting. That's fighting in multiple languages."

"And you're here because…?" Tasha raises an eyebrow, already reaching for another slice. "Because from where I'm sitting, you running from good dick. Multiple good dicks."

"I needed space," Leila adjusts her glasses, a nervous habit that makes her friends exchange looks. "From both of them. From all of it."

"Space?" All three look at her like she's lost her European mind.

"From the situation," she clarifies. "It's complicated."

"What's complicated about your captain being clearly in love with you but too scared to say it?" Yolanda's got that look that means she's about to start speaking truths nobody asked for.

"Or about you dating his teammate to make him jealous?" Kenzi adds, signaling for more wine. "Because baby, that's what you're doing."

"I am NOT—"

"You are." Tasha cuts her off, voice gentle but firm. "And baby? That never ends well. Trust someone who knows."

"Plus," Kenzi adds, "that William seems sweet. He doesn't deserve to be your rebound."

"He's not—"

"He is." All three say it in unison, years of friendship making them a well-oiled truth-telling machine.

"Look," Yolanda sets down her wine glass like she's about to deliver a sermon. "You got these two fine men – both rich, both fine as hell, both clearly interested. One's bringing you food and treating you right, while the other's having whole emotional breakdowns over you but won't say why. And instead of dealing with it, you flew home to eat pizza with us."

"The pizza is good though," Leila mutters.

"Not better than French dick," Tasha coughs into her wine.

The truth of it all hits different over pizza and pinot noir in her hometown, surrounded by friends who've known her since she was wearing Limited Too and dreaming about her first kiss. Maybe she did run. Maybe she's still running.

But maybe she needed to come home to figure out where she's actually trying to go.

"So what are you gonna do?" Kenzi asks softly.

Leila looks down at her phone – no messages from Aurélien, but three from William checking if she landed safely.

"I don't know."

But that's a lie.

She does know.

She's just not ready to admit it yet.

"Well if it isn't the finest women in Atlanta."

The voice makes Leila's entire body cringe before she even looks up. Torrance Johnson – high school quarterback turned local gym trainer – is standing at their table with that same smile that definitely worked better ten years ago.

"Torrance," Yolanda's voice could freeze hell. "Don't you have some protein shakes to blend?"

But he's already focused on Leila, eyes doing that slow scan that makes her wish she'd worn a turtleneck. "Damn girl, Europe's been good to you. When'd you get back?"

"She's not staying," Tasha cuts in. "And she's taken."

"By two men," Kenzi adds helpfully, earning herself a kick under the table.

"Two?" Torrance's eyebrows shoot up. "Nah, can't be. Our Leila? Miss Voted Most Likely to Marry Her Books?"

Something about the way he says it – that hint of dismissal, that suggestion that she couldn't possibly have multiple men interested – reminds her exactly why she left Atlanta in the first place.

Her eyes catch on his deliberately distressed jeans, probably bought that way from some boutique in Buckhead, and suddenly all she can think about is Aurélien. How he dresses like every Atlanta rapper's Pinterest board come to life, all designer streetwear and chains that probably cost more than Torrance's trainer fees.

"You should go," she says finally, not even looking up from her wine. "Your protein shakes are calling."

"Come on now—"

"She said go." Yolanda's voice carries enough attitude to make several nearby tables look over.

He leaves, but not before dropping his card on the table with a wink that probably works better on girls who haven't seen him throw up at prom.

"The audacity," Tasha mutters, reaching for more wine. "Acting like you ain't out here with whole European footballers fighting over you."

"They're not—"

"Girl, if you say they're not fighting one more time," Kenzi cuts in. "We've seen the videos. Your captain looked ready to commit murder in that tunnel."

"And William?" Yolanda adds. "That's not just trying to get some, that's husband behavior."

Leila's phone buzzes – another text from William asking how her first night home is going. Nothing from Aurélien, but Cama has sent her a video of him absolutely destroying the training ground equipment.

"You know what's funny?" she says finally, still staring at her phone. "Aurélien dresses exactly like these Atlanta boys trying to look hard. All ripped jeans and chains and-"

"Baby," Tasha interrupts gently, "the fact that you're thinking about how he dresses tells us everything we need to know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yolanda starts, "that you flew across an ocean to get away from your feelings but you're still noticing his clothes."

"His very expensive clothes," Kenzi adds. "Not whatever Fashion Nova collection Torrance was trying to rock."

"Can we not—"

"Compare them?" Tasha grins. "Too late. We've all seen your Instagram stories. We know exactly what kind of men you're working with now."

"And neither of them," Yolanda adds, "is anything like these local boys trying to act like they're something. Your captain might dress Atlanta, but baby? That man's got that real money energy. And William?"

"Pure class," Kenzi nods. "The way he looks at you in those photos? Like you hung the moon or something."

"Meanwhile Aurélien looks at you like he's trying to figure out how to possess your soul," Tasha observes. "In a hot way."

"Y'all are doing too much," Leila mutters, but her cheeks are warm.

"Are we though?" Yolanda challenges. "Because from where I'm sitting, you've got two whole meals fighting over you in Europe while Torrance 'Peak in High School' Johnson is trying to get your attention with some jeans he probably bought at ASOS."

"The difference," Kenzi adds, "is that Aurélien's probably wearing jeans that cost more than Torrance's car."

"And William's probably never worn distressed anything in his life," Tasha laughs.

"Can we talk about something else?" Leila pleads. "Anything else?"

"Sure," Yolanda grins. "Let's talk about how you're going to handle going back to work. That's coming whether you're ready or not."

The reminder sits heavy in her stomach. One week left of pretending she's not running from her feelings. One week of Georgia comfort before facing reality.

Her phone buzzes again – a text from her mama this time:

That boy called me again. The captain. Asked how you were.

She turns her phone face down.

The chatter at the table felt like a lifeline, a reminder that even with the chaos of her love life — or whatever this was — her friends never changed.

"Alright, y’all," Leila starts, her tone light but her fingers nervously taps her glass. "If we’re gonna dissect my life like this, at least give me something useful. Any advice for handling… all of this?"

"You mean William?" Yolanda grin like she’s been waiting for this moment. "Or both of them?"

"Both," Leila admits, earning a chorus of gasps and exaggerated cheers from around the table.

"You kissed him, though?" Kenzi presses. "William? Wilo? What was it like?"

Leila took a sip of wine, letting the anticipation build. "It was… nice," she says, feigning nonchalance.

"Nice? Girl, come on!" Kenzi groans.

"Fine," Leila relents, a sly smile creeping onto her lips. "It made my kitty purr."

The table erupts, laughter bubbling up loud enough to turn a few heads in their direction.

"Big purr!" Yolanda cackles, fanning herself dramatically.

"And yet, you’re still hung up on Aurélien," Tasha says knowingly, swirling her wine like she had the upper hand in this conversation. "You can’t hide that."

"Because he’s got her heart," Yolanda teases. "William might’ve gotten a kiss, but Aurélien’s the one she wants to risk it all for."

"Okay, okay, but," Kenzi cuts in, her tone shifting into unsolicited-advice territory. "If you’re really gonna give Wilo a shot, you need to bring your A-game. Like, head game on ten."

Leila groans, her head falling into her hands. "Why do I feel like I’m about to regret asking this?"

"Because you probably are," Yolanda teases, ignoring her protest. "But listen up. The trick with a guy like William? You gotta be confident. Show him you know what you’re doing. And eye contact. Always."

"Exactly," Kenzi agrees, raising her glass. "And if he gets all quiet or grabs your hair—"

"I’m leaving," Leila interrupts, though she stayed firmly in her seat, face buried in her hands.

"You’re not going anywhere," Tasha says with a smirk. "This is gold, and you know it."

"I can’t believe I’m having this conversation," Leila mutters, peeking up from her hands.

"Believe it, baby," Yolanda says, taking a sip of her drink. "And take notes, because we all know William’s got that 'nice boy' energy, but Aurélien?"

"He’s giving 'break-the-headboard' energy," Tasha finishes matter-of-factly, earning another round of laughter.

Leila tries to glare at Tasha, but the heat rushing to her cheeks betrays her. "Y’all really have no chill, do you?"

"Not when we’re right," Yolanda says, sliding her phone across the table. "Speaking of Aurélien, have you seen this picture of him on the pitch? Look at his tongue."

Leila glances down reluctantly, only to be met with an image of Aurélien mid-game: shirt clinging to his torso, a sheen of sweat glistening under the stadium lights, his tongue peeking out in what was either concentration or defiance. His face was as expressive as ever, eyes lit with determination.

"You’re telling me this man isn’t whispering filthy things in French while making you see God?" Yolanda asks, her tone almost academic.

"I’m saying nothing," Leila says, snatching the phone and flipping it over. "Y’all are too much."

"But we’re not wrong," Kenzi shot back. "Aurélien looks like he’d talk you into doing things you didn’t even know you wanted to do. Just with that voice."

"And that tongue," Yolanda adds, grinning devilishly. "Girl, do you know how expressive his face is? Like, come on. He’s not just scoring goals on the pitch."

"Alright, that’s enough!" Leila protests, trying to keep her composure despite the riotous laughter around her.

"Enough?" Tasha raises a brow. "Girl, we’ve barely started. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. About him and that—"

"I haven’t!" Leila lies, her voice is a little too high-pitched to be convincing.

"Uh-huh." Yolanda wasn’t buying it. "Listen, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you. That’s not just casual interest. That’s 'call out my name when you’re about to come' energy."

Kenzi nearly spat her drink. "I mean, facts, but damn, Yolanda, say it with your chest."

"She already did," Tasha quipps. "And she’s not wrong. Leila, you’ve got two literal snacks fighting over you. One’s sweet, one’s spicy. You’ve gotta at least taste one."

Leila groans, her face in her hands again. "Y’all are insufferable."

"But you love us," Kenzi says, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "And we love you. We just want you to live your best life. With both of them, if that’s what it takes."

"Big facts," Yolanda says, raising her glass. "To Leila living her best life, with Aurélien, William, and whoever else makes her kitty purr."

Leila couldn’t help but laugh, raising her own glass in surrender. "Y’all are ridiculous."

"Ridiculously right," Tasha says with a wink. "Now, tell us more about that kiss. Did he grab your waist? Your face? Both?"

And just like that, the teasing continued, leaving Leila both mortified and comforted. If nothing else, her girls always had her back, even if it meant roasting her into oblivion in the process.

*********************************************

Leila was halfway through her third slice of pizza at Slim & Husky’s when her phone buzzed on the table. The low hum of conversation and the warm scent of garlic and cheese filled the space, but the message on her screen stole her focus.

Wilo: Can you come to London next weekend? I miss you.

She stared at the words, her stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the food. Her friends were busy splitting a cinnamon roll flight, oblivious to the sudden weight in her chest.

"You good?" Kenzi asks, nudging her shoulder.

Leila blinks, quickly locking her phone. "Yeah. Just Wilo being… Wilo."

"Oh, what’s he saying now?" Yolanda leans in, her curiosity obvious.

"Nothing important," Leila mutters, waving them off.

Her friends gave her knowing looks but didn’t press further. Leila took another bite of pizza, forcing herself to focus on the moment, the laughter, the easy camaraderie. But her phone felt heavier in her pocket now, like it was daring her to check it again.

Later that night, back at home, the scent of fried chicken and collard greens still lingered in the air from dinner. Leila leans against the counter, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long gone lukewarm. The hum of the dishwasher filled the kitchen as her mama wiped down the table, and her daddy sat at the head, finishing the last of his sweet tea with a satisfied sigh.

"That hit the spot, baby," he says, patting his belly. His trucker hat was tipped back on his head, a little smudge of grease still on his hands from unloading earlier.

Her mama smiles, but the look she gave him was clear: We need some girl time.

He caught the silent signal and grins, pushing back his chair. "Alright, I know when I’m not needed. Leila, you make sure your mama doesn’t go pulling out another project this late. I’m gonna grab a shower."

"Yes, sir," Leila says with a small smile, watching him leave the room.

Her mama waited until the sound of the shower started before she finally spoke.

"You got something on your mind, girl?" her mama asks, setting down the dishcloth.

Leila hesitates. "No. Just tired."

Her mama raised a brow but didn’t push. Instead, she grabbed a glass of water and leaned on the counter across from Leila.

"You get my text about Aurélien calling me today?" she asks, her tone deceptively casual.

"Yeah."

"Wanted to check on you. Asked how you’ve been," her mama says, sipping her water.

Leila frowns. "What did you tell him?"

"Told him you’re grown, handling your business," her mama replies easily. "But he sounded worried. Said he missed you.”

Leila’s chest tightens, but she kept her expression cool. "He didn’t say that to me."

"Maybe he’s scared to," her mama says, fixing her with that all-knowing look. "Men don’t always say what they mean, but they show it in other ways."

Leila snorts, shaking her head. "He’s all talk, Mama. If he cared, he’d show up. William’s the one actually trying."

Her mama’s lips quirks up in a small smile. "Maybe. Or maybe you’re just scared of what it would mean if Aurélien came through. Scared to let him in."

Leila looks away, her throat tight. "I’m not scared."

"Sure you’re not," her mama says lightly, pushing off the counter. She paused to kiss the top of Leila’s head. "Just don’t be so busy keeping your options open that you miss out on what you really want."

As her mama walked out of the kitchen, Leila’s phone buzz again.

Wilo: Please, Leila. I just want to see you.

Her thumb hovers over the screen, but her mind isn’t on Wilo. It was on Aurélien and the way his name had sounded coming from her mama’s lips. The way her heart had skipped just a little at the thought of him calling to check on her.

***************************************

Leila only has a few more days at home, and it’s messing with her head. She thought coming back to Atlanta would give her clarity, but instead, it feels like everything is weighing on her even more. The whole thing with Aurélien and Wilo — it’s making everything harder.

Should she quit being Aurélien’s PA to be with Wilo? Or just quit being a PA altogether and finally figure herself out? But if she does quit, she’s not going back to corporate. Hell no. That life nearly drained her dry the first time around, and she’s not making that mistake again.

Still, the idea of starting fresh sounds good — better than being stuck in the middle of whatever this is. But then Wilo texts her again, and curiosity gets the better of her. What could this thing with him really be? Would it work if she gave it a real shot?

It’s late, but she picks up her phone and finally replies.

Leila: I’ll come see you this week.

His response comes almost immediately.

Wilo: This week? You sure?

Leila: Yeah. I’ll let you know when I land.

She doesn’t give herself time to overthink it. By morning, her ticket to London is booked, and by the afternoon, she’s already on her way to the airport. Her mama gives her one of those tight hugs that says, I know you’re up to something, but I’ll let you figure it out. Her daddy tells her to be safe, his attention mostly on the game playing on the living room TV.

The flight is smooth, and she spends most of it bouncing between nervous excitement and second-guessing herself. By the time she lands, her resolve is still intact, but she’s made one decision for sure— she’s not staying at Wilo’s house. That’s too much temptation, and she needs to be as clear-headed as possible.

Her hotel is chic but understated, the kind of place that feels luxurious without screaming it. She texts Wilo her room number once she’s checked in, her pulse kicking up as she sends it.

Not even twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at her door.

When she opens it, Wilo is standing there, dressed down in a hoodie and jeans, but somehow still looking like he just stepped out of a GQ spread. He’s holding a bouquet of white roses and grinning like he’s relieved she actually showed up.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice low and warm.

"Hey," she replies, stepping aside to let him in.

The air between them feels heavy but not uncomfortable. He hands her the flowers, his fingers brushing hers in a way that sends a jolt straight through her.

"I wasn’t sure if you were serious," he admits, watching her as she sets the flowers on the desk near the window.

"I was," she says, turning to face him. "I just… needed to make sure I was doing this for the right reasons."

"And?"

"And I’m here," she says simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Wilo steps closer, his gaze steady and unflinching. "I’m glad you are."

Leila feels her heart skip, but she keeps her cool, determined to stay clear-headed and focused. She’s not here to get swept away — at least, that’s what she tells herself.

"So," she says, breaking the moment before it gets too intense. "What’s the plan?"

He grins, his dimples making an appearance. "I thought we’d just wing it. Unless you’ve got something in mind?"

"Wing it works," she says, grabbing her jacket.

As they head out, she can’t help but wonder if she’s walking into something that will make everything even more complicated — or if, for once, it might actually lead to something real.

Leila and Wilo keep it low-key, staying under the radar as much as possible. No fancy dinners or crowded hotspots — just little moments that feel easy. They grab coffee at a quiet café tucked into a side street, the kind of place with mismatched chairs and a barista who doesn’t even blink at Wilo’s recognizable face.

Later, they wander through a park, laughing about something stupid Wilo said. It’s simple, and it feels good — so good that Leila starts to think this could actually work.

At one point, they find themselves in a small record store. Wilo flips through vinyls, holding one up every now and then with a smug grin. "You’d love this," he says, handing her a Prince album.

Leila rolls her eyes but takes it anyway, her fingers brushing against his for a second too long. It’s moments like this that make her question everything she thought she wanted or didn’t want.

As they sit down for a late lunch at a quiet bistro, she sneaks a photo of Wilo, mid-laugh, the light catching just right on his face. She uploads it to her Close Friends story, tagging it with a coy little caption: London’s treating me well.

Her Close Friends list is carefully curated. Aurélien isn’t on it — he never has been �� but Jules and Cama are. And if she knows anything about them, they’re definitely going to report back.

And she doesn’t care.

Part of her wants them to. She wants Aurélien to see the photo, to know she’s here, to feel something. Everyone keeps saying he has feelings for her, but he’s never done anything to prove it. No grand gesture, no confession, not even a drunken text. If he has feelings, he hides them well, and Leila’s tired of guessing.

As the day goes on, though, her phone stays silent. No text, no DM, nothing. She tries to push it out of her mind, focusing on Wilo instead. He’s attentive, sweet, and clearly into her, and she knows she should be grateful for that.

But as much as she tries to stay present, Aurélien lingers in the back of her mind.

When she gets back to her hotel that evening, Wilo walks her to her door, his hand lingering at her lower back. He leans in to kiss her, but she stops him with a soft smile.

"Not tonight," she says, her voice gentle but firm.

Wilo steps back, nodding. "I get it," he says, his tone understanding. "Goodnight, Leila."

"Goodnight," she replies, watching him walk away before stepping into her room.

As she sits on the edge of the bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, she starts to wonder if it’s time to cut her losses entirely. Maybe Aurélien’s silence is her answer. Maybe it’s time to stop waiting for something that’s never going to happen.

She exhales sharply, tossing her phone onto the nightstand. Whatever happens next, she knows one thing for sure: she’s done chasing after a man who won’t meet her halfway.

Leila wakes up to the soft hum of her phone vibrating against the nightstand. She groggily grabs it, squinting at the screen. A text from Wilo.

Wilo: Training’s at nine. Match starts at six. Rest up so you don’t fall asleep in the stands.

She rolls her eyes but smiles, setting the phone down. Today is her last full day in London, and as much as she’s enjoyed the ease of her time with Wilo, the reality of going back to Madrid looms like a cloud over her.

By the time she’s up and moving, Wilo’s already at the training ground, leaving her with a slow morning to herself. She takes her time getting ready, picking out a sleek but casual outfit for the game: a fitted cream sweater tucked into high-waisted jeans and ankle boots. Makeup just this side of "I woke up like this" but definitely intentional and finally using her contact lenses (bout goddamn time).

As the day creeps toward evening, she grabs an Uber to the stadium. She’s buzzed into the VIP entrance, her name already on the list, and escorted to her seat in the family section. The energy inside the stadium is electric, fans chanting and waving scarves as the teams warm up. She watches Wilo out on the pitch, his warmup jacket zipped up to his chin as he jogs and stretches. He looks calm, focused, and seeing him like this — so in his element — makes her chest tighten in a way she wasn’t expecting.

The match kicks off, and it’s tense from the start. Liverpool presses hard, their attacks relentless, but Arsenal holds their own. Wilo is sharp on the ball, threading passes with precision and orchestrating plays like he was born to do it. Leila watches, captivated, her hands gripping the edge of her seat every time he makes a dangerous run or intercepts a pass.

At halftime, the score is still 0-0, and the tension in the stadium is palpable. Leila scrolls through her phone, trying to distract herself, but her notifications are quiet. She had half-expected a message from Jules or Cama, but apparently, they’ve decided to keep their mouths shut or maybe Aurélien just doesn’t care.

The second half is even more intense. Liverpool finally scores, and the stadium goes silent except for the away fans celebrating. But Arsenal fights back, and in the 50th minute, Wilo delivers a stunning assist that leads to an equalizer. The crowd erupts, and Leila finds herself on her feet, cheering and clapping like she’s been an Arsenal fan her whole life.

When the final whistle blows, the game ends in a 2-2 draw. It’s not a win, but it’s a hard-fought point, and the energy in the stadium reflects that.

After the match, she’s escorted to the family area. She spots Bukayo Saka almost immediately, his bright smile unmistakable as he chats with a group of people. He notices her standing off to the side and makes his way over.

"Hey, you’re Wilo’s friend, right?" Bukayo asks, extending a hand.

Leila shakes it, her lips curving into a polite smile. "Yeah, Leila. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. He’s been talking about you all week."

Her cheeks warm at that, but she keeps her composure. "Hopefully, only good things."

Bukayo laughs. "Yeah, don’t worry. All good things."

They chat for a bit, Bukayo’s easygoing nature making the conversation flow effortlessly. He’s mid-sentence when someone else calls out to him, and he waves before excusing himself. Leila glances around the room, her eyes landing on a familiar figure — Ibou Konaté.

Ibou catches her gaze and raises an eyebrow. "So. You and Wilo, it's serious, huh?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't start."

He chuckles, those famous dimples appearing. "Brussels was interesting. Aurélien wasn't exactly subtle about his mood."

Leila freezes. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on," Ibou says, leaning in. "You think Les Bleus don't talk? After those Israel and Belgium matches? Aure looked like he was one bad pass away from committing murder every time Wilo was mentioned." His tone is knowing, just this side of teasing. "He's not gonna like this. Not one bit."

"Ibou—" she starts, a warning in her voice.

He holds up his hands. "Just saying. Some captains get… particular about things." The way he says it makes it clear he's talking about Aurélien specifically. "Wilo's a good guy. But Aure? Man's complicated."

Leila can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Tell me about it."

She chats with Ibou for a few more minutes then he gave her a hug before he left. Her phone then buzzes. A text from Wilo.

Wilo: Where you at?

She types a quick response: Family area. Waiting on you.

A few minutes later, he appears, freshly showered and dressed in casual streetwear. His eyes find hers instantly, and he makes his way over, his lips curving into a soft smile.

"Tired?" he asks, sitting down beside her.

"Not really," she lies. In truth, the emotional weight of the day — of the entire trip — is starting to catch up with her.

"Good," he says. "I want to take you out for one last drink before you leave."

She hesitates, but only for a second. "Okay," she says, her voice steady.

They leave the stadium together, slipping out a side exit to avoid the lingering fans and media. The bar he takes her to is quiet and intimate, tucked away in a corner of the city she doesn’t recognize. They sit in a cozy booth, nursing their drinks and talking about everything and nothing.

For a moment, it feels easy — like they’re just two people enjoying each other’s company without the weight of the world pressing down on them.

But as the night winds down, the reality of her impending departure settles heavily between them.

"Thanks for today," she says as they stand outside the bar, the cool night air nipping at her skin.

"Anytime," he says, his eyes searching hers.

She knows she should say more — explain how much she’s appreciated his kindness, his patience, his effort — but the words catch in her throat.

Wilo steps closer, his hands finding her waist in a way that feels both casual and deliberate. "Can I take you back?" he asks, his voice low and warm.

She nods, and just like that, they’re walking back to her hotel. The streets are quieter now, the city winding down around them. Leila keeps her hands in her pockets, but Wilo’s presence beside her feels grounding, a steady reminder that for tonight, she doesn’t have to figure everything out.

At the hotel entrance, she pauses, not quite ready to say goodbye. "You don’t have to walk me all the way up," she says softly.

"Didn’t plan to," he teases, though his smile is gentle.

Still, he lingers. He tilts her chin up with a finger, his touch light, testing. When she doesn’t pull away, he leans down and kisses her. It’s soft at first, a question she answers without hesitation, leaning into him like she’s been waiting for this all night.

His hands slide to her hips, pulling her closer, and for a moment, she forgets everything — Aurélien, the uncertainty, the nagging voice in her head telling her this is a bad idea. All she knows is the warmth of Wilo’s lips against hers, the way he tastes like the pint he ordered earlier, the way he makes her feel wanted.

When they break apart, she’s breathless, her heart pounding. "I should…" she starts, but the rest of the sentence never comes.

"You should," he agrees, though there’s a glint in his eye that says he knows she won’t.

Panic creep into her thoughts, uninvited but impossible to ignore. Wilo is right here, and he’s been nothing but good to her. Why is she still holding back?

"Do you want to come up?" The question slips out before she can stop it, her voice quieter than she intended.

Wilo studies her for a beat, searching her face for something —hesitation, regret, a reason to say no. Whatever he finds seems to satisfy him, because he nods. "Yeah," he says simply.

The elevator ride to her floor is silent, the air between them charged. By the time they reach her room, her nerves are buzzing, though she doesn’t quite know if it’s anticipation or anxiety.

Inside, she tosses her bag onto the chair and turns to face him. He’s already close, closing the distance between them in two strides. This time, his kiss isn’t soft or questioning - it’s confident, urgent, like he’s been waiting for her permission all night.

Her hands find their way to his shoulders, then his chest, sliding under the fabric of his shirt. His skin is warm, his muscles taut under her touch. He groans softly against her lips, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.

"Leila," he murmurs, his voice rough. It’s not a question, but it feels like one, like he’s giving her a chance to stop this before it goes too far.

But she doesn’t want to stop. Not tonight. Not when everything feels this good, this right.

"Don’t think," she whispers, her words muffled against his lips, feeling a pull to give in even though her mind is screaming at her to stop.

It feels too good — his mouth on hers, his hands now sliding under the hem of her sweater, fingertips brushing her skin in a way that sends a bolt of heat straight through to her kitty. For a second, she can forget everything. Forget the uncertainty, the guilt. Forget Aurélien and the pressure of what she’s supposed to want, what she’s supposed to feel.

Her heart beats faster, and the only thing that matters is the way Wilo’s kiss deepens, pulling her closer as if they’re both drowning in each other, but even as she gets lost in the sensation, the thought of what this means for later creeps up, a whisper in her mind.

Stop before you do something you’ll regret, her inner voice warns, and it’s almost a shout against the moment. She should pull away, tell him this is a mistake, that she’s not ready to complicate things more than they already are.

Yet then, the conversation with her girls back in Atlanta echoes in her mind. Because why should she keep hanging on to something that wasn’t even clear? Wilo is here, and he’s been nothing but good to her. He’s showing her attention — something she craves, something that’s been missing for too long.

She breathes in, pulling away just enough to look at him, her hands resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palms. Her voice is barely a whisper, but it carries a weight. "I’m not... I’m not gonna go all the way," she says, almost like a promise, though part of her wishes she could just let go.

Wilo doesn’t pull away, his eyes searching hers, gauging her intentions. "Just a taste, then?" he murmurs, the question laced with a little teasing but also an understanding. He isn’t pushing her. He’s letting her make the call.

A part of her wants to shake her head, to step back and stop this before it goes too far. She knows better, knows she shouldn’t be using him to fill a gap that Aurélien has left wide open. However, Wilo’s not asking for anything more than what she’s willing to give him right now — and, hell, maybe she needs it. Plus, he got her panties wetter than a Slip N' Slide.

She smiles a little, though it’s hesitant, her mind still conflicted. "Yeah," she says softly, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "Just a taste."

And in that moment, it feels like a decision.

His lips are back on hers instantly, and the kiss deepens with an urgency that’s different now, like they both know the boundaries but are still curious enough to see how far they can go. His hands are sliding back to her waist, tugging her closer until she can feel the heat of him through their clothes.

Wilo’s hands are warm, exploring, but careful. He’s taking his time, sensing her hesitation, allowing her the space to pull back if she needs it. But she doesn’t. Instead, she lets herself go, leaning into the moment as his lips travel to her neck, his breath warm against her skin. Every kiss feels like a promise she isn’t sure she’s ready to make, but she’s here, and she’s going to live in the now. She’s not sure how much longer she can keep pretending she doesn’t want this, doesn’t want him.

Leila can feel her pulse quicken as Wilo’s hands slide down her arms, gently tugging at the fabric of her sweater. The air between them crackles with the same electricity that had been building ever since her first day in London.

With a soft tug, he pulls the sweater over her head, leaving her in just a bra. She can feel the cool air of the hotel room against her skin and Wilo’s eyes don’t leave hers as he strips off his own shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. She feels her breath hitch, the sight of him sending a wave of heat through her.

He notices her reaction, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and teasing.

Ho-ly shit. Leila nods, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yeah," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just… wasn’t expecting all of that."

He chuckles softly and gets closer, his hands resting gently on her hips before his lips find hers. Leila kisses him back, feeling the pull of desire stir within her.

They stumble backward onto the bed, their lips still tangled in a kiss, the heat between them intensifying. She can’t help but enjoy the feel of his hands on her body, the way his fingers move with intention, his touch confident yet tender. When his hands wander, brushing along her sides and up her back before copping a feel on her titties, his dick pressing against her thigh; she arches into him instinctively. His touch makes her feel seen, cherished, in a way she hasn't felt in a long time.

Leila wonders what would happen if she let go entirely. What if she just let herself be free of all the things that tie her down?

Even in the heat of it all, a small part of her pulls back. She remembers the life she’s built — the career she’s worked for — and wonders if she’s willing to risk it all for something that might be temporary.

Her phone starts vibrating. Once. Twice.

One of Wilo's hands is tracing lazy circles along her lower back. "Ignore it," he murmurs, his lips still brushing the shell of her ear.

She does — until the phone goes nuclear. Ping. Ping. Ping-ping-ping. A digital storm that practically rattles the walls.

Wilo raises an eyebrow, pulling back just enough to glance at her phone. "Damn," he mutters under his breath.

Her screen is chaos. Four missed calls. Multiple texts. And, of course, a voice note from Aurélien.

The timing? Almost comical. Almost.

Leila swipes open the messages. They’re an avalanche — each one more urgent than the last. Her thumb hovers over the voice note, hesitant but not enough to stop her. A ticking time bomb of potential drama.

She looks at Wilo, a flicker of guilt passing through her, before her eyes drift back to the phone. Wilo doesn’t move, just watches her, unreadable.

"Give me a sec," she mutters, pulling away from him and sliding off the bed. The space between them feels too wide now, too obvious, but she ignores it, heading for the bathroom.

Door closed. Her back pressed against it, she lifts the phone to her ear.

Aurélien's voice hits her like a slap. Broken. Fragmented. Each word jagged, like he's stumbling through a maze of his own making.

"Leila, I—" His breath hitches. "I can't—" The silence is thick, filled with the things he's too scared to say. "Je suis—"

Her heart, traitorous as ever, speeds up. She presses the phone tighter to her ear, her own breath shaky in response to his.

Another ping. A text. She opens it without thinking.

First, a video. Aurélien's hands. His long fingers dancing over the piano keys in that way she knows too well. The melody — raw, unfinished. Like he’s trying to patch a hole in the air between them.

Then, a screenshot. A letter. A confession. Handwritten, messy, vulnerable. It’s almost too much to take.

Her breath catches.

The world outside the bathroom door feels distant. Almost unreal. Her mind pulls her back, urging her to breathe, to think. But the words on the screen? They’re the kind that push all logic aside.

Her finger hovers over the phone, but she can’t bring herself to delete the message. She opens it again.

The letter fills the screen, and it makes her chest tighten as she reads.

"I don’t know how to say it — words always fail me when it matters most. I’ve tried so many times, but each time, the words slip away like sand between my fingers. So this time, I’m writing it down. Maybe that’s all I can do. Maybe it’s enough to be honest.

You’ve become the quiet in my chaos. The calm in my storm. You’re the one I think about when I’m too tired to think about anything else. The one I reach for when I feel like I’m losing myself. But I never said it. And I should have. I should have said it, Leila. I should have been better at telling you that you matter, that you're my rock, more than just okay.

Maybe it’s too late now. But please know, it’s never been anyone else but you.

I’m sorry for not being brave enough before. But I’m here now. I’m ready to fight for this, if you are.

Aurelien."

She gasps as she finishes reading. His words, they hit different than before. She’s used to his confidence, his charm, his ability to make everything feel effortless. But this? This is him. Vulnerable. Honest. The rawness of it leaves her heart aching in places she didn't even know were sore.

It’s a love letter in its truest sense — one that doesn’t gloss over the mistakes, but lays them bare. The kind that you don’t often hear. And for the first time, she feels it. He’s finally saying the things he should have said long ago.

But is it too late?

The question sits heavy on her chest, and she hates that she even has to ask. She wants to be angry. She wants to throw his words back at him and walk away. But she can’t. She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s been holding on to him, or because she’s scared of what this newfound honesty means. All she knows is that his words have shattered the wall she’s been building around her heart.

Aurelien’s been her whole world for so long. Maybe she’s been waiting for him to catch up, to finally see her the way she’s always seen him. But she’s not sure she has the strength to wait any longer.

She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to clear her mind. The cool air in the bathroom doesn’t help. Neither does the soft knock on the door.

"Everything alright?" Wilo’s voice is low, gentle, and when she doesn’t answer immediately, he pushes it open just a fraction.

Her heart skips at the sight of him. He’s standing there. He doesn’t need words to understand what’s going on. He can see it in her face, in the way her hands are trembling slightly as she holds the phone.

"I’ll be fine," she says, her voice a little too sharp. It’s not his fault. None of this is his fault.

Wilo doesn’t press. He just steps into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, his gaze steady, like he’s giving her the space to breathe and figure it out for herself.

She stares at the phone again, knowing she can’t keep going back to the message. But it’s impossible to look away from it now. His words are etched in her mind, replaying over and over again. She thought she was over him. That she could move on, that the pieces would fall into place. Yet now?

She’s not sure.

Finally, she slides the phone back into her pocket, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"I don’t know what to do," she whispers, more to herself than to Wilo, but he hears her. He always does.

"You don’t have to decide right now," he says softly, but there’s a certain weight to his words. "You’re allowed to take your time, Leila."

Her chest tightens at the gentleness in his voice. He’s not pushing her. Not demanding answers. This isn’t about picking between him and Aurelien. It’s about what she wants, what she’s willing to fight for.

And the truth is, she’s tired. Tired of waiting, tired of not being seen, tired of trying to make things fit where they don’t.

But the letter… the letter is the first time he’s shown up for her, even if it’s a little too late. She doesn’t know if it’s enough to make up for everything, but it’s a start.

Leila takes a deep breath meeting Wilo’s gaze for the first time, really looking at him. He’s patient, understanding. And in his eyes, she doesn’t see the same questions that have been haunting her.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "For being here."

Wilo doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he pulls her gently back into his arms, and for a moment, she lets herself feel the warmth of his presence, the steadiness of him.

But in the back of her mind, Aurelien’s words linger.

It’s never been anyone else but you.

Is it too late to believe him?

.............tbd

[cherryswisherz]

KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER V

✷WARNINGS: cursing, pining??, farrah mentioned, xavia lore dropping, angst ✷NIYAH SPEAKS: computer fixed ayeeee!!! imma get to yalls requests now i pinky swear. idk when they'll be out but i gotchu

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

“So, Ms. Johnson,” Paige smiles at me from her spot on the ground, “What does one do for Christmas in LA?”

The original plan for tonight was for our whole group to hang out before we all left to our hometowns. So it was KK, Azzi, Yanna, Jane and I. 

But of course, nothing ever goes to plan around here. Yanna and Jane went back to our place so Jane could finish packing. Azzi had to ‘take a phone call’ but she’d been in her room for almost an hour. And KK was supposed to be picking up the food, but she had been gone longer than Azzi. 

So it was just Paige and I, her on the ground building LEGO’s and me on the couch scrolling. It was a comfortable silence, but a silence that was begging to be broken. I guess Paige decided to be the one that broke it. 

“Well, Christmas is different in my house than it would be for your average Californian.” I set my phone down before folding my hands and sliding them under the blanket. “It’s more of a production than a holiday.”

I make it a point to never talk about my family’s dynamic with anyone here. I try my hardest for those two worlds to never meet, but for some reason, I trust that Paige will understand my situation better than anyone. I think to some extent, her life is as complex as mine is.

Paige seems ultimately unbothered by what I said. “Is your family one of those weird ones that has a 90ft tree and uses rare cloth to wrap presents?” She asks without ever taking her eyes off the project she’s working on. 

“Uh, kinda,” I start, “My parents are both surgeons and all four of my grandparents were doctors. My grandpa make like, a life changing discovery before my dad was born, and my grandma on my moms side was a pioneer for black women in the medical field,”

“Sound like some shit off Grey’s,” Paige chuckles and I can’t help but to join her, because it really does sound like some shit from Grey’s. 

“So obviously they were very successful and raised my parents to be just like them,”

“Of course.”

“So naturally, my parents are just like their parents and my grandparents are very proud of them, as they should be.” I throw my hands up, to let Paige know that I’m also proud of my parents, “But then they had me. And it was my parent’s turn to shape and mold their prodigy.”

“Right.” Paige nod’s her head like she’s following, still focused on the LEGO’s.

“Except I hate blood, and science has always been my weakest subject.”

She freezes for a second before turning her head to me, now paying full attention.

“So instead of a prodigy, they got a humanitarian who protests the cost of health insurance.”

Paige winces at my words, like she understands that there’s career shaped canyon between my parents and I. “Ouch,”

“Yeah so, back to Christmas,” I take a deep breath and let it out before answering her original question, “Every year, my parents throw this big party every year, bigger than the Thanksgiving one, and it’s filled with rich people who talk about making themselves richer.” 

I decide to leave out the part about me playing the piano and how a piece of me dies everytime I strike a chord. 

“Everyone asks me how school’s going and if I’m still majoring in Sociology and when I tell them ‘yes,’ they remind me that ‘the money isn’t great in social work’, and I have to pretend like I don’t want to scream that if I cared about money then I would still be using my parents money instead of busting my ass to pay my rent and keep my grades up so I don’t lose my scholarship.” 

Realizing that I’ve started rambling, I take another breath, closing my eyes and counting to three before I release it. And Paige doesn’t say anything. She just allows me this moment for myself, regardless of any questions she may have, and I appreciate more than she realizies. 

“Nobody gets why I don’t use my trust fund, or why I work when my parent’s would pay for everything.” I open my eyes and allow them to find Paige’s. 

She looks empathetic and confused and it makes me want to run away and never see her again, but also tell her all my secrets, hopes and dreams at the same time. 

Funny, right?

“Why don’t you?” she asks.

I think about my answer for a second, trying to put it in the best way I can. How do you explain to someone that if you wanted to, you could have everything you wanted, but to get everything you want, you have to be everything you never want to be? How do you explain that you know from firsthand experience that money doesn’t buy happiness?

“Because then they’d have control over me.” I speak slowly, not sure if it makes sense to me, let alone Paige. “They’d hold the money over my head so that I would have no choice but to be exactly who they want me to be. And I’d rather live the life that I do, than pretend to be something I’m not.”

The irony in my statement isn’t lost one me. 

Rich girl want to change the world by refusing to take Mommy and Daddy’s money.

Cliche, I know. But I don’t want to change the world by not taking their money. I’d gladly accept the help from my parents, and I know I’d make much more of a difference if I had money they were always trying to force feed me. But the cost isn’t worth it to me. 

How can I, in good conscience, fight to make life easier for the middle/lower class if I’m rubbing elbows with the very people who are making their lives harder?

Paige’s response shocks me to my core. “I wish I was as brave as you.”

I don’t know why I said that. I meant what I said, but I stil have no fucking clue why I allowed myself to say it. 

Because now, Xavia is looking at me like she’s waiting for me to go further. Waiting for me to give her and explanation that I can’t give her. 

I think about where this conversation would go if I was honest about it. 

I’d tell her that I admired her ability to be honest. That I lie to everyone about everything and I think the guilt is gonna kill me before I make it to the league, which is the reason I’m doing it in the first place. I’d tell her that I wish I was strong enough to do what I want without caring about the repercussions. 

My first thought is that if I were to say all that, she’d for sure think I’m insane. I wouldn’t blame her. How can I play the victim in this situation when at the end of the day, it’s my choices that got me here?

But my second thought is that Xavia would take a second. Close her eyes and take a deep breath, and I’d stare at her lashes as they brush her cheek and hope that one falls so I can brush it off her cheek. And after that second, she’d open her eyes and tell me everything I need to hear. She’d come up with a solution to all my problems and when I tell her that I’m scared to be honest about everything, she wouldn’t make me feel like shit. She’d assure me that she’d be there when my world crumbles due to my lies.

None of that can happen for two reasons. 

I’m for shit sure not gonna chance Xavia and I’s friendship by telling her my secrets.

If my second thought is correct, I’d be forced to admit to myself that I never stopped liking Xavia. I’d be forced to admit that it might not be a like anymore. That it might possibly be something deeper and complex than wanting what I can’t have.

So instead, I feed her bullshit. 

“Uh, just-” I clear my throat, “If I had the choice to go to school on someone else’s dime, I’d take it, regardless.”

The way Xavi’s face drops makes my heart do the same. I literally watch the light in her eyes that I love so much, disappear.  Her brows furrow and she tucks her lips before sticking her neck out as if to telepathically say, ‘are you dumb?’

And I’m not.

I fully understand her mindset. And I support her choices to be independent. That sentence was just the best I could come up with at the moment, but clearly it’s done more harm than good. 

“Did you not hear everything I just said?”

“Uh-”

She cuts me off, “Because if you did, then you would have heard the part where I explained why I’m not doing that.”

“No, I know why you’re doing things your way, I just wouldn’t do the same.”

The baffled look on her face tells me she’s not pleased with my attempt at damage control, “And why not?”

There are countless answers to that question, and running them over in my mind makes me mad, more at myself than anyone else. All the excuses are my own fault. 

I’m too scared to fail.

I made promises I wouldn’t be able to keep on my own.

I don’t have the confidence within myself to trust me with my own life.

And of course, like the fucking moron that I am, I said none of that to the girl who’s now standing up front the couch, legs unfolded, bare feet barring into the carpet. 

“We all have to make sacrifices to make Xavia, and you choosing to struggle and cause a rift with your parents doesn’t seem worth the cause.” I shrugged, leaning back on my haunches, craning my neck to see her. 

She cuts her eyes at me before inhaling and exhaling. ‘Bye, Paige.” And now, she’s sliding into her shoes and grabbing her back, “Tell KK I’ll Apple Pay her my part for the food.”

I’m speechless as I watch her hips sway to my front door. I watch her arms swing the door open and I watch it close with a soft click. 

It isn’t until I watch her Uber drive off with her in it that I realize what the fuck just happened, and when I do it takes everything in me to not fall to my fucking knees. 

I just stare at the door, like if I hope hard enough Xavia will come back and have magically figured out everything I wanted to say.

But she doesn’t come back. The front door doesn’t open again until KK barges in with bags of Chick-Fil-A, asking where Xavi and Azzi went.

I can’t even bring myself to answer. 

I just close my eyes and force the tears back into their ducts before wordlessly going to my room and it isn’t until I’m in my bed with the lights off that allow the tears to fall. 

I allow myself to shake from the force of my regret. I let my lungs empty themselves out into my pillow with every sob. I allow this one time to be honest with myself because no amount of ignoring or denial will trick my brain into thinking that being Xavi-less is worth it.. 

So the rest of the night, I cry until there’s no tears left, and then I cry some more just because I want to. 

It’s not even the fact that Xavia walked out on me. It’s not abou the fact that she’s mad at me, though that doesn’t sit well either. 

It’s the fact that, for years I knew exactly how my life was gonna look. I knew I was going pro. I knew I was gonna be the #1 draft pick and I knew that in order for these things to happen, I had to make sacrifices. I had to pick the right girl, wear the right clothes, talk a certain way and dedicate myself to my career. I had to be absolutely fucking miserable and become a version of myself that I wasn’t proud of.

 And for all this time, I told myself that all this loneliness and misery was going to be worth it when I put that hat on. Because then I’d have done it. I’d have done what I’ve wanted to do since I was 10.

It didn’t matter that I was a liar. That I was keeping a girl I loved (as a friend) from being with someone who could give her everything she deserved. It didn’t matter I’d never enjoy sex again, or that the guilt of my decisons was probably gonna give me ulcers. Didn’t even matter that I’d probably go to Hell for all the sins I’d committed.

But now, I can’t stop my brain from telling me that the WNBA isn’t worth Farrah’s happiness. It isn’t worth the light in Xavia’s eyes. It isn’t worth Azzi’s peace of mind. 

It isn’t worth my soul.

The next morning, I ignore my alarm. I ignore the knocks on my door and the texts from my team and the calls from Farrah. I just lay there in my bed, wrapped in a blanket that smells nothing like coconut oil, and try to get my shit together, 

I wrack my brain and force myself to remember why I’m doing this. 

WHY THE FUCK AM I DOING THIS?

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[lucy---lou]

Continuing my last blog.

"No we haven't cuddled yet, let's watch a movie"

"I really don't like movies or anything like that but we could play a cardgame", I say blushing again. Why would she cuddle with me? I've known her for 2 hours top.

"Oww ok, let's play this old terran game uno, but FLORET Editon", she first pouts then beams at me.

Floret Edition oh no, either two possibilities in that. First the good one. Nobody can lose and the reward is cuddels. I'm sort of ok with that. The other option is we're getting drugged. Stars NO.

"what makes it the floret Edition?", I ask already shaking.

"I'll tell you in the Livingroom, you're going to like it", Ellie says with a smirk.

I move to jump of the high bench as I normally would and before I really leave the surface,"iiieeep", I'm caught in a lot of vines.

"Little one I won't let you possibly hurt yourself, now behave", miss Duralis says with a stern but playful voice. Her eyes flashing bright colours at me, locking me in for a few seconds.

"Y-Yes Miss Duralis"

She picks up Ellie as well and we are both deposited on a huge couch.

"Mistress can you please get the playing cards while I explain the game?", Ellie asks looking absolutely adorable.

"Sure thing my petal"

"So you have to get rid of the cards on your hand. We play in turns. You can lay a card of the same colour or the same number as the previous one, if you can't you have to draw one from the stack. -thank you Mistress- There are special cards like this one. You can always lay it in your turn and you can choose the colour. And this is the best card if I lay it you have to draw 4 cards but you can also stack them and if I have one aswell it you would have draw the cards unless you had another one. And for being so brave in drawing a card you'll get petted by Miss Duralis for every card you have to draw"

Ah thats the catch in floret edition.

"Did you get everything?"

"Yes I think so, but I don't want to be petted", trying to save myself.

"Don't be silly Lucy everyone loves being petted"

"First round no pets for Lucy, ok?", Miss Duralis says but with a smirk?

Halfway through the first round everything is alright. Ellie gets a few pets, I refuse everytime. I stare a little at them, then Miss Duralis winks at me.

"Jealous?"

I blush and look away. I feel a prick, my body flinshes. But I think nothing of it.

"Everything alright Lucy?", Miss Duralis asks me looking a bit sad.

"Yeah everything good. Just caught my skin in the zipper. Let's continue"

Everyone nods

Since when do my clothes feel so good?

"Lucy your turn", Duralis giggles.

"Oh sorry"

Wow this cough is really comfy I could live on here. I wiggle around baking in this sensation.

"Ellie to Kitten it's your turn again"

"ooops", I blush. Why can't I keep track?

I can here this really nice rhythm. I could listen to it for ever and close my eyes.

"Lucy you have to draw eight cards"

"Hmm ok", I slowly look up again giving Duralis the puppy eye look.

I see something approaching me not really processing anything, something touches my head.

"mmmmhhrrrpf", a quiet moan. I feel my cheeks burning.

"mmmmmmrreeeeeeowwwww", a not so quiet moan and I fall forward onto the playing cards between us. Whatever was touching me, isn't anymore.

"Nnnyyyyo", trying to grab where I think the thing touching me was.

"Oh you need more, sure thing kitten. You'll get as much as you want", Miss Duralis says with a smile. I can't see it but I can feel it.

"Wow Class-As really did a thing on her and I can tell why you say she's a kitten. Mistress, do you think she will mind if I cuddle with her"

"No I don't think so, she likes you alot even if she doesn't admit it."

I feel somebody brush along my body and hug me. I don't care and drift into blissful sleep.

[metaphorfordeath]

Anti-Psychotic

A person living with schizophrenia finds that their delusions may have more basis in reality than they thought. Originally published in the Fall/Winter II issue of Diet Milk Magazine, available here. Content warnings for depiction of psychosis, violence, ableist language.

No one is watching me.

Julie has me write that down at our session. She never listens to me. She says, it can be comforting to realize that people don’t think of you as much as you think they do. I know this already. She asks, what evidence do you have that you are being watched? I say there isn’t any. Just a feeling. She writes something down, and asks about my meds again. 

So fucking patronizing. Of course I take them. I have taken mine like clockwork, every day, for five years. Maybe I missed a few days, but who doesn’t forget sometimes. My meds are cleat spikes jabbing into the earth. Helping me keep my footing. Making sure I don’t slip.

Last week I started getting the prickle again. Like fingers up my back. Someone standing behind me, breathing. I live alone. When I felt it, I wasn’t scared at first. These things happen sometimes. I’ve been around the block. The prickle and I are old friends, practically. When it finds me, I have ways to forget it. 

I drew the blinds, which helped a bit. I had a drink—nobody's perfect—but the prickle didn’t dull. So I peeked through the shades at the street below. Normal street stuff. The sun was setting, painting the world in shades of fire. Cars went by, all the usuals. Some kids were yelling in a driveway. A wasp tapped at my window, wiggling its feelers at me. No obvious source for the prickle. So, probably nothing. For the rest of the evening I puttered, read my book, ate some frozen nothing heated in the microwave, and took my meds. The prickle was temporary, I told myself as I lay down to sleep, the usual fog settling over me in a cool, clammy layer. No one was watching me. No one ever is.

That was a week ago. It’s only gotten worse since then. The prickle turned into a terrified stomach ache that kept me up for nights and nights. I called in sick to group, told Cheryl the caseworker that I have the flu. She sounded alarmed, but she’s only worried because of what happened to Devin.

Devin was like me: good at meds, good at therapy. We were friends, in a psycho kind of way. A few weeks ago, Devin started to get bad. Stopped showing up to group, didn’t even call. I haven’t seen him in a while, even when I went looking for him in his usual bad places. I miss him. I told Cheryl not to worry. I’m steady, just sick. I’ll see her again soon. 

I keep taking my meds, but they aren’t helping like they should. The fog I count on to sleep is thin, or missing. Something scrabbles at my skin from underneath, and I keep catching myself scratching little bits off of me. When I lay down, a low, neutral voice whispers nonsense at me through the pillow I clamp over my head. I can’t shower; that’s when the prickle gets stronger. Someone standing on the other side of the shower curtain, someone looking down at me through the water stain on the ceiling. I hiss and babble out loud just to hear myself talk, to shut up the voices that aren’t mine. I get sicker by the day.

By now I haven’t been outside in over a week, but my meds are ready to pick up. I don’t want to miss a dose, so I put on shoes and the big jacket that makes me feel safe, and I go outside. Birds leer at me from the tops of buildings. Walking in the opposite direction, an old lady frowns at me.

“Hmph, same to you,” she snaps.

My stomach lurches, but I don’t say anything, just keep walking. I hadn’t spoken. Had I? 

The drug store is brightly lit. It hurts to be inside. Too many things to look at. Faces on packaging look strange now. Confrontational. Interrogative. But at least they look like faces. When I look at anyone real, their features shift. Static snow eats at the air around their heads in a halo. It frightens me, so I keep my eyes on my shoes. The pharmacy tech who’s always there gets the packet for me, rings it up.

“Any questions about your medication?” he asks. I shake my head, pay with a card. He has glasses that give his face a sort of stability, so I look at it. His eyes are brown, beard gray, no hair on his head. He smiles at me. “Have a nice day, miss.”

“You too,” I mutter.

And then I go home, have to stop myself from running for safety. The walk is twenty minutes each way; harrowing, the passing cars huge and hungry, huffing and snorting at me. The prickle is more than a prickle by now. It feels like someone is pulling out the hairs on the back of my neck, one by one. My heart thuds against my ribs so hard that I’m afraid it will burst out, plop on the sidewalk and keep throbbing without me. The paper bag with my pills turns damp and tattered in my sweaty hand. 

And getting home doesn’t even help this time.

Julie says too much TV can be a trigger for me, but I start leaving it on all the time. Noise beats silence, any day. No empty spaces that need filling. I can’t watch sitcoms or anything fictional, so I tune it to the news. The news is always. Steady, real, factual. There’s a story about a body they found by the freeway. Pushed out of a moving car. No one knows or cares who it was. There’s a picture of the scene, taped up yellow and covered in those little numbers that say where a bit of evidence is. A tattered jacket lays in a ditch, dark with blood. 

I stand and race to the bathroom, cool porcelain against my hands, bile and nothing coming up as sweat pours down my back. My head pounds, edges of my vision sparkling. I can only see the jacket. Not dirty or bloody or ruined but the way it used to look. Devin’s jacket.

Something is horribly wrong. Men-in-black wrong. The-end-is-nigh wrong. 

The prickle wasn’t imagination. It was intuition. 

Someone got Devin. Who else did they get before him?

---

The next week, I force myself to go to group. I need to see faces. See who else is there, or not. Cheryl picks me up for these, since I don’t drive. I’m sicker than I can remember being, and try to remember to ask Julie about my dose on Tuesday. I sit silently in the passenger seat, feeling Cheryl’s eyes on me. Caseworkers all have the same eyes.

“Feeling alright today, X?” 

My name isn’t the name she calls me. You don’t need to know it.

“Fine,” I say, pinching my hands between my knees. They shake if I don’t. “Still getting over that flu.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she says. Her sedan has beige fabric seats. The passenger seat is dark, stained with sweat and whatever else from all the people she’s ferried around. A vanilla air freshener dangles from the rear view mirror.

Someone shouts in my ear, so close I feel a little blast of hot breath on my neck, and I flinch. Cheryl looks at me suddenly.

“Everything okay?”

She didn’t hear that. “Yeah. Sorry. Weird itch.”

“Hmm.” 

Group is fine. It’s usually fine. I don’t say much this time, just look around at everyone in their folding chairs. Their faces are wrong. It makes me nauseous to look, but I look anyway. I need to see who isn’t here.

There are no empty chairs, but there are fewer. One or two down from usual. All the other regulars are here, picking at their skin or looking at the clock or chewing their hair. I glance across the room and for a second I think I see Devin, sitting in his old coat. But when I look again, it’s just Tom. I almost hoped.

When it’s over, there’s bad coffee to drink. I suck on a red straw and let the bitter taste anchor me to my tongue. I inhabit my body, touch my fingers to the side of my face to know that it and my fingers exist. Sufficiently convinced of my realness, I go to Amber, our de facto leader.

She’s drinking water from a bottle with cucumber slices in it, cloudy with pulp and seeds. Ectoplasmic. It makes my stomach turn.

“Amber,” I say. My voice feels far away. She looks at me, expectant. “I missed last week. Have you seen Greg, or Mariah?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t. Greg was here last week, but I haven’t seen Mariah since like, last month. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

A crinkle appears between her eyebrows. I focus on that, since the rest of her features won’t stay put. “You’re worried because of what happened to Devin?”

“I think Devin is dead.” There is a sudden hush as other people in my vicinity overhear. “I saw his jacket. On the news.”

Cheryl appears beside me. “X, would you like to talk in the hallway?” 

She pulls me out before I can answer. “Have you been feeling alright?” she asks again. “Taking your medication?”

“Yes,” I say, a little forcefully. She clicks her tongue.

“Really? Because if you need to move up your next appointment, I can make some arrangements for you.”

Despite the fact that I do want to move my appointment up, her tone hits a button in my brain and my face turns red. “No,” I say. “I’ll wait until the next one. I’m fine. I just need to know what’s happening.” A rancid taste creeps up the back of my throat. “Where are people going?”

“Honey, everyone’s here that needs to be here.”

“No—that’s not right. I need to know.” 

I can tell from the way she moves that she thinks I’m getting agitated. She doesn’t understand what I’m saying. “People call in sick sometimes. You did, just last week. Mariah was having issues sticking with the program, so we’re working something out. No one’s gone.”

“Devin is gone. Devin is dead. He’s dead and no one knows it.”

Cheryl comes closer, her voice so low and venomous that it starts to meld with the others. “I’m going to give Dr. Bern a call and try to get you in with her sooner than Tuesday. If you can’t keep up with your regimen, we’ll have to consider another in-patient stay.”

Anger chokes me until my vision goes white. “Okay,” is all I can manage. I have some unsavory thoughts, which I won’t repeat to you now.

“Good,” says Cheryl, holding my leash. “Let’s get you home.”

I don’t sleep. I don’t even try. Someone is watching me. I think about Devin, the last time we spoke before he was gone. He got paranoid, too. He jabbered sometimes, when we would see each other. The same face, he said, with glass eyes. Looking at him. Following him. He said his pills were replaced, his furniture moved, nothing looked the same as he’d left it. No one listens to me, he said. I’m scared, he said. I’m scared of what will happen next.

“I’m scared, too,” I say to no one. A chorus laughs at me. 

---

“So,” says Julie. “Cheryl told me you’ve been having some trouble sticking to your medication.”

“I stick to it,” I say, and set the pill bottle on the desk in front of her. “Count them and tell me I’m not.”

She doesn’t move to count them. I’d hoped at least that she would humor me. “It sounds like some of your persecutory thoughts are returning. Tell me about what you’re worried about.”

“I saw on the news that they found someone’s body in a ditch off the interstate. They showed pictures. I think the body was Devin.”

“Devin from your group?” I nod. “We actually just heard from him last week. His brother answered when we called his phone. Devin is currently in a private rehabilitation clinic in Cincinnati. He’s alright, X.”

A numb feeling falls over me all at once, like a sheet. Something crawls up my thigh and disappears into a deep hole in my flesh. “Oh.”

“Amber talked to us, too. She said you asked her about Greg and Mariah’s absences this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I followed up on those for you, too. Greg had an accident at home and was in the emergency room during your meeting time this week. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to reach Mariah personally, but her father informed me over the phone that her family has pulled her out of the program. She won’t be returning.” Julie leans across her desk. “X, can you please look at me?”

I look at her. Her face is twisted, like a mask, papier mâché, drooping strips of plaster bandage. The static threatens to consume her, and me.

“I’m going to increase your dose to eighty milligrams. For now you can take two of what you have at the usual time, but I’m sending in a new prescription to the pharmacy.” She scrawls something on a pad at hand, and I take the opportunity to look away. “I’ll see you again this time next week, okay? And if anything’s the matter, you can call the nurse’s hotline. We’ll take care of you.” She hands me the script. 

“Thank you,” I say, and then someone brings me home. I am silent for the drive. Thinking.

Wasn’t Devin an only child?

I start doubling my dose. The fog doesn’t come. The prickle intensifies into ceaseless paranoia. I check the window locks three times a day to make sure, even though I live on the third floor. Chair under the doorknob, empty bottles stacked on it so I’ll hear if someone comes. I can’t stop thinking about Devin, and the others. Were they all really fine? Was this just a breakthrough-breakdown, pills ceasing their function and leaving me alone, spiraling? 

I hadn’t tried calling Devin in weeks. He didn’t pick up the first few times, and anyone in that state doesn’t usually want to talk anyhow. But Julie said someone answered when they called. Maybe they would answer for me.

The phone buzzes. Surging forward and receding, like a tide. Devin could be there on the other end. Getting better. Being cared for. I close my eyes and wait to hear his voicemail, or something else.

Click. “Hello?”

The voice startles me so much I can’t speak. A stranger.

“Hello?” says the phone. “Who is this?”

“Um,” I say suddenly, “Devin?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the voice says. “Devin isn’t here right now. May I ask who’s calling?”

“I’m—his friend. X,” I clarify. My voice is not of me. “Can I talk to him soon?”

“No, unfortunately he can’t talk. But I’ll let him know you called, he’ll be happy to hear people are checking up on him.”

“What’s—who are you?”

“I’m Eric, Devin’s brother. I’m taking good care of him, miss. Have a nice day.” 

The call ends. Something in my stomach shrivels. I run to the bathroom, but there’s nothing to bring up. I don’t know why that voice scared me so much. Why had I thought Devin was an only child? He hadn’t mentioned his family—maybe I’d just assumed, or forgotten if he’d said. Of course he had a brother. He was alright. They all were, now.

---

Days pass. Bugs make their homes in me. My medication runs out, the new pills ready for pickup. I’d rather die than set foot outside. But I need my stability. I steel myself to leave, and exit my apartment into the world. 

Everyone looks at me. They all want to hurt me. A car drives slowly past me and I try not to look at the people inside. My head hurts. It’s hard to see where I’m going, but I go.

The drug store is bigger than it was last time. Brighter. Angrier. People avoid me as I shuffle towards the pharmacy counter. The pharmacist who’s always there smiles at me again.

“Do you have any questions about your medication?”

I shake my head, fumbling for my card. He’s staring at me through his glasses.

“Do you need me to call someone for you?”

His voice makes me want to puke. I shake my head again, take the pills and make for the door. A crowd of voices shout at me as I stagger out into the air. I miss the way things were. My cleats don’t fit anymore. I tear the bag open, pop the lid off the bottle and shake a pill into my mouth, force it down dry and sticky and hope it does its job. My mouth is sweet where it lingered. It didn’t used to be so sweet.

There is a dull shock of understanding that blooms at the edge of my mind. The prickle rises on the back of my neck, and I look over my shoulder again. The pharmacist is looking at me from his position behind the counter. His face ringed in static. He waves at me. And I take off running.

There is no one I can call. No one who will listen. There are only doors that will slam in my face, white speckle tile and fluorescent lights and needles. He knows that. He knew it for Devin, too. He knew it for the rest of them. The wind in my face feels like fingers grasping at me, tugging at my hair, slowing me down. I race home, up the stairs and lock the door, brace it with furniture and then I sit on the floor and cry and cry. They’re laughing at me. Trading whispers. Look how stupid. Look how gullible. Go on and cry, crybaby. 

So I do. It’s all I have left.

The next time it’s group, I don’t come to the door. Cheryl calls me, but I don’t answer. There will be a wellness check if I don’t come. I want them to, now. When her calls finally stop piling up, I wait fifteen minutes, then step outside. I leave my door open, leave what I can to show that I am gone. I leave the pills out, and the script. Crush a few with my heel for good measure. I hope they can put the pieces together.

It’s dark, cool. It reminds me of the fog, makes me wish I could sleep. Eyes follow me through the evening. Headlights burn me as cars move past. I walk slowly in my big jacket, letting myself be watched. Letting the prickle come up my neck, creep over my scalp, trickle down over my face until it covers me in a thin layer and I prickle all over. The prickle and I are old friends. It tells me when to be afraid.

Then there are headlights at my back that don’t go away. The growl of an engine crashes into me. I stop walking, and someone gets out. I don’t turn to look. I can’t stand to look at faces anymore. Suddenly, I have a funny thought. Maybe I do have some questions about my medication, after all.

Something whistles through the air above my head, and the world disappears.

When I wake up later, I’m not sure if I have. There are stars. It smells like gasoline, copper and dirt. My jacket is gone. My mouth is gone, too. My hands. You’re caught, someone says in my ear, you let it happen. With my eyes, which I still have, I look across the floor. It hurts to look. There’s blood under me, sticky black. The prickle is gone. I discovered its source.

I’m alone for a long time. It’s hard to say how much. I realize that there’s a door behind me when it opens. Light falls across the floor, yellow tractor beam coming to take me away. I long to be weightless, but the earth won’t let me. Then the pharmacist who is always there puts his shoe against my face and turns me over. He doesn’t speak. He crouches down and looks into my eyes like he is trying to take something from me. Then he takes the tape off my mouth.

All I do at first is scream. It's all my body knows how to do. He sits and watches me. When I can see his mouth, it’s smiling, and I realize he likes it when I scream. So as soon as I can, I stop. Silence rushes back into the gaps, roaring in my ears.

“Good girl,” he says when I am quiet. His voice is a distorted growl, infrasound, rattling my eardrums. “Aren’t you such a good girl?”

I think about his throat in my teeth. I think about his blood on my face. For a moment it feels like I am lunging for him, jabbing thumbs into soft and fragile places. But he still has my hands, turning numb and purple at the small of my back. So I sit up as much as I can and spit at the floor near his feet. Faster than my eyes can track, he lurches forward. Fist in my hair, hauling me up to hip height.

He looks into my face with his glass eyes. His mouth is monstrous, all his white teeth sharp in a thicket of gray.

“I’ve been watching you,” he says. 

I know this already. There is nothing satisfying in the confirmation of it. 

He is not the man in black I always pictured. He could be anybody.

“Think of this as a favor I’m doing you.”

Then he hits me again. And other things.

When I’m alone, voices chatter in my ears. No one is coming, they say, you are alone. They will not find you. You and the ditch will be friends soon. So you amounted to this—better than nothing, we suppose. I shush them, rock myself against the cement floor and hum and think about grass, and birds. I try not to leave myself room to cry. I don’t want him to have the satisfaction.

A thousand years go by. Outside the room, there are voices. Not any of mine. His, and others. They start loud, and get quiet. His voice goes away completely. Doors open, distant, then closer. Light falls over my body again, and I feel the weightlessness. Real this time. My hands come back to me, but I can’t move them. There are faces, more than I’ve seen in a while. They scare me, but I can’t run, so I try not to look. Except at his. They take me past him, and I look. Through his glasses I see his eyes, still trying to take something from me. He has, by now. But not what he wanted.

I sleep for a long time, and when I wake up, the world is the way I remember it. My feet on the ground, cleats and all, not slipping. When I’m well enough they bring me to identify Devin’s body, since he didn’t really have a brother after all. They find Mariah’s, too. Greg really was in the emergency room, turns out. But there are others. Too many to think of.

Cheryl changes careers afterwards. Probably for the best. I find this out when she drives me to group the first time after I get out of the hospital. She doesn’t look at me much, but when she does, I can see her eyes are different. Not caseworker eyes anymore.

“Lauren is going to be taking over your case starting next week,” she says after a long silence. “So this will be the last time I see you.” I can tell she’s trying not to cry.

“Okay,” I say. 

She never apologizes. No one does. They all say they’re sorry for what happened to me, but that isn’t the same thing. People who don’t listen never think to apologize for it. They think they were listening all along.

Things are mostly the same as before, except I get my pills mailed to me now. And I think about Devin a lot. When I pour myself a drink, I pour one for him too and pretend he’s with me. I don’t have any pictures, so mostly I think about his voice. The last time we ever spoke, he told me, no one listens to me, X. 

What I said then was, I know the feeling, man.

But now I just tell him I’m sorry.

[skyward-floored]

IAU Sky and and Sun spending time with any of their kids?

Here’s them spending time with all their kids! Featuring an activity I thought Aryll especially would enjoy. Took me a while to come up with something haha, I’m out of practice writing fluff 😅

Aryll is about 5-6 here, the triplets are somewhere in the 1-2 range :)

————————————————————

Sky rifled around in the pantry, looking for the jar of peanut butter that he’d thought was in here. No matter how many cans and jars he moved around though, he saw no sign of it. Maybe Sun had put it somewhere else? He thought for sure she’d said it was here, though.

Sky huffed and pushed over a can of dried hylian tomatoes, then exclaimed in triumph. The peanut butter had been wedged behind it at the perfect angle where he couldn’t see.

He pulled it out and stood, striding back to the table where he’d been before, and Aryll watched him in interest, sneezing suddenly into her lap.

“Bless you,” Sky said sympathetically, and his daughter sniffled.

“Why did you get the peanut butter out?” she asked, and Sky smiled.

“Don’t you remember, pumpkin? We’re going to make bird feeders. This goes on the pinecones.”

“Peanut butter on pinecones? For real?” Aryll exclaimed, and Sky chuckled, putting the jar in front of her.

“For real. That’s to help the seeds stick,” he explained as he grabbed several butter knives to eventually spread it.

“And the birds will love it!” Aryll said excitedly, and Sky smiled.

“Uh-huh. But we have to wait until Mommy and the boys come back with the pinecones.”

“I could’ve gotten pinecones,” Aryll pouted, and Sky patted her on the head when she set her elbows on the table.

“I know, but until those sniffles go away we don’t want you spending time out in the cold unless you have to,” Sky said, then turned as he heard the door click. “And it sounds like they’re back now anyway.”

“Daddy!!” a voice yelled. Footsteps pounded across the floor, and Crimson scrambled into the kitchen with his cheeks pink with cold and melting snow coating his boots. “Pinecone!”

“Well look at that, very nice!” Sky said with a smile, taking the two pinecones that Crimson waved at him and setting them on the table. “These look like great ones. Now let’s get your stuff off before you get snow everywhere, kiddo. What did you do with your mom and brothers?”

Crimson rapidly babbled something in toddler language that Sky only half-understood, but he nodded along anyway, picking out something about coats and snow and pinecones. He could hear other voices by the door, and hoped it was Sun taking off boots so there wouldn’t be more melting snow on the floor. They would already need a towel so nobody would slip.

By the time he finished peeling off all of Crimson’s layers, Sun had walked in, bootless, with their other two sons following behind her in their socks as well. All of their faces were flushed from the cold, and Sky saw Sun shiver as she pulled her scarf off.

“We got a pinecones!” Azure said triumphantly, his arms full of the prickly seed carriers. He ran forward and tossed his whole load on the table, making Aryll yelp, and Sun give him a look.

“Hey, no throwing in the kitchen, Azy,” she reminded, and he climbed up on a chair, legs wiggling as he proudly looked over his pinecones.

“I see you all were successful,” Sky directed towards his wife, and Sun grinned, eyes bright. Her hair poked out from her hat, a few snowflakes melting on her lashes, and Sky couldn’t help joining her side and pressing a kiss to cold lips.

“We sure were. Found plenty of pinecones,” Sun said after she returned the gesture, nestling up to his warmth with a shiver. “And we only had one emergency involving mittens.”

“Very nice,” Sky congratulated, giving her a quick embrace before pulling back, though he kept a wing around her. “Are we ready to have four kids all covered in peanut butter?”

“Butter!” Sage said excitedly, holding a pinecone tight to his chest.

“Not just butter! Peanut butter!” Aryll said indignantly, sniffling when her nose tried to drip. “And seeds so the birds have food for the winter.”

“Exactly,” Sun nodded, and scooped up Sage as she sat down, their smallest son nestling into her lap. “Now who’s got the peanut butter?”

“Here!” Aryll chirped, holding up the jar above her head in a triumphant pose.

“Great, let’s get to work then,” Sky said as he took a knife, but Aryll suddenly gasped, setting down the jar and waving her hands.

“Wait wait! I forgot!” she yelped, and scrambled out of her seat and out of the room. Sky raised an eyebrow, but he shrugged and began spreading peanut butter, knowing he had quite a few pinecones to get through.

Aryll came rushing back in in a few minutes, and Sky sighed at the tiny bird sitting primly on her shoulder.

“Honey, we’ve talked about bringing birds inside,” Sun reminded, and Aryll drooped, giving her parents sad eyes.

“But Dee is good! He never makes a mess or is too noisy or scares anyone!” she begged, the chickadee letting out an innocent chirp. “And I want him to help!”

“Well... he will be eating these when we’re done,” Sky said consideringly, and Sun raised an eyebrow. “Maybe just this once?”

“I suppose so,” Sun gave in with a sigh, and Aryll cheered, Dee trilling with her.

Aryll sat back down, her bird friend watching the proceedings in interest. Sky popped a mouthful of birdseed, crunching on it as he handed Azure a pinecone he’d finished peanut buttering, and Aryll grabbed her own knife and got to work along with Sun. The triplets were all too small to really spread peanut butter. Sage was trying anyway though, and Sun did her best to steer him.

True to Sky’s earlier comment, all four kids were at least partially covered in peanut butter by the time they were finished spreading it over the pinecones. The table was also coated in birdseed, and Crimson had accidentally destroyed a pinecone at one point, sending little woody bits all over the room. Aryll’s chickadee was eating some of the seeds on the floor, Sky had peanut butter in his wings, and despite the fact that he knew the mess was going to take ages to clean, he barely cared.

It was moments like these he treasured the most.

All of his kids finally finished their pinecones, Aryll using every single one she could get her hands on. She was determined to make sure the birds had food while it was snowy outside. Sun grabbed some colored string that they tied around the cones to use as hangers, and then it was time to hang them.

They placed most of them where you could see them from the living room, a short tree with lower branches the perfect height for the feeders. Then Sky placed a few in random spots in their backyard, and a couple outside Aryll’s room, ones she could see from her window. Aryll then insisted on the biggest one she made being hung in the tree outside Sun and Sky’s window, and she squealed happily as a tiny nuthatch flew up only moments after he finished hanging them all.

“Looks like they work,” Sky said as they all watched birds slowly gather, happily pecking seeds off the pinecones.

“Birs,” Azure said thoughtfully, then squealed as two cardinals zipped by, red standing out sharply against the snow.

“Look, there’s Beep! Say hi to Beep!” Aryll yelled in excitement as a little sparrow began pecking at the seeds, and her brothers began wildly waving their arms, which made the bird fly off. “Oh, guess he wasn’t hungry after all.”

Sky chuckled from his place on the bed, Sun flopped next to him as they watched their kids all gathered at the window. He couldn’t help the yawn he let out, and Sun nestled up beside him, head resting on his chest.

“They’re certainly a handful,” she commented with a smile, Crimson yelping as Sage tried to climb on him in order to see better.

“Yeah. But they’re our handfuls,” Sky replied, and Sun chuckled, closing her eyes.

Sky did the same with a soft sigh, and they both listened to their kids excitedly watch the birds, the smell of peanut butter in the air as a deep sense of peacefulness settled over Sky.

...At least until all four of his children decided to jump on him.

[ashleyrowanthewriter]

The News - Life and Times of Ashley the Crow (Crow HRT 6)

Previous

*************

Whenever a prominent and famous otherkin announces that they decide to transition into their species completely, and especially after they finish the process, it becomes the number one hot topic among the community. That was such a day.

"So they really made it through?" Arja said, looking into the sky.

"Yes. Half the fan base is in chaos."

"Lucky them. I wonder where they are now."

"Nobody's really sure. I bet on some lonely cave in the mountains."

Something about the clouds that day felt fervent that day. The world opened a new chapter.

"You know, they were a very big figure. A lot is going on. It feels like the greatest debate in the world."

"It really seems to dislike the idea of discarding your humanity just like that."

"It always tries to stop social changes. Individual, collective, one dog."

"So how loud are those who think it's suicide of the mind?"

"Greatly."

Arja sighed. "I fucking knew it."

"But other sides are getting believers too."

"And what do you think?"

"That you're still yourself. It's just your behaviour that aligns with your body."

"That's a nice way of looking at it."

"That's what the most proves point to."

Our talk brought my mind to a topic I wanted to move for a long time.

"Arja, do you want to go all the way?"

"Would you miss me?"

"Maybe. But I would root for you and appreciate our time together."

"Even if I had to go to a lonely cave in the mountains?"

"Yes, I'd get ready for that."

"Aw, that's sweet. But no, I'd much prefer to go for hybridisation."

"I see. Then I guess you're close. You'll be mighty, I'm sure."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Arja made a pause. She wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to ask her question. "Hey, if you could do it then how far would you go? Don't answer if you're not comfortable."

"All the way."

"Really?"

"Don't tell me there were no signs."

"I mean, there were. But with how much you like to write I wasn't sure."

"I think talons and the beak are enough to use a keyboard."

I quickly realised I wasn't telling Arja the entire truth. I knew that I should be more honest.

"Well, that's what I would like to say."

"It's not just about that. My body takes anything medical worse and worse recently. I'm afraid that if I tried to do it it would destroy me. And I'm not even talking about my heart anymore."

"Eh, as if it all couldn't leave you."

"Yeah."

"But didn't you got through much tougher stuff?"

"Last time I had new complications."

"And would you like Her to win?"

I knew who Arja referred to as Her. If you are in the otherkin community you have for sure heard about a particular writer. One that really wants us gone. One that I swore to one day be better than.

"True. I can let a lot of people win, but not Her."

"Now that's the Ashley I know."

"Hey one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Would you like me to be your pet?"

"I don't think one can keep crows."

"Well, that sucks. And I guess that's another reason why I don't know anymore."

"Hey, we can still be friends. I can leave you fruits in a feeder."

"Thanks. I don't know what I could do for you though."

"Oh, just peck on the uninvited guests."

"And without violence?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."

*************

My crow cooldown has ended and here I go. I wanted to write about something else and less emotionally, but I changed my plans after I saw the last page from @ayviedoesthings . I think half the community did.

Also, for those who are like me and have a hard time learning idioms, "one dog" means roughly "there's no difference" and I encountered it in Polish.

Aha. Maybe there's a good reason why you can't adopt crows in many regions of the world, but not for a constitutional homo marriage ban. Caw with me if you agree.

[reinersredemption]

can I have a scenario with Dick grayson or Tim Drake where they sleep over at their s/o apartment the first night and find s/o’s side door closet room which just has a massive stash of wrapped up books that has been collecting dust and not been reading for years. How is all those books balancing and not falling out the closet. Nobody knows. They notice the book s/o just bought the other day is in there too. If they bought s/o a book at some point, it’s there. Not been touched. (All sorts of genres are in there). S/o Makes the joking excuse that “We have a power outage once a year in gotham/bludhaven for a week or month usually. You’ll be thanking me for saving you from boredom with all the tech and electricity being out”. (s/o is a compulsive book buyer).. in future when they go out and s/o is *doom* staring at a book store. Does the boys drag s/o away and s/o’s being a bit dramatic about being seperated from the second love of her life or do they encourage this habit? ( 1 is her boyfriend/ 2 is the books).

Unread and Untouched | Tim Drake x reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: Tim finds out you're a compulsive book buyer. masterlist

It was one of those rare periods when Tim finally got a break from the chaos of his hectic life. After weeks of constant action and responsibility, you both managed to carve out some time for him to unwind. You’d planned for him to stay over at your apartment for an entire week—his first time spending the night here, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. It felt like a significant milestone in your relationship. Wanting everything to be perfect, you made sure to arrange the apartment just right—everything neat, and comfortable—so that he could feel completely at ease during his stay.

The apartment was cozy, with soft lighting and a warmth that made him feel relaxed in a way he wasn’t used to, even after years of crime-fighting. You had made sure he was comfortable, settling him with a cup of tea your her usual sweet smile before retreating to do a few last-minute things in another room.

Curious, Tim wandered around, exploring your apartment for the first time. It was homely, lived-in, and a stark contrast to the sleek, high-tech gadgets and polished floors of Wayne Manor. He wandered to the side door near the kitchen, which led to a small closet room, half-hidden and almost out of place in the otherwise tidy apartment. He opened the door, the faint sound of creaking cutting through the quiet of the room. His eyes immediately caught sight of it—a massive stash of books, piled high in neat stacks that filled the space.

He frowned slightly, his curiosity piqued. Did you even manage to read all of these? Why didn't you put them on a bookshelf or something?

As he looks more into it, he notices the books had been collecting dust for a while, indicating that they had remained untouched dor a long time. Fiction, non-fiction, graphic novels— Tim even recognized a few that he'd seen you pick up when the both of you went to the bookstore.

Tim heard the soft sound of footsteps behind him and turned to find you standing in the doorway. “Ah, you found my secret stash,” he said with a grin.

"That's one way to put it," you replied, offering a small, awkward smile. Tim chuckled before asking, "Just out of curiosity… have you been reading these?"

Your hesitant smile gave him his answer almost instantly.

Tim paused, holding up a book titled Cinco Minutos. “And this one?” he asked, his tone playful. “I think I bought this for you, didn’t I?”

“Oh, that one’s definitely been sitting there for a while," you admitted, slightly embarrassed. "Thanks for that, by the way. I’ll read them, I just… haven't found the right time, you know?”

As he placed the book back into the stack, Tim couldn’t help but laugh. “So, this is where books go to die?”

"They’re not here to die!" you protested, but neither of you fully believed your words. "I swear, I’ll get to them—maybe during vacation, or when Gotham has one of those long power outages.”

Tim couldn’t hide his concern. He knew how much money you’d spent on those books, and he wasn’t sure you’d ever actually find the time to read them. Ever since that day, he had quietly stepped in to help manage your book-buying habit. He was patient throughout the process, always making sure you felt comfortable, and even went so far as to build you a new bookshelf for the ones you wanted to keep.

It didn’t stop there. Tim started a two-person book club, where you both read the same books to keep each other motivated. He even started taking notes, marking the most interesting parts of each story with sticky notes, making the experience more engaging for both of you. It was no longer just about finishing books—it became something you could share, something you could look forward to together. It made the whole process feel less like a task and more like an enjoyable adventure.

Over time, reading became something you both genuinely looked forward to, a shared ritual that added a new layer to your connection. The piles of unread books no longer felt like a weight, but a collection of possibilities. With Tim’s encouragement and unwavering support, the stack of untouched novels slowly began to dwindle, one chapter at a time. And while there were still days when you found it hard to pick up a book, you knew that with Tim by your side, you had all the time in the world to enjoy them—together.

[scrumptiousstuffs]

hiii scrumptious!! i miss sending u asks

can i ask for a analysis of firstkhaotung’s kisses we’ve got so far? which is your favourite and why is your favourite, we need tongueeee

Anon!!!! Why must you torture me with this ask??? 😫😫😫 (torture me more, I love talking about FK and their kisses 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

But, how do you expect me to choose my favourite FK kisses?? Do you know how challenging this asked was? And I can’t possibly do an analysis of all their kisses - Our Skyy 2 alone had more than 20 kisses? (I think)… I will have to write a thesis if I want to analyse every single kisses. I was this close 🤏 to binge watch all their series but alas…I have bills to pay and a fur-baby to feed.

So….instead, I think back to their kisses that sticks in my mind ? - it must make me feel something emotionally when I watched them (and that’s difficult cause FK is so damn good with their intimacy and NC scenes I had to think hard to narrow down my choices)

Without further ado, my top 5 list (list is only current as of The Heart Killers EP9):

No 5: Only Friends EP 2 smoky kiss plus Sand kissing Ray’s left hip tattoo

- Do I like people who smoke? No. But this was cinematic anyway. It was artistic (to me) and you could feel the sexual tension screaming from miles away. And when they gave in to their attraction, the chemistry was off the chart and Sand worshipping Ray’s tattoo was just pure magic 🪄

No 4: Only Friends EP 9 caravan scene (especially the soft, soft kiss Ray bestowed on Sand’s cheek after they have done their tango in bed 🤸)

- The softness of the whole scene was beautiful to watch. There was something pure and personal as we watch these 2 finally coming to terms about their feelings for each other.

No 3: Our Skyy 2 x The Eclipse bridge scene

-The whole scene had me giggling and kicking my legs in excitement. The boys kissing with the sun setting behind them was just.....😍😍😍

-And people talking about tongue involvement? - I am sure there were some tongue action here (also, tell me anon, why are people so invested in tongue-action? I mean i don't mind them but I am not going to fuss if FK's characters don't do them each time!)

No 2: The Eclipse Finale with Akk bestowing the soft pecks/kisses on Aye’s face

- I will always have a soft spot for my babies. As much as I adore all of FirstKhaotung characters, AkkAye have a special place in my heart. And because I can, I’m putting the whole video clip of the scene rather than gifs or screenshots 🥰

- There is something special about this scene where Akk was finally the one that made the first move; initiating the hug followed by the soft kisses. The awe and disbelief in Aye’s eyes before it shifted to soft delight and slight mischievous as he then reciprocate Akk’s gesture. I think we often forget that Aye is just as young and vulnerable like Akk. And to see Akk finally reaching out to Aye just made my heart melt 🫠

No 1: The Heart Killers EP 8 swing scene

-I love the whole damn thing - from the nuzzling to Kant sniffing Bison’s hair like he wants to imprint him to his soul to Kant gently biting Bison’s nose before they continued their heady make out session.

- This whole thing was just peak intimacy 👌. Nobody does it better than them. Their feelings laid bare, Kant is now free to be as disgustingly affectionate and loving like he always wanted to be. It’s just so so good. Also, let’s be honest, we know KantBison would continue to make out for hours on that swing.

Honourable mentions:

The Eclipse EP6 Akk fantasy kiss

*I remember watching this scene and thought - oh, Aye finally made the move. But then to find out it was all in Akk's mind???? It flipped the narrative and it made me realised that this was likely the first time we saw from Akk's perspective that he is stupidly horny for the irritating boy who keeps him on his toes

Only Friends EP9 angry-lust driven kiss in the music room

*This was just a good kiss because you can feel the anger from Sand but he was so in love with Ray that he can't help but give it. Ray as usual, clocked it and he pounced! And the sheer amount of lust pouring out of these 2....I cursed when Top stepped into the room

The Heart Killers Ep 9 KantBison sweet pecks in the sea

*KantBison making sweet memories to replace Kant's nightmare and phobia will hold something special to my heart (does it make sense for Kant to completely forget his fear? - not really, but I will forgive the narrative because I get my domestic KantBison!)

Plus…..

FirstKhaotung sweet kisses in My Fuel MV (because we didn’t get Alan/Gaipa or Alone/Kaitong kissing - I’m going to substitute with the clip we got from First’s MV and just think it’s Alan/Gaipa in them, ok?)

*Those jubi jubi kisses are giving me butterflies and I can't stop smiling every time I rewatch the MV!

[cherryeclipses]

Dean Winchester x Angel!Reader 🪽 Fallen

tw: mentions of hell (not graphic)

slowburn, light angst. She/her pronouns, minimal use of Y/N. Please ignore inconsistencies in the show/lore - it’s fan fiction!!

Part I here

𓆩♡𓆪

Part II - 3rd person POV

We're bored to death in heaven and all alone in hell.

"Dude what the hell?" Dean asks Castiel, in between sips of cheap whiskey. "In case you forgot, you're helping us to stop the apocalypse, not get distracted by some pretty angel. Who we don't even know if we can trust." "I told you already, she can help. She has seen and knows things not even the archangels are aware of. She's centuries older than me." the angel says honestly. Dean looks between him and Sam doubtfully. "Castiel, how did another angel end up in hell and how come no one's ever heard of her?" Sam asks, trying to diffuse the obvious tension. Castiel looks around the dark bar, all the tables surrounding the group are empty, only a passed out man at the bar and a lone group hustling pool a few feet away from them. "Y/N was created along with the archangels, centuries ago, long before your earth. She was a beacon in heaven, God's mightiest warrior but that was until humans were created. She become obsessed, leaving heaven to visit earth as often as she could, nobody could understand why. She confided in me, I was her only real companion in heaven, but her love for humanity was too strong, she really sealed her fate one night when she had sexual relations with a human man." Dean's eyes widened at the news, trying to imagine how different sex with an angel would be. "So, Y/N was banished to hell because of it?" Sam questioned. "Yes." Castiel replied solemnly. "She was banished not only to hell but to Lucifer's cage." "That's brutal." muttered Dean, remembering how horrifying hell was, he couldn't imagine being locked in the cage with Lucifer himself for centuries. "God has been known to be particularly wrathful when his favourites disobey." Castiel continued. "So you trust Y/N?" Sam asked "Even though you don't know what happened to her down there, you think she'll still be on our side?" The younger Winchester was skeptical. Castiel's eyes narrowed, "Yes. I do. She always loved humans. It would devastate her to see the apocalypse and not try to stop it."

𓆩♡𓆪

That night Dean couldn't sleep, the crappy motel bed was more uncomfortable than usual, the cheap alcohol and fast food felt heavy in his stomach and most of all he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. Her vessel was breathtaking, if this was under any other circumstances he'd have already have her number and be smooth talking her over dinner. But she's an angel and not just any angel but Lucifer's cellmate. As he stared up at the grey ceiling he couldn't help but think about what it must've been like in the cage, the torture she must've endured, and his heart sank. Dean only met the angel once briefly but he really felt for her, maybe it was his mind's way of distracting him from the real problem at hand, Michael and Lucifer, but he was happy for the distraction for the night. "You called?" A soft voice startled Dean. He lept from his bed, Y/N was standing at the end of his bed, staring blankly. "No I didn't, what is with you angels thinking you can pop in uninvited." He said defensively. "Uninvited?" The girl whispered, noting Sam was fast asleep in the bed beside Dean. "You prayed to me Dean. So I came," Dean shook his head in disbelief, "Yeah right, I'm sorry. I didn't think I was." "It's okay, I'll go -" "No, stay." He interrupted. "What? I can assure you feelings are not hurt, I'll go so you can sleep. It is three in the morning." Y/N said calmly. Dean moved to sit at the edge of the squeaky bed "I can't sleep, so want to keep me company for a while?" The angel mirrored his actions cautiously and sat at the table across from Dean. She studied his face for a moment, trying to decipher if the man was sincere or not. "This is not usually what people pray for..." She said. "Yeah well I do. Cas seems to trust you so I wanted to get to know you." And your body, Dean thought to himself. "Oh. Right." Y/N paused for a moment, "What do you want to know?" "What's your fascination with humans? I heard that's what got you kicked out." Dean questioned. "You heard correctly. I think humanity is wonderful, you are free. You can have a real life. Love, family, empathy, hope, we don't have any of that. In heaven you are a follower, nothing more." She said wistfully. "My father created you in his image, humans are his favourite creation for a reason so it shouldn't seem too unbelievable." Dean had to chuckle and shake his head, "So God loves people so much but he draws the line at an angel getting it on with a human?" but before he could finish his sentence he realised he'd said too much. Y/N's brow furrowed and her head tilted to the side, eyeing up the man across from her. "I disobeyed Dean, I'm sure Castiel has told you all about it, but if this is all you want to talk about, then I'll be leaving." She started to stand up but Dean reached his hand out to stop her. "C'mon you're right I shouldn't have said anything. But you can't blame me from being curious. Was it good at least? Y/N just laughed, she couldn't believe he had just asked her if it was good. Dean was the most interesting human she'd ever met. She sighed, "Yes, it was. Was it unethical? Also yes, but it felt better than heaven, I felt human for a moment." Dean opened his mouth to make another joke but changed his mind quickly, he couldn't scare her off just yet. He was starting to like this angel. "Look, I don't know what it was like down in the cage but Sammy and I could really use your help with this whole stopping the apocalypse thing. Cas says you know more about Lucifer than anyone." He said honestly. "I'd be honoured to help in anyway I can. Castiel was my only friend, I owe him a lot and I don't want to witness the death of millions of people. I will warn you though, Lucifer and Michael are the most persistent beings I know. They will do everything in their power to get you boys to say yes." "I'm sorry I must go now Dean, I can't let my brothers and sisters know I escaped, not yet at least. Goodbye." She smiled softly before disappearing.

Dean flopped back on his bed, he was completely and utterly screwed. How was he going to work with this woman who created butterflies in his stomach after one conversation? He finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning to dreams of him and a certain angel rebelling against heaven together.

𓆩♡𓆪

Honestly am just writing this story for myself. I don't care if no one reads it, I am in my own fantasy on this one. Oh to be Dean Winchesters unattainable crush ...

[asher-writes]

Author Ask Tag

Big thanks to @the-inkwell-variable for this tag!! Follow them!!

I suppose seeing as I'm posting The Anthology of Cardinal Sins, I'll talk about that!

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

So I was raised catholic, and the thing about being raised catholic is that it's like being dumped into a vat of guilt as a young child and then spending the rest of your life trying to make sense of the things you now have to unlearn.

I thought about how we learn that good is someone without sin, and I thought about how I think good people do bad things and try to do better. And then I wrote some stories about good people who do bad things, sometimes because they were just making bad choices, or trusted the wrong people. Sometimes because they thought they were doing the right thing. I also write about bad people who couldn't be worse, for the sake of it.

Ultimately, it's an examination of how goodness doesn't - and shouldn't - present itself as something squeaky clean and "without sin." Bad people are bad because it's easy for them. Good people do bad things, and they learn from them.

It's also about gay polyamory and love <3

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

If I say I hallucinated most of it from a Hozier album, would you believe me? I also take big inspiration from Ghibli for the CS and Sleep of a King world. Other than that, different mythologies, mainly Christian and Greek.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

I have a few MCs, but I'd say most of them are just trying to figure out how to be happy and do their jobs. I want people to forgive themselves, mostly. Nobody can be perfect.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

*is running away*

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content and I am posting it on Substack!

When did you start writing?

...I was a very lonely child. Despite being basically blind until I got my glasses, I was telling and writing and somehow reading from the age of 3. The optician could not understand how I was doing this as I had massive spot thingies at the back of my eyes. I don't know how I was doing this either.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

There are some days when I am so wrapped up in loathing of my writing. These are the days that you should post something.

I follow many, many other writers, but here's a list (pls take this as an invitation to do this tag):

@tc-doherty (fantastic YA author) @did-i-do-this-write (absolute MVP) @winterandwords (Recommend so highly I could combust), @oh-no-another-idea (Urban fantasy writer - which always has me by the hooks). @aromanticsky (Aromantic stories <3) @seastarblue (fantastic worldbuilder) and that's all I've got, but I Know I'm forgetting people.

[claraoswalds]

#mrs flood who are you: time lord edition

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

i dont usually post stuff like this but the circumstances are rly funny so i will.

my brother got me the ryoji plush for my bday and got me makoto/minato as an xmas present. however it hadn't arrived yet on xmas and lo and behold it eventually arrived on DEC 31ST. 😭

funniest possible date for it to arrive on. anyways i got silly with them